#and he was eventually arrested and lost his job and as far as we are aware he is still in jail

[sad-girl-autism]

Someone texted me to ask whether or not I'm going to Christmas this year since it's become clear that I'm not doing Thanksgiving and I got really honest about why I'm still trying to figure that out and how it depends on whether any of that side of the family lets me stay with them this year instead of making me stay with mom just because she birthed me even though they all know it's not a safe option for me and even though we all gather at an aunt's house anyway and it doesn't actually matter who I stay with

[showtoonzfan]

SPOILERS for Across the Spiderverse, ganna rant about Gwen’s character and the unnecessary hate she gets. 💀

After finally seeing Spiderverse, yeah…I don’t trust Gwen haters. Like holy shit, I have seen SO many people get on her ass. And I get it. She lied to Miles, she let him down, she screwed up. I think what just ticks me off is that people today just love making everything so fucking black and white. This film isn’t one note, it’s complex. You feel for BOTH sides, not just Miles. I never thought some people would need to have it spelled out but….Miles wasn’t the only character going through something. Gwen does too, and this film explores that, like it legit makes me wonder if people just…turned their brains off whenever the film focused on her, which was legit most of the first half.

Not only was she still carrying the weight of her friend’s death while also feeling guilt of leaving him, but her own father is a cop who is out to get spider woman, believing that she is a criminal who let Peter die. It isn’t easy on Gwen, the opening scene of her trying to get lost in playing the drums and shutting down her band mates shows that she wants to avoid her feelings. Miles was the ONLY friend she had, she didn’t make any other close friends other than Peter. She felt alone, she felt trapped, and once her identity was revealed to her father, the moment he tries to arrest her is her breaking point, it’s why she joined Miguel and the others. She had nowhere to go, she felt like she couldn’t go back and was utterly alone until the spider crew accepted her.

When it comes to Gwen and some of the other characters, some of y’all need to see their perspective. They all lost someone they loved, someone they cared about, and Miguel comes to them and tells them that their trauma happened for a reason. It made them stronger, it made them move forward and created who they are today. They all felt alone at one point, only to realize that they weren’t. They also know that you can’t save everyone, and wether Miguel’s point of view is morally corrupt or not, everyone felt they were doing what was right.

In Gwen’s case, she WANTED to see Miles, and she DID see Miles. She wanted to hang out with him so badly but couldn’t, and you eventually see her guilt for not telling Miles the full story, how he wasn’t supposed to be here, how his dad is going to die and he can’t do anything about it. She felt like she had no choice, Jessica was strict on her (for good reason) and Gwen knew she had a job to do, she like everyone else wanted to save the multiverse and protect everyone, even if it meant breaking Miles, and his dad’s death. I don’t want to make it sound like I’m excusing Gwen, but I find it so funny that people beg for complex and flawed characters, and then when we actually get them, they’re targeted for making mistakes. Cause yeah, god forbid a teenage girl feels alone, doesn’t know what to do, and makes a mistake.

And what’s even more insulting is that Gwen actually REALIZED her mistake. She knows she fucked up, she KNOWS she hurt Miles and let him down, her line of “we’re supposed to be the good guys”- is important because that’s her realizing just how far Miguel took it to a bad level. We all see how utterly broken she is when Miles tells her he should have never come, and broke her web off. In the end, she switches sides and decides to GO AFTER Miles. That’s her making a choice, realizing she was wrong and doing the right thing. Gwen is still a good person guys. She cares for Miles, she’s not a snake or malicious. She’s a troubled teen who wants to be a hero, but was split between two sides, along with the weight on her back regarding her father and her friend. This movie begs the question of saving one person or making sacrifices to safe others. You understand BOTH sides even if Miguel went about it the wrong way.

Speaking of Miguel, the last thing I want to talk about is the obvious sexism going on, cause I feel like that mostly stems from why so many people hate Gwen, cause MAN do people lose brain cells when they’re horny. Like…let me get this straight, y’all get on Gwen, a teenage girl btw….call her a bitch, a snake who doesn’t deserve Miles and a horrible person, but praise a grown man who ridiculed, chased down, clawed, and body slammed a 15 year old kid, calling him a mistake over and over again all because he wanted to save his father???? Yeah okay, if you’re someone who doesn’t like Gwen, fine…but if you hate on her and praise Miguel, a dude who needs therapy and beefed with a 15 year old……then you’re just sexist…I don’t know what to tell you. Same goes for Jessica Drew. Like so many people are quick to say Miguel is complex and that they get where he’s coming from, but when it’s Gwen or Jessica?? They’re just bitches apparently. 🫤

So yeah, regardless of if you like her character or not, Gwen deserves better fr. I for one can’t wait for the next film and to see her mend her relationship with Miles, because they do genuinely have a good relationship, they just need to fix it. That’s all I wanted to say…oh, and one more thing, the way the animators on the movie got treated was NOT okay and the film better be delayed. No way in hell is it coming out next year. Do better Sony/Phil Lord ect, treat your animators right. Kay bye.

[kitty-kei]

Fiery Familiarity - Part 1

here’s part 1! this is some more world-building groundwork, establishing the reader's place in the gaang! i'll be posting part 2 soon and it'll be more exciting i promise lol. pls read the prologue to better understand the story

words: ~1k

prologue | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Ever since you left the Fire Nation, you’d been having a bit of a hard time adjusting. Having become so used to the life of luxury you once knew, it was hard to survive. You had long since ditched your old clothing, opting for more muted, inconspicuous tones. You hopped from town to town, helping transport resources in order to further your journey. Eventually, you reached a far-off Earth Nation town, by the name of Gaoling, seeking refuge there. You learned to fend for yourself, taking odd jobs to pay for your meals.

You survived on your own for 5 years before meeting the Avatar. You had to get scrappy to keep up with the changing times. Life wasn’t always kind to children, even in Earth Kingdom cities. There was still a war going on, after all. In those years, you managed to earn yourself plenty of scars, including a nasty one on your face. It spanned from the left side of your chin all the way up to the bridge of your nose. It puts a damper on possible jobs when you look like you’re trouble just waiting to happen.

That’s how you ended up getting roped into helping Xin Fu with his underground fight ring. It was tedious, but it was all you had. Until you met “The Blind Bandit” who you soon came to know as Toph. She was an abrasive girl, but you could tell she was no weaker than anyone else despite her blindness. Then, somewhere along the line, the Avatar had found her, begging her to come be his earthbending teacher. 

Late one night, after watching Toph fight Xin Fu and his goons, you decided to follow her, and the Avatar, back to her home. 

“Of course it doesn’t change the way I feel about you, Toph. It's made me realize something.”

You saw Toph's head lift, milky eyes full of hope, “It has?”

“Yes. I've let you have far too much freedom. From now on you'll be cared for and guarded twenty-four hours a day.” You could feel your heart drop, the tension in the room so painful you couldn’t bare to hear more. You watched as a lone tear slipped down Toph’s face.

You waited until she had returned to her room before sneaking to her balcony. You slipped behind her guards, knocking them out as quietly as possible. You cracked open the door, “Toph? Toph, are you there?”

“Y/n? What are you doing here, you’re going to get caught.”

“Hurry, we don’t have much time. I’ve knocked out the guards but it won’t be long until more come. I’m getting you to the Avatar, even if it’s the last thing I do. I’d sooner get arrested than watch you rot here. You deserve your freedom, Toph.”

Toph smiled, “Well then, what are we waiting for?”

 Once you caught up with Aang, Toph insisted you come with them. The others had agreed, saying that any friend of Toph’s was a friend of theirs. So you’d begun your long journey. Appa’s shedding had brought you not only an unexpected visit from Azula, but also the knowledge that Zuko had been chasing after them for so long now. Hearing the stories you told of what he had done… Your heart ached. Not only for them, but for Zuko. A boy so sweet who had been so swiftly corrupted by his family's twisted perception of right and wrong, of their “victory”. 

You knew from then on that you couldn’t share your past with them, not truly.

You traveled on through the desert, where you lost Appa. You all watched as Aang spiraled, throwing himself deeper into despair. So you traveled to Ba Sing Se, where you searched for that loveable beast. But when you finally got him back, things crashed and burned once again. 

Azula, the coup, the Dai Li, it was all happening so fast. You had decided to go with Aang to rescue Katara, knowing that Zuko would be there. Suddenly, you were very thankful that you left the Fire Nation before you had the chance to meet Iroh. He was a kind, wise old man, but you couldn’t risk being recognized. Listening to his advice for Aang gave you hope that not all firebenders were bad. 

Arriving in the cavern was breathtaking for more than one reason. Not only were the crystals gorgeous, but seeing Zuko all grown up… It made your heart soar and crash simultaneously. You had heard the whispers of the banished prince, outcast by his own father in search of a long-lost enemy. You just hadn’t seen him until now.

Your voice tumbled in a whisper before you could stop it, “Oh Zuko…” His once youthful face was now so tired, so worn down. His left eye was scarred into a permanent squint, the burn spreading over his ear. You could feel your heart twist in your chest. He used to be so full of life, even with his awkward disposition. He was just a child. To think that his own father would do this to him…

Watching him side with Azula was almost as painful as seeing how far he had fallen over the years. After seeing the look of hope on Katara’s face when she thought he had changed, watching her face contort into horror when he attacked. Watching him stand by as Azula killed Aang… You couldn’t bare to meet his eyes as you left with Katara, praying that Iroh would be alright. You knew Azula wouldn’t show him any mercy, family or not.

[integra1127grimmreaper]

The One That Got Away - Part ten

Negan Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 9

Warning: swearing, smut, cheating

Things between Negan and you were progressing really fast, you woke up each morning to text messages from him for the past week since the night the two of you had gone out for drinks. And each day he would ask when you would be available for that dinner date, eventually you caved in; revealing which day was your off day from work.

Queue today’s text.

“Hey there… we still on for tonight?”

“Hey, not sure if I’m up for going out tonight.”

“You ok?”

“Just had a shitty day at work and want a peaceful night in at home.”

“I understand… tell ya what; why don’t we chill at your house, and I make us dinner?”

Silently staring at Negan’s last text, you debated the suggestion for some time.

Was it really a good idea to have him over to your house?

Just the two of you alone, with no one around to keep you from doing something extremely stupid.

“Hey, earth to Y/N…”

“So, what ya say… you, me, a quiet dinner?”

Realizing that Negan wasn’t going to give up until getting the answer he wanted, you responded.

“OK”

“Awesome, see ya later then.”

Mentally shaking your head at the decision, you had just made, you end the conversation by sending your address.

You were nervously fretting over your appearance in the mirror as you awaited Negan’s arrival.

You must have changed your outfit about five times already.

Finally deciding on a casual yet decent looking house dress.

Relax idiot… it’s only a friendly dinner between two friends, nothing else.

So lost in the internal bantering between yourself, you didn’t notice the time, not until hearing the sound of your doorbell going off.

“Hey there…” you stared wide-eyed at a broad smiling Negan as he entered through door with a grocery bag in hand.

“Hey… hope ya like spaghetti? It’s my specialty, so I’m treating ya to that tonight.”

“Sounds great…” you smile in response.

“Let me show you to the kitchen.”

You silently sat sipping at your glass of wine while Negan busied himself around your kitchen preparing dinner.

“So, how was your day?” Negan asks, his back to you as he stirred the sauce.

“Busy...” you remark with a heavy sigh.

“Had to attend two domestic disturbances, and a public intoxication, the most stressful part of it all was the paperwork though.”

Negan cringes in sympathy, “no wonder you weren’t in the mood for going out.”

“Enough about me arresting people” you change the topic.

“How was your day?”

“Same as usual” Negan shrugs.

“Dealing with and swearing at shithead kids all day.”

“I can’t believe you’re still getting away with doing that…” you snicker.

“Parents are always complaining” he chuckles out.

“Hasn’t stopped me from doing it though.”

“How you still have a job, is beyond me” you chuckle along with him.

“That’s because I’m fuckin’ good at my job… that, and I’m handsome as fuck” he winks at you.

“There’s no denying that…” you softly mumble into your glass.

“So, you think I’m handsome…?” Negan licks his top lip smugly.

“I’ve always found you attractive” you admit, covering it up with a chuckle then.

“Heck, a lot of kids during our high school time thought the same thing…”

“True…” Negan nods.

“But what matters; is that you did.”

“Don’t be silly…” you blush, waving his remark off.

With a serious look on his face, Negan steps closer to you; reaching out a hand to gently touch your cheek.

“I always thought you were beautiful…”

“Please…” you roll your eyes in denial.

“I was far from that, and even further from it now.”

“You’re even sexier now…” Negan groans out, eyes having turned dark with lust.

“You’re delusional” you brush him off.

“No, seriously… I wouldn’t have taken the risk of fucking you back then if I didn’t think so.”

“C’mon… that only counts as half sex” you shrug his comment off.

“Half sex?!” Negan scoffs, dropping his hand disappointedly.

“What are you? A fuckin’ teenager?”

“Neither of us came” you point out to him.

“So, it’s only counted as half…”

“My dick was inside you for quite some time, which means I fucked you. Even though we were interrupted, I fucked you… and it felt incredible.”

You lift your arms up in defeat.

“Ok, you win…”

“We fucked… you fucked me.”

Pulling your chair away from the island, Negan steps in-between your legs, causing your heartrate to rise.

“Does that day still cross your mind…? Do you regret it?”

“Negan…” you murmur as his hand stroked your cheek yet again.

“I don’t...” Negan confesses, hand moving up to tangle in your hair.

“I still remember how incredibly tight you were around me, it’s never left my mind…”

Your eyes fluttered shut as Negan gently massaged your scalp. When you opened them again, his lips were mere inches from your own.

Negan silently stared into your eyes for a moment, seeing that you were into it as well; he slams his lips hard against your own.

Pulling you up to your feet, Negan wraps his arms tightly around your waist as the two of you devoured each other’s mouths.

Your arms wrap around the back of Negan’s neck as his hands lower down, pulling the skirt of your dress upward.

Completely lost in the moment, you gasp out in surprise when Negan suddenly lifts you onto the island.

Recovering quickly; you begin unbuttoning his shirt as the two of you continue kissing, your hands roaming all over each other’s bodies in a passionate frenzy.

The moment is suddenly interrupted though by the sound of the pasta water having boiled over.

“Shit!” Negan rushes to remove it from the stove.

