#and i know he's had issues with his label and his team

[charmac]

x

[hahaifolded]

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Debrief 1 Author's Notes: Does this make sense? I don't know. I'm just started to type and this happened. Warnings: MDNI, Angst

Like usual, the 141 had gotten together for dinner. But tonight was different as tonight you decided to grace them with your presence. 

But instead of sitting in your normal seat with the 141, you were sitting with the new guys. They couldn’t help but stare. Here you are in all your glory but not for them.

“Why are they with them?” asks Ghost as he shoves his fork in his mouth. Gaz and Price shrug as they couldn’t understand why you chose the new guys over them. The three immediately voice their confusion while Soap just remains silence. His silence rang immediate alarms in the other three as John MacTavish is never quiet. 

“Talk,” Price commands. Ghost and Gaz shift their attention to the Scotsman. Johnny drops his fork and begins to talk and talk and talk. He explains to the three what had happened. As he talks, he keeps his gaze on you and Russ. Why couldn’t that be him and you? Heck, at this point, he’ll share you if he has too. 

“And I’ll be honest, I don’t know what Russ did exactly but whatever he did, it got them to eat dinner with him and those fuckers.” And with that, Soap turns back to the three. Ghost and Price just stare at him, lost in thought, while Gaz sits back with his arms crossed. 

“He listened,” Gaz states like it was matter of fact. The three look on confused. With an exasperated breath, Gaz sits straights up and explains it to the three. 

“People like them and I can’t just live. We have to go above and beyond and be perfect just so we can even get an ounce of respect that you guys get. If we don’t, we are immediately labeled as an issue” Johnny tries to interrupt him but Gaz quickly shuts him down. “Look at their resume. Top of their class, scored exceptionally high on all of their exams, trained by Laswell herself for fucks sake and how many offers did they get after the academy?” Kyle takes a pause to look at the three. 

“None,” grunts out Price. 

“And what did it say on their file? What was the supposed reason why so many teams didn’t want them?” continues Kyle. 

Ghost answers him. “Too aggressive. Doesn’t respect authority.” 

“And was that the case?” Kyle stares down at the three. 

Johnny lets out a choked out “no.” From the moment you got here, you were sweet. Any possible acts of defiance were just you doing your job — asking the right questions and making sure your voice was being heard. You were kind to each and every one of them even when they switched up on you. Any recent aggression (if you can even call it that) has been well-deserved as the 141 each began to take the piss out on you. 

“So instead of labeling them as a problem like everyone else, Russ here listened and realized that they’re alone and just needs a team, so,” Kyle turns back to look at you with the new guys, “he gave them one.” Kyle turns back around and returns to his food, picking at it with his fork. 

Soap stares straight at you and realizes his mistake. He labeled you as the bad guy. Fuck. They all did the minute they agreed to put the 141 over you. It wasn’t your fault that they all thought with their dicks. This wasn’t right. You deserved better. 

“So what do we do now?” whines Johnny. He notices the way you laugh with the trio— you used to laugh like that at his jokes. 

“I honestly don’t know,” mumbles out Gaz. The four sit in silence through dinner. 

As Soap finishes his last bite, he catches you and Russ getting up from y’all’s table with Russ actually grabbing your plate for you. Soap felt his eye twitch. As you two walk past the 141, lost in conversation, Johnny speaks up, hoping just a moment of your time. 

He calls out your name. You turn, confused to hear your name. When you made eye contact with Soap, your smile falls. 

“Yes, Sergeant?” you ask. You politely greet the other three. Keegan is right by your side, staring down the 141. 

“Sergeant? Who’s that? It’s your Johnny-boy,” Soap quips.

“Do you need something?” You’re clearly not impressed. 

This isn’t going how Johnny wanted at all. He smacks Price on his back and starts again. “The guys and I have some ice cream bars hidden in Price’s office. Come join us. You know, for team bonding and all that.” 

Johnny sees something flash across your eyes. Was it… joy? However, it disappears as fast as it appeared. 

“I think that’s inappropriate especially since I’m not an official member of the team and I would hate to impose,” you start. You glance at Keegan and shoot him a small smile. “Besides Kea— Sergeant Russ and I are going into town right now for dessert. So maybe another time,” you inform. You begin to turn, leaving the 141 to their ice creams when… 

“Mind a third?” Soap blurts out. You turn around, shock all over your face. You look at him mouth gaping, unsure what to say. Johnny feels his face burn as it’s apparent you do mind a third but don’t know how to say it. Damn him and his big mouth. 

Thankfully Keagan lends a helping hand. “Sorry man. I got shit in the back of my car and only got space for one person. But we’ll bring you something back.” 

And with that Keagan whisks you away from the 141 nor brings the downtrodden Scotsman something back. 

Word Count: 947

More Thoughts - Next Thought

[stove-top96]

Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree

Y Batfam x Gn Reader

Synopsis: With your family all in town, they decide it’s finally time to decorate the Christmas tree.

Featuring: platonic Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne

2.1k words

Something I whipped up while I shoulda been studying for bio. All advice is appreciated!! Supposed to be a one-shot but I might make a part two who knows?

9 months, you’ve been here. Sure there have been other holidays like Easter, birthdays, and Halloween, you just “weren’t adjusted enough” to celebrate them with Bruce and his family. it still feels wrong to celebrate Christmas even if you’re “adjusted”. Years Before you haven’t really had anyone to celebrate it with, but you still had the choice to celebrate how you wanted. In all honesty you preferred being alone, away from Dicks clinginess and anger issues. Jason’s protectiveness was insufferable and you always get caught in the middle of his and Bruce’s fights. Tim’s stalking and creepiness is so unsettling. Damian’s intense stares and demand for your attention drive you crazy. Bruce’s overall presence is just way too intense for you to handle.

Sitting in your room, eyes fixed on the book you're reading. There’s a fast knock, and your door swings right after. “Everyone’s at the manor today, so we decided now’s the perfect time to decorate the tree” Dick’s voice filled with excitement. You never got a say in this decision, but then again when have you ever. “You sure it’s not kinda early?” You question, carefully with the wording so you won't get in trouble for having an “attitude” whatever that means. Looking up you can see his grin, he’s clearly excited and you're almost jealous. It'd probably be a lot easier if you felt like them. “It’s already December” he answers dismissing your objection, now there’s no way you’ll be able to get out of decorating this tree. “And when is everyone in the family all here together at the same time” you do see his point, much to your disdain. Jason could never tolerate being in the same room as Bruce, only showing up when he was on longer missions or to whisk you away for the night. Damian had started to take on longer missions as well, although they only took about a week. Dick and Tim had their own teams to run, taking up a good portion of their time. These facts really made you jealous, being stuck here because of their selfishness while they still get to see the world made you hate them even more. “I guess you have a point” you agree, following Dick down the long hallway.

Holding your hand he led you to the living room. You want to pull away, but he’d probably just get upset and cling to you even more this evening. Grinding your teeth you’ll just have to bare it until you get to the living room.

Clearly they’ve planned to do this for a while. boxes of decorations already clutter the big living room, Bruce is currently following Alfred’s instructions on how to set up the tree, Damian and Tim are digging through boxes, and Jason is untangling lights. It’s honestly a very uncharacteristic scene of your “family”. this is probably the closest thing to normal you’ll get tonight, might as well play along hoping no one will bother you too much tomorrow.

Dick makes his way over to some box, labelled ornaments. Still not letting go of your hand you try not to roll your eyes too hard, opting to help him sort through the box. “These all gonna fit?” You mumble to yourself absentmindedly as you unwrap the ornaments, and gently set them on the table. “We’ll make it work.” Jason pipes up, finishing the lights. He motions you over, you assume part of the reason is to help him the other part to get back at Dick for something. Why else would he have such a shit eating smirk? Dick sends Jason a quick scowl in retaliation. God, all your doing is helping him with the lights, it really isn’t that deep.

“Kay Bridie, all you gotta do is wrap them ‘round the back once I pass them to ya.” Bridie is his nickname you know he knows you hate. He's obviously trying to get a rise out of you. Why else would he talk to you like your five. Bruce sends him a warning look, telling him not to push it. You roll eyes and nod your head giving him a response is probably the worst thing you could do right now, it’ll just raise his ego and he’ll tease you for the rest of the evening. As you and Jason pass the lights back and forth, it never really occurred to you just how tall this tree was. Wincing at the thought of how long this will take to decorate, let alone spending it with these people. Like everything else you don't have a choice, so you keep passing the lights forward. “Sure you’ll be able to reach the top?” He knows the answer, once again he’s just trying to get a reaction. “We’ll see” you know you won’t be able to reach, but there’s a chance if you go on your tip toes and reach real hard. “I can always lift you if it’s too hard” Jason’s comment makes the family briefly pause what they are doing, Damian even shoots Jason a glare. Anything’s better than that. So you stand on your tippiest of toes and reach as hard as you can, and you’re actually able to make it to the top. Much to the families relief, if Jason got to carry you like that it’s likely he won't let the others live it down

Dick seems done with unwrapping the Ornaments. Truthfully you’ve never decorated a Christmas tree before, and all though you’d rather be anywhere but here there’s still that inner child who has always dreamed of decorating their own tree. “You gonna help me put them on babybird?” Dick asks, saying no will do more harm than good so you opt for a different excuse “What if I drop one though?” You ask, hoping he’ll take the bait, knowing he'd never fall for it. “We’ll just clean it up then, no big deal.” Like always he doesn’t fall for it, although you admit the excuse was kinda dumb. “If you say so” he has his grin from earlier, as he passes you the colourful ornaments. Looking closer at them it’s clear they’re expensive, rightfully so they’re beautiful with red and gold accents. As you look for the right spot to place them Dick comes up beside you, “don’t think to hard about it babybird, just put them on it’ll all come together” he can sense your growing anxiety and doesn’t want to spoil your mood so early, so he keeps his space and offers words of encouragement. You're thankful at least he somewhat knows when to back off “I don’t know, I’ve never done this before”, you step closer to the tree not really knowing where to put it, so you just place it next to Dick’s. Pride swells in Dick’s chest, “just like that” he encourages smiling to himself. Placing various ornaments on the whole tree you lost track of time, maybe because Dick was giving you some space to enjoy yourself for once. Whatever the case, as you decorated the tree your smile brightened the room, and was appreciated by everyone.

