#You keep going after my IQ like it will hurt me

[retroellie]

Polluted

Summary: After a long day of work, Spencer comes home and fucks his stresses away.

A/N: This was written in literally 45 minutes but I had this idea and I couldn't make it into a full fic, my mind could only think of the smut part lmao. Enjoy!!! :)

Warnings: NSFW, slapping, degradation, squirting, unprotected sex, mean!spencer

Word count: 1.9K

Prison changed Spencer Reid, plain and simple. This is not the man you came to love. He was cruel, possessive, completely and utterly damaged. You hoped that prison wouldn't taint Spencer too much, you hoped that he would continue to be sweet little Dr. Spencer Reid. But you knew what prison could do to a person, for you locked people up daily. You knew that the system would take Spencer's old soul and soft heart into its muddy hands, squeezing them until they became one. Although sometimes in the right lighting, in the right moment, you can see a hint of Spencer in his light brown eyes.

You can't say that you hated the change in Spencer, obviously there was much work to be done before Spencer could truly be himself again. However, you could live with this change. He was hungry, feeling as though your body was the only thing that could fill that hunger. It was extremely attractive to you, his sudden hunger for you. Spencer was always using you, using your body or your mouth or your hands... just you. There was always an excuse for him to be inside of you in his mind. A man thought of looking at you? He bent you over the kitchen table. You wore a shirt that showed a bit of your chest? He dragged you into the bathroom and forced you onto your knees. You smiled at him? He would shove his face between your thighs until you couldn't even see straight.

Even on the way back home after he had gotten out of prison, he bent you over the backseat on the side of the road and fucked you roughly. It felt like you were stepping on eggshells every time around him because you never know what can set him off... it was oddly scandalous, almost arousing as the thought of how he'd fuck you next was always on your mind. A big plus was that spencer dug himself into your brain, pulling out your deepest and darkest kinks, and using them to give you earth-shattering, mind-blowing, life-changing orgasms. Now you don't think you two could ever go back to just plain sex. He had ruined you, ruined your body so much that only the thought of being hurt could get you off now.

"Fucking bitch..." Spencer spat out, his hand spreading your legs further open as his cock drilled into your soaked cunt. "That bitch looked at me like I was fucking stupid..."

His words came out breathy and jagged as he fucked into you at an animalistic pace. Spencer came home today upset, his tie being ripped off and thrown down as soon as he got into the door. You knew something was up by this action, but also the look on his face. He seemed to have a frown sewn onto his face, something that he wore most days. You asked what was wrong but you were met with him ripping off your clothes, hinting that he didn't want to talk but to fuck his frustrations into you. Now here you were, panties ripped off, legs wide open, Spencer deep inside you with his hand placed on your neck.

You couldn't tell how many times you came just in this position alone, you couldn't keep count. His hand gripped your through, affecting the way your brain functioned. You felt with every thrust of Spencer's hips you would lose brain cells... creating the dumb cock whore that Spencer ached to achieve. Spencer's hand applied more pressure to your throat as he thought of what happened at work, how while section chief Erin Strauss critiqued his work, people were being murdered.

"As if my 187 IQ wasn't enough for her." He started, his hand on your thigh being slammed down past your face and into the wooden table he was drilling you into. " I mean, I've been at this place for over 10 years... I know what I'm fucking doing"

You came again, not able to keep yourself from unraveling now. His hand on your throat was constricting your moans, completely silencing them as the only thing that could come out of your mouth was soft gurgles. You loved this feeling, knowing that at any moment if you didn't like it you could alert Spencer and he'd stop immediately. I guess you could say that Spencer's care for you never disappeared after prison, he would go on to say that it strengthened his love for you. He had this picture of you that you had sent him in one of your many letters, he kept it with him everywhere he went for it was the only thing that kept him sane.

One time a fellow inmate saw it, snatched it from him, and digested every single inch of you. He went on to explain the disgusting things he would do to you if he got the chance, that is exactly why Spencer came home to fuck you nice and good every night. Because if he wasn't the one to do it, he knew that other people would take you for granted, they would spend only minutes with you... ignoring what you needed and taking what they wanted. You would feel incomplete, unsatisfied, and completely in denial that love existed. You would assume love was only made for books and movies, that no one could show you the love you deserved. This is the love you deserve. You deserve a love that could have you coming undone over and over again, a harsh and mean kind of love but that always ended with soft kisses and a nice hot bath. A love that was sour at first but ended sweet, making sure that the words "i love you" were carved onto your skin.

"You wouldn't do that would you?" He whispered into your ear, his grip on your throat as he waited for your response. " You don't think I'm stupid ...hmm?"

His cock was too deep inside you, it was deep enough to have you going cross-eyed and unable to speak. Your moans became audible now, no longer being stuck in your throat due to his pressure being released. His pace was still inhumanly fast, not stopping even for a second. The table had started to shit forward, being scrapped across the floor and probably worrying the downstairs neighbors. You were on the verge of cumming again, your mind not even able to comprehend his question until you felt a harsh sting on your cheek. Spencer had slapped you across the face, growing impatient while waiting for your answer.

"Answer me...." He hissed out, leaning down and taking his lips to yours. He bit down on your lip, creating a pain that shot through your body. "Or I'm going to make you cum over and over and over again until you can't think of anything else besides my cock deep inside your tight little pussy..."

You could taste blood now, your lip bleeding and seeping into your mouth. His words created this deep, rough knot in your stomach. It wasn't like the rest of the orgasms you had tonight, no it was more intense. It hurt, painful with every thrust of his cock. It created a deep pain and pleasure dynamic in your body but felt like something was trying to claw itself out of your body.

"Fuck..." You screamed out, grabbing onto him and digging your fingernails into his back. "No I wouldn't! Fuck... I wouldn't! I won't!"

You finally replied, hoping with those words he would deepen his thrust if that was even possible. Spencer just grinned down at you, placing his head in between your shoulder blade and your neck. He set soft kisses to the skin, his warm lips against your burning skin. Spencer was close, your words pushing him further to the edge. The feeling inside your stomach didn't stop or dull, it only got worse. You were screaming now, Spencer's hand lingering on your neck but sitting gently on your skin. Spencer picked up his speed, the table scraping against the floor even harder.

You couldn't handle it, everything around you becoming so far away yet being so close. The feeling got to a point of feeling terrifyingly painful but also so potent of pleasure and so bewitching that you didn't want it to end now. A couple more of Spencer's deep and harsh thrusts sent you over the edge, the painful knot in your stomach snapping and shooting liquid out of your body. It was the first time you had ever squirted, the feeling so glorious that you wished it would happen every time. Your vision went out, only seeing light and hearing Spencer's soft moans as he finished inside of you. The world felt like it ended, nothing to be seen or to be experienced... just emptiness but complete fullness all at the same time.

"Good girl..." You heard Spencer's words echo through your now-empty mind. You couldn't tell if your eyes were closed or not. "You did so good for me honey... I'm so proud of you."

Those single words were all you needed to hear as you floated back to earth and into your body, you blinked a couple times... forgetting where and who you were for a split second. You came back to see Spencer brushing your hair back from your sweaty face, his face inches from yours as his face filled with concern that maybe he had broken you finally.

"There she is..." He chuckled softly, kissing your lips softly. " There's my girl..."

You gave him a weak smile, raise your hand to rest on his cheek. You rubbed it softly, feeling the growing stubble on his face. He was just as sweaty as you, his body hot to the touch. You two probably looked insane, one of you barely able to walk looking beat the hell up and the other one scratched up and drenched with liquids. Spencer gently slid himself out of you, watching you wince softly as it felt like he was connected to you at this point.

"Sorry..." He whispered, taking your hand in his as he rubbed your thigh gently "I was too rough huh?"

Rough was not even close to what Spencer was. He was brutal, sadistic, barbaric but you couldn't deny that you would choose it over compassion any day. You began to think that maybe prison was the best thing that could've happened to Spencer Reid, not only was he a genius but he now had a powerful glow to him. Shy kisses and longing gazes were a thing of the past for you two, Spencer knew what he wanted and he was going to get it.

"You were just rough enough..." I chuckled, feeling nothing but content and at peace in this moment.

Spencer laughed with you, pecking your lips one last time before pulling away from you. He looked around, his eyes landing on the couch. He smiled, walking over and leaving you but only for a second. He came back with a blanket, wrapping it around you then picking you up bridal style. You thanked him silently because you knew there was no way you were getting off the table without some kind of help.

"To the bath you go..." He joked, holding you close to him as he walked you to your shared bathroom. 

You looked into his eyes and at the right lighting, the right moment, you looked into his light brown eyes... realizing that this is Spencer Reid. This is Spencer Reid damaged, polluted, and bruised... but it was still the man you fell in love with all those years ago.

[aperrywilliams]

More Than You Say (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

Part 1: More Than You Know

Part 3: More Than You Expect (the end)

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: Spencer mulls over what you said and your love confession during your last fight. And he knows how deeply he fucked up this time. After admitting he is in love with you, Spencer wants to fix things. Are you willing to let him?

Word Count: 5.6k

TW: ANGST. Strong language. Mention of abduction, drug use, getting shot, death of relatives and loved ones, jail, and unsafe sex. If I forgot anything, let me know.

A/N: This is the aftermath of 'More Than You Know' from Spencer's POV. I'm not going to lie. This one ends worse than the previous one. The good news is that there is a third chance, meaning a third part. Maybe they will have luck in that one.

——————

Spencer doesn't know how long he has stood there, looking at the door you shut when you left. His first thought was to run after you, but he refrained.

What could he have said to you?

Sitting in the chair that you left vacant, he takes a deep breath. The room feels suffocating to him.

Your words keep reverberating in his brain, and Spencer wants to feel utterly surprised, but it would be a lie. Not that he precisely knew what was going on; it was more like he sensed something was off, and he ignored it.

Like a royal asshole.

The hurt in your eyes is something he knows he will never forget. Those kind eyes that were always welcoming and understanding, this time, only reflected betrayal and pain.

Spencer hates his mouth and the way his words can do so much harm.

Rewinding the past months in his brain, Spencer tries to figure out how you both ended like this.

You never told him how you felt, and Spencer is sure about it. He would have done something if you did.

He is so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn't notice Emily walking into the room.

"She told you, didn't she? You must have hella pissed her off," Emily muses. And Spencer can't help but return a confused look.

"Wait. You knew?"

Emily let out a frustrated sigh, sitting in front of Spencer.

"Sometimes I wonder why that amount of IQ doesn't pay off," she wonders. Seeing the man still clueless, she continues talking. "Spencer, possibly the only one who didn't know at this point was you."

Great. Everyone knew but him. Spencer wants to dig a hole and disappear right now.

"Why she didn't tell me?"

The question is more to himself than Emily. She answers nonetheless.

"I'm not sure if she ever wanted you to know. If you hadn't pushed her the way you did, she would never have told you, I guess."

Spencer takes in Emily's words and starts questioning everything about you and him in the past months.

"I assumed so many things lately, and now I'm unsure if they are true or part of my imagination," he says, frustrated, raking his hands through his hair.

"You have the answers, Spencer. Even if you think you don't."

Spencer scoffs at that. He doesn't fucking know anything. That's the problem. He needs to fix something but doesn't know what it is.

"I need to talk to her," he decides, standing and walking to the door. Before he could cross the threshold, Emily calls his name.

"Reid, wait."

Spencer turns to see Emily. She has a stern look.

"Don't talk to her unless you know what you want to say."

Spencer's eyes narrow. He can't conceive of not talking to you right now. He wants to run to your place right away.

"What? But Emily, I need to know-"

Spencer argues, but Emily doesn't let him finish.

"You'll figure it out. Just don't rush it. She has been through a lot. At least you owe her that. Think about what she told you first."

Spencer doesn't know what to do—the compulsion to run after you clouds his senses, but Emily has a point. He doesn't know what to say. Yeah, he is sorry for what he said to you and how he treated you, but an 'I'm sorry' won't fix it.

Besides, until that day, Spencer thought you both were only friends, and you were okay with it. He only pegged all your apprehensions and the words of concern like a friend's worry.

It seems he did a great job ignoring what it was in front of his eyes.

You said you loved him. And Spencer has no reason to doubt your words, even if he told you he does.

Spencer leaves the conference room defeated and with a weight over his shoulders he hasn't felt in a long time.

As he passes your desk, he sees it empty, and his stomach clenches. It's like being in a parallel world where you are not next to him, and just imagining it disturbs him.

The rest of the team watches as Spencer wanders around the BAU like a lost puppy, wondering if this will make him really reflect on how he's been leading his life lately. They know the bond between you and Spencer is important to both of you, but they've also seen how it has deteriorated over time.

That night, as he steps into his apartment after work, he only wants to grab the phone and call you. But Emily's words start replaying again.

'You'll figure it out. At least you owe her that.'

Spencer opts to sit on the couch with the lights off and his head back.

He needs to fix this.

When he closes his eyes, his mind wanders to the day he met you.

-

He was a scared kid, a freshman FBI agent recruited by Jason Gideon. He put a foot in the bullpen that day, and Hotch was the first to greet him. His stern look was different from Gideon's and more intimidating for sure. He led Spencer to the conference room, where you were perched in a corner with a mug of coffee in your hands.

'This is SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N). It's her first day, too. Agent (Y/L/N), he is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid; he is joining the team as well.'

You glanced at him and rapidly stood from your spot, stretching your hand to him. He should have shaken it, but his germaphobe self kicked off.

'The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss.'

After the words left his mouth, he wanted to be buried alive. You retracted your hand with an amused smile.

'I didn't know. But I guess we should skip the kiss part for now,' you said, and Spencer's cheeks burned in embarrassment. Seeing him all flustered, you quickly added. 'But It's good to know new things. I think I'll learn a lot from you, Dr. Reid.'

This time, Spencer's cheeks burned from more than embarrassment.

It might sound cliché to say that for the first time in his life, Spencer felt so comfortable with someone. You quickly became his best friend and unmatched support. People wondered why. To outsider's eyes, you both looked so different. You were more confident than him, with an extraordinary ability to listen and say the right words at the right time. You were one of the few people who wasn't intimidated by either Hotch or Gideon, a thing he could not say about himself.

And, by far, you have been the only person there for him when Spencer has needed it the most.

He remembers having the vial in his hand. He stared at the item for a while, deciding whether to use it. It has been weeks since Hankel kidnapped him, and he stole the Dilaudid from his dead body.

He was feeling trapped and hopeless. Spencer thought he could handle it, but every day, it seemed worse than the previous one.