You were seated on top of the island still as you attempted to even your breathing.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Negan scolds as you were just about to jump off it.

“I-” you begin to say but Negan interrupts with a shake of his head.

“I’m not done with you…” he growls, hastily stalking back toward you.

He then lifts you up from the island, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

“Which way is your bedroom?”

Staring at him wide-eyed, you silently point toward it, and he carries you in the direction.

Placing you on the edge of the bed, Negan immediately begins undressing as you silently sat almost trance like admiring his every move.

You were snapped out your trance, when a boxer clad Negan roughly grabs hold of your hair; tipping down to capture your lips in a hard kiss.

You softly moaned out as Negan and your tongue battle for dominance, pulling away for air; Negan reaches down to pull your dress over your head.

“Jesus, you’re fuckin’ beautiful…” he groans out, groping at your breast as your head tilts back in pleasure.

Wanting to have some power control over him yourself, you reach out to stroke his cock through his boxers.

“You’re killing me here, Sweetheart…”

Negan lets out a grunt of pleasure, eyes fluttering shut as his head tilts to the back.

With a victorious smirk, you finally stop torturing him, slipping your hand into the waistband of his boxers, and gently pulling out his straining erection.

Negan watched through hooded lids as you lightly licked at the tip, looking up at him; you gently swirl your tongue around it, dipping the tip of it into the slit of his cock.

“Fuuuuck…” Negan hisses out, gripping tight hold your head as you opened your mouth to fully take him in.

Gurgling noises filled the room as you hollowed your cheeks as best you could while Negan fucked the shit out of your mouth.

After a few minutes, Negan pulls away from you with a loud groan.

“Don’t want to cum yet, not until I’ve had that pussy wrapped around my dick again…”

“Then take it…” you slur out, eyes fully lust blown.

With a deep growl, Negan pushes you back onto the bed, reaching for your panties, hastily removing them.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked…” Negan groans out in approval as he goes to bury his face in-between your legs.

A loud cry escapes your lips when his mouth latches onto your centre, your fingers instinctively burying in his hair.

“Fuck, Negan…” you tug at his hair, pulling him up your body.

“I can’t wait anymore…”

“What’s wrong, Sweetheart…?” Negan whispers against your lips, fingers circling over your clit.

“I-need-you…” you slur, eyes rolling into the back of your head in pleasure.

Grabbing hold of his erection, Negan strokes it between your soaking folds.

“What is it you need from me, Baby…?”

“Please-fuck-me…” you whimper out desperately.

Placing the tip of his cock against your entrance, Negan smirks down at you.

“Anytime baby…”

With one powerful snap of his hips, Negan buries himself till the hilt inside you; causing you both to groan out as you spasm around him.

“Fuck...” Negan buries his face into the side of your neck with a groan.

“You still feel so fuckin’ tight…”

Your only response was a soft whimper; your mind void of any and all thought, except for the pleasurable stinging sensation of him stretching your walls.

Negan’s hips slowly begin to rock into you, causing your back to arch off from the bed with each deep thrust of his cock into you.

Once you’ve adjusted, Negan’s hips begin picking up pace. The sounds of skin loudly slapping against each other, along with your whimpers and Negan’s grunts echo throughout the room as you tightly clung to him for dear life.

“Negan…” you cry out, feeling your orgasm fast approaching.

“I know baby, I’m almost there too…” Negan moans out, anchoring his arms under your shoulders for better grip.

After a few more hard thrusts from Negan, you couldn’t hold it anymore.

“I’m cumming…” you cried out, walls clenching tightly around him, triggering him to cum as well.

“Fuuuuck…” Negan groaned out in your neck as he emptied himself deep inside you.

After finally having caught your breaths, Negan rolls off you with a satisfied grunt; pulling you against his side and places a kiss into your hair.

“And that my dear, is a job completed…” he utters out breathlessly.

You couldn’t stop the snicker that slipped your lips at his reference to the ‘half sex’ comment you had made earlier.

It wasn’t long after that, when your eyes began fluttering close as satisfied exhaustion finally took over your body.

Part 11

Tags: @neganswoman @especially @thecupcakevigilante ​ @nt-multi-fandom ​  @tonysterco ​ @stoneyggirl2​

[510amy5]

Chapter 21

Charlotte didn’t move. ‘There’s no one there now, silly, or George wouldn’t be there. He’s very stupid, but not that stupid.’ Leo kept his eyes on the tree. ‘George?’ ‘The caladrius.’ ‘The bird is called George?’

So far this chapter has mostly been a bit of a transitional breather. Rosamund is undergoing medical treatments and recovery, Robin has hunted down Baron Mabry and Leo has been managing events at the estate (including keeping Rosamund off her feet).

I find this quote particularly funny though. The fact that Caroline's real world enemy made it into the book as the name of a particularly stupid caladrius bird is very amusing I'm.

Eventually the Queen leaves bringing the almost assassin and Baron Mabry with her. Between the continued medicine and the lessening of tension declares herself feeling much better, leading to this wonderful line.

‘I feel much better today.’ Leo raised his eyebrows. ‘Should I padlock my horse, or will you promise to behave yourself?’

Who knew Leo had such a great sense of humor? He doesn't take things seriously (which makes him a good match for Rosamund) but I'm glad he can loosen up as well.

no horse riding, running, lifting, or . . .’ Leo stopped, an awkward look crossing his face. ‘Or what?’ Charlotte piped up. The grin Rosamund flashed him was wicked. ‘Yes, Leo. Or what?’ ‘Err . . . working too hard.’

Rosamund! I can't believe that now when your children are watching is when you chose to flirt and practically dare Leo to try to use a clever euphemism. At any rate, Rosamund is slowly able to do more and is brought down 9ut of bed for part of the day to address security measures. This is enough to wear her out in her still fragile state.

She nodded, and when he lifted her from her seat, she rested her head on his chest like she had the night of the fire. On our wedding night. Not that he was thinking about their wedding night at this moment. Well. Maybe.

Leo! Thinking about what could have happened that night maybe? 😏 Regardless, he puts Rosamund to bed (by herself) and goes with Charlotte to be introduced to the caladrius birds.

Back in Caroline's world, George got arrested! There wasn't really any info about what he was specifically into, barring sketchy downloads, but its still nice to see him taken away and the CEO pleased at Caroline for a job well done.

We find out Baron Mabry's lost of crimes is long indeed and that Hawkhurst is no longer under his authority, but under the Collins viscountcy. Woot!

‘Rosamund, this is wonderful! Even if he avoids execution, Mabry no longer holds your fealty. You’re free.

We have an almost heartbreaking moment when Leo realizes that Rosamund doesn't need him anymore and offers to leave. Its what she wanted for so long, to be left alone with her children and knowing her family will be safe. Its such a relief to hear her say

‘Stay,’ she whispered. Then, more strongly, ‘Please.’

So sweet. Of course Caroline thinks that should have been a big love declaration and pops in to say so. What she doesn't expect to so be lectured by Rosamund about not going for it with Henry the Hot Editor!

‘I think that maybe the reason you made me so insanely decisive is that you’re afraid to make decisions in your own life. But I am you, Caroline. At least a little bit. Trust yourself.

Caroline ends up on a work call with Henry and I'm rooting for her.

Caroline braced herself. What would Rosamund do? Nothing that would work in this situation, she concluded wryly. The real question was: what was she going to do?

Come on, you can do it.....and she does and it works! I do think its very funny though that her excuse of being in the area ti visit family was not in fact true until she arranged it afterwards.

[thetragicallynerdy]

Alright, I'm back for one more for the wip folder game: jim ed modern flower shop tattoo parlour biker au ☺️

Ooooh yes yes!!!! I think I've rambled about this one elsewhere, but I can't find it, so here you go! This one is a long sad t4t Jim/Ed modern au where the gist is:

Ed, recently divorced from Stede, gets in a bar fight with a homophobe. Jim saves his ass and takes him home because he's too drunk to remember his new address

They become friends, and eventually lovers. Very much a vibe of Ed coaxing feral cat Jim into a relationship with love and good food.

Jim in this one has multiple warrants out for their arrest, and is a little stuck in "I need to kill the remaining few siete gallos, but fuck, I'm so tired of it." They work under the table at a bar, have basically no connections besides Ed, and are just scraping by.

Ed is also trying to rebuild after divorce, making a new home etc.

There are a lot of mental health and trauma vibes with both of them.

Eventually Jim gets stabbed, saved by Ed, loses their shitty bar job, and gets offered a job in Stede's flower shop (Stede is still good friends with Ed, or at least, they're rebuilding the friendship). Ed, meanwhile, is a tattoo artist with a shop nearby. So, the tattoo parlour/flower shop aspect is VERY loose.

This one also features Jim who hasn't had an actual relationship or friendship like, ever, and is terrified of commitment and always ready to run, and pretends Ed is just their FWB until they can't anymore. Very "yeah we're fucking but I won't say I love you or call you my partner for 75 thousand words" vibe

It's my baby. This is absolutely my most self indulgent h/c fanfic. No idea when it'll be finished but I adore it so much have I said I love it so much??

Anyway here's a snippet XD

--

Jim struggles to sit up on their shitty mattress on the floor, and it makes Edward doubly glad that they let him make a copy of their key. They look like shit still, hollow cheeks and skin that still hasn't regained all its colour.

"You're here early." Their voice is a slur, and he frowns, not sure if it's because they just woke up or if something is wrong.

"Last appointment of the day got cancelled, thought I'd come over. Sit the fuck back down, don't get up, I can come to you."

They slump back down with an audible sigh, waiting until he makes his way over and sits on the bed beside them. When he kisses them they relax into it, hand curling around his thigh in a way that feels lovely. Like maybe they're starting to feel comfortable with casual touch that's doesn't lead to something more. Like maybe they're starting to feel comfortable with him, with them, together.

"How're you feeling?" he asks softly when he pulls away.

They yawn, blinking when their jaw clicks together again. "Okay. Fucking tired, man." The hand on his thigh edges higher. "I don't think I can do a ton, but you can ride my mouth, if you want. Or my hand."

He stares at them. "What?"

"That's why you're here, right?" They yawn again, barely bothering to cover it with an elbow. "So we can have sex."

It hurts far, far more than it should. He forces a laugh, picking their hand off his thigh and dropping it back to the bed. "I was there when the doctor spoke to you, Jimbo, six weeks until you can do strenuous activity." When they open their mouth to argue he taps them on the nose. "Which means you've still got five fucking weeks to go."

They look terribly lost, which hurts even more than the assumption. "... then why are you here? You only come over to hook up."

To hook up. As though they hadn't been practically dating for months, now. Fuck. Fuck.

He thinks bitterly about how he'd told Stede that Jim was his friend, and wonders when he got so good at underselling things. Does Jim even think that the two of them are that much?

Instead of asking he hefts the backpack still in his hands up. "Well, now I'm here for movies and dinner. Pick one while I get started on the soup."

Jim stares at him like he has two heads. "Soup?"

"Yes, dummy, soup. You know, delicious meal with broth and vegetables thats easy on the stomach? I'm making you enough to last the week. Brought you groceries too. Those muffins that you like."

They look down at the backpack in their hands, face twisting for one brief moment before settling into careful neutrality. “… you didn’t have to do that.”

“Sure I did.” He leans in, presses a kiss to their forehead before pushing himself to his feet and heading for the groceries left by the door. He doesn’t want to see whatever their face does next, isn’t sure he could take it. “That’s what friends do, mate. Take care of each other.”

He doesn’t see it, but he hears it.

“Oh,” Jim says, voice soft and small. “Okay.”

If anyone feels like dropping me an ask for the WIP folder game, my long list of WIP titles is here!

[infintasmal]

707 / Post Ray's After Ending

With the conclusion of Ray's After Ending (good/normal endings), we finally see the twins reunited. And while they finally have a chance for freedom, it's an ardous journey for Seven to heal from it all.

As soon as Saejoong is arrested, Saeyoung collapses. Once he woke up from the medications Rika was using on him, he immediately went to work on saving his brother. He doesn't rest and hardly eats more than a quick protein bar in the time between his release and Saejoong's arrest. Even when they first get Saeran back, he paces by his bedside, unable to rest until he knows they're both safe.

After the exhaustion sets in, Saeyoung finally agrees to rest. Both the twins are hospitalized for a few days until they're both healthy enough to be released. Saeran, for the injuries sustained at his father's hands and a general check to asses his long term condition. And Saeyoung, for his injuries and exhaustion. He's stubborn about being treated, afraid of being put to sleep again. And it takes a great deal of coaxing to get him in.

Once he's released, everything seems great. They're finally safe. And yet Saeyoung begins to spiral. All the childhood trauma he's worked so hard to stamp down finally comes bubbling up. He's terrified to sleep, afraid he'll wake up with his father or with Rika. He refuses to be separated from Saeran and yet is nearly uncomfortable around him. There's so much guilt and anger, he blames himself for everything that's happened to Saeran.

And on top of it all, he has practically nothing now. His home had been raided by the agency, scrubbed clean of anything that might contain a link. Every electronic was gone, only leaving the barest of his belongings. Not that he felt comfortable being in there. The only money had had was cash he'd cleverly hidden away. He had no job, definitely no references. And to make matters worse, the media was constantly buzzing around him, wanting to know more.

And on top of it all, he felt like he'd lost his identity. Everything he knew was thrown away. The people he trusted most betrayed him, abused his brother and turned him against him. His job was all a lie. His mother was dead and his father was in prison, having suffered at the hands at them both. And what is he even supposed to call himself now?

Saeyoung was the child he left behind, a life he buried. He hardly remembers what it's like to be called that. It feels wrong. Named for a father that hated him and by a mother that abused him. And yet Luciel was the name he took on when he left. The name Rika helped him choose, the person she helped him become. He hated it now, a reminder of a lie. And 707 seems so far away. The name tied to his job but also his friends. 707 is someone bursting with life, always laughing and joking. He doesn't feel much like that person either. These identities that he's built have all fractured.

So during this time, he edges between manic and depressed. He's angry and his heart is broken. He doesn't know who to trust, people keep telling he's safe now but somehow he feels more exposed than ever. And he'd trying to keep it together, to be strong for Saeran and to get through his father's trials. But inside, he's grieving so deeply he can't help but lash out.

He does eventually calm down. He decides to look forward to a future with his brother, now free from his chains. And while he can't forgive those that hurt him, he'll always be angry, he can leave it to linger. He just has to remember himself, and who he once wanted to be.