“Why don't you put the star on top this year?” Bruce’s voice calm and content, his lips slightly upwards, which is the closest you’ll ever get to a smile. “I won’t be able to reach the top though” you were barely able to reach with the lights no way you’ll be able to place the star on the very top. “Don’t worry about that” Bruce says, passing you the gold star. it’s beautiful with intricate carved designs, it’s a little heavy. You wonder if it’s made of gold or not? “What do you mea-“ before you can even finish your sentence you're hoisted up into the air by Bruce. You're a little mad he gave you no warning, but you're willing to let it go. Bruce probably won’t mention it again he’d probably just keep the memory for himself, he definitely would never tease you about it. As he holds you near the top of the tree, you secure the star on top. Smiling that bright smile as he brings you down, any earlier feelings of unease washing away as you let yourself get carried away with all the decorating.

“What candles should we light?” Tim approached you, holding three different candles in his arms. Grabbing the first one, dark green in colour it smelt like pine. “That one’s nice” you note passing it back to him. The second a deep red smelled like peppermint and made you feel just a little nauseous. “I’m not into that one” passing it back to Tim who just sets it on the coffee table. Grabbing the last candle a light brown one, it smelt like a warm cozy cinnamon, you figure it’s the one that will make the room feel most welcoming. “I think we should light this one, what about you?” You ask, wanting to make sure he’d be okay with your choice. “I agree.” Tim says, not even bothering to smell the other candles. He leads you away from the tree and towards the mantle, the box still full of decorations beside it. Why is nothing done? What were they all doing while you and Dick were decorating the tree? “I kinda don’t have a vision for the mantle” Tim admits, you're pretty sure he’s lying and just wants this opportunity to be close with you. Although you're kinda getting into this whole decorating thing, it’s even starting to feel a little fun. So you're not as mad as you want to be. “Okay, I guess I can try”. Finding fake greenery, pinecones in the box, even some red ribbon. you're starting to get a vision of what you want to happen. Too tired to get up and do it yourself you start bossing Tim around. It's kinda fun, he’s good at following your instructions, always knowing how exactly you want the ribbon draped over the greenery and the exact spot you want the candle holders. Tim knows what he’s doing, he likes seeing you smile and hearing your voice even if that means you’re bossing him around, he’ll gladly follow any order you give him.

“We must hang up the family's stockings.” Damian states, motioning towards some sort of metal rack he put together. At least he did something. The rack is fixed with 7 hooks, they must have bought a new one to hold your additional stocking. “Sure” you smile “what box are they in” you ask, “that is the issue, someone did not label the box they put them in last year” he grumbles, shooting Dick a glare. You giggle “we’ll find them”. The family pauses for a beat, it had been months since they heard you laugh. Today truly is a day worth celebrating in their eyes. After about 15 minutes of searching you finally found them. “I found them!” You exclaim, and Damian turns around to sort through them with you. The stockings are actually kinda cute, red knitted socks with everyone’s names on them. Your stocking was the exact same. You wonder how far in advance they had yours made? As you and Damian hung the stockings starting with Alfred’s and working your way down, you didn’t expect yours to fit in so well when hung on the hooks but it didn’t bother you, it’d be more weird if yours was out of place.

“It actually looks kinda good” you hate to admit, but the warm lights radiating off the Christmas tree bring a nice ambiance to the room, the colorful ornaments adorned on every branch, and a sparkling star that rests on top. The Cinnamon scented Candles flicker on the mantel, draped with red ribbons and greenery. Each family member's stocking hanging in front of the fireplace waiting to be filled, the crackling fire really completes the look. Taking a step back to really appreciate the room you feel a sense of pride bubbling in your chest. “Why wouldn’t it, we’re the ones who’s decorated it” Damian states matter of factly, clearly also somewhat proud of his work. “I think this is the best it’s ever looked” Dick’s excitement still present from earlier. “You got a point,” Jason agrees, with a small smile on his face. “It’s been a while since I got to relax like this” Tim states, smiling soaking in the view. “Alfred informed me dinner will be ready in about 10 minutes, why don't we start to head over”. Oh god, you’re way too exhausted to deal with a family dinner.

[magical-reid]

The Rings We Keep Part 3 (Final Part)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!FBI!Reader

Genre: fluff

Content warnings: none

Word count: 6.7K

Part 1 / Part 2

The days following your kiss with Spencer had been a whirlwind of barely contained feelings. It was unspoken but there—something unshakable between you and him. You had agreed to take things slow, to let your connection build naturally without forcing it into a label or rushing anything.

But the more time you spent together—both on and off cases—the more impossible it seemed to keep your growing bond a secret.

Growing Together

The weeks passed with surprising ease. You and Spencer began doing things together outside of work—real, honest-to-God dates. You went to that quiet café again, and Spencer insisted on getting the most obscure drink on the menu to make you laugh. You went to see a movie, and instead of just watching it, you spent the entire time discussing the plot afterward, each of you analyzing the other’s take on the characters and the themes. You cooked together more often, laughing when things went wrong, and celebrating when things went right. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours.

You realized, as your connection deepened, that it wasn’t the moments of perfection that mattered. It was the moments where you were both present. Where, even in the chaos of your careers, there was a softness between you that felt like home.

Spencer began leaving little notes for you—little reminders of things, like “don’t forget to hydrate” or “call me when you’re done with your shift so I can hear your voice.” They were small things, but they meant more than he could know. The affection was there, and it was becoming more tangible with each passing day.

One evening, as you walked out of the precinct after another long shift, Spencer stopped at the door and turned to face you. His expression was quiet, earnest.

“You know, we’re kind of doing this,” he said softly, his hand finding yours in a gesture that felt so natural. “A real relationship. No more pretending.”

You smiled back at him, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest. “Yeah, we are.”

The Leak That Led to Living Together

Things between you and Spencer had only grown closer, and you were starting to feel more at ease with your relationship. But one evening, after another grueling case, you got a call from your landlord about the persistent leak in your bathroom. The water had been dripping for weeks, and no matter how many times you had contacted maintenance, nothing had been fixed.

When you’d first reported it, the landlord’s maintenance team had insisted it was just a small issue with the seal around the tub—an easy fix, or so they’d claimed. But the leak hadn’t gone away. Instead, it had grown worse, and the water had started to spread beyond the bathroom floor, staining the ceiling beneath it.

This time, the landlord called with an update, telling you that the plumber had discovered a more serious problem. After taking a closer look at the pipes, they’d realized there was extensive water damage to the plumbing, likely caused by a burst pipe that had been slowly leaking for a while. The entire system needed to be replaced, and unfortunately, the damage was so severe that the apartment was now uninhabitable.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” the landlord said over the phone. “But it’s going to take weeks to fix this, and it’s not safe for you to stay there.”

You stared at the phone, feeling an odd sense of dread creep into your chest. Your apartment, the one place you’d tried to make home, was no longer a safe place to live. And now, you had no idea where to go.

That evening, you called Spencer, you could hear the usual soft smile that sat on his face in his voice, and when you explained the situation with the apartment, you could hear it drop and the sound of concern taking its place.

“You could… move in with me,” Spencer suggested after a long pause, his voice almost hesitant. “I know it’s sudden, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I have the space. You could even have the guest bedroom if you want.”

The offer hung in the air between you, filled with the weight of a thousand unsaid words. On one hand, it felt like a natural step forward; on the other, it made everything feel even more real. You’d only just started to find your rhythm with Spencer, and now you were being asked to share more than just occasional meals or nights spent watching movies. You were being asked to share your life.

“I don’t want to impose,” you said slowly, but deep down, you knew you needed something—someone—and Spencer had always been there for you.

“It’s not an imposition. I promise. And besides,” he added with a playful tone, “you’ve already spent enough time in my apartment, you might as well move in anyway.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between you easing. It didn’t feel like a big leap anymore. It felt like a logical step. So, with a sigh of relief, you agreed.

Living Together

The transition to living together was smoother than you expected. You slowly brought in a few of your things, mostly clothes, some books, and a few personal mementos. Spencer had insisted on helping you rearrange the guest bedroom to make it more comfortable, though you mostly ended up sharing his room. His apartment, for all its quiet, neatness, had always felt a little impersonal—a place to sleep, a place to work. But now, with your things scattered around, it felt… like home.

The first week was awkward in some ways, but those little things that had once been awkward became comforting. Like how you both gravitated toward the kitchen to cook together or how Spencer would leave a cup of coffee on the counter for you, even though he knew you’d be up hours before him. There was the gentle hum of everyday life—the kind of life you hadn’t expected to build with anyone.

As the weeks went by, there were still moments when you caught each other’s eyes, the depth of your connection reflected in the soft gaze you exchanged. Spencer was still Spencer—quirky, brilliant, and occasionally awkward—but now, there was something more. Something comforting. Something real.

The BAU's Subtle Observations

It started with a few casual glances. A look exchanged when you thought no one was watching. Spencer offering you a small, private smile after a long day. Nothing overt, nothing that would raise suspicion… or so you thought. But of course, you weren’t fooling anyone.

It was a Tuesday morning when Emily Prentiss, ever perceptive, first noticed the change.

You were at the FBI field office, surrounded by your team, sorting through case files and preparing for a briefing. Spencer was deep in conversation with Hotch, his voice low and focused, but every time you passed him to grab a file, he would offer you a look—an expression of something deeper than just professional respect.

Emily raised an eyebrow, watching the exchange. You didn’t think she caught it, but you were wrong.

After the briefing, as the team dispersed to prep for the next part of the case, Emily approached you casually, her voice light but her eyes sharp.

“Everything okay between you and Spencer?” she asked, a small, knowing smirk on her face.

You stiffened, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, why?"

Emily shrugged nonchalantly, though there was a glint of amusement in her gaze. "I don’t know, just seems like you two have... chemistry." She paused, leaning in as if to whisper. "I mean, more than usual. Like… special chemistry."