His feet carried him to your door that night. He knocked but didn't know why. Maybe he hoped to find some strength he didn't have.

You opened the door and glanced at him, confused. He wasn't okay, and he didn't look alright, either.

'Spencer? What are you doing here?' you asked, your voice laced with worry.

'I'm sorry I didn't call before coming.'

He didn't know how he managed to get words out of his mouth. Spencer was to a second to crumble.

'It's okay. What happened? Are you hurt?' Your eyes scanned his body for a sign of what was going on.

'I don't - I can't (Y/N). I can't do this. I need help.'

Spencer broke, sobbing at your door. You rushed to hug him; you didn't even care that you were in the middle of the hallway.

That night, Spencer confessed his sins, and he found nothing but understanding and support in you. He didn't know he deserved either of these things until he met you.

As you both got closer, he learned everything about you. In the same way that he confided his life to you, you did the same to him. And Spencer never hesitated when you needed him.

You called him sobbing that night. Your dad was suddenly admitted into the hospital due to an illness he hadn't told anyone before. You were his only close family member. Your mom left the country when your parents divorced a decade ago, and your two older siblings lived in other towns.

'Hey, I came the faster I could. What happened?' Spencer rushed into the hospital waiting room where you were. You darted your glassy eyes at him, with lips quivering.

'He isn't okay, Spencer. The doctor says he- oh God - he will not make it,' you broke, with a sob raking through you.

Spencer engulfed you in a tight embrace. You cried with your head on his chest. He would have given everything to rip off your pain and carry it himself.

You both stayed in the hospital that night. You at least could see your dad for a moment to say goodbye. At dawn the next day, he passed away.

Spencer remained with you through your grieving process and swore to be by your side and protect you for the rest of his life, no matter what.

And like that, life kept testing your bond with Spencer—failed relationships, elusive psychopaths, work injuries, friends gone, faked deaths, and so on. The BAU changed, but you both remained.

Sometimes, Spencer wondered if destiny was a real thing. Maybe with you, it was—his best friend.

He was truly happy having you in his life, but why sometimes did it feel like something was missing?

Spencer questioned his feelings about you for a long time. Was it something more than a platonic sentiment? Why was his heart filled with joy every time he saw your smile or heard your laugh? And it plugged with gloom when you were sad?

With time, Spencer was convinced he loved you but kept his mouth shut. He told himself he was over-reading the signs. And Spencer blamed his early lack of affection and inexperience in the heart's department. You undoubtedly didn't feel the way he did, and he was creating a whole imaginary world that would crush the moment the bubble popped.

People around weren't helping either. After telling Morgan how he felt about you, he kept telling Spencer that he needed to make a move.

JJ, for her part, let out her insinuations about how he should do something and the high probability of his feelings being reciprocated.

But Spencer wasn't sure, and the risk of losing you for overstepping your bond terrified him, so he said nothing.

And things could have stayed that way, but a light of hope for him opened time after.

Morgan and Hotch had left the BAU, and the team was focused on trying to catch Scratch. At the same time, Spencer was dealing with his mom's illness and her recently diagnosed Alzheimer's. As always, you were there for him.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you to Houston?" you asked him, sitting on his couch one night.

"No. It's okay. It will be only two days," Spencer assured you. He felt terrible for lying to you. He never did that before, but he knew you would talk some sense to him about what he was doing on his trips to Mexico.

"Will you call me if you need anything?" you insisted, and Spencer could only think how much he wanted to hug and kiss you. But he won't do that. He can't do that without telling you he loves you. Not without risking losing you due to a stupid love confession.

Spencer was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice his lack of response to your question.

"Spencer? Are you okay?"

With still a semi-hazed brain, his hands reached yours, and his eyes locked with yours. A frown of worry appeared on your face.

"Have I ever told you how grateful I am for having you in my life?"

A blush crept from your neck to your cheeks. It wasn't the first time Spencer had told you something like that, but how he looked at you that night, with that intensity, was making you weak on the knees.

"Yeah. A couple of times, if I recall correctly," you replied, trying to sound casual, but inside, you were aflame with his gaze.

"I think I should say it more. And to show it like it really is," Spencer mumbled, and you were confused. What was he trying to say?

"You mean like buying me more coffees and bagels?" you joked. You always did that when you were nervous, and Spencer knew it.

In a bold move and without letting your hands go, he scooted closer to you on the couch.

It was now or never. Spencer knew then this was his chance, and if he didn't take it, he would never do it again.

"Can - can I tell you something?" he asked, flicking his gaze between your eyes and your lips back and forth.

You noticed the gesture and were about to combust. Why was Spencer looking at your lips like that?

"Yes." Your voice above a whisper, fearing it could falter if you spoke louder.

"I want to kiss you so bad right now," he whispered back, so close you could feel his breath fanning your face. Your lips parted to say something, but no words came from them. Instead, you were the one who closed the gap between you both and kissed him.

Spencer kissed you back immediately with such urgency that you could feel the longing and desperation on his lips.

Deepening the kiss, neither you nor he wanted to stop. Fearing if you did, the moment would vanish, and you would wake up from this beautiful dream.

Maybe this was the chance you both needed to confess your feelings for each other. But fate could be cruel more than once.

In the middle of that years-making kiss, your phone rang suddenly. The infamous sound made you both jump back and return to reality.

Still dazed, you fished the device from your pocket. Emily was calling. You didn't know what to do. Should you answer your phone and cut the moment? Or ignore it and grasp Spencer's lapels to kiss him again?

Your bewildered look made Spencer decide for you.

"You should take that. Could be important," he said, voice laced with doom. He knew what was coming. You wanted to argue, but maybe he was right. Reluctantly, you slid your finger on the green bottom.

"Emily?"

The team had a new case, and it was urgent. You needed to be on the tarmac in twenty minutes.

"Can we - can we talk about this later?"

You were unsure where you were standing. Sure, you felt the electricity of that kiss; you didn't imagine it. But maybe it wasn't like you were thinking. Perhaps it was just the heat of the moment. A lot of things were happening, and you both were vulnerable.

On his part, Spencer saw this as a sign. This wasn't the time or the place. He didn't feel prepared to face his true feelings at the moment.

"Sure. Uh, but now you should go; they are waiting."

The bad thing is you never talked about that again. You went with the team to Connecticut while Spencer left the following day, not to Houston like he said to you. He went to Mexico.

The next time you saw each other was with Spencer in a cell in Matamoros.

There are a lot of things Spencer regrets about that infamous trip. One of them is to lose his chance to know if he could have built something more with you. How could Spencer imagine having a relationship with you now? After he lied to you? After falling in disgrace like this? You deserved more than a broken man, incarcerated and lost. Spencer didn't want to drag you with him and his misery. He couldn't stand the idea of breaking your heart for a failed relationship, but he didn't want to lose you either. The reasonable middle ground for Spencer was keeping you like his friend, as it has been until now.

After Spencer was released from prison, neither you nor him spoke of that night. He presumed you regretted kissing him, and he was afraid to say what it meant to him.

Everything got lost after his release. Spencer became reckless and superficial. He was a different guy. But everyone dispensed him due to the traumatic events he endured. You did it, too. You had stayed and committed yourself to him in the role you knew so well: as his best friend.

And that's what Spencer saw since then: you by his side, supporting him like the good friend you were. And he thought it was okay. You were alright, and he should have to live with the idea of not knowing what it could be to love you openly.

That's how Spencer immersed himself in a shallow and meaningless life, failing his true self and becoming a person he despised but who shielded him in his vulnerability.

-

The cell phone ringtone brings Spencer back from his thoughts. He quickly pulls it out of his pants pocket, secretly hoping it's you. It's a long shot, but he wants it so badly to be real. A short-lived wish because the caller ID shows it's Gabrielle, his late conquest.

Spencer lets out a heavy sigh, and your words come back to him.

'No! It's everything! Can't you see it? It's the way you lie to your teammates and the way you do your job like it doesn't matter to you. The way you turn everything into something meaningless. The relationships you have, your job, your friends. Everything!'

Spencer feels his body stiffen. It's like he's looking at himself from the outside, and what he sees terrifies him.

That's what you've seen in him, and he understands why you've walked away from him like that. The person he has become is to blame for your pain, and Spencer feels sick. He, who swore years ago to protect you from all harm, is the one who caused this.

'Do you really believe that? Do you really believe your self-destructive behavior only affects you? I didn't think you were so selfish, Spencer.'

Selfish. It's what he's been all along. And you had to be the one to throw it in his face to realize his mistakes.

Spencer doesn't have the energy or courage to answer the phone. He knows why Gabrielle is calling, and what 24 hours ago would have been a tempting offer now feels futile and pointless.

It's meaningless because the only truly significant relationship he has wanted all along is with you, nobody else.

And possibly you are in your apartment thinking Spencer is an asshole, believing he doesn't value you, that he doesn't care about you, that he doesn't love you. And while the asshole part it's true, he does care about you, and he does love you.

It may be too overdue, but it's time for you to know, he thinks.

With a resolution Spencer didn't know he had, he stands from his couch to grab his coat and keys. He is going to reveal his secret tonight. He is going to admit his underlying love to you and stop his charade.

During the car ride, he is having a pep talk with himself, trying not to lose the bravery that made him leave the apartment.

You have to know. He has to clear things up and get you back.

Spencer keeps repeating the words until he's at your door, calling with two solid knocks.

After some rustling from inside, the door opens, revealing your unhappy face. Spencer knows he deserves all the bitterness and pettiness you have and will throw at him, and he's going to take it all.

"You didn't check the clock before coming here, did you?" is the first thing coming from your mouth.

Spencer takes in your appearance. You're in your pajamas already, but the bags under your eyes tell him you weren't sleeping, and possibly you have been tossing and turning for hours now.

"I'm sorry. I know it's late, but we need to talk."

The roll in your eyes doesn't go unnoticed by him; it's like you weren't surprised by him standing at your door at 2 am.

"Spencer, if you want to talk about what happened this afternoon, I don't think-"

"Please? I know I behaved like an idiot today, but please let me explain," Spencer insists, and he really hopes you don't close the door in his face.

You contemplate your response for a second. Spencer knows you know he won't leave without talking to you, so you open the door just enough and signal him to come inside.

Spencer comes in and waits for you to close the door. The resolve with which he came is fading as his brain tries to organize his ideas and all the things he wants to say.

You gesture towards the couch, and he takes a seat. You too, but in a chair next to it.

Where to start? Spencer thinks about just blurting out everything and spilling his heart in front of you. But you are the one who starts talking.

"Why are you here?"

Spencer clears his throat. "I - I want to apologize for what I said. I hurt you, and I didn't mean to do that. I really didn't mean to do that."

"But you did," you say flatly, and he nods.

"I know. And I'm sorry. I let you down, and I feel horrible misreading the whole thing. I should have noticed."

Spencer barely blinks, trying to gauge your expression. You're difficult to read right now, and he hates it. You guys always were so good at reading each other, and he lost that ability, too.

"If you are talking about-" You seem ready to say something to not address the subject, so Spencer only blurts his question.

"Is it true? Do you love me?"

You sigh, shaking your head.

"Spencer-" You start, but Spencer doesn't budge. He needs to know and to hear it from you.

"Please, tell me," he pleads, and you let out a bitter chuckle.

"Why? It doesn't matter. It won't change where we stand right now," you convey with some treacherous tears fighting to fall. You avert his gaze.

Spencer stands and kneels in front of you.

"Please, look at me."

His index tilts up your chin so he can see your eyes. You surprisingly let him do that. "I need to know if you feel the same way I do about you," he whispers, his eyes fixated on yours. You furrow your eyebrows.

"What are you talking about?" One of his hands tenderly poses on your cheek to dry some of the tears falling.

"What I'm trying to say is that I love you. I have always loved you."

God, it feels so good to say it finally.

"W - What?" You look perplexed, and Spencer knows this is the opportunity he has to come clean with you.

"I know I didn't tell you sooner. It's long overdue, and even if I have my reasons, they don't excuse how I have treated you in the past months. But I promise things will change. I won't hide this anymore. Please, give me a chance to love you."

You seem overwhelmed with the information, so much so that you stand and start to pace in your living room. Spencer gets up as well and follows you with his eyes.

"Spencer, how- I - I don't understand. Why are you telling me this?"

"Because it's true. You are the one for me. I love you (Y/N)."

It seems now that he's said it once, Spencer spares no effort in repeating he loves you over and over again.

You stop pacing to look at him, an accusatory look in your eyes.

"Why now?"

Spencer understands your apprehensions. Of course, after everything that had taken place in the last hours, he comes to your door proclaiming his love. Logically, you are confused and don't expect it.

"Do you remember the night we kissed? The night before I went to Mexico?" He asks, and your gaze softens at the mention of that night.

"I do. But I thought you forgot," you say, casting your eyes down.

"How could I?! I wanted to do that for a long time. I couldn't believe we were finally kissing. It was like a dream come true for me," he recognizes, shorting the distance between you both and tentatively cupping your cheeks. You let him.

"But - but after the call, you - you told me-" you stutter, recalling the details of what occurred there.

"I know. I chickened out. After Emily's call, I thought it was a sign and not the right moment, so I backed off. There is no single day I don't regret doing that." Spencer's eyes glasses over, thinking about how foolish and blind he has been all this time.

"Why you didn't tell me?" you murmur, almost in a whisper.

"Because I'm stupid. Because I thought I was protecting you. I was in jail (Y/N); what could I have offered you?"

You huff and shake your head, putting distance between you both. Spencer's arms fall to his sides.

"And after that?"

Spencer knows you're talking about the time after he was released from Milburn. He gives you an apologetic look before answering.

"I thought I was doing the same. That having you as a friend was better than not having you at all," he concedes. Maybe it's the hardest part for him to admit because, when that happened, everything started to crumble between you both.

"So that was the friendship bullshit," you sneer. Spencer nods.

"Yeah. And I'll always be sorry for doing that to you. But I promise you, if you let me, things will change."

You go silent, mulling over his words, and it's like your defenses start to turn down. You look at Spencer with a mix of emotions he can't still crack. Maybe his words are void for you right now. That's why Spencer thinks showing you what he means is better than keep talking.

He slowly approaches you without breaking eye contact. With one of his hands, Spencer tilts up your chin while he leans down. He can hear the air hitching in your throat. His heart beats faster and faster as he gets closer and closer.

You do not move a muscle, nor do you reject his touch.