[nataliesnews]

lost count of days 31.10.2023

Saturday Ellen and I again went down to Tel Aviv to be with the families of the hostages. It was good to be with people who care but it also amazes me that  so many people do not seem to care. Have I said before how much I admire the British for all the years that they endured the second world war. One month and it is like being in a continuous nightmare. 

Both of us were exhausted and came back in the same state. Saturday night there was another demonstration also in the centre of town and I don't know why but it was perfectly quiet. Only about three  or four police and no hecklers which makes me even more sure that the attack on us a week and a half ago by the police was planned by them. I don't know what happened but maybe they realised they had gone too far. But now they are arresting all sorts of Arabs for posts on facebook and thought I don't like what they like but the extreme Rabbis and people like Ben Givr say and post much worse things and nothing happens to them. I also once said to you that what happens with the Palestinians would eventually  happen with those on the left against Netanyahu. Now a pilot who wrote against Netanyahu has been fired. The time will come when they will pray for him to come back.   AND THIS we would like to draw your attention to thElegislation pushed by far-right Minister of National Security Itamar Ben Gvir and set to be voted on in the coming days. This proposal seeks to grant police officers the right to shoot at protesters "obstructing roads or town entrances" with live ammunition. This presents a real threat to human lives and human rights by denying people’s right to demonstrate, and will undoubtedly lead to violence escalation. 

Pictures from the demonstration, two babies who are kidnapped, And the last photo of the phone call all which ended suddenly, either from someone in the army or someone kidnapped  and sometimes the family is still wondering  if the person is lying dead somewhere, kidnapped or what.

\

 In the evening I went again to the centre of the city to call for the captives to be brought home,  but unlike last week, when the police attacked us without restraint and without reason,  throwing women to the floor and calling them prostitutes, calling us traitors, telling us that they should not have to protect ue, this was very quiet. 

There are daily attacks on Palestinians in their homes and on their grounds. Settlers protected by soldiers but I will send it separately. But This is what happened to one Arab doctor and whom Tag Maier  visited:

"We met last night with Dr. Abd Samara of Tira. Director of cardiac intensive care at Hasharon Hospital. Senior center. Dr. Abed put up a post a year and 4 months ago with a green flag, a verse from the Koran and a drawing of a dove of peace. Following the events of October 7th, social media surfers hunting "Arabs" decided that Dr. Samara had posted a support post for Hamas... No one checked with Dr. Samara and so began a witch hunt that ended with a letter of suspension from the Sharon Hospital with the support of a very senior member of the health system. Needless to say, Dr. Samara is a talented, dedicated doctor who has nothing to do with the Hamas movement. Needless to say, the post he posted is unrelated in content and time to what happened to us three weeks ago. We came to embrace Dr. Samara and his family. We call on the Minister of Health to immediately correct the terrible injustice caused to Dr. Samara. Dr. Abd Samara should be returned to his job as director of cardiac intensive care and allowed to save Jewish and Arab lives as he has done to this day with endless dedication".

More and more it is becoming like McCarthy here. |Dani Danieli whom I know from the protests has been arrested and questioned three times. And he is one of many on the left.  One of  the fascists wanted to have Gershon Baskin arrested for speaking to the Hamas, It was through his speaking to them at the time that Gilad Shalit was freed. I would not be surprised if soon they called him in too.

Every night we demonstrate outside the house of Herzog. And  again not against the government but for the release of the captives. Two nights ago the families were there meeting him.  We waited from three to after seven but it was worth it. The first woman who came out was not expecting to see people and when she saw us she covered her face in surprise and wept. They told us not to forget them and we told that we were were every night.  Cars come past and hoot support, others stop and curse us. Everything one does is seen as an act against the government. In the meantime Netanyhua's nightly broadcasts sound like something out of a Charlie Chaplin movie. The only person worth listening to it the army spokesman and one can only wonder how much of what we are hearing is  true.

Anyhow  next morning someone sent me a photo which had appeared in the Jerusalem  post of our demonstration and then I was amazed to get a whatsapp from the daughter of a friend of mine who died some years ago, Hilda with whom I had worked in South Africa.

She said they had been watching the Afrikaans news and suddenly she said to her husband....that is Natalie and she took a screenshot which she sent me. 

I have been volunteering at Hansen to make sandwiches and after a morning of cutting parsley and koesbara and tomatoes I come out feeling like a salad. I take a sleeping pill but still wake up exhausted. 

[lampmanliveblogs]

Seven is often considered a magical number, let’s see if it applies to this episode.

We start with on a rather laid-back scene as Eda looks over her To Do list. And apparently she feels the need to burn her old dress. Unless told otherwise, I’m gonna go ahead and assume that she never washed her old dress and just used magic to make it so it wouldn’t smell. But after she lost her magic, the spell eventually ran out of juice and that’s why she got the new one.

We can see here some notebooks with glyphs, showing that Eda is still learning off-screen. We can also see a photo of Eda, Luz & King from the Grom episode.

Hold up, King is planning on moving out?  Isn’t he like… I mean, I guess we don’t know how long he was in the tower on his own, but he can’t be much more than like ten or something. Unless his species ages really slowly. What is he even gonna do, get a job? Or maybe he’s planning on going on some kind of trip to search for his father.

Secondly, Eda is not too happy with it. ”Everyone’s leaving.” She is no substitute for the ”real thing.” King is going to look for his father. Luz is looking for a way back home to the Human Realm and her mother. Her real mother.

Oof, that’s depressing.

Heck, even Lilith left after crashing on Eda’s couch for two weeks to move back home to mom. Once/if Luz figures out a way back to the Human Realm, Eda will be alone with Hooty. Now, I wouldn’t mind that, as Hooty is Best Boy, but I can see how lesser beings couldn’t withstand his presence for very long.

My joking aside, it does make me think. We haven’t really seen any friends of Eda as far as I can recall. She’s mentioned a few times that she has several exes, but, well… they’re exes. They’re not exactly around. Her sister worked for the Emperor’s Coven and tried to arrest her. Her mother came around once a year to try another miracle cure that inevitably failed. Eda’s always been a bit of an outcast of society, due to her curse and her refusal to join a Coven making her a criminal. With all that in mind, Eda comes of as someone who would be very lonely without King and Luz.

Eda finds this lute (lying at an impossible angle) in the chest. She picks it up and starts plonking with it. A bright aura surrounds her and several objects start levitating. The gem on her chest begins to glow and she gasps, wondering if her magic has returned… only for everything to literally come crashing down and she puts down the lute in frustration.

So first off, was that Bard magic? I know the Bard Coven is a thing that exists, but I can’t recall seeing any Bard magic performed. As far as I know, when it comes to bards in roleplaying games and stuff they’re all about buffing and supporting their allies, or debuffing enemies.

Secondly, Eda’s gem did start to glow (either that or the aura from the lute was reflecting in the rock), so it might really be hinting that there is some magic left in her. Or maybe her curse was reacting in some way? We do know Eda’s emotional state can affect how the curse behaves. Stress makes it worse, so maybe the calming tunes soothed the beast within?

Thirdly. the reason I took this screenshot is because this is where we can best see the symbol on the lute. It’s a raincloud, divided in two halves by a sorta lighting bolt shaped line. There is one eye in each half, one open one close. The cloud has what might be a lightning bolt coming from it.

Something tells me that symbol will be important.

That… is probably not a good sign.

Eda’s Requiem.

Insert your own JoJoke here:_____________________________________.

A requiem is a mass held in repose of the souls of the dead, usually held in the context of a funeral. It’s a primarily catholic tradition.

So, uh… Eda’s gonna die. I’d think that’s the kind of plot twist the writers would save for the season finale, but I admire their guts.

There’s also a famous music piece by Mozart called requiem, so maybe it just means Eda’s gonna play some banger tunes.

[kiame-sama]

28 Years (5th Pregnancy)- Yandere!Silva x Reader

Warnings; yandere relationship, yandere tendencies, yandere behavior, yandere, mention of past trauma, pregnancy, c-section, more arguing, vasectomy, Zeno is so done with his son's bullshit

"No. We are not doing this again. I won't allow it!" "Hey, I told you how to fix this from ever happening again." "I did use protection. It clearly didn't work." "I didn't say 'use protection' did I? I said you should get a vasectomy since it's clear that regular protection and emergency medication doesn't work!" "I shouldn't have to-"

"ENOUGH!"

You and Silva fell silent at the firm and loud command from Zeno, looking over at the frustrated elder assassin. He happened to be holding young Alluka in his arms while the infant whined and cried from all the noise, compelling you to take the young child and set to comforting the infant. Alluka quickly quieted once in your grasp and allowed you to return your attention to the matter at hand, the new heartbeat that originated from within you.

You had been trying to avoid a third pregnancy given your prior back-to-back pregnancies and your already fragile health, yet here you were with another infant growing within you. You assumed something like this would happen, given your past attempts with contraceptives and how little they actually worked. Naturally, you suggested Silva have a vasectomy as it was not only a surefire way, but also a reversible surgery.

Originally, you suggested getting your tubes tied despite the danger that came with it but Silva quickly shot down the idea with his usual explanation of not wanting to lose you. Silva knew somewhere in him that the typical contraceptives wouldn't work, given the fact that he had used several similar methods to trigger a termination of prior pregnancies you were unaware of. He had hoped in some way that your body hadn't built up a resistance to them, but he also knew it was going to happen eventually.

He did plan on undergoing a vasectomy when you had first suggested it, but he quickly forgot about it in favor of getting to finally fuck you senseless now that your body had somewhat recovered after your most recent pregnancy. He had just been so relieved you were able to be brought back from your cardiac arrest following his mistake of once again taking your child away, and couldn't help himself from indulging in his favorite pass-time; fucking you. It was clear to everyone how addicted Silva was to you, in the way he would always return to your side after a job, how he would guard you jealously from anyone other than himself.

He was so whipped for you.

But now, you had a serious choice to make for your future and the future of the life already growing within you. It wasn't hard to guess what Silva wants to have happen, and some part of you agreed after enduring all that you had. Yet... You still felt that maternal connection already forming, wanting to protect all of your children from Silva, even the new child within you that had yet to take even a first breath.

"You're not keeping it." "Yes, I am." "No. I won't tolerate this again!" "Good thing you aren't the one who has to tolerate it. Last time I checked, its my body that goes through all the strain and effort of pregnancy, not your’s." "Are you doing this just to hurt yourself? To try and exhaust your body to the point of death?" "... Again, last time I checked, I wasn't the cause of my heart stopping." "..."

Silva stood silently, passive expression on his face as he wrestled with his own mind over the matter at hand. On one side, you were right; he was the reason he almost lost you, he's been the reason every single time. Even if it was complications during birth, it was still his fault entirely for getting you pregnant in the first place. On the other, he knew the immense toll another pregnancy will have on your body and the chances of you dying during birth increased with each one. The odds were not good.

It was then Silva spoke, his voice gentle and not at all like what you were expecting him to growl out with. It was the voice you scarcely heard on those far and few between days Silva would be truly gentle in every way, usually reserved for when he decided to honestly apologize to you for something. He was proud and cold, but there were those moments when that pride was set aside, when he would actually explain how he felt instead of leaving it at short sentences that never offered answers.

"(Y/n), don't do this again. Don't stubbornly hold on to this one. I know you already love it, as you love all of our children, and you will always fight for their safety no matter what, but for once you need to let me win. Let it go." "... If I say 'no', will you take it from me anyway?" "(Y/n)..." "Are you going to take my baby away from me again, Silva?" "..."

A soft sigh left Silva's lips as he frowned, knowing you were going to win the argument regardless of what he said or did. He knew he owed you more than he could give and there was no way he would force you to give the child up. If you truly wanted to keep it, he wouldn't be able to convince you otherwise. Still didn't mean he had to like it.

"There is no sense in saying the obvious or telling you the risks you run having another baby so soon after your two prior pregnancies." "I know..."

Zeno hummed in a contemplative way, knowing Silva would refuse to go out on a job while you are pregnant and he had already refused to leave the Zoldyck estate in favor of keeping an eye on you. Given how intensely and fiercely he protected you, Zeno knew the immense toll the pregnancies have taken on Silva as well as you. But no one in the family wanted a repeat of the events that took place after Silva had taken Alluka away from you without telling you.

It was going to be a long eight months.

~~~~Four Months~~~~

"You need to sleep, (y/n)." "But what if something happens?" "Nothing is going to happen." "You don't know that..."

Silva frowned as he watched you pace in front of the couch in your shared rooms, chewing on your lip as you cradled your youngest in your arms. The child had already fallen asleep in your arms an hour ago, yet you still held on securely and refused to set your baby down for even a moment. Silva had seen the way you reacted to Illumi being taken and the subsequent over protective behavior you showed once you got him back in your arms.

Your behavior now was similar to how you behaved then, refusing to let your infant out of your sight to the point of impacting your health negatively. Silva knew you were reacting the way you were because of how he had managed to take Alluka from you in the first place. He had taken Alluka while you were sleeping even though you slept with the infant swaddled in a pile of blankets in your arms, so now you refused to sleep in fear Alluka would disappear from your arms once again.

Now he had to face the lasting consequences of his actions in the form of soothing you to the point of trusting him once more. It was going to take a while, however, as Silva had broken your already fragile trust yet again by stealing away your newborn, so it was unlikely he would be able to get you to trust him completely any time soon. Instead of the trust he once had, he had to watch you slip away into anxiety driven behavior due to his careless and selfish behavior.

It was driving him mad to watch you slip into such frenzied behavior, especially given the fact that you were enduring your third pregnancy in a row. Not only did you need sleep now more than ever, but you also had been refusing food in favor of feeding Alluka instead. It infuriated Silva to no end, as he had no choice but to let your anxious behavior play out until you calmed down once more. He wasn't going to chance doing anything that may be upsetting to you, but that also meant he wasn't going to force you to rest no matter how much he wanted to.

"At least sit down, (y/n)." "With you? No. No, not again." "I swear to you, I won't take-" "You've said that before, and it didn't stop you from taking Alluka away from me." "I'm aware I made a mistake, but I assure you-" "No."

It was going to be a long four months until you gave birth again and potentially trusted him once more.