Your heart skipped a beat. You couldn’t hide the flush creeping up your neck. “We’re just… working together, Em. You know how it is.”

Emily didn’t press any further, but she wasn’t buying it. She gave you one last look—a blend of curiosity and something close to satisfaction—before moving away.

Derek’s Unsubtle Observations

The next person to pick up on it was Derek Morgan. Of course, Derek. He had a way of reading people, of catching little things that others missed. And Spencer, despite his usual oblivion, wasn’t immune to Derek’s sharp eyes.

It was during a case briefing that Derek shot you an exaggerated grin from across the table. You felt a little off balance as he did, glancing over at Spencer who, of course, seemed blissfully unaware—head down, focused on the whiteboard.

When Derek caught your eye again, he leaned toward you, his voice lowered just enough that no one else could hear.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Reid. He’s definitely been… extra concerned about you lately.”

You froze, trying to remain casual, but Derek wasn’t having it.

“Extra careful, extra protective,” Derek continued, a grin tugging at his lips. "I mean, I can’t blame him. But it’s cute, the way you two dance around it."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but you kept your tone steady. “You’re reading too much into it, Derek. We’re just… working the case together.” You realized too late that saying the words out loud didn’t make it sound any more convincing.

Derek’s grin only widened. "Oh yeah? 'Cause it sure looks like you’re both trying really hard not to actually admit what’s going on here."

You shook your head, trying to laugh it off. “Drop it, Derek.”

He shrugged. “Whatever you say. Just don’t be surprised if the whole office catches on sooner or later.”

Hotch and JJ’s Quiet Knowing

By the end of the week, the rumors were practically brewing behind closed doors. Even Hotch had noticed. You had no idea how, but there was something in his eyes when he looked between you and Spencer—a hint of quiet awareness.

You were in the middle of a strategy session, with the entire team gathered in the conference room. Spencer and you were standing next to each other, closer than usual, both scanning a map for clues. When you turned to point something out to Spencer, his hand brushed yours, and it was the lightest of touches, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Hotch.

Later, as the team filed out, Hotch approached you with a quiet, almost fatherly tone.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear, “if you and Spencer are figuring things out, just be careful. This kind of thing... it can get complicated.”

Your heart sank. You hadn’t expected Hotch—of all people—to bring it up. But of course, he’d been around long enough to know how these things worked. He knew how the lines between work and personal life could blur, especially in an environment like this.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said quickly, your voice a little too high-pitched to sound casual.

Hotch gave you a small, understanding nod. “Just remember what’s at stake. I trust both of you. But you need to be sure about what this is.”

You swallowed hard. “We’re just... getting to know each other, sir.”

Hotch didn’t press further, but his look lingered, as though he was waiting for you to come to him with the truth when you were ready.

When you walked out of the room, you saw JJ talking quietly with Emily and Derek, her eyes flicking between the two of you. You knew they were all trying to be respectful, giving you the space to sort things out. But there was no doubt in your mind now that the cat was out of the bag. They all knew.

The Unit's Observations

It wasn’t just the BAU team that was starting to piece together what was happening between you and Spencer. Your own unit had begun to notice, too—particularly when it came to your seemingly frequent visits to the BAU.

It was a Friday morning when the comments started. You had just wrapped up a case with your team and had come over to the BAU to debrief, a habit that had become almost routine since you and Spencer started spending more time together. It wasn’t unusual for you to drop by, but your colleagues had begun to raise eyebrows at how often you were around—and this time, they weren't going to let it slide.

A Casual Observation

You were sitting at your desk, chatting with a few agents from your unit about the latest case developments when one of your colleagues, Michelle, leaned against the back of your chair. She had a mischievous grin on her face, and you could tell something was coming.

"Y/N," Michelle said casually, her tone teasing, "I think I need to have a little chat with you."

You turned to look at her, pretending to look confused. "About what?"

Michelle raised an eyebrow. "About how you're always over at the BAU. And not just when you're assigned to a case with them." She paused, making it sound as casual as possible. "I mean, you’re like a permanent fixture over there now. Kind of makes a person wonder if you're spending more time with them than you are with us.”

The rest of your team, who had been quietly watching the exchange, shifted in their seats, clearly waiting for your response. You laughed nervously, trying to play it off.

“What can I say? I’m just a really good team player," you replied, your tone light. "We’ve got a great working relationship. You know how it is."

Michelle leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Uh-huh. A ‘working relationship.’ Sure. So, are you really just popping over there to discuss case files and not, you know, just hanging out with your ‘husband’ Reid?”

You froze, eyes widening slightly. You had thought you were being subtle, but apparently, you hadn’t been as stealthy as you’d hoped. You shot Michelle a mock glare.

“Really?” you said, trying to hide the warmth rising in your cheeks. “You’re going to start with that?”

Michelle just grinned. “You know, the team’s been talking. We’re not blind. Besides he is your “husband”, we’re just waiting for you to admit it.”

Before you could come up with a clever response, another colleague, Greg, chimed in, his tone light but unmistakably teasing.

“Yeah, Y/N, you’re always over there, like, even when you don’t have a case to work on. And when you do show up, you’re practically glued to Spencer’s side. We get it—he’s a great guy, but you don’t have to keep pretending you’re just there to consult. We can tell what's going on.”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment, though you tried to keep it under control. "You guys are crazy. There’s nothing going on."

But your colleagues weren’t buying it. They exchanged knowing looks, their grins widening.

“I don’t know,” Greg said, nudging Michelle playfully. “I think we’ve been more than patient. It’s time for Y/N to spill the beans. Don’t you think?”

Michelle gave you a sideways glance. “Seriously, Y/N, you can’t fool us anymore. We’ve all seen the way Spencer looks at you. And, well... you’re always there.”

You laughed awkwardly, realizing there was no point in denying it.

"Okay, okay," you relented with a sigh, finally conceding. "You got me. It’s not just casework. Spencer and I... we’ve been spending time together."

The team’s reaction was immediate. Greg, with his usual playful grin, said, "Well, it’s about time!" while Michelle gave you a satisfied smirk. “Told you, Y/N. We can spot a love story from a mile away.”

But it was when your unit chief, Captain Harris, finally spoke up that you knew it was all over. He had been quiet during the exchange, simply observing with his arms crossed.

“I’m not one for gossip," he said, his voice low but carrying a sense of humor that you hadn’t expected. "But I gotta say, you’ve been spending a lot of time with the BAU lately. If you’re gonna keep coming around here, at least bring us some donuts next time. You know, for your ‘official work-related visits.’”

The group erupted into laughter, and for the first time in days, you found yourself relaxing. They weren’t angry, just amused. Your unit might’ve been a little surprised by the news, but they had no problem with it.

The BAU’s Silent Understanding

Back at the BAU headquarters later that day, the air was thick with unsaid words. Spencer was caught up in a phone call with Penelope, and you found yourself sitting with Emily at the desk, both of you pretending to focus on paperwork while silently trying to decipher the elephant in the room.

“So,” Emily said, finally breaking the silence. “You and Spencer…?”

You tried not to flinch, trying to maintain a cool facade. “We’re fine, Em. Really.”

Emily’s eyes softened, her tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m not going to push you. But... if you two are figuring it out, I just want you to know that we’re here for you. You don’t have to hide it.”

You glanced over at Spencer, still engrossed in his conversation, and your heart squeezed in your chest. Could you really keep this hidden? Could you keep him hidden? The bond you shared felt undeniable, and yet, the idea of anyone else knowing—of being out in the open—was terrifying.

“I know,” you said softly. “It’s just... we’re not sure yet. I don’t want to make things complicated for the team. For us.”

Emily nodded, her smile understanding. “Yeah, I get that. But trust me, no one’s going to judge you. If you and Spencer want to take this further, you just have to trust yourselves.”

You gave her a small, grateful smile, though inside, you weren’t as sure as you wanted to be. Everyone—your coworkers, the BAU—had started to catch on, and it was only a matter of time before the truth came spilling out.

The Unspoken Decision

That night, after the case had wrapped up, you found yourself alone with Spencer in the quiet of the bullpen. The weight of everything—the team’s observations, the unspoken tension, the growing closeness between you—was pressing down on you, making it hard to think clearly.

Spencer was typing something on his laptop, oblivious to your thoughts. You stood in the doorway of his office, watching him, feeling a strange mix of longing and uncertainty.

Finally, Spencer looked up, sensing your presence. His expression was open, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were feeling.

“We need to talk, don’t we?” he said quietly.

You nodded, taking a step toward him, your heart racing.

“I think we do.”

The Slow Unraveling

Over the next few weeks, the quiet buzz around you and Spencer only grew. The teams was trying to be subtle—too subtle—but it didn’t take much to realize that they knew. The way their eyes would flicker between you and Spencer, the little smirks, the awkward attempts to cover up knowing smiles. You and Spencer tried your best to act normal, but it felt like the world was watching.

You were in the bullpen, sorting through case files, when Spencer walked up behind you, his voice soft but steady. “You find what you need?”

His presence was always comforting, but you could feel it today—there was an unspoken electricity between the two of you. You’d been careful not to make it obvious, but everything had changed since that first kiss. The way you found yourself seeking his gaze. The way your heart skipped a beat whenever his hand brushed against yours.

You nodded absently, trying to focus on the task at hand. But when Spencer leaned over to grab a file, his shoulder brushed against yours, and you could feel your pulse quicken.

“I’ll check in with Penelope about the latest report,” Spencer said, his voice steady, but you could hear the underlying warmth in it.

You didn’t reply immediately. Instead, you let yourself feel the quiet, unspoken weight of the moment. Spencer was always careful with you, and for some reason, that mattered more than it ever had before.

“I’ll be right here,” you finally managed, turning back to your work, trying to act like you weren’t both navigating a minefield of what comes next. 

Spencer paused for just a second longer than necessary, and then he was gone, his steps light but purposeful.

And you were left behind, quietly trembling in the wake of his presence.

Emily's Subtle Prodding

It wasn’t just Spencer who was making things harder for you to ignore. Emily had, by now, practically perfected the art of nonchalantly mentioning things you could never fully ignore.