When his lips make contact with yours, you both let out a sigh you were holding. Your lips begin to move in sync. Spencer is kissing you, you're kissing him back, and there is no phone ringing.

Spencer gives you everything he has, trying to express he is yours and no one else's. You are both lost in a kiss that seems increasingly urgent and desperate.

But suddenly, you push him away. It's as if a jolt of electricity has struck you, shoving you away from him.

"Please, don't. Don't -" you mewl in a broken voice. Still dazed, Spencer looks at you, baffled.

"W - What's wrong?"

"I - I can't," you mumble, running your hands through your hair and shaking your head.

"Why not?" Spencer asks, and when you keep shaking your head and saying nothing, he starts to panic. "(Y/N), please. Talk to me."

"Spencer, I'm sorry. I can't do this," you repeat—this time with a steadier voice. "This isn't going to work."

Isn't it going to work? Spencer doesn't understand why you are saying that when you both just have admitted the truth.

"But I thought you loved me?"

Spencer's voice is small, frightened. It's as if, in five seconds, he went from the top of a mountain to a free fall into the void.

You look at him for a second, and it's like a realization hits you.

"So that's the reason? You are here and saying all these things because I told you I loved you?"

The accusing, defensive tone returns to you. And Spencer doesn't know what to do.

"No! I mean, yes! I thought a lot about what you told me. And I realized my feelings for you have always been there. That's why I'm here," he defends.

You insistently rub your eyes with your palms like someone who desperately wants to wake up from a dream.

"I'm sorry, but I can't believe you."

Spencer's eyes widen. You've closed yourself completely and thrown the key out the window.

"But it's true! I can prove it. I can be a better man for you if you give me a chance. Please." Spencer is begging, tears rolling down his face, but he doesn't care. He will do anything to get you back at this point.

"Spencer. Listen to me. Things don't work like that, okay? You hurt me, and I'm not talking about my romantic feelings for you. You questioned my loyalty as your friend. Do you know how that made me feel?"

"I'm sorry-" he tries to explain, but you cut him off.

"It's true what I told you earlier. I chose our friendship above acting on my love for you. And it seems I did it in vain."

Spencer shakes his head. "No, no, no. Don't say that. I know I did wrong, but I can make it up to you."

Can he really?

"Spencer, you need to make it up, but to you, not to me." Spencer's head snaps up.

"What - what are you talking about?"

You let out a deep sigh. "We both know you know."

"Prison," he confirms, embarrassed of what that word implies.

"And how your life has been since then."

"I know I fucked up. I hurt you-"

If thousands of apologies are necessary, he's willing to give you all of them.

"You hurt people, Spencer! Not only me! You fooled around; you have been treating women poorly and playing with their feelings. You have lied to your friends and pushed them away. And the worst part is you have been hurting yourself with all this!"

Spencer's eyes squeeze shut. You are right. He knows that. But he is so terrified about you walking away from him that he can't see the big picture.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I know you do. But I can't do this anymore. Supporting your self-destructive actions is not helping anyone."

"I know. And I'm not asking you to do that. I'm asking for a chance to show you I'm the guy who would do anything for you. Please?"

"Spencer, that's exactly my point. You must heal because of yourself, not because of me or anyone for that matter."

"I'm not-"

"Listen to yourself. You say you want a chance? But you only ask it after I poured out my heart this afternoon. How can I trust you when you have only shown me this version of you? Don't ask me to believe it."

There are a lot of things Spencer knows he has to do. He has a lot of mistakes to face and make amends for. But he fails to realize that the first amendment he needs to make is to himself.

That's what you have been trying to tell him.

"Are you saying there are no us?"

It's almost a rhetorical question at this point, but Spencer asks it anyway.

You look at him with sorrow in your eyes.

"There is nothing I want more than to be in your life, but in these circumstances, I don't think it's possible. Not when you must clear your head and think about what you want first. For real."

"But I love you; please don't ask me to step away."

It's another plea. The last resource Spencer has in him.

"I'm not asking you for that. What I'm asking you is if you really love me, don't drag me with you in this process you're going through now. I can't - I don't have the strength to stay by your side in this one. I'm sorry, but I need to think of myself this time."

"(Y/N)-"

"And now, I ask you for you to leave, please. It's late," you say, walking to the entrance and opening the front door.

It's late. Those words mean so much more to Spencer now.

It's too late for a love confession when you've already ruined everything that supported it.

It's too late to try to fix the mistakes he has made with you. Even tonight, it was daring to come to your home late at night, being inconsiderate of your space and time.

There is no way he can do something now without hurting you.

Maybe time will give him a hand, and the wounds will soften. Spencer hopes that by making real changes in his life, you will see he really meant everything he has said tonight.

What Spencer doesn't know is that you won't be around to see those changes happen.

——————

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers 

For those who asked for a part 2 (I'm so sorry for the delay): @gghostwriter @sebastiansstanswhore @evvy96 @pillsbury-doughgirl @singinghamtaro-blog @atlantica-angels @lukesmainpiece @ladyofhellhounds @gubzgirl @shqwqrma @hereforfun-31 @reader1402

[miley1442111]

all alone-s.reid

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summary: spencer doesn't want to get hurt, too bad it hurts you in the process

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

warnings: spencer's a dick in this, reader puts him in his place :)

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You were the new office genius. You’d just joined straight out of the academy, but with your genius, and your experience, you’d been brought straight to the BAU. 

What experience, you may ask? 

Your psychiatry and psychology degrees, oh, and the eidetic memory, IQ of 190, and Hyperthymesia you had. 

And the experience you’d had with a certain serial killer. Your father, Jason O’Neill, had been caught a few months ago, and after that you’d been given a full-time position. You got on well with the team, though one clearly didn’t like you. Dr. Spencer Reid. Apparently he was your equal in intelligence, though you never knew, he refused to speak to you. You probably had a more bubbly personality than the BAU regularly hired, but that had been disproven upon meeting Penelope, the Technical Analyst. 

He just didn’t like you. Oh well. It wasn’t going to ruin your life. You didn’t really give a shit. 

He gave a shit. He cared far too much. 

“Spencer, I’ve got your coffee, extra sugar,” you smiled as you handed out the drinks you’d brought the team from the cafe down the road from the small police station. You handed it to him, not waiting for an answer, he never gave one.

 Emily kicked him under the table. “What’s with you two?”

Spencer rolled his eyes and went back to his book. “Nothing.”

“She’s the nicest person on this team Spencer, yet you treat her like she’s just there for decoration.”

“She’s only good for two things, getting coffee, and keeping quiet,” he snapped, not realising you were behind him. You frowned, then hit him over the head with your bag as you were walking past, not sparing him a glance. 

Honestly, Spencer was practically in love with you since the second he’d met you. You were perfect, gorgeous smile, always something kind to say, always an interesting fact on your beautiful lips. He thought he could listen to you talk forever. Your voice made his day. Your eyes on his made him feel things he never thought he’d be lucky enough to feel. 

But he’d never let his guard down again. Not after Maeve. Never again. 

He’d rather be alone, though everyday you became more tempting.

Everyday he wished he could be with you.

Everyday, just like today. 

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“Doctor,” Your voice rang through the precinct. “Aaron wants you.”

In recent weeks you’d adopted calling him ‘Doctor’, rather than Spencer. His name from your lips often went straight to his heart, he was a romantic, after all. Now ‘Doctor’ sounded clinical and impersonal. It was maddening. 

He didn’t answer, he just stared at his book, making his stand. 

“Doctor Reid, Aaron wants you,” You stated, standing beside him. “Reid-”

“Say my name,” he deadpanned, staring at his book, but not reading the words. 

“I just did,” you scoffed. “We aren’t school children, go to Aaron.’

You called everyone else by their first name, why not him? He knew the answer of course, but it still didn’t take away from his curiosity. Why had it affected you so much?

“Can you stop being a huge asshole for one day and just treat me like I’m a person and not just something here for you to fuck with? I deserve a spot on this team just like you do,” you boomed, smacking his book out of his hands. 

“I don’t think you do,” he said, standing up to his full height. 

“Well I guess it’s your lucky day because I’m leaving in a week,” you snarled back, then walked off to go back to the rest of the team. 

What? You were leaving?

Spencer caught up to you in 4 quick steps and he pulled you to the side of the corridor, shading you both from prying eyes in a broom closet. “You’re leaving?”

His eyes were frantic and… scared? You’d never seen him look at you with anything other than indifference, so this was quite the change.

“Yes.”

“Why?” He pleaded.

“Why? You are seriously asking why I’m leaving?” you sarcastically sighed. “Gosh, I guess it was that the coffee’s shit, or maybe it was the fact that I work in a hostile working environment!”

“That’s corporate bullshit-”

“No. It’s your bullshit. I have been nothing but kind to you in my few months here and every day it’s the same blank stare and shitty comments. Go fuck yourself Doctor Reid.”

You tried to pry out of the grip he had on your shoulders, but you couldn’t. He stood there, shocked and shameful at his actions. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he sighed, letting go of you to run his hands through his hair. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, you are. Now if you’ll excuse me-”

“I’m in love with you,” he admitted. 

“Pardon?” You squeaked, jaw-dropped. 

“I’m in love with you… a-and I didn’t think it was a good idea because the last time I was involved with someone like that-”

“Spencer, I don’t care. I’m leaving the BAU. For good.”

Spencer’s stomach sank. He was too late. You waited for a minute as he just stared at you. He was trying to process it, realise his mistakes,and find a way to make you stay in a 15 second window. 

“Bye Spencer,” you sighed and left him in that broom closet. 

All alone.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

[occamstfs]

Chauffeur Swap

Another epistolary TF ! Cocky office worker to an equally cocky gym bro, trait swap + IQ Drain aplenty -Occam

Monday May 6th

Morning 

I’m beyond thrilled that I’m finally being looked at for a promotion. I’ve worked my ass off for this company ever since I graduated and I am not going to let this chance slip through my fingers. It’s such a good gig, in the week leading up to them filling the position they’re letting us use the company’s chauffeurs as just one little hint of the luxury this promotion will afford us.

At least, that’s what I thought before my driver arrived to pick me up and I saw what a slob of a man my driver was! I mean my word! I thought it was a prank or something else untoward! I’m sure he could tell too, I could not muster even a shy smile, nothing to do but grimace. God and that was before I got in! He must have just been an Uber hired or something because it smelled like a locker room in there! Truly vile!

God willing this is a one off occurrence, hate to get the oaf in trouble. Though judging by the state of his hygiene though he clearly needs to be taught a lesson somehow! I mean even with this job I couldn't afford to buy cologne enough to hide that stink- perhaps some dog-strength febreze- Ha!

Evening

Godddd fuck! The last thing I needed after such a stressful day was to be greeted by that animal’s face- worse yet, his SCENT! I underestimated just how grueling this interview charade would be. It is just one final hurdle to the big leagues though. I will leave petty contrivances like suffering through this unpleasant car ride behind.

Just to make the time pass with greater speed I put forth some small talk. Not like I could hold my breath near long enough to make a difference, and it couldn’t hurt to vent about what a hassle the day had been hm? After this though he started talking about himself and fwoh- could I not care less about whatever surely protein-fart based drivel or beer-brained diatribe he launched into. 

Perhaps this is unfair, I did not deign to listen to him. So perhaps he’s better than he seems. But who could blame me, sitting in that car was punishment enough to earn me tuning him out. And! And! For him to have the benefit of the doubt surely he could at least wear deodorant! Hm. Unless he is trying? God that would be depressing, to be so, ugh- I continue to hold out hope I never see him again

Tuesday May 7th

Morning

Mm, I simply must develop a better poker face if I am to continue to suffer in this odor for the week, god forbid even longer- I have prepared accordingly however, yesterday no one mentioned it at work but I swear I kept smelling it, him, all day? Same when I got home, just everytime I calmed down from work bam! I smelled this horrid car ride. I am bringing my cologne to work with me, I plan to put it at lest once more when I arrive at work.

It’s just, Why is this my problem right! I don’t know what his problem is, but I don’t see why I have to suffer because of it right? I should not have to deal with someone like this, he’s supposed to be working for me. I uh, it’s not like I think I’m better than him I just, well I am better than him. Hm, I lost my train of thought. 

Ugh, I keep spacing out today- I’m sure it has to do with my twice-daily rides with, hm. I don’t even know his name. It’s? You know I don’t care. I just need to take it easy, I’m not letting this fucking dude-bro pitstain of a man bother me this much! I’m getting my bag and he is not worth a second further of my, uh, attention.

Evening

I have a headache and I don’t know how it is his fault but it has to be. This whole thing is setting me on edge, I need to chill about Ben. That’s right Ben! I got his name, I actually told him about my headache and he told me that he usually meditates to clear his mind- which crazy that someone so, despite all appearances, mindful treats his body like a sty but- Well not a sty I suppose, or at the very least a well built one- 

Ah, that’s not quite appropriate is it. God he is hot though. Honestly sitting there just breathing in his, uh, scent, helped with the headache. Wait no, it was the meditation, God, why can I not stop thinking of his fucking B.o. My headache was gone but now I feel I’m beginning to run a fever, or at the very least I need to turn down the AC or something-

Better not affect my work tomorrow.

Wednesday May 8th

Morning 

Not gonna be a good one. I fucking woke up late which ive literally never done before! I barely got myself up and ready in time and didn’t realize until the car but I didn’t bring my cologne with me. It turned out to be the least of my problems however as when I got in his car I fully spilled my coffee all over the backseat. Hopefully this will mask his putridity because I now have to sit in the front with him for the ride.

He must know. He has to know it has to be some kinda sick, uh, fetish or something. Its untendable untenable. god get your shit together Jacob. Its so hard to focus on anything else now that Im sitting right by him. I need to talk to someone about this, fuck its like hes exposing his pits on purpose. He wants me to stare at him, i bet. Bet he gets some sort of sick rise out of me. Im sure him and all the other chauffeurs probably get together and jack off about how repulsive and, uh, strong they all are.

God Fuck! Get me out of this car im losing my mind! Need to, ill just get some work done on the commute, should help i think. God its getting hot in here again or something, so help me if this fucker starts actively sweating im gonna lose it

Evening

i just couldnt get anything done today i dont know what was fucking up dude? it was just so hot in there and i mustve forgotten to put deodorant on this morning, people kept complaining but i didnt even notice? i guess i was sweating more than usual, but like, it was so hot in that office and my clothes felt weird, tight almost. As if tho, lol im sure no one even really noticed that i was off.