~~~~Six Months~~~~

You hummed as you looked down at where your darling Alluka slept, curled up and held securely in the arms of Illumi. Silva had reached a breaking point when it came to your anxious and stressed behavior, deciding to allow Illumi to be by your side consistently so you would finally relax and get some much needed sleep. The presence of your eldest nearby did wonders to soothe you, trusting in your son to take care of his little sibling and keep Silva from stealing the infant away.

Though Silva disliked the fact that he had to share your attention and affection with his eldest son, the alternative was far worse in his opinion. You had gotten to the point of rarely sleeping so you could ensure Silva could not steal your baby away, draining yourself immensely in the process to the point you were not only rapidly losing weight, but you were becoming far less coordinated by the day. When enough was enough, he consulted his father on what his next step should be and the answer was obvious; let Illumi help take care of your wellbeing.

Your eldest practically jumped at the chance to spend unlimited amounts of time with you, not even perturbed by the fact that he had to take care of his youngest sibling. An extra cot was added into the bedroom, allowing Illumi to be present for around the clock assistance in child-care and to give you the added comfort of having your most trusted son nearby. You ensured to teach him how to properly hold an infant and how to soothe Alluka's fussing relatively quickly, only strengthening your motherly bond with Illumi by allowing you to put full faith in him with Alluka's well-being.

For once, Silva's plan worked like a charm. Not only did you finally start catching up on the rest you needed, you began to eat your meals with Illumi and therefore began to eat regularly once more. Along with your physical health, your mental health began to improve as well. You started smiling and talking more, resting with surprising ease in the arms of the very man you refused to so much as blink around only weeks prior.

Thanks to your teachings, Illumi was a rather brilliant nanny in your stead. Alluka would hardly make a peep when held in the comforting arms of Illumi and similarly, Illumi would make little to no noise while caring for his sibling. Even if he had more responsibilities with taking care of Alluka, Illumi wouldn't trade that time for anything in the world. He could spend time with you, talk with you, relax in your maternal love and affection.