“Y/N, I was thinking we could grab lunch after this,” Emily said, her voice casual, but there was something in her tone that made you pause. You raised an eyebrow, instinctively looking toward Spencer, who was still at the other end of the bullpen, typing something on his laptop.

Emily leaned in, her voice lowering to a more conspiratorial tone. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to give me a play-by-play of the Reid Chronicles,” she teased, though there was a glimmer of something else in her eyes. “But, you know, if you and Spencer want to talk about whatever this is—whatever you are—feel free to do it over lunch. I’m just here for the ride.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You hadn’t realized how much the team was piecing together—especially Emily, who was always so astute.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said with a forced laugh, though even you could hear the falter in your voice.

Emily gave you a soft smile, her expression almost too knowing. “Right,” she said, the grin still lingering. “Just thought you might want someone to talk to.”

You met her gaze for a moment, something unspoken passing between the two of you. She knows, you thought. And maybe, everyone else did too.

You couldn't deny it anymore—things were no longer subtle. Emily’s knowing smile was only the beginning. The team had been dropping hints, making observations that were becoming harder to ignore. You could feel the weight of their knowing looks whenever you and Spencer exchanged a quiet glance or lingered a second too long in conversation. It was like living in a house with the walls closing in. No matter how much you tried to downplay it, the quiet buzz was building, and soon enough, it was going to explode.

The Teasing Begins

Of course, it was Derek who noticed first. He was never one to miss anything, and the way he watched the two of you in the bullpen, you could tell he had put two and two together. It was the way Spencer had kept glancing at you—his gaze filled with something new, something unspoken. The way you two had been spending more time together lately, working late into the evening, sharing quiet moments that didn’t go unnoticed.

It all came to a head one morning during a case briefing. Spencer was scribbling equations and notes on the whiteboard, and you were at the table, trying to stay focused. But Derek was looking at the two of you with that mischievous grin on his face, clearly enjoying whatever he had figured out.

"Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Reid," Derek said, his voice laced with teasing, but loud enough for everyone to hear. "You’ve been... extra attentive to Y/N lately. Extra careful, extra protective."

"Yeah," Derek continued, turning to you. "I can see the way you two look at each other. It’s like you’re trying real hard to pretend you’re not a thing."

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "Derek, it’s not like that," you said, trying to deflect.

"Oh, come on," Derek said, his grin widening. "You’ve been hanging out a lot more, spending all this time together... and don’t get me started on how you two finish each other’s sentences."

 "What are you talking about, Derek?" Spencer asked, clearly oblivious to what Derek was implying.

Derek raised an eyebrow. "You two are too cute for your own good. And I’ve got to say, it’s about time."

You groaned inwardly, glancing at Spencer again. The last thing you needed was for the whole team to catch on.

Before you could respond, Derek added with a wink, "Just make sure you two don’t get too distracted on the next case, alright? We all need you sharp, not distracted by how adorable you are together."

Hotch’s Proposition

It didn’t take long for Hotch to catch wind of the situation. He was always observant, always reading between the lines, and you had a feeling he knew something was going on with you and Spencer.

One afternoon, when the case was on hold for a moment, Hotch asked you to step into his office.

"Y/N," Hotch began, closing the door behind you. He seemed unusually serious. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

You gave a quick nod, trying not to let the nervous energy in your chest show. "Sure, Hotch. What’s up?"

"I’ve noticed you’ve been around more often," he said. "Not just on cases, but in general. Whether it's to consult or to visit Spencer, you’re practically a regular. This way, it’ll just be… more convenient. You’ll have access to all the resources here, and we can stop pretending that you’re not already basically a member of the team." Hotch shrugged, his smirk widening. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his bluntness. You appreciated his directness, and in a way, his offer felt like the culmination of everything that had already been happening. You had spent more time with the BAU than any outsider in recent memory, and not just for casework.

"I’m guessing this means you don’t mind having me around permanently?" you teased, half-expecting Hotch to shut down the joke.

But Hotch surprised you again, his smile turning more genuine. "You’re one of the best agents I’ve seen, Y/N. That’s why I’m offering you a permanent spot. We could use someone like you."

You felt a rush of pride at his words, but you also felt the weight of the decision. Joining the BAU wasn’t just a job—it was a life choice. Spencer and you had already crossed the threshold from colleagues to spouses. If you took this step, there was no going back.

"Let me think about it, Hotch," you said, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind.

"Take your time, you’ve got a lot to think about." he said with a small nod, his expression softening. "I just wanted to make sure you knew the offer was on the table, we’re all in this together. And I think Spencer would be happy to have you stay—officially, but don’t take too long. I think Spencer might be getting jealous of how much time you spend here."

You nodded slowly, feeling a weight settle in your chest. "I’ll think about it,” then chucked, “and I’ll be sure to tell him to keep his distance," you said, only half-joking.

Hotch’s smile was almost affectionate as he waved you off. "Good. Because if he keeps showing up to work with a take-out coffee for you, we’re going to have to have another conversation."

The Decision: Joining the BAU

A week later, you found yourself walking into Hotch’s office once again, this time with an answer. Spencer had teased you endlessly about your long deliberations, but you had already made up your mind. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the right step for both your career and your relationship.

"I’ve thought about it," you said, standing in the doorway of Hotch’s office. "I’m in. I’ll transfer into the BAU. Just… don’t regret it."

Hotch looked pleased, but he gave you a knowing look. "Regret? Not a chance. Welcome to the team."

And with that, your new chapter truly began.

The Turning Point

Another week had gone by and you and Spencer were working late again. The case had been closed for hours, the team long gone by now, but you both had stayed behind to tie up loose ends. The quiet felt different now—calm, but charged with the weight of unspoken things. Spencer had just finished his report and was gathering his things when you caught his eye.

"You want to talk about it?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Spencer hesitated for just a moment, his fingers frozen over the edge of his laptop. His gaze softened as he met your eyes, and for the first time in days, you saw the hint of vulnerability in his expression.

"I don’t think we can keep pretending that nothing’s happening," he said quietly, voice low but certain.

You felt your heart race. You had been trying to be so careful, so mindful of not making things too real too soon. But now, standing there with Spencer, the weight of everything between you finally felt like something worth acknowledging.

"I don’t want to lie anymore," you admitted. "Not to them. Not to ourselves."

Spencer’s lips curled into a small smile—tender, like a promise. "Me neither."

And just like that, in the quiet of the bullpen, the truth hung between you. You weren’t just figuring it out. You knew.

Telling the Team

The next day, after a brief but tense conversation with Spencer, you decided it was time to tell the team. It had to happen. There was no denying it anymore—they had figured it out long ago, and trying to keep it under wraps felt like an act of avoidance. It was time to own it.

You and Spencer had agreed that this would be a joint decision. It wasn’t just about you anymore—it was about both of you, navigating a new chapter in front of people you respected and trusted.

At the end of the day, as the team gathered in the break room to grab a quick bite before the next round of interviews, you stood by the door with Spencer, exchanging a glance.

"Do you think we’re ready for this?" you asked him softly.

He nodded, a small but sure gesture. "We’ve been ready since that first case."

You smiled and then walked into the room, feeling the team’s eyes immediately flicker to you both. The silence was almost oppressive as you and Spencer shared one last, unspoken look before you took a breath and spoke.

"Listen, guys…" you began, your voice steady but filled with the truth. "Spencer and I… we’ve been, well, figuring some things out. And I guess it’s time you knew—we’re together. Officially."

The room was still for a moment, and then Derek broke into a wide grin, clapping Spencer on the back. "Finally!" he exclaimed, clearly delighted. "Took you two long enough."

JJ and Emily exchanged knowing looks, while Hotch’s expression remained neutral, though there was a small flicker of approval in his eyes. Penelope practically bounced in her seat.

"I knew it!" Penelope exclaimed, grinning. "The lovebirds finally came clean!"

You and Spencer exchanged a quiet laugh at the chaos, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as the team erupted into laughter and teasing. It wasn’t just about the case anymore. It was about the two of you, and you had no idea what the future held—but you were both ready to face it, together.

A Real Beginning

The days following your confession to the team were a whirlwind of adjustments. There was no more hiding between the lines or pretending that nothing had changed. Now that everyone knew, you and Spencer could finally breathe—and, more importantly, finally be.

The Subtle Shift: Something More

The team was thrilled, though their reactions were a mix of teasing and support. Derek had joked about needing to buy wedding gifts, and Emily kept giving you knowing winks whenever Spencer was around. But beneath it all, there was a sense of ease that settled over the group—a sense of understanding that allowed you and Spencer to stop hiding, to stop pretending.

The strangest thing was how quickly your relationship settled into something more. What had started as an arrangement born of circumstance and convenience slowly, almost imperceptibly, turned into something deeper. The quiet moments shared in the hallways, the soft touches that were no longer brushed off as incidental, the steady, almost intimate communication that felt like second nature now.

There was the evening when Spencer came to your apartment after a long day of casework. You were both exhausted, but he’d insisted on making you dinner. He had done this before—he’d made you pasta, insisting that it was the "quickest recipe I know," only to end up with a kitchen disaster that both of you found hilarious. This time, though, it was different. The food was actually good, and there was no need for any laughing off awkwardness.

As you sat down to eat, Spencer caught your gaze, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"You know," he said softly, "I think we’re… actually pretty good at this. The not-pretending part."

You raised an eyebrow, amused but not surprised by his bluntness. "You mean being married?"

Spencer’s expression softened. "Yeah. That."

You chewed on your lip for a second, looking at him from across the table. The way he’d said it, with such quiet sincerity, made your heart ache in a way that was becoming more and more familiar. Spencer wasn’t just your husband by law anymore. He was someone you needed, someone you wanted, in ways that went beyond the comfort of knowing him as a colleague.

"I don’t know what this is, Spencer," you admitted, feeling a bit vulnerable in the quiet of the evening, "but I think it’s something real. Something I didn’t expect."

He smiled—a slow, warm smile that made your chest tighten. "I think I’d like to see where it goes. Together."

And that was when you both realized that the line between work and personal had faded. You were no longer just co-workers trying to make the best of an unexpected situation. You were… something more.