OH speaking of, Ben really put himself together on the ride home today. He was wearing a button up and everything, must have seen how nice im living and got his shit together! Maybe ive been to hard on the douche? nah car still smelled like shit haha! Or i think it did? didnt really notice it until like halfway thru?

Fuck my clothes are so tight all of a sudden, godd its so hot actually. I look fucking huge in this tiny little monkey suit- almost like Benjamin ha- as if id stoop so low, even if i started getting massive not like id be dum enough to be on his level lol

Thursday May 9th

Morning

Fuckin couldnt find ANYTHING this morning dude! it was like someone came in and took or hid everything i need for work today. ended up having to just fuckin leave for the car without a suit jacket- pretty sure ive got an extra in my office tho so were chill there. mm probably shouldve shaved tho lol

Oh yeah the files! i had some reports that i needed to bring in but totally couldnt find them! Turns out benjamin had them the whole time it was weird, guess i left them last night. but he was like such an ass about it, like he knows anything though the uh, jock, jerk uh. hes actually dressed better than me rn isnt he. Finally threw on a dress shirt, surely inspired by me haha- pulling it off quite well too, his chest hair peaking up through mm-

Fuckkk dude my cocks kinda getting hard looking at him, starting to smell musty in the car too, wait oh shit i didnt even notice that it didnt reek when i got in! weird that its starting to stink now tho whats up with that, looks like hes finally noticing tho ha! its nice to see him finally react to how bad my uh, no how I GOD, how bad fuckin’ he stinks obviously. whatever, ive got more important stuff to think about.

Evening 

okay work was like, not fuckin chill today. idk what was up but like, every little thing i did today just wasnt good enough apparently like okay?? you know me, if something seems off clearly, fucking OBVIOUSLY it uh, i? god my head just keeps going blank i dont get it, im just. Huh, kinda smells like Ben all of a sudden, oh fuck lol my pits have completely sweat through my shirt-

None of this matters anyway though bro! Because i just had the BEST sesh with Ben after work!! honestly the work shit doesnt even bother me, shouldve seen me its like i am a natural at this shit i was getting a pump like ive done it a hundred times. im sure it smelled like a locker room on the ride home lol

OH! I didnt even say, it was all ben’s idea!!! he said the gym always helps him when uh, things get too hard to think about and fuckk bro hes so right. hes so, lol i almost said hes so smart- he definitely knows how to work out though, he kept helping me with my technique but im prety sure he just wanted an excuse to touch me- 

not that im complaining LMAO- every time he did it was like i felt myself getting stronger, and less worried about all those yes-man suit fuckers! hed adjust my arms and i would feel my biceps just suddenly pump larger, hed bump his hands into my pecs while spotting me and theyd just force the bar up even faster, wish hed just go ahead and grab my cock lol

theres time yet too- gonna crash at his place tonight! hopefully ill get to see him put his magic fingers and tight body to use cause fuck bro idk if it was the pump or what but i dont think my balls have ever been this blue, like any time i try to think about, oh ughh, work i just. mm everything in my body just begs me to fucking blow a load- 

Friday May 10th

Morning

fucker just went to bed early- got me all riled up and then i had to jack off alone. felt way better than usual tho, my cock seems bigger to lol, dk whats up with that. wanted to try again this morning but ben was just on my fucking ass trying to get me out the door 

i didnt have any of my clothes, duh, so i just threw on some of his, crazy how much they fit me? they even kinda already smell like me lol. he actually put a suit on which seems wild, funny that i look like a slob and he looks like some uh, fancy guy. Like i should right? uhh is my headache coming back? lol idk but looking at him in that fucking suit sure is making it hard to focus-

ben said i can just change n stuff when we got to the office, its why hes dressed up. ill go ahead and drive us and then hell just run up and get my clothes, idk if theyll fit tho? feel like im larger than i was for some reason- oh yeah my massive fucking pump lol- 

mh speaking of pump, maybe while hes up there ill have time to jack another one out, not like anyonell see or care ya? like its a problem im about to be the fuckin alpha of this company or uh, something. itll be done before hes back, only evidence will be cum stains on his clothes lol. ugh it smells so fucking dank in here i might just cum without touching it lol

Evening

shit man, dont know what i was doing? i feel like i was supposed to go into work today but ben says from now on im just his driver. which easy gig right lol? doesnt even care that i dont shower huhuh-

he got his big promotion today!!! he looked so smug and hot when he came down to tell me, and he promised wed have some fun about it when he got home tonight- just gotta drop him off at some stupid fancy dinner ill probably hit the gym while hes there. gotta keep it up or ill look like some fucking dweeb

plus that means ill get the car totaly filled with my bo- hell fuckin love that, after he gets a good whiff no way wil he not want to fuck then and there huhuh fuck, kinda needs to get that exercise in now that hes doing whatever bitchass shit they do all they day up there needs to give in and just fuck me finally its been so, ugh long and my balls feel so full, and im sweating so much god im fogging up the windows loli better be careful i need to keep it together until then urgh- 

god i just smell so fucken hot

[milla984]

A Million Reasons

Summary: after a phone call from Penelope, Reader teases Spencer about a potential love interest and things don’t go exactly as planned.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Category: fluff with a little angst

TW/CW: a little bit of angst, brief mentions of food, self-doubt, mentions of anxiety, kissing

Word Count: 1.2k

Thank you @drgenius-reid for taking the time to beta-read this!

The following work is my entry for @andiebeaword's 3,000 Follower Celebration Writing Challenge (prompt n. 12) and is also part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

Spencer scooped out of the paper cup what was left of his ice cream before he finished recounting the events leading to the arrest of the unsub the entire BAU team had been successfully tracking down in Seattle during the past few days. 

“He’ll be charged with ten counts of murder, one attempted murder, and unlawful possession of multiple weapons. He’s facing ten life sentences without parole.”

“Way to go, Justice League!” you cheered, enthusiastic. 

He tucked his hair behind his ear with a cute chuckle. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow so you caught a glimpse of his wristwatch reflecting the light of a lamp post standing along the edge of the walking path; from the bench you were both sitting on you could see the illuminated dome of the US Capitol rising up against the dark mid-summer sky. 

Despite being within walking distance of a major street in the southwest quadrant of Washington, the park was quiet and uncrowded and the nearby gelato shop was one of Spencer’s favorites. 

You took the last sip of your drink, acting very casual. “And that’s all that happened?” 

He shrugged, unsure about which crucial information could have been missing from his story since he was under strict instructions not to fill you in on the most gruesome details of the cases he’d worked.

“Uhm, graphic descriptions of tortures and mutilations are not—��

“I’m talking about a certain homicide detective… the one you gave your number to…?” you explained and his jaw dropped instantly.

“What?!”

You nudged at him with your elbow. “Garcia called me from the Original Starbucks in Pike Place. I couldn’t tell if the hype was about your new admirer or being there.”

“I don't understand how this is such a big deal!” he blurted out in a high-pitched voice. “She showed an interest in what we do so I gave her my card.”

No profiling skills were required to detect his firm intention to avoid discussing the matter, yet the words came out of your mouth like a river in spate. 

“Any chance it wasn’t only a professional interest?”

The way Spencer looked at you, disappointed and hurt, hit you worse than a punch in the liver. 

“What’s with you, guys?! Are– are you all so invested in my personal life because you’re convinced I’m chronically unable to have one without your help?” he snapped, something you’d never seen him do. 

“I’m s—” you tried to reply, even though he was still too angry to let you apologize and cut you off again.

“Or maybe it’s that I’m no Derek Morgan, so why would someone even notice I exist, right?”

“Seriously?! An IQ of 187 and this is the best inference you can come up with?” you snorted, upset by the subtle insult he’d thrown at you - even if you had to admit you deserved it.

His brows furrowed. “Then why did you bring this up?” 

“I didn’t mean to pry, I’m sorry. I truly am,” you admitted, “and the Derek Morgan type is not the one I’d go for, just so you know. I don’t think that people hitting on you is funny or weird, it’s… I’m just surprised it doesn’t happen more often. There, I said it.”

He remained silent for a while, quite aware that Penelope’s inability to keep her mouth shut generated from genuine excitement about what she perceived as good news; sharing such personal information with you meant you had been put to the test over and over and, in the end, deemed worthy of her trust. 

The peaceful atmosphere around you served as an amplifier for the sound of splashing water and Spencer indicated the fountain at the center of the large, round basin in front of you with a jerk of his head. 

“I read a book about the architectural history of D.C. on the way back. This piece was created for the 1876 Centennial International Exhibition in Philadelphia, the US Congress acquired it in 1877 and placed it at the base of Capitol Hill. It was dismantled in 1926, then it remained in storage until 1932 when they moved it here.”

The pedestal held three twin iron-casted sea nymphs wearing wet tunics, with their arms raised above their heads to support a shallow vasque; on top was a group of kneeling child tritons, and the base was decorated with turtle-like aquatic creatures.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumbled.

The fact he’d for sure started and finished said book in less than fifteen minutes was among the 999.999 entries in your list of reasons to crush over SSA Reid.  And so were his three PhDs, his crooked ties, his passion for Star Wars, chess and Halloween.

“I don’t talk much about my private life. Especially outside of work,” he confessed after a pause. “A lot of times I have a hard time discussing personal issues—”

“Spencer… you know you don’t owe me an explanation, right?” you rushed to clarify.

He nodded and you did the same in response, to confirm you had no intention of pressuring him into opening up if he felt uncomfortable yet you were also ready to listen to anything he had to say; even in dim light, you could see the sadness veiling his beautiful hazel eyes.   

“Garcia was being Garcia, with her ‘look at the world through rose-colored glasses’ scenarios. I gave my card to a homicide detective to discuss behavioral sciences, it was just what it sounds like. But I understand where she’s coming from, I never told her…”

Your whole body tensed up, courtesy of a rush of anxiety triggered by the possibility of him being already involved with someone he had never mentioned, not even to his closest friends; you wondered if he could hear the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Luckily for you, Spencer didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m trying to come to terms with something I’ve been feeling, for weeks now. And I’m worried, because of what happened in the past and I can’t let go of…” his voice broke a little, so he swallowed. “Deep down I’m afraid I'm not the type of person who gets to live out happily ever after.” 

Refraining from hugging him on the spot and holding him close to your heart had gotten increasingly difficult lately, so you settled for a peck on his temple in a clumsy attempt at a comforting gesture.

You feared the worst when he looked at you for a moment that seemed to last forever; you certainly didn’t expect him to lean forward to cup your face in his hands - big hands.  With slender, elegant fingers he tenderly brushed over your cheeks.

You both held your breath, waiting for the distance between you to vanish until your foreheads touched and the tips of your noses rubbed together. 

“... are we really doing this?!” he whispered, sending shivers down your spine.

You smiled. “Don’t make me wait for another six months.”

Spencer squinted, an indication he was browsing countless data stored in his memory, then he eventually pinpointed the exact moment you fell for him and squeaked in surprise. 

“Christm—”

You pressed your palm on the nape of his neck, guiding his lips over yours for what you both had been longing for. 

Reason number 1.000.000: Dr. Reid was one hell of a kisser.

@thisiscalmanditsdoctorreid, @pretty-boys-book-club, @spookydrreid, @f-me-reid, @foxy-eva, @scorpiofangirl1109, @a-potato-wearing-plaid, @cynbx, @reidsbookclub, @nagemasstuff, @hotchsdharma, @reidmainbitch, @lizzylynch1, @will-grahams-eyes, @padawancat97

»»»— read pinned post for taglist info —«««

[k-s-morgan]

TGSTLTH related

Ok so I decided to do it here cuz I don't know will AO3 allow me to write essay hahahahah 😂😂😂

I don't even know how to start this. I've been reading fics for 13 years straight, like I don't remember the period of my life where I didn't read them cuz I always have some ship active and I'm crazy BL fan. Only a small number of them can make me crazy to the point I don't wanna sleep, eat, skipping my obligations, killing the pain and your sebaciel did everything. I haven't felt like this reading fic..,maybe ever? This is totally another level of me being fascinated by some writer.

I adore sebaciel, I'm in fandom since 2016 but the biggest problem I had with their fics is that - either people go too much OOC with them orr they rush up the things between them, going quickly with sex and feelings. It bothered me so much so I was crawling for good SC fics as crazy!!

After some break with SC, I came back to ao3 and saw your long fic. I started reading it but I dropped it after 3 chapters, I got bored cuz I thought you are gonna just re-type manga and do classic thing which another people do. Quickly, I got disappointed with another one and idk how but I decided to give your fic one more chance and dear lord......that was one of the best thing I have ever read. Maybe even the best.

Like, how smart are you? What's your IQ? Your manage to explain me some things about Kuro plot which I haven't udnerstand by myself. And the way you write Sebaciel relationship. That's everything I have ever wanted. Everything. They have normal conversation and that's it, that's all I need cuz there is everything. I feel electric every time when they talk, fight, do things together, goood the little touches svbjhsdjvbvbvbvbvbsdjvhbdf. I was tense whole fic. I read it for like 10 days, abandon everything until I finished it and now I feel sad ahahhaahha. But you are really something special, cuz I always used to say that manga itself is the best fiction cuz Yana knows the best how to create good Sebaciel energy. You, next to Yana, did the best job. You kept them as they are, never broke the character, and that's what I am most grateful. Slow burn, with drama and angst, love and attention, all misunderstanding, you put all necessary spices for 5 star meal. My fav part is when Ciel told Sebastian to add slamming doors to his most dramatic moments of his life ahahahahahahhaha 😂😂 I laughed like crazy, they are so precious♥ And I really wanted kiss to happen when Ciel lied Sebastian about another demon, that was sooo svbjhsvjhjhvbdf. But okay, you know the best, I trust you fully with this♥

The fact that they are ready to kill each other before they have normal conversation about their feeling is my fetish. I am in love with toxic things. Ciel ready to throw all game just to prove Sebastian that his value is not only his soul, right after he told himself for 1000 times he needs to stay on distance..... I LOVE ITTTT!!! I also need to say that you find PERFECT balance for good plot and romance. Your games and their cases...I just don't know, deep bow for you queen🔥💯After all, you didn't retype drama ahahaha but you manage to keep it canon without changing anything but still adding your spices so it's not ordinary Kuro plot we see every day....

I just have one question. From time to time, I was like a Bard ahahhaha, so sick of their games and my head hurting me, but on a good way. I am clear about Ciel but what about Sebastian and his disgust for Ciel's nicer, soft, emotional side? I know Ciel doesn't have it a lot, but would Sebastian still be grossed out about it as he was at the beginning of a contract or not? Keeping in mind that he is more and more obsessed with a boy?