Truly it was a win for all three of you. Alluka was always cared for. Illumi was finally able to spend more time with you. You were able to relax for the first time in who knows how long. Even Silva had relatively few losses, given how much more affectionate you were with him now you knew your infant was safe.

~~~~Eight Months~~~~

Silva paced outside of the delivery room, looking up almost every minute to check the time before resuming his endless pacing. He was much like a caged lion or bear, pacing just to pass the time and to do something other than sit still. He certainly was far more dangerous than any of those animals combined, only serving to add a rather pointed reminder to any doctor of what their fate would be should they fail.

But that was the whole purpose of this endeavor, to ensure nothing failed. Surely nothing could have gone wrong with all the precautions that were put into place.

Surely.

Either way, the long time it was taking only served to make Silva more anxious and his presence all the more intimidating. It in truth had only been a few hours since you went under so the doctors could perform a c-section to safely deliver what would be your fifth child. After the close calls with both Killua and Alluka as well as the fact this was your third back-to-back pregnancy, Silva wanted to take no chances with your life.

A c-section was how Killua and Alluka ultimately had to be delivered despite the fact you were able to have a 'typical' birth with Illumi and Milluki, so naturally it would only make sense for your fifth child to be delivered via c-section. It didn't sit well with Silva, however. Nothing would sit well with him until you were safely out of surgery and in his arms.

But what was taking so damn long?

"For fuck's sake, Silva, sit down. Pacing doesn't make it go faster and intimidating the doctors will only make it more likely for them to mess up." "Their lives are forfeit if they so much as make a single mistake." "And they know this. They've known this. All you're doing is adding another element no one wants to deal with."

Despite his father's chiding words, Silva continued to pace and glare at nothing in particular. Where it always seemed as if the man had a scowl on his face, it seemed ten times worse given he was actually scowling. The moment the door opened, Silva was pushing past the frightened doctor and into the room where his wife lay motionless.

For a moment, Silva felt an honest pang of fear in his chest when he saw you were not awake, the ever present beep of the EKG soothed him to know you were still alive and merely unconscious. The doctors all scattered like frightened rats, scurrying away from the intimidating mountain of a man who silently pulled up a chair, sitting by your side and refusing to take his eyes off of you.

Zeno, Maha, Milluki, and Illumi entered the room in a much calmer manner as they also came to stand around you. Alluka had been moved into Zeno's care given the impending delivery of the new addition to the family, and Illumi stood ready to receive the newborn and care for it while you recovered. Everyone had been preparing for the newborn in their own way, from the butlers ensuring the utmost safety to Zeno taking over Alluka's care, it seemed everything was finally prepared for and taken into account.

Meanwhile, in the past month, Silva had finally undergone a vasectomy so there would be no further chance of yet another pregnancy threatening your future with him. It was possible that it could be reversed and so it was the only surefire way no unexpected pregnancy would happen again. Where Silva felt he would have no reason to reverse the change since he already had five children, the option was always still available should something ever come up.

Perhaps finally there could be peace in the house. At least, peaceful enough no sudden pregnancy could threaten your life. Now all that needed to happen was getting the new infant out before Silva could finally have you all to himself once again.

He could wait. He could wait as long as he needed to. Because in the end, you would always be his.

[xjoonchildx]

greedy | myg x reader | epilogue: bases loaded

summary: being a loner has never bothered yoongi until now.  until you.

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 1.3K

notes:  thank you endlessly for reading, reviewing and sharing this story. i’m so in love with this tough-but-secretly vulnerable yoongi and you’ll never know how happy it makes me that you guys love him, too. i hope you enjoy how the story ends. either way, i’d love to hear from you! please send me an ask here and tell me what you think.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

*******************

Fuck, it’s hot.

The forecaster called for a high of 91° today, but he must have missed that mark by at least a hundred degrees.  There is no breeze and absolutely no respite from the unforgiving sun here in the cheap seats.

The Lions batter connects with the ball -- finally -- and Yoongi winces as he watches it sail right over the foul line.

Beneath his sling his arm feels sticky, itchy. 

He’d love nothing more than to rip that sling off and go to town on his arm with his fingernails, but any moment now you’ll be back from the concession stand.  You’ll probably hold his hot dog hostage if you catch him.

So Yoongi tries to focus on the game, not the itch.  But the game sucks and Yoongi curses under his breath when the next Lions batter flies out on the first pitch.

Nine weeks ago, Yoongi never would have guessed that surgery would be the easy part. 

Going to sleep for a few hours and letting doctors cut into his skin and bone turned out to be a breeze compared to everything that’s come after.  The physical therapy has been grueling and painful.  Simple tasks like dressing and showering, even pouring a bowl of cereal have become a complete pain in the ass.  

He’s not sure he could have gotten through any of it were it not for you.

By now, he’s lost count of the ways you’ve taken care of him.  Lost count of the meals you’ve cooked for him, the loads of laundry you’ve done for him, the very, very creative ways you’ve come up with to make love to him.  He’s probably due for a new couch at this point. The damned thing started creaking last week.

So he’ll buy a new couch. 

He’ll buy a hundred new couches if it means you come home to him at night.

The days of arduous physical therapy are long forgotten when you shower and slip into bed beside him.  When you warm those forever-frigid feet against his under the covers and curl into his side.  When you wake up in the morning and make coffee and tell him wild stories about strange objects you’ve pulled from someone’s strange orifice the night before.

That’s how most nights go.  But not every night.

So it’s not enough.

It’s not enough because no matter how much Yoongi gets of you, it’s never enough.  He still wants more.

He walked to the drugstore before the drive to Daegu today.  He bought you a brand new toothbrush, one of those fancy electric ones with all the bells and whistles.  And he’s been waiting for the right time to tell you all afternoon, appreciating your pretty eyes and sunburnt cheeks.  

Waiting for the right time to tell you that he really wants you to stay.

***************************

“Wow, that line was brutal,” you mutter, and Yoongi looks up from beneath the rim of his snapback to find you balancing two hot dogs and a basket of fries in your hands.  You drop carefully into the seat beside him, grinning.  “I thought I was going to have to fight this kid for the last ketchup packets.”

Yoongi can’t help but grin back.  

The game sucks and the heat sucks and his arm sucks -- but you?  You definitely don’t suck. 

“Can’t get arrested for fighting kids at the concession stand, Doc,” he teases.  “The lockup here in Daegu is not exactly swanky and I can tell you that from experience.”

He reaches over with his one good arm to steal a french fry but you wrinkle your nose, pulling the basket away childishly.

“The hot dog is yours.  These are mine.”

“Wow,” Yoongi huffs.  “You’re gonna deny a one-armed man french fries?  That’s dirty.”

 “I’ve seen your bloodwork, Min,” you shrug.  “It’s time to back off the cholesterol.”

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head.

“So how’s it going?

“Bears are still up by five,” he sighs.  “Can’t believe I waited my whole life to watch them play this shitty in person.”

“Poor thing,” you tease, cutting your dark, sparkling eyes at him.  You begrudgingly hold a french fry out to him; a greasy consolation prize.  “Okay, fine.  I’ll give you one.”

Yoongi leans into you, pretending to go for the fry but stealing a kiss instead.  

“Sneaky,” you breathe, lips soft against his.  “But I’ll allow it.”

“Nothing to allow,” Yoongi smirks, grabbing the fry out of your hand.  “I already got it.”

You smile, turning away to look out onto the field.  

The stadium is nearly empty by now, most of the hometown fans leaving after the 7th inning when it was clear this game was headed straight into the toilet.  A Bears batter hits a line drive that whizzes right past the Lions shortstop’s glove and Yoongi claps a hand over his face.

“Swear to God, they haven’t had a season this bad since I was nine years old.”

You tut and hand him another fry.

“Namjoon offered me a job,” you announce, eyes still on the field.

Yoongi freezes, mid-bite.  

He knew this was coming, of course.  Namjoon had taken him aside one afternoon and spelled out his plan to extend the offer.  Yoongi knowing all too well that the Gajog has never been in need of a full-time doctor.  The offer is a gift, an extension of family protection.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know,” you grumble, rolling your eyes.  “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Okay, fine,” Yoongi grins.  “What did he say?”

“He said he’d set me up with a clinic space,” you murmur, watching another Bears lineman crack a base hit.  “Unlimited supplies.  Nurses, if I need them.  And he said he’d pay me more every year than I think I’ve made altogether since leaving medical school.”

“So are you gonna take it?” Yoongi asks carefully.

You’re quiet for a moment, dark eyes serious before turning to him.

“No.”

He knew that was coming, too.  

“I’ve worked really hard for this,” you say softly.  “And I want what I’ve earned the right way.  This isn’t judgement on you or them, but it’s not for me.  You understand, right?”

“Of course,” Yoongi says and he means it. You press your lips to his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder.

Secretly, he breathes a little sigh of relief.

He likes that you’re his piece of peace separate and apart from family business.  He likes that you’re his oasis away from the ugliness and bullshit that come far too often in this line of work.  He likes that you’re not some hand-me-down from a mothballed church widow or an act of charity from Kim Namjoon.  

He’s earned this thing with you all on his own.

“Doc,” he whispers, planting a kiss in your hair.  “I need to tell you something.”

“Go for it,” you whisper back.

“I bought you a new toothbrush.  It’s super fancy.”

You pull away from him, feigning shock.  “How fancy are we talking here?”

“Like, two hundred settings.  Video calls.  Takes bitcoin.”

“Ooh, that does sound fancy,” you breathe, smiling.  “What’s the occasion?”

Yoongi takes your hand into his, laces his fingers into yours.  

“I want you to move in with me,” he murmurs.  “If that’s what you want.”

You go quiet on him again.  Only this time, your mouth quirks into a soft smile before you lean in to press it to his.  You kiss him slow and unhurried, lips tasting like peanut oil and salt, and in that moment Yoongi decides it’s his favorite flavor of you.

“So is that a yes?” Yoongi asks, grinning when you pull away.

“Yeah.  That’s a yes.”

You both turn your heads when what’s left of the crowd starts to boo.  The Bears have just loaded the bases, top of the ninth inning, no outs. 

“This game is terrible and it’s blazing hot,” Yoongi groans.  “We should go somewhere to cool off.  And celebrate.”

“Hmm,” you sigh happily.  “What do you have in mind?”

“If you’re up for a walk, I know a place nearby,” he murmurs, planting a kiss behind your ear.  “Great milkshakes.”

You smile.  

***********************

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST 💕💕💕

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[coffeegeck]

The Glory of Yakuza 0's Tsukasa Sagawa

WARNING! Spoilers for Yakuza 0 (and potentially some of Majima's story in general) ahead.

I've played Yakuza 0 three times now, each time getting pretty close to the sweet, sweet 100% completion point — I say close to, because I:

• Cannot beat Jo and So Amon

• Refuse to finish the Teltel Dating and Cabaret Training

• Refuse to finish every gambling achievement (seriously, I do NOT know how to play Shoji.)

But, despite the excellent gameplay and graphics, of which is some of, if not the BEST in the whole franchise thus far, there's one thing that endlessly sticks out to me.

The story.

The story of two ex-yakuza paving their own paths in life, never meeting yet influencing each other's journeys as their end goal is—

. . . the seizure of a small, insignificant plot of land in the middle of the Kamuro-cho Shopping District, titled 'The Empty Lot'. Many would think that such a small piece of land would mean barely anything to anyone, especially the prestigious yakuza of the Tojo Clan, and yet you'd be wrong.

It's extremely difficult to find an entry into Kamuro-cho's business areas, and with the Empty Lot being practically the only free plot of land available, even the various scum and yakuza that litter 1980's Japan are gunning for this tiny piece of empty land.

Cue Chapter 3, where players finally see this prequel's (and the franchise's first chronological) debut of the Not-yet-Mad Dog of Shimano, the Lord of the Night, the punished one-eye wonder:

Goro Majima.

Prior to Yakuza 0, Majima and his sworn brother, Saejima, planned to eliminate a member of a rival group, the Ueno Seiwa, with some advice given to them by "friends" in their family. However, it turns out that the whole thing was a sting, and Saejima unknowingly marches into the lion's den, earning his nickname "18-Count Saejima" before he's arrested and sent to Death Row.

As for Majima, before he can even rush downtown to his kyoudai's side, he's restrained and tortured for disobeying orders to NOT try to help Saejima. During this time, a tanto blade is taken to his eye and Majima gains a reason to wear an eyepatch. Owch.

He's sentenced to a year in the worst place any Tojo Clan yakuza can imagine: The Hole. A dark, isolated chamber in which the victim is forced to be tortured and survives solely on scraps of food. Majima's patriarch, Futoshi Shimano, even comes in every now and again to belittle his poor lost pup of a scorned yakuza.

Though, even after surviving a whole year in The Hole, Majima's punishment is not up yet. He's been exiled from the Shimano Family, and is desperate to return (because loyalty is everything to Majima). Furthermore, he's under city-arrest, unable to leave the city of Sotenbori, Osaka. To rejoin the yakuza, his goal is to accrue ¥100,000,000. How?

Well, thanks to the topic of today's post, Shimano's sworn brother, Tsukasa Sagawa, offers Majima a chance: The Cabaret Grand, the single largest cabaret in all of Sotenbori, Osaka, once a dump that Majima takes the opportunity to turn into a national monument to the debaucherous nights of Japan.

Throughout Majima's endeavours to regain his spot in the Shimano Family, Sagawa watches over the 'Lord of the Night' and keeps him in check like a cruel manager over their anxious employee, ensuring that the one-eyed wonder never strays too far from his job.

Hell, Sagawa even hires homeless civilians to stalk and leer over Majima's dismally quiet home whenever he's not working, juuust in case.

Though, eventually, as most players of Yakuza 0 know, Sagawa informs the bird we know as Majima that, to escape his gilded cage of Sotenbori, he must commit murder. It's a twist that even Majima is stunned by, and one that Sagawa seems nonchalant about.

Sagawa's smugness throughout all of Yakuza 0 is something to behold; from his first appearance in the guise of a cabaret patron at the Grand to when he's suffocating Majima in a dingy bathroom on the side of a random street, the developers made us KNOW that he was an asshole and was going to be the grinning thorn in Majima's side.

Constantly does the player find themselves bewildered by how calm and collected, how smug and confident Sagawa seems at all times, and yet there are points in which we as the player see this façade slip.

Eventually, at Wen Hai Lee's death, of which was orchestrated by Sagawa via car ignition bomb, the way he talks to Majima is... still, smug. The line "You are just the worst, buddy..." that oozes from Sagawa's mouth as he's about to pull the damn trigger onto Majima's dome is said with a soft, yet seemingly reluctant smile.

Sagawa, deep down, knows that Majima is doing the right thing by protecting Makoto Makimura, who he then learns is nought more than an innocent blind girl. And, even then, what can he do but obey orders?

Though Sagawa and Shimano are oath-brothers, Shimano clearly wears the pants in this fraternal friendship, as Sagawa clearly harbours disgust and reluctance to the big bald bastard. In a way, Sagawa is in a similar seat to Majima; under strict orders from a higher-up, and forced to do their dirty work to uphold a bargain. Of course, Sagawa's gilded cage is much larger, and he's got a hell of a lot more control, but he's still caged nonetheless.

I always saw Sagawa as a rat. Not a traitor kind of rat, but... a rat. He's a bottom-feeder, he's cunning, and despite the fact that he orchestrates plans, he isn't afraid to go out into the field and get his hands dirty. It makes him stand out from the other general commanding goons we see in Yakuza; he's not just some old guy in a suit, he's got some good titles under his belt.

The story about Sagawa's pet bird, Mametaro, is a sick tale, and yet it's a cute (but bloody) homage to how Majima's tale evolves:

Sagawa, in his younger years, found a sickly sparrow he named Mametaro, and took home to nurture. Now, Sagawa's parents were very adamant that the only pet in the house could be their cat, because they deemed Sagawa unworthy of caring for a pet. Sagawa cared for Mametaro regardless, nursing the bird back to health. But, when his parents found out, they fed Mametaro to the cat, right in front of Sagawa's poor eyes. In revenge, Sagawa kills his parents' cat...

... much like how Majima finds the blind, traumatized Makoto and tries to hide her from the Tojo, but in the end, Makoto is found out and her life is put in danger. To save her, Majima throws away his old lifestyle and, as Nishitani says, forges his own path to save Makoto, attacking his "cat" that is the yakuza.

Of course, the stories are different, but Sagawa is a bank of humanity; he cared for Mametaro, he cared for Majima, and, although it's against his job, he cared for Makoto.

It's even Sagawa that gives Majima his nickname of the "Mad Dog of Shimano", stating that the ex-yakuza (who, at this point, has thrown away almost all of his morality and doesn't give a shit) has "the eye of a mad dog!". It's shocking that this guy is the one that lights the spark for Majima's moniker.

Hell, by the end of the game, when Majima returns to Shimano, he finds Sagawa outside the baldy's meeting room, eyes teared up as he puffs away at a cigarette; in the meeting, Shimano's having a chat with the head of the prestigious Omi Alliance. Majima tells him about the Empty Lot, and Sagawa knows one thing:

Shimano is going to do something that will get someone killed. Hell, he even says to Majima that the two had a "wild ride", like a guy who sees doom approaching. Sure, Majima has a gun too, and Sagawa probably thinks that he's gonna off his oath-brother, but...

To everybody's shock (hell, even me, when I saw this scene for the first time), Shimano offs the Omi Alliance head. This, as Sagawa knows, spells nothing but bad news, and we find out later that it does — guess those tears weren't a crocodile's.

By the end, of which there's a small timeskip, Majima admits that Sagawa has, indeed, brought him on a wild ride, and this is also the first time we see Majima fully clothed as the Mad Dog of Shimano, even having sliced off his sick ponytail, poor thing.

Sagawa knows that the Omi Alliance are coming to take what's owed, but does he trouble Majima with that?

No. No, he lets the now-Shimano Family Captain go, watching Majima walk away with a smile, to let the hounds loose so he can be crazier than everybody else.

A shame that Majima never gets to see Sagawa again.