The Proposal As the weeks passed, life with the BAU began to feel like the new normal. Your official transfer had gone through without fanfare, and suddenly, everything clicked into place. The dynamics of the team hadn’t changed—they were still as close-knit and unpredictable as ever—but now, there was a certain comfort in the way you and Spencer moved through the day. There was no need to keep your distance, no need to hide in the shadows or keep your relationship a secret. You were married. And, as the days turned into weeks, it became clear that your bond wasn’t just about paperwork—it was about something deeper, something more permanent.

Work was busy, as always, but there was a rhythm to your days now. Spencer, ever the brilliant mind, worked alongside you seamlessly, your roles in cases complementing each other. The team continued to tease you both, of course, but it was all lighthearted, filled with the camaraderie you had long come to expect. They had known the truth for some time, but now it was something everyone could openly acknowledge—without the lingering tension that had once colored those moments. Every stolen glance, every brush of hands, was no longer something you had to hide. It was something you could share with them, as well as with each other.

Yet, despite the ease of these days, there was an unspoken weight between you and Spencer—an unresolved feeling that neither of you had fully addressed. You’d already tied the knot in a way that felt true, but there was still something more, something unspoken that lingered in the quiet moments you shared. It wasn’t about a grand gesture or a fancy ceremony—it was about the commitment, the promise you had made to one another, in the simplest and most profound way. But Spencer was never one to leave things unsaid for long.

It all started with a case. Well, several cases, but one, in particular, brought you closer to Spencer Reid than you'd ever imagined. You had worked together on many investigations before, but this one was different. The case was grueling, and you had been called in to help, as usual. Your skillset and unique perspective had proven valuable to the team, and you had spent many late nights alongside Spencer, working through the complexities of the investigation.

One of those nights, after the rest of the team had gone home, you found yourself in the bullpen with Spencer, still poring over case files. The atmosphere in the office was quiet, almost intimate in the way you two moved around each other without saying much, both absorbed in the work.

Then, unexpectedly, Spencer stopped what he was doing and looked up at you.

"Y/N," he began, his voice tentative, "can I ask you something?"

You turned toward him, still absorbed in your own thoughts but curious at the change in his demeanor. Spencer’s gaze was intense, but it held something new, something vulnerable.

"Sure," you replied, wondering what was going on in that head of his.

Spencer hesitated for a long moment before speaking again, his words coming out in a rush. "Would you... would you marry me?"

For a brief, heart-stopping moment, you just stared at him, blinking in disbelief. "What?"

He immediately regretted it. You could see it in his face as he stammered, "I mean, not like marry me, marry me, but... it just seemed like the simplest way to... well, to say it."

"Say what?" you asked, trying to make sense of his jumble of words.

Spencer flushed, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know. I just—I thought... we’ve been working together so much, and I feel like we get each other, and—"

It clicked. You knew exactly what he meant. You’d felt it too—the late-night talks, the comfortable silences, the connection that had been there all along, unspoken, lingering in the air between the two of you.

You smiled softly, your voice quiet but warm. "Okay. I’ll marry you."

A Simple Wedding

The wedding that followed was everything you both wanted: small, intimate, and full of love. No big ceremony, just the team gathered around you in a quiet chapel, smiling and congratulating you. Spencer, dressed in a suit, looked more handsome than you had ever seen him. You, in a simple but elegant dress, felt like the luckiest person alive.

The vows were short but meaningful, exchanged between only the two of you, as your team stood by your side. No formal speeches, no extravagant rituals. Just love, spoken in simple words.

“I vow to always listen, always be there, and to love you, in all the ways that I can, for as long as I can,” Spencer said, his voice quiet but steady.

You smiled, your own vows coming out as you held his hand tightly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I vow to stand by you, through everything, and to love you in all the small moments as much as the big ones. I promise to always choose you, every single day.”

And as you walked out of the chapel hand-in-hand, you knew this was only the beginning.

No more secrets. No more pretending. Just the future you had always hoped for, finally in your grasp.

The day of the wedding arrived—quiet, intimate, and beautiful. No huge fanfare, just the people who mattered most: your closest friends, the team. Derek was there, teasing you both just as he always did, while Emily and JJ shared warm, knowing smiles. Penelope dabbed at her eyes, trying to hide her tears, and Hotch gave the kind of approving nod that you knew came from a place of true warmth.

The ceremony itself was simple—held in a small chapel, surrounded by the team, who had supported you both through the hardest and best of times. Spencer stood beside you, his hands slightly trembling as you exchanged vows.

When the officiant pronounced you both married, you kissed Spencer again—this time, without hesitation. The kiss was filled with everything you had been through together, and everything that was still to come.

The Future

Later, as you walked out of the chapel, hand-in-hand, Spencer leaned toward you, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m glad we did this,” he said, his hand tightening around yours.

“Me too,” you replied softly, resting your head on his shoulder. Together, you stepped out into the future, finally knowing that it wasn’t just about the wedding—it was about the life you would build together.

[call-memissbrightside]

warnings: age-gap, adultery, mentions of cheating, NSFW scene hinted at

"Mrs. Bakugou look over here please!"

You squint against the harsh flashing of the paparazzi cameras, careful to not let your smile drop as you pose for them. Your feet were killing you in the heels your mother-in-law made you wear to match the custom dress she also had her say in designing for the annual Hero Gala. Thankfully your husband was by your side, hand on the small part of your back to keep you steady.

Peeking up at him through your false eyelashes that felt too heavy for your eyelids, you were envious that Katsuki wasn't pushed to smile for the cameras.

It was his role to be the brute, strong man while you played into the dainty, tempting trophy wife that was so small compared to his large size of pure muscles and testosterone.

You weren't a fan of the label his publicist team slapped onto you after you said 'I Do' to Japan's #2 Top Hero almost a year ago. Yet, being a trophy wife was better than being known as —

"Hey home-wrecker, you still talk to Uravity? I heard she's taking full custody of their daughter, would you like to comment?"

Bakugou moved to correct which ever journalist spoke out, and the they just loved that.

"Dynamite, are you on good terms with your ex wife?" "Does (Y/N) prevent you from seeing your child?" "Sir, did you only marry her to save your image?"

Their questions were harsh, as they were just mean. Thankfully the Bakugou family security moved in before Katsuki had to, and soon the pair of you were ushered off the red carpet.

You could still hear them calling out to you from behind the closed doors of the venue before another victim caught their eyes.

"Stupid fucking press, think they know everything," Katsuki mumbled before hiking up the stairs that led to the main ballroom where the award ceremony was held.

You hesitated at the bottom, staring up at the man who was your husband, the man who called you his wife. He was just as handsome as he was when he debuted as a hero even though now he was hitting his mid-thirties while you barely just turned twenty-two. The invasive questions that were thrown at you are rattling in your head, making it nearly impossible to move to be beside your Husband, The Hero Dynamite.

Katsuki notices you're not following him mid way up the stairs and scoffs before walking back to you.

"Stupid hag, I told her you don't know how to walk in heels," Is all he said before taking your hand and helping to lead you up the stairs.

You want to ask him about what the paparazzi was saying, if it was true that Ochako was trying to get full-custody of Katsumi. That meant he was lying to you when you asked if everything with his ex-wife was okay, right? And that last question... did he only marry you to save face —?

"What's wrong, you look like you're going to cry?" Katsuki asked quietly as a waiter showed them where you were sitting, up and center to the stage where the shiny awards were shown off on the platform.

You sit in the cushy seat, and not even the delicate decorations of the table; the shiny, white plates surrounding the centerpiece made up of what seemed to be hundreds of red roses— were enough to make you swoon and forget your worries.

Taking in Katsuki, how handsome he looks in his sleek black suit with the handkerchief peeking out of his chest pocket matching your dress, makes your heart clench.

You didn't want to cause a scene, or be an issue.

That's what Katsuki wanted, that's what he told you when you first met him.

"My wife is such a worrier, always on my ass and so damn dramatic." That's what he said, and it stuck with you because if he could leave her, a distinguished hero and the mother to his first and only child, he would leave you in the blink of an eye. Then what will become of you? The press would have a field day with that, "Fellow homewrecker gets her karma and now is heartbroken, single, and broke."

So, you suck it up, and shake your head. Putting back on your fake smile, your facade, you try being what he wants.

"Nothing at all baby, I'm just so proud of you," You lean in the gain a kiss, and it does make you a tad better when Katsuki grants you it.

———————

"Daddy!"

Thank god Katsuki had fast reflexives.

The moment the bedroom door is flung open, he's sitting up in bed. Katsuki pulls your naked chest to his and wraps the comforter up your shoulders to hide any naked skin from the view of his six-year old daughter Katsumi.

"'Sumi," He grits his teeth in annoyance but Katsuki never yells at his daughter. You hide your face into his neck, his body heat almost feeling scorching hot against yours as you blush red from embarrassment at almost being caught doing it by the little girl.

"Hi (Y/N)!" Katsumi yells when she spots your hair poking out of the comforter.

"Shhh," Katsuki shushes Katsumi, making her red eyes widen in worry. "(Y/N) is sleeping baby, what do you need?" Katsuki was sure that leaving his daughter occupied in her room with snacks and her favorite Bluey episodes playing on her TV would give him at least an hour to destress.

Katsumi cups her hands to her mouth, whispering, "I missed you guys and wanted to see if (Y/N) would play with me?"

Having Katsumi love you unconditionally was something you were immensely lucky to have, and her plea to play with you makes you teary eye at her sweetness.

Being identical to Katsuki in terms of looks, with his blonde hair and red eyes, she didn't inherit her father's temper. Katsumi was kinder and more willing to wear her heart on her sleeve, which made loving her easy for you.

Katsuki could feel the annoyance of being interrupted vanish at his daughter's sweet question, his hands that were anchored on your bare, bruised hips, gave you a gentle squeeze.

"Sure baby, let me wake her up and (Y/N) would love to play with you," Katsuki said.

Katsumi cheered before she quickly quieted down to not 'wake you', running out of the room after softly closing the door behind her.

You shimmy the blanket off you, both you and Katsuki red in the face from almost being caught.