So, that's all. I don't know how to use Patreon/PayPal, but for you I'll try cuz I only have credit card and that's all I know ahhahaha, I like to keep money in my hands😂 I'm sad about the situation in your country and all under - war countries. It's not bringing any good for anyone, specially for civilians. I hope you are okay and I wish you alll the best, the good karma must hit you really quickly cuz you made one person really, really happy here♥

Looking forward how will you finish this story, have a nice day❤

PS - this is the longest comment for fic I have ever left ahhaha, it's crazy how you got me sooo hyped up bjcvsdghvbds.

Hi! Ooh, thank you so much for your amazing, wonderful essay! I can't tell you how happy it made me! I think the electricity was already started being cut off when I got it, so I could see I have some really lengthy ask, but it wouldn't load. It was the torture of the most delicious kind :D

Like you, I've been reading fics for ages now, and the moments where I find some fantastic story that won't let me sleep or work or even blink are always the happiest and the brightest spots I remember. So it's extremely flattering to know that my story has become something similar to other people.

I love writing about smart characters, but most of them are definitely smarter than me! The benefit is that since I'm writing, I can think and plan everything in advance. In real life, I only wish I were as quick-witted and inventive. Alas, the best ideas and arguments come to me when they are no longer needed.

I love slow burns, and I love characters who abhor the idea of expressing their feelings, so Ciel and Sebastian have the most perfect dynamic in my eyes. I feel like I could spend the eternity just enjoying their Gothic world with their games, arguments, plots, and so on. Them antagonizing each other only to instantly team up against the common enemy is my most favorite thing in the world.

As for your question, right now, Sebastian would be thrilled if Ciel were to show a softer and more vulnerable side - at least in relation to him. Well, a part of him would feel the automatic need to mock him for it anyway, some habits don't die easily, but Sebastian's feelings have evolved a lot, plus Ciel is cold more often than he is not. So Sebastian treasures every word of praise, every hint of appreciation and need because they are so rare - he's come to crave them, and he has memorized all known cases of them by heart.

And no worries about supporting me! I really appreciate you taking your time to leave such a fantastic review, it made my day!

[j0kers-light]

imagine j with a southern bunny! i'm from mississippi and i don't think i sound super southern but i must be because most people down here think i have thick accent 🤣 i think j would either love or hate a southern accent 😂

Hey hi my sweet anon!! 🖤✨

This is the part where I repp the south! TN & GA! LET'S GO SOUTHERN GIRLS!!! 😤

I'm constantly concealing my southern accent at work and I hardly recognize I have one until a friend from the west coast calls me out on it. Y'all just don't know.. I be sounding a hot mess so don't feel discouraged anon! This is for all my southern girls! Yee to the flipping haw.

I think its only fair to separate the two scenarios of him loving or hating your accent. I hope you enjoy love! 🖤✨

Poor Joker. Oftentimes, he doesn't understand what you're saying and finds himself staring at you perplexed.

You would think thick accents wouldn't be an issue for him (after dealing with his crazy ex girlfriend...) but he asks you to repeat yourself multiple times a day much to your annoyance.

Don't get him wrong! He adores his Bunny!!! He just can't quite understand how you shorten some words and exaggerate others. (Ring any bells Joker? 🙄)

Perhaps that's why he hates it so much because its so similar to his own unique speech pattern. He denies that it’s the same.

And don't get him started with how slow you speak as if you have all the time in the world.

Joker is used to the fast jargon of Gotham City (our modern day NY) so he expects quick conversations or at least ones that he can fully comprehend. He feels like he loses IQ points hearing you talk.

Whenever you say things like "over yonder" or "whatchamacallit" he rolls his eyes and demands you speak plainly or not at all. "I am Joker. Quit calling my kettle black and gone get."

What does it even mean?! You and your southern sayings are driving him insane(r)!

He thought you were faking the whole accent thing until you went to visit family and he tagged along.

You have been speaking plainly to Joker because your relatives are practically speaking a different language compared to you.

He wants to turn himself in at Arkham if he has to listen to this southern drawl any longer. It is grating his nerves.

It gets worse the longer you stay home. You forgo all proper grammar and anything goes.

Joker can't stand how you sound so proper while simultaneously butchering the English language. He is happy to drop off his Bunny and get out of dodge.

Although he does miss you after a few days and calls you up asking what your plans are for the day and... well.

"I'm fixin' to go round yonder with Boost n' em then we finna cut up until Ma calls for us or till them Katydids start singin. Just a whole bunch a nuthing. You?"

Where does he begin to translate? His head hurts just thinking about trying. "Nothing Bunny. Just forget it."

He instead came up to the house (wearing his face mask of course) to see you. Your parents swarm him wanting to meet the man who stole their baby's heart although it was obvious they don’t approve of J.

Joker didn't mind his manners and his disgust for your inherited accent was visible the entire time.

You smiled and acted as the neutral party between the opposing sides until the sun started to set and Joker decided to leave.

You and your Mom stood on the veranda, watching Joker drive off. Mom waited until he was out of earshot to give her two cents. "Baby, that boy's cornbread ain't done in the middle, ain't it?"

You spat out your sweet tea. WAS IT THAT OBVIOUS?!

Now! Let's discuss Joker loving your southern accent!

From the moment he heard that alluring southern twang spill from your lips, he’s down bad.

You're every bit the iconic southern belle found in movies. Flirtatious by default and ever the tease, you are perfection to him; like a breath of fresh air.

Joker practically drools knowing that's how you were raised yet you keep that side of yourself a secret in order to blend in up north.

He rarely hears your accent because you go above and beyond to sound like citizens of Gotham City.

Your southern twang only slips through the cracks when you're angry, emotional, stressed, etc.

Joker tries his best to bring it out of you because he’s a shameless simp. Your voice is just too hypnotizing to hide!

Your accent kinda reminds him of his own speech pattern with how you pronounce certain vowels or syllables and speak slowly in order for the audience to appreciate every word or double meanings.

It’s an artform that he admires greatly and he loves when you read to him at night.

Or when he comes home all banged up and he catches your feminine gasp. Your “bless your heart baby! C’mere, I’ll fix ya up.” makes him feel so much better. 😍

Yet there are times in which you catch him by surprise with your flourish of words.

It was his idea to take his Bunny out hiking in the outskirts of Gotham. You grew up in the country and at times, the big city felt stifling.

Joker thought some nature would be good for your mood. He didn’t foresee becoming lost.

When he passed the same grove of flowers for the third time, you groaned in frustration. “Just admit it, J! We’re turned every which way but loose!”

He froze hearing your southern accent make a rare cameo. The power you had over him…

He was happy to hear it, but now was not the time to be smiling. “Uh come again Bunny?”

You stomped in your hiking boots and furiously began fanning yourself. ”There you stand in high cotton, and I’m over here sweatin’ like a sinner in church!”

Joker was so confused, yet completely in awe.

Each wild saying has his grin spreading wider and wider and you knew he didn’t hear a word you said; merely just the sound of them.

“J….” You warning him as he slowly advanced forward.

“Keep talking Sugar. You sound soooooo sweet.”

You rolled your eyes as Joker backed you into a tree and took hold of your hips.

“You hard a hearing is you?” You sigh with each distracting kiss Joker left on your neck, “J.. stop. I smell rain coming. We need to head on back.”

“You can… smell rain?” He asked.

“You can’t?”

[toytanks]

!!!!!!!!!!! Billford prompts?!?!?!?!!!?!?!?!?!!!!!!!?!!!!!!!!!!!

Okikokokokokokkkok soso like. It was hard for me to decide but I think 38 would be good?? But also 36 but also like 80% of them so. So. I'm deciding 38. That is my decision I am locking it in. Or 36.

Fuckkkkkkk okokokokokok so I. Have decided. Yes 38. 38. Yes. "You are never going to let me go, are you?"

That is- that is what I have chosen. 38. No rush. Have fun with it. It's also ok if you don't finish it. Cause I'm saving that list for later.

filled under the cut or can be read on ao3 here!

“You're never going to let me go, are you?” Ford smiled, teasing the demon, but ultimately relaxing into Bill’s grip. The demon’s tentacles slithered up and down his extremities, soothing the man as he hung in dream-space. His eyes wandered across the cosmic back drop, looking without seeing, drifting amongst the familiar stars but not recognizing them. There was a pleasurable buzz in the back of his mind that kept him content. It was probably Bill.

Ford could hear the smile in his voice when Bill replied. “Of course not Fordsy! You're mine, aren't you?” The sound thrummed in the space around them rather than coming from one specific point--Bill’s triangular form was around somewhere. 

Ford blushed. “Y-yes.” The tentacles around his limbs tightened, holding them in place as the urge to fidget welled up within him. He squirmed weakly in their grip. The demon hummed for a moment, just long enough for Ford to realize just how undignified he looked.

“Exactly!” Bill said suddenly, floating up next to him and--oh. So that's where he's been. The demon cups his now burning cheeks, soft hands tracing abstract patterns on his face. “I'm gonna keep you around forever, IQ, just you wait!”

Ford can't keep the grin off his face. "I hope you do."

~~~

“Wow Fordsy, I’ve gotta say–I’m impressed!” Bill tugged on the collar around Ford's neck, drawing the man close. A growl built up in the back of his throat as the urge to thrash in an attempt to harm the demon, but Ford exercised restraint. They were in a desolate dimension, and as much as he hated to admit it, Bill was his only life line. Violence would get him nowhere.

“Still chasing me after all these years.” His eye curved, amused. “You're never going to let me go, are you?”

Bill’s hands find their way into Ford's hair, tugging slightly. Ford's disgusted, mostly at how good it feels, and it pushes his self control over the edge. 

“Never.” He hisses, unparalleled venom in his voice. “You will never get away from me.”

~~~

“I'm glad you didn't let me go.” 

It's a whisper of a statement, an unwilling truth torn from a scarred heart. Passion and devotion displayed for him, it's a confession of sin as much as it is love. Ford doesn't look at him.

Bill hums as he smooths his hands through the ex-human’s hair, enjoying the shudder that runs through Ford's body at the familiar sensation. Bill guides his head to face him, but Ford still avoids his gaze. Bill laughs.

Truly, he adores when Ford is like this, pliable and devoted and vulnerable. It reminds him of old times. He smiles when their eyes finally meet, and it's not the same. Ford's eyes are as much full of tentative fear as they are worship, the knowledge of the divine punishment that comes with overstepping boundaries. A bolt or two jump between the chains that Ford wears, but they do not reach him. He's been good, and Bill doesn't feel like hurting him today. Ford blushes at the prolonged contact and it's almost disappointing not having the same blind trust as before, but while the past doesn't repeat, it does rhyme, and Bill thinks he might like this Ford better.

Fingers trace the researcher’s lip as Bill remembers the topic at hand. "I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit here, bud!" Bill smiles brightly, all sharp teeth and dark promises, laughing as he pulls his toy close. “You're the one who chased me.”

[vi-sigoth]

how did you come to be able to trust and believe in men not to betray, hurt, or degrade you over time? i've never been in a situation where i was surrounded by "cuck" leftists as you say, and while i agree those men are awful in their own way, i'm also wary of right leaning men that tend to hide a general sense of contempt for women. a common example i have on my mind often is higher IQ men who willingly marry women who are significantly or at least noticeably lower IQ because they don't believe or care if there are women closer to them in ability, and they enjoy having such control and influence over their wives or live-in girlfriends. there's more but i don't want to throw you a wall of text lol

So, there’s really no good answer to this. I can tell you my own experience, but my life and yours are probably very different.

I have absolutely noticed a lot of conservative men marrying women who are lower IQ, (and tons of “racist” white men marrying poorer Hispanic, Asian, and even black women, which…we don’t have time to unpack all of that).

I would say—keep your heart open. But have your hand on the gate, ready to slam it shut and lock it when you see a red flag. I think a lot of women, because we tend to be more agreeable and less inclined towards hurting feelings with men maybe are afraid of asking the more difficult questions towards the beginning of the relationship (although I think that both men and women nowadays suck really hard at communicating with each other). There are some things you need to ask about that people don’t like—because they’re pragmatic and not very romantic, but in my opinion, women should be asking—

1. What are your religious/moral/ethical views?

My husband and I are the same religion. He and I discussed it very soon after meeting each other. I know that some people like to say that people who are extremely religious probably don’t get divorced because they’re afraid of the shame and stigma, blah blah blah, but I don’t buy that entirely. I think people who’s religious views (which inform your morality and ethics) don’t get divorced as much as non-religious people because their worldviews simply align more and because of that, they’re able to build more harmonious marriages. Going back to Conservative men marrying lower IQ women — I’ve noticed a bizarre trend, mostly with the older generations, of Conservative men marrying liberal women, or marrying women that have a different religion than them. It’s because those men in particular don’t care very much about their wife as a fully-fledged human being. Who cares, let her have her silly worldviews, as long as dinner is on the table; women are stupid anyway, I’d only talk politics with the boys down at the bar—type mindset. Make men tell you their religious views. How do those views inform the way they think about women and the treatment of a wife?

2. What are your thoughts on sex? Is it appropriate to go to strip clubs? To look at porn? Will you ever ask me to swing/have a threesome? How kinky are you in bed? Do you like doing anything in bed that would be considered outside of the norm?

Now this—people REALLY don’t want to talk about this. I’m going to be mega-cringe and cite Jordan Peterson here, but he was absolutely right when he said that nowadays, young men and women do things in bed that they can’t talk about with each other. But you HAVE to talk about sex with each other. I promise, it’ll save you massive heartbreak down the road. Can you imagine being nineteen and staring deep into the eyes of your boyfriend and thinking about how much you love him, only for him to completely blindside you and ask you to have a threesome? Haha. Yeah. (I said no). Talk about sex now, even if you are waiting until after marriage, you can absolutely discuss the act even if you haven’t done it yet. How many times a week does he expect sex? My now husband and I discussed this, and we both unequivocally agreed that strip clubs are out of the question, as is porn watching, and neither of us want to bring other people into our bedroom. We are also on the same page about which sex acts are fine, and which ones are gross and never happening. If guy is pissy about any of this or unwilling to answer or discuss this, major red flag. What it typically means is that he’s already doing those things or wants to do them in the future and doesn’t want to make a promise that he won’t do them knowing full well he won’t keep it. Don’t ever let a guy make you feel like you’re crazy, stupid, or nagging for putting your foot down about pornography and strip clubs. He engages in that shit? Drop him. Men need to be behaving better, but we, as women, also need to be more active in punishing men for bad behavior. Also, ask how will he feel if for some reason you’re sick or recovering from childbirth and you can’t have sex with him for a few months? He understands that there might be periods of time when that happens, yes?