Hell, even as a gun is pointed to his face and death is imminent, Sagawa is still able to stand proud and stare down the barrel, uttering one last poetic, sarcastic quip before his unfortunate demise. It was undeserved: Sagawa dies for something that Shimano caused, the trope of oath-brothers paying for each other's crimes proving to be a staple throughout the Yakuza series.

So, this begs the question: is Sagawa the misunderstood legend of Goro Majima's story, or just a cornered rat that was, as I said, a thorn in Majima's side?

Personally, the former. Sagawa was selfless, and never let people down. He followed orders, caused chaos in the name of progress, and in the end, reconciled before his death.

As for your thoughts? Hey, I'll let you decide what you think.

[kob131]

https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/sx8okp/how_miles_and_kerry_create_division_within_the/

Due to the length of this post- I’m sorry but I’m going to have to summarize this.

1. “James Ironwood was never suppose to be morally grey because he was always meant to be a villain.”

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Laconic/AntiVillain

“ Someone who lacks several key villainous traits, but is still ultimately a villain. “

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Laconic/FallenHero

“ A villain that used to be a hero. “

Both of these are classified as morally grey

That statement is just not true. Being morally grey and being a villain are not mutually exclusive. In fact, this goes AGAINST the idea of being morally grey because all that means is that the morality in question is neither absolute good nor absolute evil. It is the opposite of the absolute.

And yes I know that James losing his arm is symbolic of him losing parts of his humanity- The same is said of Darth Vader and he’s still morally grey.

2. “Mantle doesn’t look THAT bad.”

... It looks like the ghetto in my city, just not as big. It certainly looks far worse than Atlas, the city LITERALLY above them. Not to mention that they have Atlesian drones stomping throw the streets with people reacting with fear (slowly stepping away and children cowering in front of a drone before throwing rocks at them). If that wasn’t bad, why are they so apprehensive? And if the giant fucking projection is so not bad, why does it also play a part with Winter saying ‘Listen to and obey Atlesian authorities or be arrested?’

You can try to say that it’s not showing a dictatorship but that wasn’t the point. It’s suppose to show Ironwood overstepping his boundaries which eventually devolve INTO dictatorship.

And how is ‘we just lost all our jobs and we live in fear of our own general’ NOT build up to a fucking riot? You don’t acknowledge the fear and anxety the drones cause so why would anyone trust if they don’t already WANT to buy your shit.

Also I love that you try citing Itsclydebitches about fucking CODING. May as well tattoo ‘Ironwood dick sucker’ on your forehead.

3. " We were never TOLD why Team RWBY lied so we need to make up headcanons!"

"Ruby: What about it?

Yang: (frowning) We're really not gonna tell Ironwood about what happened to Oz? What we learned about Jinn? About Salem?

Ruby: We are. (small sigh) We will. But you saw how things looked when we flew into Atlas.

Blake: The General's heart seems to be in the right place, but that doesn't mean we should trust him yet.

Weiss: We need to play along for a while before we make any major decisions"

Yes we are. They directly say so. You even quote Ruby's part but disregard it because you refuse to acknowledge the people of Mantle's discomfort beforehand.

While they actually acknowledge that the military can cause issues...they frame this as a Volume 2 thing alone and STILL refuse to acknowledge that our first shot of Mantle is covered with disdain for Atlas and fear of the military meant to protect them.

And it gets worse. In the section, they bring up a line from Blake to prove that the military presence is a bad thing. But they not only ignore the demands of Ironwood for obedience but also the line mentioning that James is RESTRICTING ASSEMBLY.

As in, something so fundamental it is an INALIENABLE RIGHT.

He also tries saying a military presence is necessary as a response against the Grimm while disregarding Huntsmen as 'incompetent'...even though the military of Atlas has about the SAME track record.

His notes also try to say that James didn't abandon Mantle because the drones (worse than Huntsmen), Ace Ops (showed up late to the invasion of Grimm) and Penny (single person) are there...even though that was first brought up in V7 E7 by Nora in reference to him STILL not fixing a single hole.

AND said note try to say the Grimm die in the cold and the info about them adapting doesn't count because it's outside material...even though the info about Grimm dying in the cold is ALSO from outside material (WOR: Atlas) so the whole point kills itself.

This was just one long string of 'Imma ignore canon to make my argument

4. 'Ironwood is inconsistent because Yang's arm and stuff.'

So this whole argument is that the actions of James throughout the Volume wasn't because he was supposed to be nice and a good man but because plot, fans just see it as him being nice.

... To demonstrate just how earthrendingly stupid this is, I want you (the reader) to think back to all the scenes following; Ruby lying to Ironwood; discussing it with the rest of her team and Oscar; being gifted her huntsman liscense where she talks with Qrow; Yang and Blake's talk before Robyn; Oscar telling her to say the truth; Ironwood confronting them; Yang pushing back against Ruby; Ruby breaking down-

How, in the world, does this make sense if James is absolute evil?

From what I observe: it doesn't. All of that was the result of his good nature. But just as OP is not a bad person even though they are wrong- General James Ironwood was wrong as well. Just like Team RWBY, just like Ozpin.

5. "Why should we side with Robyn over Ironwood,? She doesn't have a plan!"

This isn't about plans. It's about morals and principles. And Robyn never betrayed her morals. She's still flawed in her anger (you can tell her anger isn't a good thing due to her similarity in expression with Yang pre-Volume 4) but she actually tried to help her people while James made far off promises with no reason to believe in him.

6. "The wall offense is contrived! Weiss or Winter can use Dust and it has no defenses!'

But it lets people know James is thinking of them. It lets them know that the general cares outside of a plan that he tells no one but expects everyone to believe in.

This is why morals are so important. Not only do they ensure you don't fall off your path, they endear you to others and breeds trust with them.

Oz understood this. That's why, even as Salem was right on the doorstep of Beacon and he needed a Maiden, he gave Pyrrha room and time to think. Why even as his school burned, he still asked for her permission. Something so necessary that even Salem, loathing everthing he is, imitates him. So necessary that James realized it on the grand scale, sadly not the smaller though.

7. "You can't tackle real life issues with cartoony villains, it's not believable!"

Believable. AKA Realistic right?

I remember people saying the same as the P5 villains. Just how many Kamoshidas and Shidos did we find out about?

Fuck, you could replace Madarame with RT and lose nothing.

8. "The materials needed to fix the wall and to build Amity doesn't make sense! Amity needed fuel not structure!"

"Pietro: Uh... We’ve made decent progress on construction and fuel collection, all potentially manageable, but uh… hm… Amity was designed so it couldn’t launch itself without first being granted clearance from General Ironwood’s terminal"

"Manageable" and "Finished" are not the same. The former denotes uncertainty and unpredictability while the latter firmness and certainty. You would not engage a "manageable" project and not a "finished" one without outside forces forcing you.

9. "This leads to two fans. One who think Ironwood is evil for not helping Mantle and one who thinks Robyn is stupid for interfering with Amity!"

Why would you jump to "Ironwood evil" and not "Ironwood is flawed" given that the characters even within Team RWBY are conflicted on him?

And how would Robyn know about Amity before Yang and Blake? Is she a member of the audience?

10. " Why is Ironwood blamed for all Mantle issues?!"

He's not. He's blamed for the neglected security, military presence, neglected infrastructure (the hole), Dust embargo and out of date security. All things under his control.

And yes, the Dust embargo is his fault not Jacques

If Jacques can't bring in enough demand to warrant enough supply that his workers are meant to produce- he can't get enough profit to pay his workers and would need to lay them off. See also: The 2020 lockdowns.

11. "What about the council huh?! They okay with Schnee bad man because of his unrelated business practices so they trustworthy?!"

James has been doing this WITHOUT consulting the council. V7 E8 was all about that.

Also Jacques' business practices have nothing to do with him being a council member. That's just an ad hom.

12. "Atlas political system vague!"

Congrats on the ONE point...that doesn't matter...after borderline cartoonish stupidity.

I'd give you a cookie if I thought you could eat it without choking to death.

13. "We not know enough to know what is power abuse!"

... Maybe the shit that OTHER council members call him out on? Or just...the violation of basic human rights like assembly? Common sense?

14. "Dictatorship not evil!"

And James isn't pure evil either. He also only became a dictator post V7 E11 while you say he's always been this way.

And it's bad because he's ditching the people he's suppose to be serving to die. I would think 2021's Afghanistan disaster would showcase why that's bad.

15. "Team RWBY stance no flesh out! Ruby no trust Ironwood because Mantle but help Amity?!"

You ever stop to think the talk of James looking tired and his desperation with Oscar might have played a part? Why bring this up if it's not relevant? Do they really need to explain BASIC writing for you to understand?

And no, helping Ironwood with Amity is not a contradiction. That only comes up after seeing Robyn and between Penny's frame job and the aftermath she wouldn't have time to do so.

16. "Blake and Yang trust Robyn but no Ironwood?! HYPOCRISY!"

"Blake: I know. But next time, I wanna make sure we don't have to, and I can tell you, ambushing a Huntress who's just trying to help isn't an option I'm thrilled about choosing.

Blake crosses her arms, and her cat ears completely fold over.

Yang: Then, maybe we shouldn't"

The standard is "we're doing what he should have done" and "we're meant to be hypocritical."

For a man who talks about stereotypes (Sorry, "coding") you sure do miss stereotypical tropes.

16. "Team RWBY no say what they do in he shoes!"

*What the fuck do you think their talk about the wall and Yang helping the citizens in Volume 8 was about?*

17. "Norwma go cuckoo and no sky why Ironwood action not best! She just say Mantle suffers!"

"You'll just be trading all these problems for the Grimm."

... I will now require exact quotation and citation from you from now on.

18. "Narrative no answer why he dumb!"

You outright admit to the military being incompetent here, killing a previous point.

You just have to ruin any chances at a good point, don't you?

19. "Narrative no give reason why Ironwood stupid, like about raising Atlas!"

It's. About. Morals.

James has been preaching these morals of self sacrifice and fighting against impossible odds when he gave them their licences and is now turning his back on them. His decision isn't even framed as rational but bullheaded.

20. "This situation is nuance because neither solution is best but writers act otherwise!"

The fucking show is built off being moral and good in the face of a harsh and cruel world. It went down on Ozpin AND Team RWBY for failing to uphold their principles.

It's not the creators' fault you can't understand anything without being treated as a baby.

21. "Team RWBY meant to be absolute-"

No, they're not. Right or wrong. The show has gone as far as to beat the moral into your head (the risk speech). This is no longer their fault.

22. "It like WF plotline!"

Where no one fucking gets it right due to their own political bullshit? That is right.

23. "They do Damge Control and make Ironwood irredeemably evil-"

Darth Vader blew up a fucking planet. He was redeemed. Kiritsugu Emiya committed every sin in the book. He was redeemed.

Eat my ass.

24. "They no establish gravity dust could stop fall so staff deus x machine!"

It. Didn't.

"The show no do show stuff good-"

You wanna know the fucking hilarious thing?

I actually agree with the statement that RWBY is flawed at conveying info. But considering that this post has NO unambiguously good points, I may have to question that. They try to say that the fandom is incorrectly assuming James is supposed to be morally grey, well intentioned man but flawed...when the show all but SCREAMS that in your face. This person even portrays "morally grey" and "well intentioned but flawed" as separate camps. It really goes to show that they can't understand any morality outside of absolutes

I don't regret the mocking representations. The source is right there. And this shit is inexcusable.

It doesn't matter how well the show gets at conveying info if someone will just ignore or be incapable of comprehending it.

[juniorgman187]

Any Day Now (Reid Fic)

A/N: Plz imagine being impregnated by season 10 Spencer Reid. WHEWW CHILE

Summary: Reader’s pregnancy finally takes its toll on her, leaving both Spencer and Reader to navigate through rough waters from miles away.  Category: Fluff, Soft-soft-soft angst, One-Shot Pairing: (POV)Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Content Warning: Pregnancy Word Count: 3.2k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

At first, it was nothing I couldn’t handle.

Multiplied mood swings? Understandable, her hormones were everywhere. 

An ever-changing appetite? Great, at least now it wasn’t such a hassle for her to decide where to eat. 

A suddenly much tighter FBI vest? Well, that’s what the adjustable velcro straps were for. 

Again, nothing that I hadn’t already planned for. Even before I delved into parenting books galore, I had a pretty good general idea of what to expect. Not only because of JJ’s earlier pregnancy or Kate’s recent one, but more so because of my extensive knowledge of the human anatomy. This made riding the storm of (y/n)’s pregnancy easier ... until it didn’t. 

It was somewhere in her 35th week that things finally got the best of her. 

There was a linear increase of events that suggested things were taking a turn for the worse, so I slightly anticipated a steep decline to occur at any moment. For instance, soon after (y/n) started showing, I began to lose count of how many times I had to insert my hand between her seatbelt and her bump to create a gap just big enough so that the belt wouldn’t have such a suffocating restriction on her. Nor could I fully account for all the hours of sleep she’d lost tossing and turning, just trying to find a comfortable position where she wouldn’t be crushed by her own weight. And I certainly couldn’t remember, not even with my eidetic memory, how many times she’s almost walked out of the house completely barefoot after getting frustrated with her inability to put shoes on by herself. 

In some sad way, I knew she wished to regain some normalcy in her life. Not that she regretted motherhood, but that she wished she didn’t have to experience so many small inconveniences that summed up to something larger than the life she was helping come into fruition.

She just wanted to drink coffee again without running the risk of a miscarriage. She wanted to climb up a flight of stairs without getting winded by the first few steps. She wanted to put on a tight shirt without looking exceptionally overweight. And most of all, she just wanted to keep working.

If she had to go to hell and back to stay in the BAU while pregnant, then to hell and back she went. 

My wife, as stubborn as ever, had made me - and the entire team - promise not to baby her as soon as we revealed that we were expecting. 

“I don’t want any of that ‘but you’re pregnant’ crap, got it?” She narrowed her eyes darkly at all of us, pointing an accusatory finger. “Anything you can do, I can do pregnant.”

And from that day on, she did what she vowed to do, what I knew she could do. She still chased after unsubs, shot all the bad guys, arrested the felons, but eventually - inevitably - it wore down on her. 

The easiest effect I could identify was her drowsiness. It used to take her a while to fall asleep on the jet, and sometimes, she’d stay awake the entire flight. But after the grueling hours she’d endured during her pregnancy, we would barely board the plane before she knocked out. I think falling asleep in the seats gave her the comfort she couldn’t find lying horizontally in a bed. No one said anything, though, because she’d already made it explicitly clear that she didn’t want us to pay her any special treatment, which I understood. Nobody likes to be pitied, but after today’s incident, this went far beyond pity. 

It was just plain concern. 

“The doctor said I’ll be fine.” She grumbled, waving me away with a flick of her hand. However, seeing as she was currently lying in a hospital bed, donning a gown that only partially hid from me all the wires and pads that stuck to her body to monitor her health and relay it to the machines - she wasn’t fine. And I needed her to know that I wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was the team. (I didn’t tell her this because she would’ve quite literally took my head off, but they were all out there in the waiting room instead of working on the case). 

“Emphasis on the future tense ‘will.’ You will be fine, but right now, you’re not.” I prepared myself to deliver the news I knew she didn’t want to hear. My voice became significantly quieter, reaching such a low decibel I wasn’t sure she’d even hear it, but maybe that was by design. She didn’t want to hear it as much as I hated to say it. “Maybe you should consider going on maternity leave now.”

Immediately, my wife shook her head with the biggest pout I’d ever seen. I could see it in the way her lip quivered that she was about to cry, no doubt because of the hormones, but especially because this job was her last piece of normality. She clung to it because it was all she had left to remind herself that she was still, in some capacity, the woman she was before. 

“Spencer, please.” She begged, as if I could do anything. “I’m not ready to leave yet.” 

I pursed my lips and looked away for a second to hide my own emotions. Seeing her cry was never easy, but being the cause for it made this even harder. I felt the formation of a lump in my throat and the pricking of tears in my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I croaked. “But I can’t let you keep risking your health,” I explained, neglecting to voice the final part of that sentence. ‘Or our baby’s.’ But I didn’t say that. How could I? It would’ve only guilted her further. 

“Your blood pressure’s getting higher,” I explained, keeping my eyes steady on hers, not letting them stray to the machine that she clearly didn’t know how to read. But with one glance at the numbers, I already knew they weren’t good. I didn’t lead on just how bad they were, though. “You fainted today, and if you’d landed even a little bit differently, you would’ve ended up with a lot more than just a few scratches on your stomach.” That was the extent of my guilt-tripping. It didn’t feel right coming out of my mouth, but it was the only way I knew she would understand the severity of the situation. 

“You were already planning on going on maternity leave next week, what’s a few days earlier?” I asked, briefly referring back to her obstetrician’s recommendation of not flying after her 36th week. 

We both agreed that after week 36, she’d take her leave of absence since she couldn’t join us on the jet anyway. It was our ‘compromise.’ If she insisted on still going in the field, then she had to listen to the doctor’s orders and not fly for the last month. 

“Spencer,” She whispered again, this time with tears running down her cheeks at the bat of her eyes. With the pad of my thumb, I gently wiped them away, wishing I’d never caused them to be there in the first place. “I can’t do this anymore.” 

She never let on how difficult things had become for her. She never said it’s too much (and it must be too much some of the time). So when she finally admitted the burden her pregnancy had created, I could already sense its arrival. So without a second wasted, I pulled the guest chair right up next to her bed and sat in it while reaching for her hand. Despite the presence of the pulse oximetry on her index finger, I still took her hand between both of my own, not minding the gap that the device created. 