"Do you need help with this?" You tease, rolling your hips to reignite the pleasure Katsuki was pulling from your body. His cock was still hard inside of you, seeing how he was almost finding his release before Katsumi interrupted.

Usually, Katsuki would take any opportunity to use your wet pussy to make himself feel good so imagine your surprise when he shakes his head no.

"I actually have to head to the office to finish up some reports from the week. Do you mind watching Katsumi until I'm finished? We could go out for dinner afterwards?"

Katsuki doesn't wait for your answer, he easily lifts you completely off his cock and placing you on the bed next to him before he gets up and begins getting dressed. You sit there for a bit, watching as your husband covers up all the love bites you left on him.

"Reports?" You ask, still in shock that he didn't finish what he started.

Katsuki's head falls back as he sighs, annoyance making his brow furrow as he puts on his shirt.

"Yes (Y/N), reports. They're important to hero work, you would know if you were one."

The last part bites, and it's the sting you needed to get up and dress yourself. Katsuki knew talking about your lack of having a quirk was a sore subject to you, you told him this countless times. Yet, he would bring it up time to time when he wanted to showcase how he was wiser, older, and knew what he was talking about and how you were stupid for questioning him.

You're having a pretend tea-party with Katsumi in the living room when Katsuki bids his farewell.

"Girls, give me a kiss for luck," He orders, and Katsumi springs up in giggles to give her father a big kiss on his cheek.

You are slow to make your way to him, still hurt by what he said and because he hadn't apologized.

Katsuki doesn't wait for you, he pulls you to him with a strong hand cupping your asscheek and giving it a squeeze. You kiss him, and he groans softly against your mouth.

"Tonight, we lock the fuckin' door, yeah?" He growls against your ear, too soft for Katsumi to hear as she already was back to playing.

It wasn't a proper apology, but the way your core tightened and your cunt leaked, it would do.

Later, as you now played princess in Katsumi's bedroom in front of her giant doll house, your mood began to damper again.

"(Y/N), does my daddy still pay you for babysitting me?" It was an honest question, and you knew Katsumi didn't mean anything by it but you still flinched at her words.

You try smiling the pain away, shaking your head. "Of course not silly girl, your daddy and I are married now."

Katsumi's sweet smile looks too much like her mother's and it reminds you of how Ochako would look at you when she'd come home from work: naive and so happy, oblivious to the fact that Katsuki had you bent over the bed he shared with her just moments prior to her return.

You had to look away so Katsumi wouldn't see the tears gathering in your eyes as you swallowed back the guilt you felt for breaking up the sweet girl's family.

Katsumi, still oblivious and not able to read nor have access to the internet just yet, still treated you like you were the best stepmom ever.

How many years do I have left before she only sees me as the other woman?

———————

Drop-offs were always awkward for you.

Despite the rumors the paparazzi spread, the relationship between Dynamite and Uravity was civil. Yet the relationship between you and Ochako was a bit strained, to say the least.

You hug Katsumi goodbye as she leaves to spend the week with her mother, before she gets into Ochako's car.

"No Katsuki?" Ochako asked with a raised eyebrow.

You cower under her questionable look, and you shrug. "He got caught up in the office again this week."

Your answer seems to be funny to her, and Ochako laughs before shaking her head. "I've heard that one before."

Saying nothing, you almost feel relief when the woman turns to walk back to her car before turning back to you.

"Let me give you piece of advice sweetheart, wife-to-wife," Ochako said coldly. "When Mr. Bakugou starts using the excuse of being 'caught up at the office', you better start claiming assets for the divorce."

Your eyes tear up, and your bottom lip quivers as the older woman rips into you.

"Trust me (Y/N), you don't want to keep holding on when he's already balls deep in someone else," Ochako warns, scoffing at your distress and walking away finally.

"I can't believe Katsuki liked them so young and stupid," The former Mrs. Bakugou said as she walked.

You openly sob as she drives away, Katsumi's confused face zooming past as you cry standing in the huge driveway of the house Katsuki owned.

It felt like your heart was ripped out of your chest, the idea of there being someone else when you've given your all for Katsuki and this marriage nearly drives you insane with grief. Karma was a bitch—

Your phone dings which takes your attention away from your pain, and you nearly cheer up when you notice a new message from Katsuki, only it read:

be home late, don't wait up

part two

[heroesriseandfall]

Jason Todd & Chronic Pain

I scrounged for the panels I know from Rebirth about Jason still having lingering pain and injuries from when the Joker killed him. We know Jason had substantial injuries and brain damage when he was resurrected, and Talia healed that with the Lazarus pit. But here’s some I know of being mentioned even after Talia healed him with the Lazarus pit.

The first I know of is when evil future Batman Tim targeted Jason’s hip because of a Joker-related injury that he claimed would eventually become debilitating for Jason. This move does take Jason out of the fight so it definitely seems like evil Tim successfully aggravated the injury.

Detective Comics #968 (Jan 2018) — earlier in #966 Batman Tim also mentioned future Jason would eventually lose an eye and a leg while fighting assassins.

More recently, regular, not-evil Tim referenced it while evaluating how to fight a Clayface Jason mimic:

Tim Drake: Robin #3 (Jan 2023) — Tim says the pit brought Jason back, which has sometimes been a thing. Originally Jason was only healed by the pit after he’d already been resurrected by something else.

This next one was black label, so it may or may not be canon (the creative team claims “it’s up to reader interpretation” and disagree on whether they personally think it is canon). I’m not a fan of the comic but it did pretty clearly indicate Jason had chronic pain from the Joker:

Batman: Three Jokers #2 (Nov 2020)

(There might be more than these—my reading of post flashpoint comics is kinda random and incomplete compared to my reading of post-Crisis. In post-Crisis though I think they mainly put emphasis on Jason’s destabilized mental health and didn’t really bring up physical aspects IIRC. His brain damage seemed healed and yet he seemed more affected after the pit than other one-time-in-the-pit characters like Dinah Lance or Cass Cain were.)

They haven’t bothered explaining how the pit didn’t heal them so far as I know (the pits kinda work to authorial convenience anyway). My route is usually to blame any weird Jason stuff on the strange, multiversal circumstances of his resurrection, but versions of his origin where he’s only brought back by the pit might not jive with that (which includes some Rebirth IIRC).

In any case, I do hope more writers pick up on this more and I love to see when it’s expanded upon a bit in fandom. I would already consider Jason’s mental health to be a disabling issue for him but it’s neat sometimes to have writers recognize chronic pain-related issues among DC characters. (I’d love to also see more expansion of Bruce mentioning he experienced chronic pain…it pops up every so often but rarely if ever in depth.)

Alt text is copied and expanded upon under read more below.

ID 1: Two panels from Detective Comics #968 showing Jason Todd as Red Hood leaping to fight evil future Batman Tim Drake. Jason says, “Sorry, Timmy, I don’t believe in Santa Claus.” Batman Tim slams his staff directly into Jason’s right hip joint, sending him flying back, and says, “Jason. In a few years you were going to learn that one of your bones never set right after the Joker killed you. There’s a growing debilitating bone spur in your hip joint. There, I found it for you you’re welcome.” They’re both in the batcave.

ID 2: A cropped panel from Tim Drake: Robin #3 showing a red narration box for Tim Drake which says: “The Lazarus Pit may have brought Jason back from the dead, but he’s still sensitive where The Joker killed him.”

ID 3: A comic page from Batman: Three Jokers #2. A Joker leans in Jason Todd’s face, looking intense and serious. The Joker says, “Who is the Joker, really? We’re going to find out.” The word “out” is written in an extended sing-songy way. The Jokers put Jason’s Red Hood helmet over his head but they’ve decorated it with a wide Joker-style grin. The two Jokers laugh, then one says, “We’ve spent considerable time trying to best answer that question: who is the Joker? We found that judge. A serial killer. A surgeon. All rather predictable and uninspiring. And then there’s you. Tell me something. Why would you put on that helmet and call yourself Red Hood after what we did?” Jason, who is sitting naked tied to the wooden chair, says, “Come on. Is every one of you copycats gonna ask me the same thing? It’s a joke.” One of the Jokers holds up a crowbar as the other says, “A joke? We left you with brain damage and permanent nerve pain. Physical and emotional trauma so severe that the only relief you ever find is when you inflict pain on others.” The Joker holds the crowbar by Jason’s head. “You and me, boy…..We’re more alike than you’d care to admit.”

ID 4: A comic page from Batman: Three Jokers #2 showing Jason Todd with no shirt on and small bandages on various parts of his arms and face. He looks at a calendar on a wall and reads the crossed out days that have physical therapy sessions written on them. He sees a stack of various healing and exercise books. The top book is titled Chronic Pain Management by Dr. D. Kresan. He picks it up. Barbara Gordon as Batgirl enters a different, dark room through a window.

ID 5: A comic page from Batman: Three Jokers #2 showing Barbara Gordon as Batgirl entering her own bedroom. She says, “Jason?” She sees a book on her bed titled “Chronic Pain Management” by Dr. D. Kresan. Jason says, “Barbara?” and walks out of the attached bathroom with only a towel around his waist. Babs says, “I figured you’d left.” Jason says, “I hope it’s okay I used the shower and I…I didn’t mean to go through your things. The closet door was open and that book looked…useful.” Babs says, “It was. Are you okay?” Jason has small bandages and bruises on his face as he says, “I don’t think I’ve ever been okay.” Babs looks concerned. Jason continues saying, “What the Joker said…about how I’ve been on the path to being like them for years…they’re not wrong. I don’t want to be like them though. I really don’t. You believe that, right?” Babs says, “I’m willing to.” Then Jason says, “Can I ask you something?”

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

Trans Mercs (+ Miss Pauling) Headcanons!

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I realized a bit ago, that I've always TOLD you guys that I hc the mercs as trans in their own rights, but I've never told you guys WHY I headcanon them each as trans or HOW they express their transness. So hey, why not do it now? I gotta get back into writing for you guys at some point.

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Also...we'll just...pretend they live in a world where trans healthcare is super easy and accessible, please and thank you 😭🙏🏼

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Demo- I headcanon Demo as a trans man who uses he/him pronouns, and has decided not to pursue medical transition besides HRT.