3. How will you contribute domestically? What will our split be?

Whichever person works less hours out of the house does more housework. Period, the end. He knows how to do dishes, do his own laundry, cook reasonably well, and clean a bathroom, right? He better. You also need clear affirmation that he understands that just because a woman stays at home, doesn’t mean they just sit around and do nothing all day. If you are a stay at home mother, he’s going to step in at night when he gets home and parent his children to give you some downtime, and he’ll help you with household chores at night that you might not have been able to get done because you might have been too tied up with taking care of kids? The answer to that better be yes. Make sure he’s not one of those guys that think that all he has to do is go to work and come home, and NOTHING else.

So yeah, I would say, I came to start liking and trusting the men around me a lot more by making sure that I was thoroughly vetting the ones that were interested in me romantically. My husband showed me that he was loyal and trustworthy while he was still my boyfriend because, not only he did he agree with me about all the above things, but he showed me by his kind, sweet, and thoughtful actions. Not only does he agree with me about splitting domestic labor (we both work the same hours outside the house at the moment) he actually does it. He helps with grocery shopping, making our lunches, making dinner, taking care of my cat, as just a few examples. A man who loves you will always show you.

[weebsinstash]

Lol and how do you think the police are going to think of you responding like this

"Can you vividly describe your alleged assault to me so I can write pornography that people can masturbate to. That's the kind of attention you're wanting, right?"

It doesn't really align with the victim narrative you're about to try to sell them does it? Like honestly think of the optics bestie 😂 do you really think they're going to not blame you for the hArRaSsMeNt and cYbErBoOlYiNg since you're saying vitriolic shit like that in return which any normal person would interpret as escalating the situation? Do you think the cops are going to waste their resources on someone who is practically begging for more responses from their """""hArRaSsEr""""" by sending that? You're acting like a literal freezer-temp IQ brainlet (I just know you're going to recycle that insult later too as you've done so many times before lol) and undermining your own already doomed-to-failure attempt to get me arrested lol

Do you not realise you're just going to look like a huge crybaby who got into an online back-and-forth with someone, was talking mad shit but now is calling the cops for hArRaSsMeNt? They're just going to ask you wtf you're thinking with these responses man. I swear to god 😂 PLEASE record it

"You were asking for it" is definitely an odd defense from an alleged rape victim which further proves my point you're a liar and you just lash out when your feelings are hurt. You know I remember you mentioning personality disorders during one of your weird little puppet blog adventures. You ever get help for that? Thinking you're a bigger victim than everyone else is a sign of narcissism

"Sure I came to you over and over and waited for you to turn your asks back on and have came back month after month after month but you were ASKING for it, and even when you didnt even have your asks on i was spamming dozens of people your real name and contact information so they would DM you" like do you genuinely think that defense will work for the police. Do you genuinely think "she called me a slut and hurt my fee fees so she deserved to be stalked" is a valid defense in court

Also I wanna bring something up since you keep talking about sex and degeneracy. You keep claiming off and on that you're a minor or whatever but now claim you have a partner. So which is it because children having sex definitely isnt normal. You sound like a pretty loose woman by my standards, and since you're a conservative woman from a red state, there's about an 80% chance you started having sex at 12, since that's extremely common and uh. Your attitude fits the bill as someone who never grew up.

Women who feel icky about the choices they've made are always the first to slut shame other women :) but yeah keep telling me how me and the like hundreds of people calling you a dumb piece of shit that we don't matter because we have an opinion different than yours. That's how emotional women in echo chambers usually act. I'm sure us beating our meat to fictional stories will definitely magically justify your hopeless existence. Continue rubbing your pussy to thoughts of me, I'm sure you'll feel something down there some day

[unculturedmamoswine]

Gravity Falls Fic: Call on Me

My fic for day 2 of @polyshipweek! The prompt I chose was second chances. It’s a Ford/Fidds/Emma-May fic set when Ford calls Fidds for help on the portal. Emmy has another idea. You can read it under the cut or on AO3 here.

Bill doesn’t like it, but it has to be Fiddleford. Ford’s finally made his muse see the wisdom of bringing in someone with Fiddleford’s talents. Much as he’d like to say that he’s capable of designing and building a poly-dimensional meta-vortex on his own, he has to admit that, really, he can’t. “And, no offense, Bill but it seems like you can’t, either,” Ford had pointed out. “Unless you have a depth of mechanical knowledge you haven’t revealed to me yet?” he added, half-hopefully.

Bill had laughed ruefully and scratched his head (the tip of his body under the hat, rather.) “Yeah, yeah, you got me there, IQ. Go ahead and call your buddy. But keep me under your hat, got it?” For a dramatic exit from Ford’s mindscape, Bill had squeezed himself into a tiny fraction of his usual size and disappeared into his own hat, which then popped out of existence, allowing Ford to wake up and stare at his ceiling until light crept through his window.

-

That had been five days ago. Ford hasn’t heard from Bill in that time, and so hasn’t had anything to distract him from his anxiously churning thoughts.

What will I say? What will he say? What do I say if Emma-May answers the phone? Should I ask to speak to her if she doesn’t? What if their son answers the phone? Do (whatever age he is) aged children answer phones? Did Stanley and I ever get the phone when we were children? Maybe Shermie answers the phone at home. I should call Mom and Dad and see if he answers.

“Look,” he tells himself in the mirror one afternoon. “You’re just going to have to do it.” Ford drags the razor across his jaw. “You’ve reached the point of shaving to avoid talking to Fiddleford and Emma-May again,” he points out. “So you know you’re being cowardly. If you want to achieve anything in your life, you have to be willing to face your fears.”

Ford rinses his face and gives himself a stern nod in the mirror. He’s right. He should listen to himself.

-

Ford makes the call in his office, hoping the professional atmosphere will keep him grounded. It’s been years. He’s a grown adult now, he reasons. He’s surely over his bizarre youthful experimentation stage, and over any lingering hurt feelings over any breakups that might have resulted in Ford moving alone to Oregon and Fiddleford and Emma-May getting married and settling down. In the last couple of years, he’s been better able to look back fondly on his… relationship time with Emma-May and Fiddleford. He used to try to avoid thinking of them as much as possible. He couldn’t say he resented them; their parting of ways was mutual, after all. But he couldn’t say he was entirely sanguine about them, either.

Ford makes the call in his office, hoping the setting will make this feel like a professional interaction. He paces like a dog on his short leash, twisting the phone cord in his fingers. He fits each finger of his free hand in between the tightly curled spirals of the cord, and thinks suddenly of Emmy’s– of Emma-May’s hair on the days she took the time to do it. It curled almost as tightly, those times. The rest of the time her hair was much like Ford’s– an unhappy medium between curly and frizzy, usually settling into fluffy on days she didn’t wash it. They used to sigh about it together when they were alone and Fiddleford wasn’t around to tease them.

He’s jostled out of his memory when the ringing stops. His stomach drops sharply, but that’s nothing new, not specific to this situation. It’s always unpleasant when someone he’s calling actually picks up.

“Hello, Fiddleford Computermajigs.” A very large portion of Stanford’s nervousness curls up and withers away as if it had never been. It’s Fiddleford, after all. Just Fiddleford, who Ford has always been able to talk to. He grins and shakes his hand free of the phone cord.

“Fiddleford, it’s Stanford Pines. It’s been a long time, I know, but I was calling because I was hoping you’d help me with some work I’ve been doing. I’ve hit a roadblock.” Fiddleford stays silent while Ford explains what he’s doing and what he hopes Fiddleford will be able to help him with. When Ford is done, all Fiddleford says is that Ford’s idea is ‘mathematically feasible,’ thank god. (Both thank god that Fiddleford doesn’t need convincing that it could work and thank god that he’s still the same old Fidds and is instantly invested in an interesting problem, rather than any pesky emotions either of them could be feeling.)

“It’d be a real treat to come up north and help you out with your project, Stanford!” he says, with perfect sincerity. “What number are ya callin’ from? I’ll talk to Emmy about it and call you right back.”

Ford gives Fiddleford the relevant information and hangs up, monumentally relieved.

Buoyed up by the idea that Fiddleford will be here sometime soon, Ford launches into some work regarding recent magnetic field disturbances for some fun. He thinks it’s probably just Crash Site Omega acting up, but without making the trip out there he can’t be sure. For a while he is thrilled to realize that whatever is going on is also causing faintness, weakness, and shortness of breath, but sadly, the feelings go away once he’s had lunch.

Once one PM rolls around, it starts to occur to Ford that Fiddleford is taking an awfully long time. Would Emma-May have told him he shouldn’t go? In a way it would make sense. How many wives would want their husbands spending extended time alone with an ex, even if it was a mutual ex? She hadn’t seemed angry or resentful when they’d last seen each other; she’d hugged him and cried, but hadn’t yelled or thrown anything.

Ford, sweating in the heat, opens his refrigerator door to stand in the cool. Rather than worry over things he can’t influence, he forces himself to list his least favorite professors from Backupsmore, starting with the worst and moving on to the most tolerable. When the phone rings he springs to answer it.

“Hello, this is Stanford Pines.”

Click. Great, another prank call. He gets them very rarely, but it does happen.

Now he has to wait around again. Ford angrily hangs up the phone, and then jumps into the air when the phone rings again immediately. He yanks the handset off the receiver.

“Hello?” he demands, sounding like an angry recluse even to his own ears.

“Hi, Stanford, it’s Emmy. Heard you needed Fiddlford for something up in Oregon? You’re still in Gravity Falls?”

“Yes,” Ford says automatically. How did it not occur to him that Emmy might be the one to call back? “I can’t think of anyone better suited to help me with my work. At least, the work I’m doing, uh, at the moment.” He chuckles nervously.

“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” she says easily, with a determinedly casual air that Ford recognizes at once. It’s the cool, easy demeanor she adopts when she’s about to say something outrageous that she wants to trick people into going along with. “I’m gonna come, too, I think. And Tate, of course, he’ll love gettin’ to run around and get some fresh air. How’re the schools up there, d’you know?”

“Well, fairly bad, I think, but, Emma-May,” Ford stammers. He takes a breath to organize his thoughts as quickly as he can. It’s an absurd idea, and she knows it. “All three of you can’t come up here for an undetermined amount of time, surely? Fiddleford said his own work can wait, but don’t you work for the city?”

“I was thinkin’ I might take some time off soon.”

“Ah. I suppose then I can see why you might not want Fiddleford gone,” Ford says slowly.

“So you see why it makes so much sense for us all three to come see you,” she persists. “Fiddy shouldn’t be the only one who gets a vacation.”

“I’ll pay him!” Ford squawks indignantly. “I’m not asking–”

“I know it, Ford, I’m kidding!” Emmy laughs, her deep, hoarse voice gently teasing.

“Emmy, I have a lot of work to do,” Ford tells her, trying to hide his frustration. “Fiddleford and I, if he comes, will be very busy.”

“And if I don’t come, we’ll be all alone here anyway, Ford, Tate’n me,” she points out. “If, up in Oregon, you two spend all your wakin’ hours building a time machine or whatever, I won’t be any more by myself than I would be here.” She hesitates. “Look, Fiddy agrees. It’s been too long since we’ve seen you. We’d like to catch up. You oughta meet Tate.”

Ford has no idea (except that he does, a very stupid and wrong idea that he won’t entertain) why he ought to meet Fiddleford and Emma-May’s son. He’s never even seen a photo of the boy.

“I’m sure he’s great,” Ford says weakly. “But.” He can’t tell her that he’s trying not to want to see her, that wanting to see Fidds again was already so much. He can’t tell Emma-May that Bill wouldn’t like it if Fidds brought his whole family along to distract from their work. He can’t say that Gravity Falls is beautiful and anomalous in the way he’d always dreamed, in a way that she could appreciate for the wildness and strangeness, while Fidds would value it for its wealth of scientific oddities. Couldn’t possibly tell her that they’d both love the small town full of outdoorsy people that Ford hasn’t gotten to know, but that they undoubtedly would, given half a chance.

He couldn’t ever say to Emma-May that he can see her and Fiddleford living in Ford’s little town as clearly as he sees the gnomes that steal his trash can lids.

Emmy takes a breath, clearly planning to carry on with her campaign, but Ford, suddenly feeling decidedly weak-willed, interrupts.

“You’re right. You’re right. I have no idea how long I’ll need Fiddleford, so… yes, fine. All three of you. Come to Gravity Falls,” Ford is grinning foolishly. He always could be talked into any old crazy scheme, given the right circumstances and light persuasion.

He’ll probably regret it, and Bill won’t be happy, and he may possibly be miserable when Fidds and Emmy leave again, but why not? Why not do something slightly crazy? He doesn’t have much time left before he becomes a household name and he won’t be able to get away with this kind of silly, emotionally-driven decision.

“Great! Oh, Ford, that's great. I can’t wait to see you! Fiddleford and me have got some things to sort out down here, but how about I have Fiddy call you tomorrow and we’ll let you know when we’ll be there?”

“That sounds great, Em.” Ford can’t believe that he’s standing alone in his kitchen, blushing because a girl wants to come over. “I can’t wait.”

[emeriethevalkyriegirl]

Totally Spies (Valkyries) Chapter 17

@sunshinebingo @aelinchocolatelover

Azriel picked up the jasper shard. It glowed from the sunlight that rose from the window inside the apartment. “Where did you get this?”

Nesta was about to reply when she quickly remembered where she got the shard. She closed her mouth. The boys knew they snuck out, but they didn’t know they snuck out yesterday. She wanted to keep that a secret, but knowing the organization, they were gonna find out anyway. Either way, she and her friends were both screwed. She turned to Emerie and Gwyn. They both gave her a silent nod. They knew the risks of revealing their spying games. They had to tell them. Even though they know they’re gonna pay for it.

“We uh...found it. At the bakery.” All at once, the brothers’ expressions turned cold and hard. Emerie butted in. “We overheard you talking with Boss yesterday and decided to...investigate?” Emerie smiled nervously. This did not falter the boys’ anger. “You mean to tell me that you left the org on your own, walked straight into a crime scene,”

“Did I mention I almost died?” Emerie also butted out earning a nudge from Gwyn.