“You are the strongest woman I know. There aren’t many pregnant women out there who can do what you’ve done these past eight months. They wouldn’t even think of it.” We shared a brief laugh, which lightened the atmosphere enough to encourage me to continue. “You are bearing our child, (y/n). Nobody else gets to do that. Not me. Not another girl. Just you. It’s only you who can truly give for our baby right now and you’re -you’re my girl ... and right now, I need you to take care of our girl, okay?”

She nodded rapidly with still glistening eyes. For the first time, that day, she stopped thinking her job was as an agent and started knowing her job was as a mother. 

And a damn good one at that. 

_ _ _

If there was anything I’d learned over the past years, it was that I should never expect my wife to follow the rules. Today was no exception. 

She should’ve been in bed right now, taking it easy, but instead, she was standing right beside the jet, saying goodbye to each and every one of us before we boarded. 

This would be our first flight without her. 

“You take care, mama, okay?” Morgan told her, kissing her cheek before waving goodbye. 

“I’m gonna miss you so much.” Kate sighed, engulfing (y/n) in a hug that I knew couldn’t have been comfortable with each of their bumps in the way, but they relished in it anyway. If I didn’t know any better, it looked like Kate was about to cry. Maybe that’s because their dynamic was different than any other. Their simultaneous pregnancies meant that they knew one another’s struggles far better than any of us could, so granted, it would be hard for Kate and (y/n) to be away from each other. They’d been in this journey together after all, in a way I couldn’t have been.

“Oh,” JJ sighed happily, taking (y/n) in her arms and swaying gently from side to side. “You are going to be the best mother ever.” 

“Said the best mother ever.” (Y/n) remarked, laughing bittersweetly. It was something in her smile that let me know it was just for show. 

Then, in one of the rarest moments of history, Hotch hugged (y/n), earning a slightly more real smile from her.

“Get some rest. You deserve it.” He whispered. 

Not even a second after they pulled away did Rossi wait to take (y/n)’s face in his hands and plant two kisses, one on either cheek. 

“If you need anything, you call us.” He ordered, mimicking a drill sergeant.

And though, I wasn’t ready, I found myself making my way to her, getting ready for one of the hardest goodbyes. 

She wrapped her arms around my torso and let her head press against my heart. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do this without you.” 

For the first time that night, she wasn’t faking a smile or putting on a face. I knew when she was saying goodbye that she was only laughing and grinning for everyone else, but underneath it all, she was experiencing a great sadness that no one else could understand. Everyone was just as excited as we were for this baby, if for no other reason than I was finally going to have a family of my own. That I’d finally found the people who were going to be there for me forever. And maybe it was that knowledge, the knowledge of how happy this baby made others, was the reason she never let it show just how hard it was for her. Otherwise, it’d ruin the fantasy. And so she wore happiness like a mask to hide the profound pain that would’ve wounded our spirits. 

“Hey, I’m not leaving you forever,” I whispered somberly, hugging her a little tighter. “And if anything happens, I’m just a phone call away.” As much as I tried to believe my words, neither of us could find the truth in it. Even I knew I wasn’t just a phone call away. I’d be miles and miles and miles away from two of the best things that have ever happened from me. 

She inhaled sharply and pulled away from me, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the hope that I hadn’t already seen them. “I should probably let you go now.” She laughed lightly. 

Our bodies parted, but I had yet to let go of her hand. I shook it up and down gently as I told her, “I love you.”

She shook my hand back in just the same manner. “We love you, too.” 

A smile crept onto my face after the immediate realization of what she meant. 

My girls.

At last, when I walked up the steps to the jet, I finally let go of her hand at the last moment possible, and even after we released hands, our arms stayed outstretched for a passing second as the distance between them got further and further. With the warmth of her hand leaving mine vacantly cold, I watched as she replaced it on the very top of her stomach, as if to say, “We’ll be okay.” 

_ _ _

“Reid?” 

I refocused my vision to Morgan who was calling my name. From the look on his face, I realized he probably tried to get my attention multiple times before this. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” I shook my head to clear my mind, but it didn’t work. A part of me was still in another world, lingering in thought. 

My mind would never shut up about her, but it seemed like today, it was firing all these things at me at 2x speed. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact event that I felt guilty for, but really - take your pick. It could’ve been anything, it could’ve been everything. 

It could’ve been the fact that I was here and she wasn’t. It could’ve been the fact that in those last moments I saw her, I realized just how strong she was being this entire time, and how I was asking her to be even stronger, as if the weight of the world wasn’t enough. It could’ve been the realization that she was struggling this entire time, but never asked for help, thinking that she’d be a burden - the very thing she made us promise not to let her be. That is the reason after all, that she told us not to let her pregnancy be an excuse for anything. Because if she didn’t contribute anything, then she’d be holding us back - she’d be dead weight. I knew that, and yet, what did I do?

Nothing. I walked away and boarded that fucking jet like a brainless idiot.

I should’ve stayed with her. 

Morgan’s eyes turned to slits while he tossed the manila folder onto the table, seemingly setting it aside so it wouldn’t be a distraction from his question. “What’s going on, man?” 

I shrugged, pretending not to know exactly what he was talking about. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just zoned out, that’s all.” 

Clearly exasperated, he said, “Come on, man. Don’t do that. Tell me what’s wrong.” 

Whether it was defeat or a sweet surrender, I tucked my hands in my pockets and let my head hang low, eyes glued to the ground. Unexpectedly, I was sniffling and wiping my nose before I could register that tears were already coming. “I’m just worried about her.” 

It felt stupid to admit, especially considering I saw her only 8 hours, 37 minutes, and 12 seconds ago. But the absence of her and our baby was growing more and more apparent with every passing moment I spent in this office without her. Usually, she would be here to keep me company, bothering me while I located the comfort zone - not that she ever really did bother me. I quite liked her presence. 

Sometimes, when I was left alone, the room would get too quiet, and it’d just be me and my thoughts. And maybe she knew how scared of my own mind I was when it wandered, so she never let me be alone with it - never let the room get too quiet. She would talk and talk and talk, and I could never get tired of listening. Her voice was like white noise. If she was here, things would be as they always were. I would be standing at the map, and she’d no doubt be sitting in a chair, rubbing gentle circles around her protruding stomach as I felt her watching me intently. 

“Found it.” I would say, drawing a big red circle around the zone. 

To which she would say, “You’re a genius.” 

Sure, I’ve been called ‘genius’ a million times before, but it never felt the same as when she said it. 

Morgan could see the invisible pain in my chest, and he pulled me in by my shoulder to wrap his arm around me. It might not have looked like it, but it was the most reassuring hug he could’ve given me. I can’t explain it, but it felt like (y/n)’s warmth and love had possessed his body and he was radiating it now. 

“I know it’s scary, man, and honestly, we all wish we could be with her right now. But trust me when I tell you she’s not alone.” He treaded carefully with his words, and I could tell there was something he wasn’t saying but that wanted me to figure out.

I didn’t even have to verbalize my question because soon enough, when Morgan pulled back, his phone began to ring.

“It’s Garcia.” He told me, though he didn’t answer the call, which was weird enough. But then he gestured to the computer on the table, and so I half-heartedly watched as the screen changed from the blue background to a video call with Garcia. 

And who else would be sitting beside her but my wife?

“Look who I’ve got with me!” Garcia squealed, clapping her hands together excitedly.

“You’re supposed to be on bedrest.” I playfully scolded her.

“I was! I was, I promise. But after I said goodbye to you guys, I went home and got four hours of sleep, and then I went to my doctors appointment, but then when I was driving home, I thought why would I go back there when I’ve got everything I need right here?” She motioned around Garcia’s lair, even lifting up a hospital-go bag that Penelope no doubt compiled just for her. If there was anyone I trusted to take good care of her, it was Garcia. 

Like I said before, I learned to expect (y/n) not to follow the rules. So naturally, she found a way to still work even on maternity leave. 

At this point, the rest of the team neatly filed into the room, erupting in cheers of excitement at the sight of (y/n) in the bat cave. 

“Is everything okay?” JJ worriedly asked. 

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine! Baby looks good, my blood pressure’s getting better, so we’re doing okay.” She smiled proudly, and so did I. That was her first appointment on her own, and though it couldn’t have been easy, especially this late in her term, she did it anyway. Because that’s my girl.  

“When are you due, again?” Kate asked (y/n), earning an enthusiastic, “Doctor says if she’s on time, New Year’s Eve!” 

It never failed to make me smile whenever she brought up her due date. She was always excited to proclaim that our daughter might be brought into the world at the exact time we brought in the new year. 

“But if I’m early, it could be any day now.” She explained. 

Here’s where I had to cut in. “Hopefully not any day now! I don’t wanna miss it.” 

“You won’t!” She promised through a wide grin.

Something else you should know about my girl? She always keeps her promises. 

And on January 1, at exactly 12:00 - just as promised - I had the privilege of watching (y/n) deliver a healthy 6 pound and 9 ounce baby girl.

The weight of my whole world.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

Can you tell I love it when someone says “my girl”? I think that’s my favorite pet name ever. 

taglist: @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor​ @inkstainedwritergirl​ @rexorangecouny​

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[dustofbrokenheart]

The Lost Boys: Call 911

GIF by lostinsantacarla

Paul x Reader

Word Count: 2,550

Summary: Reader is out on patrol as part of the Santa Carla PD when they respond to a call out at the wharf. 

Amid the riotous flare of fireworks and fire crackers, it was difficult to make out the quickly approaching cop car but Marko prided himself on being observative.

Paul, Paulie, P-Man, his forever partner on the other hand…

Grabbing Paul by the front of his tank, he pulled the other vampire down to hiss in his ear. “We got company. We bail on my signal, got it?”

The honey blonde nodded distractedly, mesmerized by the bright bursts of colors overhead. The reds and blues and whites and pinks mixed with the curtain of smoke, creating a kaleidoscope against the inky night sky. 

He only heard part of what Marko was gripping about—something about a signal—but it wasn’t his fault he was having so much fun.

Another of their fireworks went off from behind Max’s Video, making him laugh even harder when some empty pallets became collateral. They splintered into pieces, the crunching sound of the wood masked by the other explosions.

Nothing said summer time fun like launching some Big Boys at the video store. It was a rockin’ light show and piss-off-Max scheme all wrapped in one. The crochety, old douche in question would no doubt have some choice words for them later but Paul wasn’t thinking about that; the only thing on his mind was blowing shit up.

In fact, he was so into it that he wasn’t prepared for the sharp punch to his ribs. He flew into the wall as Marko ran past, scampering to get airborne. “Go, go, go!”

The back door to the store opened with such force that it banged into the wall with a loud crack. Paul could sympathize. Two officers came through and before he could even think to pick himself up and run, they were on him.

The rounder of the two sat on his back, putting all his pounds into pinning Paul down. Normally, he would’ve thrown him off and maybe, probably, killed him, no sweat.

But.

There were too many people around that could catch him in the act. There’s no way Max would step in and not even Paul was stupid enough to slaughter that many people in plain sight.

Marko, he whined through the bond. A little help, bud? I’m kinda stuck.

All he got back was a manic cackle.

Paul squawked in outrage, knowing that the other would not be lending an assist. That traitor was all too content to sit back and laugh at him.

Whatever.

Screw him then.

It’s not like Paul had never been hauled in before anyhow.

“You know,” he grunted to the cop on his back, “It’s a good thing you’re not fat or anything, otherwise this would be more difficult.”

The knee dug into his back even harder and his head was pulled back by his hair. It didn’t hurt that much but still! He worked for hours to make his hair look good!

“Police brutality! I have rights, you know!” he yelled. The cop was starting to get on his nerves.

His face was shoved back into the ground and he ate gravel, sputtering to get the pebbles and grime out of his mouth with mixed success. The taste lingered and the only way to get rid of it would be to wash it down with something—

Hmm. He hadn’t planned on feeding that night but some pig blood would take care of it nicely.

He attempted to at least think of an isolated spot to rip out his throat without getting caught. Maybe in the cop car. Maybe he could drag him to the bushes outside of the station.

Oh! If the guy stopped for doughnuts, he could steal the car—doughnuts sounded good though. A nice chocolate glaze with sprinkles or something filled with strawberry jelly! The corner store on the boulevard had the best selection this time of night. He needed more hairspray, too, as long as he was at it, a magazine or three—he shook his head.

Come on, self, get it together!

“I’m going to find the one that ran. Officer Y/LN, you take this idiot back to the car and sit tight until I get back.”

Roughly, he was hauled to his feet and he had been so focused on the tub of lard that had him on the ground that he forgot two cops had burst through the door.

He planted his feet and refused to be moved as he glanced at the second one. It was like pushing at a stone wall, the other at his back unable to shove him into motion.

Immediately, Paul realized his mistake.

Why was he so occupied with that other asshole when he could’ve been looking at you, been pressed up against you the entire time?

The saying was that everyone loved a person in uniform and Paul was no exception. You made the normally dull standard navy uniform look good, the short sleeves showing off your arms and the pants managed to cup your ass in the tastiest way.

He’d cup your ass even better, if you gave him the chance.

Even the serious, disapproving scowl on your face was hot. What he wouldn’t do to get you to make that face with you on top of him, manhandling him any which way you wanted.

Screw his little feeding plan. He was willing to spare your partner in exchange for getting to know you better.

A big happy smile stretching across his face, he finally moved, dragging your partner rather than being forced forward.

“Hey, sexy,” he said with his signature wink, the one that always got him what he wanted with people. “Name’s Paul.”

To his disappointment, you didn’t respond and merely took control of his handcuffed hands as they were passed over.

As you lead him back through the video store, he pulled his arms to the left, acting like he was trying to resist. Just like he expected, you corrected him with a strong, tight grip that sent a rush down his spine.

“Ouch, babe, not so rough,” he purred. “I’m very sensitive.”

He glanced back quick to see your reaction and his bottom lip pushed out in a pout. You still wore a straight face that gave nothing away. No clenched jaw, no embarrassed tightening of your eyes. Definitely no hint of an amused smile.  

Gods, babe. You were really testing him.

Guess he’d have to try harder.

*** 

You were new to the Santa Carla Police Department. Very new. New as in it was your first incident on your first night on patrol.

It was just your luck that you’d ended up with airhead who’d set off a whole fireworks display right outside of a crowded store, which could have serious injury, and was now trying to flirt his way out of it.

Hell—was he pouting?

For a city of its size, Santa Carla PD had a surprising number of job openings. You were new to the area, having moved because it seemed like a nice, sunny California beach town and you were in need of a change.

You didn’t have any prior experience but you’d passed all the screenings and tests and expected the job offer they made. It had benefits, the pay was good, and, importantly, it was legal which seemed to be in short supply around these parts.

That last part was a surprise, especially with the high number of missing people’s cases; you’d think that more places would be desperate to fill jobs, too.

Steering the suspect towards the check out counter, you flagged down the owner who had been the called in to the station.

He turned towards you with a smile on his face and greeted you politely. “Hello, officer.”

“We caught one suspect, sir. The other fled the scene and my partner went after him. I’ll get started on the report—are you planning to press charges?”

The smile was suddenly no where to be seen and he casted a glare at the handcuffed blonde.

“But of course. I’ve told this degenerate and the others in this gang to stay out of here a hundred times before. They’ve gone too far this time.”

The suspect merely shrugged his shoulders and winked at you which set the owner off further.

“That! That right there is what I’m talking about. No respect, no conduct. How is a father supposed to parent if he gets no respect? Maybe they’re missing a motherly influence,” he trailed off.

A motherly influence? Okaaay, then.

Clearing your throat, you tried to bring the conversation back to topic. “Yeah…Well let me put him in the car and then we can get started on the report. Have a good night, sir.”

That should’ve been the end of it but of course the blonde had to open his big mouth. “Bye daddy!”

Max’s hand came down heavy on the counter and you jostled the boy away before he managed to start a full-blown confrontation.

“You surely have a big mouth for someone who’s being arrested. Don’t make things worse for yourself.”

His head perked up and you had to really plant your weight to keep him from turning around and sending you flying into a display in the process. Definitely stronger than he looked.

You noted that piece of information just in case he tried anything else.

“Aww. Are you worried about me?” he cooed. “Don’t be. I trust you to protect me, officer.”

“Any one ever tell you that you’re ridiculous?”

“All the time,” he nodded happily.

The profile of the suspect was coming together in your mind. Clearly, he was simple.

Happy and excitable, and yes, even pretty, but simple.

There’s no way he had been the mastermind behind the firework plot; that honor was likely saved for the one who escaped. He probably hadn’t agreed to do it with malicious intent either. Unfortunately, his inability to think things through had landed him in trouble and he was your problem now.

When you got to the entryway he even tried to the door open. “After you, officer.”

With a resigned sigh, you prodded him forward. Again. Really, this guy was worse than a puppy. A puppy could eventually be trained to listen but seeing as how he was late teens/early twenties, it was doubtful he ever would.

“You said your name was Paul?”

The p in his ‘yep’ popped.

“Last name?”

“Just Paul. I wouldn’t mind getting your name though.”