I think Demo's masculinity isn't tied to his body. He knows he's a man, through and through, regardless of if how he was born. He's still a man. He loves his body. (Minus his uterus, he HATES that thing. [Hcs him with PCOS/Endo </3])

I think when he came out it was to...moderate support in his late teens and he went on HRT around his early twenties. I'd like to think he was always a very masculine person, even before he came out, so his transition went very smoothly.

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Engie- I headcanon Engie as trans man who uses he/him pronouns, who can take or leave medial transition, he's decided to take his time in figuring out how he wants his body to look, but also takes HRT

Engineer, similar to Demo, I think Engie feels comfortable in his body. He knows he's a man, and regardless of his body, he'll always feel like a man. But he does occasionally get bouts of very strong dysphoria that make him question if he'd be happier if he medically transitioned. I think even from childhood he knew he was more masculine, always fitting in with the "tomboy" label, rejecting all things feminine, it was very clear throughout his life. He was met with mixed support upon coming out in his early teens, and eventually got on HRT in his late teens. And similar to Demo, due to his masculine nature, the transition went relatively smoothly.

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Heavy- I headcanon Heavy as a trans man who uses he/him pronouns, who has pursued medical transition (thanks to Medic) and has fully medically transitioned.

I don't think Heavy really ever thought too much about himself growing up. He just never found himself having time to focus on him. So he didn't really question any of the feelings that surrounded his gender. They, much like other things, got pushed down. Eventually though, he had to confront it. I think he definitely came out later. His family, of course was very supportive, and love him regardless. They don't care how he identifies, they just care about him. I think he started looking into medically transitioning after he joined the other mercs, and after Medic offered to do it for free. And was fully okay with Medic preforming the operation. Now he loves his body, and is very happy being the man he always knew he was.

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Medic- I headcanon Medic as an intersex and trans masc, specially, I headcanon him as having Klinefelter syndrome. He uses he/him pronouns.

I think Medic growing up had a lot of issues that he didn't quite understand. He wasn't like the other boys. A lot of it was attributed to him being a late bloomer. But, in reality, it all came back to him being intersex. He learned he was intersex in his mid twenties, and kept it a well guarded secret. He refused to acknowledge it for a long time. Almost feeling ashamed. He struggled with his masculinity all throughout his childhood, being bullied for it relentlessly, and now here was proof, in his mind at least, that he wasn't really a man. He didn't really get over these misplaced feelings until he met the other mercs. It was always a dull ache, or something gnawing at him constantly. But now, on a team surrounded by other men, all expressing their masculinity in different ways, it made him feel more comfortable with himself. After he joined the team, he came out, to overwhelming support from the others, and learned more about himself, and the intersex and trans masc labels.

[Also side note, as he grew more comfortable with expressing his gender, he has changed his anatomy at will to whatever makes him more comfortable at any given moment, his feelings about his gender identity aren't inherently tied to his genitalia anymore.]

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Scout- I headcanon Scout as a trans man who uses he/him pronouns and has fully medically transitioned (also thanks to Medic) but sometime he does wonder if he could have been happy without bottom surgery.

Scout was born the only girl out of all his brothers, but from the moment he could walk and talk, his mother knew she was rasing another boy, regardless of what it said on the birth certificate. She tried to fight it, always wanting a daughter, but after she found him at the age of five, in tears over having to wear a dress, she finally gave in, and welcomed another son to her family, even if it took Scout a few more years to put the right words to the way he was feeling inside. I think Scout finally put names to words in his early teens, and was actually really scared to come out to his family. Millions of thoughts and doubts rushing through his mind. But his Mom just smiled, and hugged him, accepting him almost instantly. He's her baby, and nothing in this world would change that. I honestly think Scout is one of the only mercs to have access to puberty blockers, and he started his transition at around 14. He had never really had the means to medically transitioned, but once he joined the team, Medic was all too happy to perform the surgeries. He was really happy once they were done, and he still is. Though, sometimes he wonders if he could have been just as happy without bottom surgery. He doesn't regret it, but he wonders if he could have a different experience without it.

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Sniper- I headcanon Sniper as falling somewhere under the trans umbrella, and as using all pronouns. He doesn't quite call himself any trans lables, but doesn't quite align with cisgender lables either. He just knows he's a human, and he doesn't care what you call him or what his body looks like. He's perfect existing without any lables or societal expectations. He hasn't had any surgeries and probably won't either. He never had to come out, never had to explain anything.

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Spy- I headcanon Spy as a genderfluid person who uses all pronouns.

Spy is...a spy, shockingly enough, and that means he had to get used to putting on different personalities and identities. So when he had to dress as a woman once or twice, he did what he had to do. Liking it wasn't part of that, but he found himself liking it anyway. I don't think Spy was really a masculine guy to begin with. I definitely think in his childhood he was more feminine, taking more after his mother, and then when he was put in a position, where he oddly enough could explore dressing as a woman, and presenting as a woman, and even LIVING as a woman, with little to no shame, because, hey, it's just a job right? It was actually pretty freeing for him, well, as freeing as it could be. He didn't really ever come out. He didn't have to. Being a spy also helped with that! When he wanted to be seen as a woman, he'd present feminine. When he wanted to be seen as a man, he'd present masc. And when he didn't want to be seen at all, he'd just disappear.

[All shapeshifters are trans, what else do you want me to say???]

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Soldier- I headcanon Soldier as a trans man who uses he/him pronouns who has only pursued HRT but has not fully medically transitioned.

I think Soldier, from the MINUTE he could talk, knew he was a boy. No question about it. Always fought ANY attempts by others to make him feminine, and always wholeheartedly believed he WAS born a man, but there was some mix up... (I personally love this hc by ColdSpiccy and quote "they took your WHOLE penis in the curcumsicion!?" Regularly.) I do also like the headcanons that Soldier just...blasted his tits off but GUYS you don't understand how much I love the idea of Soldier learning to love his body and come to terms with what masculinity means to him! Because I could really see him knowing he was a man throughout his childhood, and his body not reflecting it, and him over compensating with toxic masculinity over that, and him meeting the other mercs and learning how he can learn to love and accept himself and be happy. Do you SEE the vision-

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Pyro- I headcanon Pyro as an agender, mtf, and a xenogender user who uses it/they pronouns along with other neopronouns.

Okay, complex queer identity time! Alright! So, I believe that Pyro was born male, but it always felt...weird. They felt like they wanted to have no gender at all, but also...they wanted a woman's body??? These feelings made no sense to them. How could someone else understand these feelings if it couldn't? Well, surprising no one, the rest of the mercs understood just fine. Medic (and Spy) surprisingly so. Medic was more than happy to offer his services and give Pyro the body they wanted while having no trouble respecting it's pronouns. It took a little while for Pyro to learn the exact lables for itself. Especially after they learned about xenogenders (i actually think they identify with xenogenders relating to fire, voids, stars, eldritch horrors, cats, and also the xenogender hoarder identity) and while they use it/they primarily they've occasionally tired other neopronouns and use fire themed ones on and off.

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Miss Pauling- I headcanon Miss Pauling as a transgender woman who uses she/her pronouns and has fully medically transitioned.

I think Miss Pauling had a lot of feelings for a very long time. I think she was raised in a household they focused so much on her being perfect and by extension being the perfect son. I think she was always under a LOT of stress. She always knew who she was inside but she was TERRIFIED to let anyone know, or to even think about it too long. I think she even took her current job while still living as a man, and presenting as a man. I actually think her first meeting Medic would have been what really helped her come out of her shell. I honestly think her and Medic have a great friendship with each other, and when they first met I could totally see Medic immediately being able to tell all the anxieties and worries that just radiated off of her. I don't think she'd instantly breakdown and tell him everything. But after a while of becoming friends I think she would confide in him, and he would support her through discovering herself and becoming the woman she wants to be. He'd help her with her medical transition and provide her with estrogen, of course. The other mercs IMMEDIATELY supported her as well. As for her family? I think the support from there would be...less than ideal. But I do also think, in time, the mercs DO become like a second family to her.

[Also, a side note! I could also see her being a demigirl, and think they're are interesting ideas and stuff to explore with that!]

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Thank you all for being understanding of my very long, unofficial hiatus. I'm sorry it's been so long, and I'm sorry I've kinda let the blog die. I promise I'm coming back, it's just taken a hot minute.

Thank you guys for sticking around, and thanks for reading, and as always, I hope you enjoyed :)

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[kellysue]

Members of the cast of #FMLComix tell you how to pre-order #FMLComix.

FML #1 arrives in November 2024 with main cover art by David López and variant covers featuring artwork by Alvaro Martinez Bueno, David LaFuente, Nicola Scott (1:10 incentive variant), and Pepe Larraz (1:25 incentive variant). One additional variant cover will be revealed at a later date. Each issue will feature bonus material such as essays on music, true crime, interviews, and more that will be exclusive only to the single issues.

“David and I have been talking about doing something creator-owned together since Captain Marvel, but it took years for the stars and our schedules to properly align,” said DeConnick. “Now that we’re here though, it almost feels planned — like we needed exactly as long as it took us to grow and change, both as artists and as people, so that we could come back together for this big swing.

“FML is a challenging book — stylistically and in tone — and I’m not sure we could have pulled it off five years ago, honestly. But here we are—and I’m so proud of and impressed by the work put in by everyone involved. David is drawing like he’s got something to prove, Cris is pulling disparate styles together seamlessly, tying them together with her palette and Clayton of course, our ace and secret weapon, works his subtle magic on lettering to make sure you hear everything in your head exactly the way it was intended. McCubbin developed this terrific logo that evolves with each issue, and I don’t even know where to start with how supportive and inspiring Daniel Chabon’s editorial team has been. They’ve given us exactly what we needed at every step along the way.

“For my part, FML feels of a piece with Pretty Deadly and Bitch Planet; it’s as personal as the former and as satirical and of-the-moment as the latter.”