“And tampered with valuable evidence?! Not to mention you stole my tracking device you think I didn’t notice that?” Azriel growled as Gwyn looked away with a blush. “We were gonna tell. Honest.”

“Yeah. But-”

“But what!?” At this point, the boys were losing their patience. “This guy came out of nowhere from the back of the store. He told us to give us the shard or else he’d kill Emerie.” Gwyn explained as Emerie and Nesta nodded rapidly in agreement. Noticing the panic on their faces, the boys relaxed. They were still angry at them for going off book, but they didn’t want them to start thinking they couldn’t tell them anything anymore. As calmly as possible, Rhysand responded, “Do you know who he was?” he asked. The girls shook their heads. “All we know what that he was tall.”

Azriel flicked the shard up in the air and caught swiftly. “I’ll take this to the forensics team downstairs. See what they can make of it.” Azriel said, walking out of the room without a single glance. Cassian turned to Rhysand. “I’ll call Morrigan, and she and I will go back to the bakery for more clues,” he suggested. His brother nodded in agreement. “You go do that,” Rhysand replied, turning to the girls who were trying to sneak back into their rooms. “Hold up, where do you three think you’re going?”

Freezing in place, the girls gulped and tried to look as innocent as possible. “Um...nowhere?” Emerie said. Rhysand and Cassian glare, neither of them buying any of their pleas. “You three should be lucky that we’re even keeping our mouths shut for you.” Cassian pointed out, making the girls look down in guilt. “The least you could do is take your punishment like an adult.” The girls looked at the boys with interest. Punishment? The girls knew that they’d get in trouble eventually, but they didn’t think it would be now.

Cassian cracked his knuckles. “Get changed into your workout pants. I’ll show you how a real spy trains.”

--------------------

Gwyn and Nesta carried Emerie across the gym. Cassian had ordered them to meet him in the gym for some extra training. Sense they wanted to stay up early at dawn, it made no sense to let them sleep it off until their training was done for the weekend. The girls tried to lie to him, pleading that they still have homework to do for their classes, but knowing Gwyn’s IQ, she helped them all with their homework and her own and was able to get it done yesterday. Nothing was gonna get them out of this.

At first, the girls were doing basic warm-ups as usual. Then, they did the cardio test with the laser ray. Yeah, not fun. After that routine, Cassian made them do separate workout routines, each one hurting more than the last. Nesta would sit straight against the wall while bending her knees. Emerie would stay in a plank position for 10 whole minutes. So much as a twitch and she’d have to start over from scratch. Gwyn had to lift two dumbbells that were twice her weight. Normally, she’d have to do it while standing, but with the fear of having it crush within her toes, Cassian allowed her to sit.

That routine was 2 minutes ago. Now, the three of them had to practice carrying a body. Cassian explained to them that sometimes, their teammates might get harmed and there won’t be enough time for back u to arrive, so they will practice trying to lift their own body weight by lifting one of their own together. All they had to do was get one of their friends across the gym without having any of their body parts touch the ground. The first one up was Emerie. Gwyn and Nesta decided to grab her by her wrists and ankles. However, this task proves to be more difficult than they thought.

“Em, you’re a lot heavier than you look,” Nesta said, holding on tight to her friend’s ankles. Emerie frowned. “Hey, it’s not my fault donuts are delicious.”

“Did you just admit that you’re going off your diet?” Gwyn asked with a smirk as Nesta snickered. Emerie blushed, angered that she couldn’t cover her face. “Shut up.”

“Girls, focus.” The girls turned to Cassian who was watching them with his arms crossed. Nesta stuck her tongue out at him in response. “We’re trying, asshole.”

“Say that again and I’ll put you back against that wall,” Cassian replied, his tone not changing. Normally, the big brute would crack a joke right about now, but in this case, he was through playing games. Deciding to be wise instead of stupid, Nesta closed her mouth and turned back to her friends. “Come on, I think we’re halfway across the-”

“Guys, I’m slipping,” Emerie called out as Gwyn was trying to desperately hold onto her left ankle, but the pegasus that was resting there was making it a little difficult to sense the silver was harming her palms. “Sorry, I’m trying to-WAH!” Gwyn suddenly cried out as she tripped backward and landed on her ass. This caused her to let go of Emerie who fell to the ground as well. Nesta came down with them as well, landing on top of Emerie.

Cassian coughed a bit to cover up a laugh. “I thought girls like you were tougher than this,” he said as he started to flex his fingers a bit. The girls didn’t reply, too fixated on getting off each other. “I’m going to check on Rhysand. Because of you, we must watch you for another hour,” he said, walking over to the exit. “Don’t leave this room until you finish the assignment.” Cassian left the room, slamming the door behind him.

After a couple of moments, the girls decided to relax for a while and play on their phones. Emerie kept watch in case Cassian was coming back. That was 20 minutes ago. No sign of him. “Weird. You’d think that brute would be back by now.” Nesta told her friends, finally deciding to turn off her phone. Emerie shrugged. “Poor guy probably got hungry. I’d go straight to the kitchen if I were him.” Gwyn placed her phone back in her bag. “I’m bored. I wanna get out of here,” she said slumping to the ground like a dead worm.

Nesta and Emerie didn’t argue. “I’ll go open the door,” Emerie said as she got up from the floor and walked straight to the exit. She placed her hand on the door knock and turned it. It didn’t move. She turned it the other way. Nothing. Emerie yanked on the doorknob. The door remained shut. “Uh, guys! I think Cassian locked us in!”

[the-homicidediaries]

Ed Kemper

Hello, everyone who takes the time to read this. <3

I hope everyone has had a good Mother's Day. I've had one of the best days. My children are so lovely, thoughtful, and caring. I couldn't be prouder of who they are becoming. BUT Enough about me.

Idk, I kinda figured I hadn't talked about a serial killer in.. toooooo long, so in honor of Mother's Day, I will be shedding some light on Mr. Edmund Kemper, The Co-Ed Killer. (I'm also totally waiting for my Sims game to redownload, so I had some time to kill, lol.) If you've never read one of my essays, well, sometimes they can get gross and I'm obviously not being very professional. I told Del it's like I'm just talking to one of the girlies, haha. So please keep that in mind; it may get graphic and I may say a curse word here and there. I am 32 after all.

When I think of Edmund Kemper, a few things come to mind. In no particular order: Number one, he's unbelievably intelligent; he's said to have an IQ of 145, only 15 points away from Albert Einstein. I know he's dangerous because he is a serial killer, but brilliant people are just as scary. The level of power they hold, the mind games; terrifying. And it's pretty rare for us to see serial killers who are so smart. Like just to name a few people off the top of my head.. Robert Pickton, Henry Lee Lucas, Ottis Toole, Arthur Shawcross, and Gary Ridgeway, not so bright to be honest. Another thing I think of is how MASSIVE Eddie Boy is. (SPOILER: Oh, I am speaking in present tense on purpose; he's still alive in a medical facility in California.) This man is 6'9", over 300 pounds. Is he the biggest serial killer? Let me google real quick. YES HE IS, HA! Just wait until you see the pictures I post of him next to the police officers when he was on trial. He's SCARY tall, and he was actually really good friends with said police officers, but he couldn't become a police officer like he wanted to beCAUSE he was so massive. (Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself.) I also think, (imagine this in big, flashing red, neon lights), MOMMY ISSUES. It was pretty clear early on in Ed's life that his mother hated his stinkin' guts and favored his sister's instead, but we will get into alllllldat girrrrrrl.

Edmund Emil Kemper was born on December 18th, 1948 in Burbank, California, to E.E. and Clarnell Kemper. (Omg I just realized why she is so angry all the time. Clarnell? DISGUSTANG) Okay anyway, so, his parents divorced in 1957 when he was 9 and he was, of course, stuck with his angry, alcoholic mother. They ended up moving to Montana. She blamed Ed for everything bad that happened to her. (I think I've listened to some podcasts that said she was so angry because he looked so much like his father and that angered her. Don't quote me on that.) When Ed was ten, his mother forced him to live in the basement away from his sisters because she was always worried he would harm them in some way. (I always go back and forth with this. Was Ed a normal child until his mother put it in his head he was a problem and he might start hurting his sisters OR did she see something everyone else didn't? I don't know.) Regardless, it's said soon after that, Ed started exhibiting some weird behavior. Weird like, like serial killer level weird. Like dark. And evil. Like he would play this game with his sisters that he called "Gas Chamber" where he had them blindfold him, have him sit in a chair, and he would writhe and scream in agony until he "died". Like, idk sometimes my Barbie's parents or sister would die in an accidental car crash, but yeesh. He also admitted during this time he would have dreams about murdering his mother. (Ed LOVED to talk about himself, also pretty rare for serial killers, so there are lots and lots and lots and LOTS of videos of him being interviewed.) Also when he was ten, he buried one of the family cats.. alive. When he was thirteen, he stabbed the other with a knife. Clarnell noped the heck out of Eddie and sent him to live with his paternal grandparents in North Fork, California. (I do want to keep this essay mostly focused on the relationship between Ed and his mother, but when he was 15, he did brutally murder his grandparents "to see what it felt like." This led to him being sent to the California Youth Authority where, I am not kidding you, he was so charming and brilliant they let him do whatever he want and go wherever he wanted, so he spent a majority of his time learning the correct answers of the exams they were giving him until he was eventually released for being "cured" of his schizophrenia at 21. After fatally shooting both of his grandparents to death because he didn't like their rules. It's Ted Bundy vibes and it's awful. But yeah, sorry to quickly explain that without much detail. I highly recommend looking into it.) After he was released, it was reccommended he maybe not live with his terrible, alcoholic, abusive mother, but guess what Eddie Boy did? I'll give you two guesses. Yup. He freakin' MOVED BACK IN WITH CLARNELL. Clarnell was living in Santa Cruz, California, now (after her third failed marriage), and she had taken a job with the Univeristy of California. At this time, Ed had also accepted a job with the Department of Transportation after being rejected to become a state trooper due to his size, which I already told you, but the show must go on! Like he was CLOSE with these dudes. They nicknamed him Big Ed, one of them gave him a badge and handcuffs, the whole shebang. And his car! His car was a Ford Galaxie 500 and it highly resembled a police car. (I'll post a picture.) Like for all intents and purposes, he was basically a state trooper. His job with the Department of Transportation is critical in his serial killing career because that's how he lured the girls he murdered. He picked up hitchhikers and.. ya knoooow. Killed them. But even worse, he would murder girls from UC, but they trusted him because he had a sticker or something hanging in the window, I can't remember, that said he was connect to UC. (Like I said, I am not getting into these murders today, but they are bruuuutal. Ed is a special kind of effed up.)

Okay, so here is where I give the signal that it's going to be really bad, like really, really bad. So. I'm just saying, you don't have to read it! It's not too late to turn around and never look back. But, if you're a little messed up like me, hi. Let's get into it, yuh. (This is all awful, you can really tell how much he hated his mother.)

In April of 1973, Ed Kemper committed his last two murders. First was the murder of his mother, Clarnell Kemper. Before he murdered her, he went to her bedroom and she said, "I suppose you're going to want to sit up and talk now." He replied, "No, good night," and When she was asleep, he bashed her head in with a claw hammer and slit her throat with a penknife. He then decapitated her and proceeded to use his mother's decapitated head to perform oral sex. (I have learned that term is called 'irrumatio'. 'In the ancient Roman sexual vocabulary, irrumatio is strictly a form of oral rape (os impurum), in which a man forces his penis into someone else's mouth, inducing vomiting for sexual gratification.[2]' Gross.) After that, he set her head on top of a shelf and screamed at it for an hour. He also threw darts at it. He also cut out her tongue and larynx and shoved them down the garbage disposal, and the absolute symbolism of that is chilling. Like he could finally shut her up, except he couldn't. Like I said, he loved to talk about himself and give interviews, and when her vocal cords couldn't be broken down, he said, "That seemed appropriate, as much as she'd bitched and screamed and yelled at me over so many years." Afterwards, he hid his mother's body in the closet and Eddie Boy went to have himself a drink at a local bar. He ended up inviting his mother's bestie over and he murdered her too. :( Ed assumed he was going to be caught immediately and fled to Pueblo, California, where ultimately, he ended up telling on himself to his police buddies. They didn't even believe him, he had to prove he was The Co-Ed Killer. I think it's very important to realize that he turned himself in after his mother was murdered. Like she was connected to all of his other murders somehow. I think he said in an interview that after he killed his mother, his "original purpose was gone" and he couldn't emotionally handle it anymore. I personally think he lived out his most disgusting, most wanted fantasy and since it was over, he had no other reason to keep going. Fun facts to lighten the mood? Ed stays in the same facility as Manson did! And also Herbert Mullin. It's rumored that Mullin had a habit of singing that pissed Ed off, so he bribed him with peanuts to get him to stop, lol. He's a smart man. In his time in prison, he's been a model prisoner I reckon. I read he has scheduled other inmate's appointments with their psychatrists and he enjoys making ceramic cups. Ed has a very nice speaking voice, unfortunately, and also while he was in prison, he recorded over 5000 hours worth narrating a set of audiobooks which I have searched high and low for, but I can never find them. He's been very forthcoming with his crimes and has had several interviews. He's also been denied parole several times, and he's even waived his right to a hearing saying, "Society is not ready in any shape or form for me. I can't faullt them for that."

And that is the disgusting, unfortunately true, murder of Clarnell Kemper by her own son, Edmund Kemper.

Happy Mother's Day! <3

My sources: Wikipedia, of course. And also: https://www.biography.com/crime/edmund-kemper

Pictured below are: Ed Kemper as a child. Ed Kemper and Clarnell Kemper. Ed Kemper's victims. Some photos to how he towers over people. Ed Kemper then and now.

Thank you for reading, I love ya!