There’s no way you were telling him that. He would be that much more insufferable if he knew. And try as he might to hide his full name, that would come out when you booked him at the station.

“Well, Paul. You’re being charged with public endangerment and vandalism. Under California law, those are both misdemeanor crimes so most likely—”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved away your words with a flick of his head. Annoyed, you yanked on the cuffs, causing him to moan. “I do appreciate a good pair of handcuffs.”

“You—!” You had to stop yourself from calling him a little shit out loud. No one would’ve stopped you, but you felt weird about it, almost like it would come off as being unprofessional.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to bring your voice back down. “Saying crazy things is only going to make things worse for you.”

“Promise to punish me if I don’t?” Another wink was flashed at you.

It was at that point you noticed he had long lashes for a male. They fluttered like butterfly wings whenever he blinked. Except you had a job to do and really shouldn’t care about how pretty he was.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that it took you by surprise when he leaned in close. Acting on tactical instinct, you threw him against the police vehicle, his torso pressed against the hood with legs spread wide.

The position was designed to be as uncomfortable as it looked so that there was little to no chance of him bucking you off. Good.

“Need I remind you,” you said gruffly, “That you are under arrest. Don’t test me.” 

“You should most definitely frisk me,” he panted.

You sincerely hoped it was pain, and not from pleasure, but from your brief encounter with Paul, it honestly could be the latter. Your own heart was pounding in your chest as well but that was due to the adrenaline pumping through your system.

Or so you maintained.

Still, he had a point. Frisking was standard procedure to make sure the suspect was carrying anything potentially dangerous, or illegal. Hell. You were going to have to give into this particular demand, weren’t you?

Wanting to get it over with, you tried to be as fast as possible while still be thorough.

His muscles were surprisingly cold as you felt up his arms and then his back. It was summertime and when most people had problems overheating, it didn’t seem to be an issue for him.

You dreaded going anywhere near his ass but it had to be done. He even insisted on ‘helping’ by pushing his cheeks further into your hands by curving his lower back as you patted down his pants pockets.

“Check the front too. I could have anything down my pants, ya know.”

That didn’t sound suggestive at all. His flirtations were so over the top is was near comical at that point. You couldn’t let him know that though. You were the authority figure in this situation.

“Alright smart guy, the frisking is over with. And surprise, surprise there was exactly nothing in your pants.”

“You wound me, babe.” If he had use of his arms, his hand would’ve definitely been placed over his heart.  

Standing him upright, you opened the door to seat him in the back. That had been the plan any way.

One second you held his metal clad wrists firmly in your grip and in the next, he twisted himself away effortlessly.

He spread his hands apart and although they each had a shiny steel band around them, the chain that had connected them broke off with a metallic clink.

Just like that he was completely mobile and he wasted no time.

In another imperceptible move, he covered your back with his front, his breath tickling you.

You couldn’t hold back a shiver.

“It’s been a pleasure, officer, but I really should get going. I’m just too cute for jail.” He rolled his head and his nose traced the shell of your ear with a deep inhale. “This was fun though. Let’s do it again, hmm?”

He shoved you into the back seat and luckily your reflexes were fast enough to catch yourself before you face planted into the leather seat. Thrashing like mad, you spun around as fast as you could but it was no use: Paul was already gone.

Stumbling out, you looked back and forth hoping to catch a glimpse of what direction he went but it was useless. Not only was that little shit stronger than he seemed, he was also faster.

Noted.

With a sinking realization, you knew you were going to have to explain this to your partner.

Oh, you were not looking forward to this…

Worst first night on a job ever.

_______________

Hope you enjoyed Paul! I feel like this is goofy and over the top but I guess that’s basically Paul’s vibes in a nutshell. Marko has definitely gotten Paul arrested before and Max has definitely called the cops on them before too haha. Thanks for reading <3

[spenciegoob]

The 4 Types of Manipulation

A/N: hey hey hey cuties... just thought I’d drop in to tell you I love you and Harry Styles at the Grammy’s, oh and Miley Cyrus in general. Okay that’s it.

Summary: Spencer has to interrogate an unsub, but she has a few tricks up her sleeve.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Unsub!Reader

Category: Not fluff, but not angst... angsty fluff? fluffy angst?

Content Warning: mentions of murder, manipulation, mentions of sex in the form of flirting, mentions of drug use, mentions of emotional abuse

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.8K

____

Nobody dared to take a breath out of place, every profiler was packed into the room watching with careful eyes at the sobbing girl in the interrogation room through the glass. No one knew what their first step should be, but I guess there’s a first time for everything, right? Winging it was not something anyone in the BAU enjoyed doing, each case needed a thought out plan.

But they’ve seen this unsub before, they know the profile, the history, they know her. So why was she crying so hard that the weight of her head became unbearable, leaving her only option to sob into the crooks of her elbows as best as she could with wrists cuffed to the table?

Nobody knew, except for Spencer Reid.

Emily was hesitant, as expected, to blindly send in one of the best agents she’s ever seen into the room that with each tear shed slowly morphed into a lion’s den. Reid deserved better, she knew that, especially since the last time they dealt with an unsub like this one, Spencer had to be so far out of the loop that the case almost broke him.

He put up a good fight though, and if the determination set in his eyes wasn’t enough to inform the unit chief that she was not winning this argument, his deviance to storm through the door, startling the young woman chained down definitely did.

Why was it always Spencer?

Tears:

“P-please, I didn’t do anything.” Those were the first words anyone’s heard her say since the arrest, even if they were separated by sniffles and choked out sobs. 

Spencer just stared down at her, not taking the risk to further entertain the stuttering girl with wet cheeks and tired eyes.

“I promise I’m not a murderer. You have to believe me, please.” That promise whispered so quietly made with unbreakable eye contact urged him to take a second to reevaluate the situation.

She was apprehended in place of Jacob Hughes, the man they had originally been looking for. There was a chance she wasn’t complicit, a chance she was innocent. Maybe Jacob placed a hair of hers at the latest crime scene because he knew they were closing in.

Or maybe she is just as sick as he is. 

“Prove it,” Spencer said, his tone loud and assertive, leaving no room for argument. She didn’t plan on fighting his demand anyway.

“I- I haven’t seen Jacob for days. He drugged those men, and did h-horrible things. Those poor men.” This struck a nerve, everybody could tell, even the one person in this interaction that wasn’t a profiler. 

Spencer’s shoulders tensed for a millisecond, but she saw it. She saw what her words were doing to him, after all, he used to be one of those poor men she felt so sorry for.

Another loud sob echoed off the concrete walls before she bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath.

“I can’t believe he mur... did that to them. H-how could he?” Spencer watched as the young girl looked up to him like he held the answer to the million dollar question. He studied the way her eyes bounced around his face, looking for something, anything to relieve some confusion when it came to her fiancé.

“Jacob Hughes is what we call a vindictive narcissist and a sadist. He receives pleasure from hurting others, and in this case, drugging and torturing men because he feels he’s been wronged his whole life. The question, however, is why. I know you know, just like how I know you’re aware of his crimes.”

It was a blow so low it could’ve come from hell itself. Spencer regretted it immediately when he watched the way her whole body stiffened at the mention of her knowledge, but he had to be certain no matter the fallout.

“I-I still don’t understand. I’ve never seen him hurt anyone.” Denial, guilt and fear all jam packed into 3 little words that had his heart dangerously close to breaking. The sorrow in her eyes believable enough that Spencer left his standing position between the suspect and the door to sit directly across from her.

She watched his movements with careful eyes, only stealing glances from her peripherals before returning to her cuffed wrists.

“Maybe you’ve never seen him physically hurt anyone, but we know what he does to you.” It was the first and only time Spencer let any emotion, as fake as it was, show in his responses. How could he not try when the girl resumed her sobbing at the implication of her past deception from the man she loves? 

“You know nothing,” she whispered back, her tone laced with defensive anger.

“I know everything.” Was he challenging her?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Was she challenging him?

“You know what it means.” Yes, he was.

“Do I?” Yes, she was.

The two stared at each other for the entire tone shift in the stuffy interrogation room. The other profilers on the other side of the mirror had no knowledge of how thick the tension had just become because unlike Spencer, they weren’t standing in the middle of it.

Small sniffles were the only noise breaking through the quiet until suddenly, they just stopped.

“Ugh, fine! You win this round. My eyes are starting to hurt from all this goddamn crying. Do people actually cry this much when you arrest them?”

Spencer leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms to clearly convey just how unamused he was with the girl’s antics. She watched him intently, picking apart every move down to the muscle trying to search for any indicators that her little performance worked even a fraction of what she was hoping for.

And she got her wish in the form of the agent’s fingers tapping lightly at his sides under perfectly muscular, if she may add, arms, because any other movement would have been too obvious.

Spencer Reid was getting nervous, because the second her facade faded, he lost the upper hand. She just had to get him trapped in here.

“Oh come on. Not even a ‘good job’? I wasn’t expecting full blown applause, but some appreciation for that show would be nice.” Still, Spencer gave her nothing. He needed her to keep talking, and filling silence was a sure way to make certain she did just that.

“I’ll tell you what you need to know, but first you have to admit that I had you fooled for a second there.”

Lies:

“No.” Unexpectedly, instead of getting frustrated with Spencer’s refusal to play along, she just smiled brighter. This was exciting to her, and it was getting on his nerves.

“What gave it away? Did I look to the left before I spoke or something?” Spencer kept his mouth shut. “Come on, what’s my tell? Enlighten me.”

She copied his movements as Spencer leaned over the cool, metal table slightly, eyes racking over her face, lingering on certain parts for longer than others.

“No.” At this, she huffed back in her seat, leaving the close proximity that would later be used as a secret tool against the doctor before he had the chance to catch on. 

“If you’re just going to shut down every single one of my proposals, then why am I here?”

“You’re here because you’re a suspect in a series of 7 murders in the past 5 weeks.” She perked up at his words, amusement dripping from her features.

“Finally, Doc has something more to say than just ‘no.’ Tell me, was that so hard?”

“No.”

“Ugh!” Rolling her eyes would be giving ammo to the enemy, but the urge to do so was quite strong. In fact, she almost did until she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the one way mirror.

“I’m serious when I say this,” she said, looking directly into Spencer’s eyes so he couldn’t accuse her of lying. “If you take the cuffs off, I’ll answer everything.”

“No.”

“Please! They’re seriously starting to hurt. I put 100% into that performance, and now it’s coming back to bite me in the-”

“Fine!” Spencer stood up carefully, not walking around the table until he was certain the girl wasn’t a flight risk, or worse. When he did finally make his way over, she sat completely still, not taking her eyes off where his fingers grazed hers as the handcuffs unlocked.

A breath of relief escaped her as she rubbed her wrists with the opposite hands, eventually feeling the blood fully return to all 10 fingers.

“Thank you.” It was so vulnerable and raw that it knocked Spencer back for a second. They locked eyes, and something deeper than he was ready for passed between them.

He didn’t know what it was, all he knew was that he hated it so much that he tore his eyes away immediately to return back to his original spot seated across from her.

“Answer me this-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Neither of them spoke for far too much time, and Spencer was growing more annoyed by the second.

“What?” It came out harsh, and mean, and downright cruel, but he couldn’t care less.

“Oh nothing, I just wasn’t going to answer anything. I really just wanted to fix my hair.” And, in being true to her words this time, she secured her hair into a messy bun using the elastic Spencer didn’t even realize was missing from his wrist.

“I’m putting the cuffs back on.”

“No wait,” she pleaded, halting Spencer’s move to get up. “They really did hurt, I wasn’t lying about that.”

“I don’t care.” He made his way over, forcefully grabbing both of her wrists before securing the handcuffs back on. Spencer only regretted his actions slightly when she winced at the metal now back to pressing into her skin.

“Yes you do. It’s your biggest flaw.” Instead of answering, Spencer just returned to his seat, leaning back with crossed arms. He didn’t need to listen to a psychopath tell him his flaws.

“You care too much,” she continued, not minding if he was listening or not. “It gets you hurt, other people hurt. I wish that wasn’t the case. You deserve better, Doc.”

Spencer didn’t engage, opting to gawk tiredly at the suspect, and watch the way her eyes flicker across his features, gauging for a reaction. She wasn’t done.

“Hey, okay, fine. I’m just messing with you,” she laughed, finally breaking her serious facade. “What? A girl can’t joke around while she’s being accused of murder?”

“Accused? Or caught?”

“Accused.” It was final, her tone immediately dropping to a fiery rage. Her defenses were up, and Spencer was never really good at playing on the offensive team.

This time, it was Spencer’s turn to analyze, watching the way the blood rushed to her cheeks with her rising anger level. How all of a sudden her eyes lost their playful glint, giving him the chance to fully see the soul buried deep in them. For a split second, she was completely unveiled right before his eyes.

Spencer, clearly not anticipating just how long the girl in front of him could hold her own, used his last bullet.

He placed the crime scene photos in front of her.

“You know who did this.” It wasn’t a question, he saw it in her eyes. Spencer watched the way they remained stoic even after looking at the bloody walls, and vacant eyes of the deceased.

“No.” Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Who are you protecting?” Her head shot up at his question, eyes flashing red before she blinked it away again. Subconsciously, she started to pick at her fingernails.

“No one.” It was a lie if he’s ever heard one. 

Fear:

“You’re lying. Who is it?” 

“I’m not lying.” She wouldn’t even make eye contact with him. Instead, she gave her undivided attention to her shaky hands confined to the table.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Enough! Who are you protecting?!” At this, Spencer stood up and slammed his hands against the table with a strong amount of force that she flinched hard enough to further irritate her wrists.

He felt awful, the bouncing back and forth between them should have given him enough indicators that she wasn’t lying out of spite. But he couldn’t back down, he had her cornered and her only way out was to tell the truth.

“No one.” She wouldn’t look at him, even as she whispered. “Please stop.”

Spencer truly believed that he had her in a bind, an inescapable one at that, but it wasn’t the truth. Oh no, what the profiler failed to realize was she had him where she needed him.

“I have no information to give you,” she whispered before tagging along. “I’m sorry.” It was the first time she apologized for something Spencer could have seen as an inconvenience.

He believed her, too.

“I shouldn’t have yelled.” That was his form of an apology. Spencer wasn’t going to go any further with it, even if she was coerced into lying by whoever the true unsub is, she was still getting on his nerves.

Her hands were still shaking at this point, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Spencer just slumped back into his seat, settling into the silence between them until ultimately he was either called out of the room, or she gave him another indication that her game hasn’t ended.

A loud sigh bounced off the walls. “I don’t care that you yelled in my face. You think it’s the first time a man’s done that? You’re not special, Doctor.”

“I never said I was.” So the game carries on, but this time, she didn’t smile at his sarcastic response. Leaning back in her chair, she huffed a breath before continuing.

“You really want to be though, don't you?”

Lust:

She was pushing his buttons, trying so hard to dig under his skin till she was unremovable. She wanted Spencer to leave this room with her on his mind for the rest of his days.

She was close too.

“No, I don’t,” Spencer deadpanned, trying to keep a cool tone. If he continued to hand her the ammunition she needed, he would be left defenseless.

“Oh come on, loosen up. I was just joking.”  A smirk grew across her features, a thought crossing her eyes. One Spencer knew would not be in favor of his win tonight. “I could help you with that, you know.”

“No, I don’t know.” He did. Spencer wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that the woman sitting across the table wasn’t extremely attractive; she was. He just would never admit it aloud.

“I have a feeling you like to get rough, don’t you, Doctor?” She asked, sitting up and crossing her legs. The stare shared between the two of them was a mix between passion and anger, meeting in the middle to create a new kind of emotion.

“Is this fun for you?” She left out bait, and Spencer was stupid enough to fall for it. Emily once said that a pretty face slashed his IQ in half.

He couldn’t help but agree.

“Undo these cuffs, and I’ll show you what fun is.” She was toying with him now, and they weren’t going to get anywhere, but Spencer couldn’t find it within himself to get up and leave. She had him by the...

“I’m going to get that confession.” It was like he was five years old again, arguing on the playground with the older kids about how their insults didn’t make sense.

“What’re you going to do, punish me?” She asked, the last words in a hushed whisper. When Spencer’s cheeks grew hotter, and his eyes darker, she knew she had him.

“You do like to get rough! My, my, Doctor, you're keeping me at the edge of my seat here.” She let out a boisterous laugh before really digging the knife deeper. “Is that why you kept the cuffs on?”

Before he could snap back, the door flew open and Emily stood there with a tablet in her hand. “You need to see this.”

Spencer got up to leave, thankful for the reprieve even if he did have to return to the interrogation after speaking with Emily. He almost made it to the door before a voice called out behind him.

“Wait!” She called after him, the cuffs rattled when she instinctively went to reach for Spencer. “Aren’t you going to answer my question, Doctor.”

Playing chess his whole life, Spencer had never once played a game where Checkmate presented itself unexpectedly. He was always at least three moves ahead in his mind, seeing the inevitable end before he even began his gameplay. There was a first for everything, because his last move suddenly arose.

“No.”

_____

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