[the-firebird69]

We had a lot of homes like this that was just wood frame and they built very well and it's like posting being with Woody infill and extremely sturdy and it stood gale force winds and Kenwood stand tornadoes right now they're not really built that well you can see that this is it no yeah that's right and if you have this part underneath it the other part is a different picture it's in the same place more or less Susie thinks it's the same place and the waters rising but he eats it away and it's on part Rock and that sounds right I miss my sister and I loved her I think she perished and you people are very mean and you're mean to him beyond what I ever saw I never thought you'd be this mean and he's like a baby it has some kind of resilience but he hates you a lot please keep stuffing it to him you don't care what happens to you if there's two assholes and they're very wrong you don't treat people like people you need to get out of there you came here with the stupid assumption you could keep his house key and you're stupid and he stopped you from killing Stan and you have the shovel thing out back I mean you're a f****** moron Maxwell having you do it and you're going to die you're going to die imitating my son you did so many damn times you're such a fool you look at four year old child you're so goddamn dumb your IQ is very low Trump you should never have been close to being president I can't believe how stupid you are and people want you back as a president some do you're a moron you belong in a mental hospital too he says you're critically ill you're calling to him and he cannot stand you I can't believe he doesn't rip you apart I've seen him thrash people so easily throws them across the room this guy was bothering him and he said you're going to try and hurt me I'm going to hurt you very badly pick them up and threw him across the room hit the wall and knocked him out and they said he had to leave the party he's saying what for and he was at Jimmy John's house and I heard about it and he left a little came back and they were gone and he's saying that what do you want to be next and they were mad and trying to act tough and they said no he said good that guy deserved it and they took him away and they took him to jail hey is there a bunch of lazy bums and really they go way too far now and we know why it happens so we're in a pressure cooker and this is stupid what we're doing the solutions but nobody wants to do it we're going to get out of this we got to stop doing it and you people have to leave the apartment you're not supposed to be there I can't believe you're still there after you've taken so much loss and he says well the stashes have to go and their ships and then they leave for Titan and then they'll be dead and that's what's going to happen I guess

Camilla you find out you didn't really do the surgeries and we know who it was and it wasn't someone of ours in our group of circus people is such an idiot God damn it you're stupid it says don't say it the VW idea and don't say it he's a crap ass bastard if it's my idea my son says he can't do it

[windalchemist001]

Deep breaths. Remain calm. Murder is illegal, murder is against the ten commandments. Breath slow, ingore the urge to smash that creeps face. Wait till ita self defense and than don't stop.

Breath deeply, don't clench jaw, don't grind teeth. Ingore things beneath you. Actually screw the limited edition snack that stupid bird wanted you to buy. Just leave. After all everything will be ok.... right? But what if it wasn't? .....

Nope! Dirty! Gross vial! Must get clean! Fuck! Sanitizer where is my sanitizer? Check all the side pockets and once.found spray a whole hand full and wipe. Wipe the should shoulder. Wipe wipe wipe!

Jerk! How dare he!

"What the fuck is is your problem! You have no fucken right to fucken touch me you go damn pervert!" Anger red hot the urge to dig nails into flesh and watch light fades.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

Fake! To fake! Fucken fake! Murder is wong!

"Bull shit! Anyone with an iq over 1 knows not to put their hands on anyone! Especially people they don't know!" Must not smash face into table.

"But we di know each other, after all we meet at the song and dance comption between royal sword academy and night raven collage miss ----."

Ugh!!!! This is why I hate when people fucken call my name in public! I don't need fuckers I don't know using my name like they fucken know me!!!!

"Just fuck off, you good for nothing creep!" Need to get away, breathing getting hard. Panic attack? Anxiety? Fix breath.

In. Out. In. Out. Not so fast. Slow down. Cover mouth. In. Out. In. Out. Keep calm. Slow breathing. Keep covered. Relax. Keep calm.

Bad Touch! Why is he touching me?!?

"Dont touch me" self defense, is self defense. Hope it scars. Fuck can't breath, and great need to vomit. Ugh!

Need help. Can't breath. Going to throw up. Can't stop crying. Want to go home. Want family. Can't breath. Calm down. Can't breath. relax. Can't breath. Going to die? Can't can't breath. Gag. Gaging. Can't breath. Shaking. Shaking to much.

Voice? Who? Help! Stop shaking! Need too realx. Can't relax. Voices.

Touch again! Move. Try to breath. Please need to breath. Oh! Trey's friend! But friend of friend is bad. Always bad. But need help.

Breath. In. Out. In..... oh. Thorat hurts. More crying..... more throw up. Even more crying. Want to go home. Some one kill me. Need to breath.

More voices. Don't look. Need to look. Look. Fuck other school headmaster. Shameful. Such a burden. I should die. Don't want to. Not yet. Need to breath. Crying. Stop it. Stand up. Stop shaking. Don't throw up. Please someone help. Need help. Want mom. I don't want to die here. Can't see. Crying to much.

....spell? What spell? Everything spinning. Someone help! What did they do to me! Help! Need help! Please God! Help!

............ zzz zzz zzz zzz zzz

[hahahahahangst]

Devil’s work (Be The Young 38)

TW: [suicidal thoughts, self h*rm, violence, s*xual assault]

Other tags: [sister fic, canon-level violence, dean is an asshole, angst]

All chapter titles are song titles, some of them translated from Italian songs. We start from the first season and make out way through the series. I will occasionally break canon✨ .

Summary: Emily Reed, born and raised in Portland, is preparing her admission papers for Stanford, medical school. Little does she know, her life is about to change forever.

"After reading this whole letter, call John Winchester. [...] He’s your real father."

A/N:  I swear to god dean has the iq of a peanut

MASTERLIST

Devil’s work

Isn't it sad the way it works That we think we're the only ones who hurt? So just breathe for a second I know you're feeling so damn helpless

“You have no idea how it was, being in there.” She cried, sitting on the couch in Bobby’s living room. “He was hallucinating, Dean. He was being tortured and then- He thought I was your mother and he-” She took a deep breath. “He kept crying and saying that he had let everybody down, I didn’t know how to stop it.”  “There’s nothing you could have done.” She stood up. “Yes, but Dean… I called you. I screamed for you to come back, to make him stop, and you-” “I get it, you’re mad.”  “MAD?” She yelled. “It was like hell all over again! I CALLED YOUR FUCKING NAME, DEAN WINCHESTER! I CRIED FOR YOU AND ONCE AGAIN, YOU IGNORED ME! YOU DID WHAT WAS EASIER!”  ”...alright-”  “NOT - ALRIGHT“ She screamed, tears falling down her face. “YOU KEEP BREAKING ME DEAN! OVER AND OVER!” She pushed him towards the iron walls. “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! SAM IS DYING, AGAIN, AND WE ARE HERE, FIGHTING, AGAIN!” “Emily-” “No, just say it- nothing changed. We’re still the same two bastards that almost killed each other back then.”  “You know that’s not true!”  “THEN PROVE IT!” She threw some books off a table. “Don’t stand there looking at me, DO SOMETHING!” Dean lept towards her and she expected him to punch her. She closed her eyes and braced for it, ready to strike back. But instead, she felt Dean’s arms wrap around her. She opened her eyes, surprised, and slid away.  “Dean, don’t- Don’t, okay?” She said, uncomfortably folding her arms.  “Wh-”

Emily heard the faint voice of Sam talking to himself in the panic room. “We’re killing him, Dean.” She fell back on the couch. “Going cold turkey isn’t working.”  “Emily, we aren’t giving him demon blood.”  “Dean, he-” “I KNOW!” He raised his voice. “I know, he’s going to die. But at least- At least he’d die human.”  Emily exhaled. “Dean, these hallucinations he’s having… They feel real to him. He’s really suffering, you know?” “Yeah.” “Doesn’t it make you want to go down there and help him?” “How? There’s nothing I can do.”  “Did you even try looking?” “I did.” “Or did you just go with the most self-destructive solution?”  “We’ve already had this conversation, Emily.” “Yeah, and it ended up with me kicking the hell out of you, opening the gates of hell and triggering a domino effect that brough to me calling it quits.” She said, cold. “We need to do something. Our powers won’t work if we are in a devil’s trap, but I can try and talk to him telepathically if we are both out. Maybe we can-” “No, stop- I’m not taking him out of the panic room. It’s too dangerous.”  “I can overpower him, it won’t be a problem.” Dean seemed to think it over. “Dean, the other choice is letting him die alone in that room.”  “Okay. I’ll let you try- but the second I see you can’t control him, I throw him back in the panic room and we do it my way.”  “You won’t have the chance.” Said Bobby, coming into the room hurriedly. “Sam is gone.”  “What- How?” Asked Emily.  “I don’t know. All devil’s traps are busted.”  “Well, it’s not important, we need to find him.” Said Dean. “And let me tell you one thing. I hope he’s with Ruby.”  “Why?” Asked Bobby.  “'Cause killing her's the next big item on my to-do list.” “Finally!” Groaned Emily. “I’ve been waiting months to send that whore back to hell.”  “Let’s get to work, Sam can’t hide forever.” 

As they worked through the stolen cars to locate Sam, Emily took on the tasks he would usually do when they researched. She managed barely to enter the police databases and cursed Sam for teaching her how to exorcize but not how to hack a database. “There.” Said Dean, stopping her from scrolling any longer. “That’s the one.” “An Escalade with custom rims?” Asked Emily. “That’s like going around with a neon sign!” “Sam would never take that, right?” Asked Dean. “Well, he might call you his best friend, but I’m his brother. Trust me, that’s exactly what he did.” “Weird flex.” Giggled Emily. “But okay, I trust you. Let’s go.” She took her jacket and they rushed out the door. 

They drove for two hours in complete silence before Bobby called Emily. “Cops found the Escalade outside Elk River.” He announced.  “Right, how far are we?” “A couple of hours. There’s a town not from that- Cold Spring. Filled with demon signs.”  “Thanks Bobby.” Emily hung up. She turned to Dean. “Cold Springs. Two hours away.” The car started going faster. “Dean, listen-” Sighed Emily. “When we find Sam, you let me do the talking, okay? We need to bring him back, not push him away.”  “Okay.” He exhaled. “You trusted me on the car, I’ll trust you on this.” He nodded. 

They scanned all the motels around. Dean pointed the one he thought Sam would have been hiding in. “We go in, kill Ruby, bring back Sam.” He instructed. 

Soon, they were hiding in the adjacent room, watching Sam leave. As soon as he was out the main door, Dean and Emily snuck out of their room and entered Sam’s. When Emily opened the door, Ruby was frantically making her bag, clearly about to go.  “Housekeeping.” Said Emily, as serious and cold as possible. The second Ruby noticed her, Emily used her powers to have the demon fly against the wall. Dean approached her with his knife, but something hit Emily in the back of her head, making her lose concentration. Ruby fell on the ground and fought Dean back. Emily didn’t regain balance in time and Sam had already gone through the room and separated Dean from the demon. “Just take it easy.” He said. Emily checked his entire figure. He was fine. He was not hallucinating, he was not suffering.  “You did it again?!” She asked, outraged. “What’s wrong with you?!”  “Look, I’m glad you guys are here. Let’s talk-” “No, enough talking. She’s dead.” Emily pointed at Ruby. Sam shielded her with his body. She quickly left through the door. “Come on- really?!”  “What’s going on with you? Can’t you see what she’s doing?!” Asked Dean. “It’s not what it looks like.” Said Sam, weirdly too calm for the situation.  “I can’t believe you-” “Emily, I thought you were going to-” Dean interrupted Emily. “What, be nice? Have some comforting wittle words for wittle wittle Sammy? Sorry, I’m done being nice.” She scowled at Dean before she returned to Sam. “Sam, Ruby is poisoning you. Literally.” “That’s not true.” “She’s drugging you and then leaving you looking for another hit!” She stated. “That’s poisoning.” “SHE WAS LOOKING FOR LILITH!” “AND YOU BELIEVE HER? YOU BELIEVE HER BUT NOT ME?” Sam sighed, not answering. “Can’t you see she’s manipulating you into taking distances from your family! Nothing of what she says is real, Sam.” “You’re wrong!”  “I’m not-” Emily groaned, frustrated. “Sam, we’re trying to help you here. Please, come back with us.” “No, listen- We’ve got a lead on a demon close to Lilith. If you come with us, we can get to her. This can be all over.” “You think this is a real lead?” “I’m sure.”  “Right.” Emily glared at Dean, who had, just like she requested, stayed out of it. “But Ruby’s not coming. We go us three.”  Sam thought for a second. “I can’t.”  “I beg your pardon?” Asked Emily. “Sam, I’m giving you a choice here. It’s us…“ She glared at Dean again. He lightly nodded. ”...or her.”  “You can’t ask me this, I need her help to kill Lilith.” Emily turned around. She closed her eyes and took a big breath, trying not to cry. It was not the time for that. “I'm the only one who can do this, Emily. You know.” “Why, because she told you so? Then why-” A sob escaped from her lips. She stopped, trying to steady her breathing. “Then why did she teach me as well?”  Emily looked at Dean. He took a step towards Sam and talked. “And why would the angels say that I’m the one supposed to stop it? Can’t you see? Something doesn’t add up.”  “You can't. You're not strong enough.” “And who the hell are you-” “I'm being practical here.” Sam sighed. “I'm doing what needs to be done.”  Emily was still turned the other way. She closed her eyes. “Yeah? You're not gonna do a single damn thing.” Said Dean.  “Stop bossing me around, Dean!” Sam raised his voice. “Look. My whole life, you take the wheel, you call the shots, and I trust you because you are my brother. Now I'm asking you, for once, trust me.” Dean waited a while before answering. “No. You don't know what you're doing, Sam.”  “Yes, I do.” Emily dried her face and face back to Sam, starting to feel angry. “Then that's worse.” Said Dean. From his tone, Emily could tell he was also upset.  “Why? Look, I'm telling you-” “Because it's not something that you're doing, it's what you are! It means-” “DEAN!” Emily cut him off. “Don’t.” She warned.  “What? No. Let him say it.” Sam started crying.  “It means you're a monster.” Dean’s voice sounded like a bomb in the neighborhood. Way too loud, way too clear, way too close. For a second, everybody stood still. Tears were streaming down their faces. Emily, upset, was just about to answer, but Sam punched Dean, who fell on the ground. Emily ran to divide them, but Sam was too strong and too pumped for her to lift him off Dean’s body.  Emily tried to unsuccessfully stop the fight for a good minute before resorting to her powers. With a gesture, Emily tried having Sam move away from Dean, but he resisted. Surprised, Emily tried again. The second time, Sam was not prepared and his body flew against the thin motel walls. “You want to fight?” Said Emily, walking towards her. “You better do it against someone your size.” She punched him. His powers overcame hers and a book flew to hit her head. Disoriented, Sam had time to punch her, but she was soon back up.  “Sam, just come home with us. It doesn’t have to be this way.” She said. Sam looked at her and started walking towards the door. “Sam.” She warned. “You walk out, you’re choosing Ruby. You’re not gonna get a second chance.” He left the room, and Emily tried to run after him. “YOU FUCKING RUINED EVERYTHING!” She screamed to the empty hall.