"This is without a doubt one of the best and most important books I have had the honor to edit in my fifteen years in the comic book industry,” added Senior Editor Daniel Chabon. “I have been a tremendous fan of this creative team for a long, long time; and I cannot wait for everyone to pick up this series and to see what an amazing achievement it is."

Riley is a 16-year-old heavy metal kid who draws down his anxiety with a ballpoint pen. His mother is an aging punk cartoonist slam dancing with a true crime obsession. Bound by threads of magical realism, they navigate the absurdities and horrors of our modern lives.

Issue one introduces Riley’s daily life: terrorism diaries, school shooter drills, and social pressures under the constant shadow of encroaching wildfires that rain ash like a morbid snow. His refuge? The Forest Park Witch’s House, where tales of chaos magic and trickster gods promise some semblance of sense in a senseless world.

Echoing the comedy of “Bottoms,” the nostalgic pull of “Stranger Things,” and the coming-of-age journey in “Stand By Me,” DeConnick’s first return to creator-owned comics since Bitch Planet is an apocalyptic odyssey that speaks to the resilience of the misfit and the power of art.

FML #1 (of 8) arrives in comic shops on November 6, 2024. It is now available to pre-order at your your local comic shop for $4.99.

Be sure to follow DarkHorseComics on social media and check our website, www.darkhorse.com for more news, announcements, and updates.

Praise Kelly Sue DeConnick and David López: “DeConnick has always combed top-notch lyrical text with a knack for bringing out the best in the artists she works with.”—Polygon

“Kelly Sue DeConnick either writes with a King Midas pen, is one of the few remaining wizards in the world, or, most likely, is just that damn good because Bitch Planet is yet another amazing series with her name on the cover.”—Word on the Nerd

“Pretty Deadly pushes at the limits of medium, challenging our ideas of what comics can be.”—IGN

“Kelly Sue DeConnick’s Wonder Woman Historia: The Amazons may just be the best thing to come out of the Black Label line to date.”—IGN

“Kelly Sue DeConnick is a force in comics.”—Book Riot

“Kelly Sue DeConnick—a powerhouse in the comics world.”—Salon

“A primal scream in exquisitely worked gold.”—Polygon on Wonder Woman Historia: The Amazons

“López’s pencils are like a breath of fresh air. His style evokes a classic superhero aesthetic while still bringing subtle emotional vulnerability to these characters through strong storytelling and page design.”—Nerds Unchained on Captain Marvel (2014)

[tdlb]

I had An Idea

It's an in-universe Wayne family reality show in which Dick is being "prepped" by Bruce to take over Wayne Enterprises. Of course, it's all a PR stunt for Bruce, who plays his part stunningly but Dick comes off as a party-obsessed playboy. The scripted "challenges" they have Dick do to "prove himself" also don't help with any of this. Here's how I imagine the 12 episodes of season one going:

We meet Bruce Wayne and learn about Wayne Enterprises. We also learn about the "party-boy, teen heart-throb" Dick Grayson and Bruce's worries that he will never be able to leave his company to him.

We meet some supporting cast as Dick navigates his first day as an intern in Wayne Enterprises. There is drama within Wayne Manor.

A new face shows up to challenge Dick - Timothy Drake. His "rival". Dick's partying catches up to him in a boardroom challenge.

Dick agrees to seek help for his issues, but keeps an eye on Tim. While Dick wants to keep his issues on the down-low, Tim feels that others must know.

Dick and Tim undergo media training with seasoned reporter Clark Kent. Dick has mic issues. Tim can't believe the outcome and seethes in Wayne Manor. During a confessional, Dick reveals that he's dealing with some personal issues.

When Tim gathers Dick's friends for an intervention, an unexpected talk to Wally West gives Dick something to smile about and he opens up about not feeling like enough. Just as the talk is getting really good, it's Wally who shuts out producers. Producers then act like Dick and Wally are a couple.

In a Wayne Enterprises meeting, Tim and Dick's social media presence is scrutinized by the board. However, producers decide to reveal the comments the board made to them, framing it as something the other said. Tim and Dick almost get into a fight and with Bruce on a business trip... things escalate.

When Bruce returns, the boys are tasked to make the Wayne Enterprises charity gala memorable. Dick draws on his party lifestyle, while Tim has a very different idea. What they don't know is that both their ideas will be happening simultaneously and the guests will vote. When they figure this out, an unexpected surprise happens when Dick helps Tim save his event.

Tim and Dick start teaming up as they learn how to lead different teams in Wayne Enterprises, creating a new system.

A second round of media training, with Clark Kent throwing out curveball questions about imagined scenarios. Tim's answers are labelled robotic. Dick thinks about quitting the show.

A ghost from the past is brought up at a family dinner. Producers immediately interview each family member after it happens again and it seems like Jason Todd might be alive, especially since the world believes he died in a kidnapping attempt at the age of fifteen.

Bruce joins Dick and Tim's alliance as the three deny all knowledge of Jason Todd ever existing. At one point, Dick charmingly looks into the camera and asks "What's a Jason Todd?"

[beseeingyouinmydreams]

If I see one more person say Kate & Maya have no blame in this I might scream.

He went to rehab and got out last year sober. She continued to drink around him, go party (spend his money and seek attn every chance she got) tell me how a recovering addict fresh out of rehab is going to resist temptation when the gf is CONSTANTLY DRINKING.

I’m sorry but your partner who you love sooooo much is fresh out of rehab has severe addiction issues tried AGAIN to do rehab( sadly at that point I think he was so far gone, he checked out after two days) and she STILLLLLLL didn’t change up behaviour. Still kept alcohol around still stayed with him, before he got REALLY bad. Then left him in a foreign country with Fckn Roger who clearly had no issues with Liams addictions until he abandoned him drug induced in a (shady)hotel room without alerting authorities. But she left him there knowing the label and management had recently dropped him knowing he clearly was still not ok. I DONT CARE that he was a grown man and made his own decisions. He clearly wasn’t capable of that.

Maya has every hand in this damn situation. She threw the man off a cliff into a pack of fckn rabid wolves ( the Internet) when she reopened the publicity and hate train over her dumb ass book. Nothing anyone says will change my mind on her part in this. Man had lost management and label and she dragged up publicity over a book that had died. Shr wanted him to leave her alone THE MAN WAS SCREAMING FOR HELP. & she couldn’t keep his name out of her mouth. She wanted attn. she had her space to talk about her issues. She did that when it dropped then brought it all back up and brought One D into the mix…. After knowing what one d fans and the internet had done to Liam after fully knowing his mental health and addictions while knowing he wasn’t ok. Girlie straight pushed every button she needed. And when we go back further she’s no better than Kate in terms of alcohol and drugs. Enabled him constantly drinking with and around him, constantly needing to party and get attn. and I’ve seen more than a few times she’s had drug problems as well. But she’s so innocent.

I am utterly sick of people saying he did this himself he chose his actions. NO his past and traumas and the issues and actions of those around him for the last few years did this. He wouldn’t have been in that state had the above not been an issue. Had the people in his every day immediate life for the last so many years been better fckn people and actually cared. His problems didn’t start the day he passed. He in truth had been LONG gone for quite a few months. The fact he was able to get that far gone that soon after rehab, last year is so messed up. He wasn’t alone in this he had “supportive” people every day Roger and Kate his team …. He came out of rehab clean and wanting a fresh start. The people in his life FAILED HIM. His family knowing and trying to help they didn’t live with him to see his every day. They knew and tried to help but when those in youre daily life are failing and enabling you and he was as gone as he’d been for months……

This was all preventable in every single way. I’ll never stop saying it. It was utterly senseless. I’m so angry more than any other emotion. And as heart broken as I am. In some way I’m glad he’s gone. I don’t know that things could’ve gotten any worse than what’s come out but I do know at least now the leeches and fame sucking people he had around him daily can all go to hell and can’t abuse and use him. No one can hurt him anymore. Man’s at peace and that’s more than they’ll ever be.

[teapartyprincess4two]

heyyy idk if you've been on tiktok but currently in like the editing fandom everyone's been editing the triplets to the song 18 by Anarbor so I was just wondering if you could maybe write for Matt because I think it just fits so well but surprisingly I don't think I've ever seen anyone write for the triplets based on that song and I think you would slayyyy it. I know you've got a couple requests and others you're working on rn so no pressure, even if you don't end up doing this request I'd eat up anything you put out 💋💋

I’ll Play Your Game- M. Sturniolo

pairing: GoodGirl!reader x BadBoy!Matt

classification: angst, fluff

warnings: use of y/n, suggestive content but no smut, mention of parental issues, controlling parents, mentions smoking, rebellious reader, mention of religion & religious trauma, mention of church, reference to the Bible (brief), cliche high school stereotypes/ tropes, long

inspiration: request^^, 18 by Anarbor

summary: You’re the Pastor’s daughter, all eyes are always on you. So, why not put on a show?

—

Ever since you were a little girl everyone expected three things from you; be sweet, pray, and obey. There were 10 commandments, all of them listed plain and simple in the Bible, and you were expected to follow them all. Your dad was strict, he had high expectations of you from the day you were born and upheld them throughout your infancy and childhood. Your mom was a pushover, she’d let your father brain wash her long ago into believing that his way was the only ways.

Your dad kept your weekly itinerary filled to the brim with activities to ensure that you had zero time to misbehave. Everyday after school, without fail, there was at least one activity waiting for you. Monday’s were for Bible study, on Tuesday you had golf practice, the afternoon prayer circle was on Wednesday, piano practice on Thursday, on Friday’s you’d volunteer at a food bank, Saturday’s were for homework and chores, and Sunday was the Lord’s day. Sunday’s were always dedicated to church, if you even thought of doing anything else you’d never hear the end of it from your dad.

That’s why, at the ripe age of 18, you’ve decided enough is enough. You’ve made it your sole mission to rebel against your dad and his ideologies, you’d remove the ‘good girl’ label from your life once and for all. But, if you were being honest, you’d followed the rules for so long that you didn’t even know where to begin.

The only good thing your parents did was send you to a public school, deeming Christian school too expensive despite it aligning more with their views. You’ve made a few friends, most of them also conformists, but no one who’d help you properly rebel against your parents. So, if you wanted to do this right, you needed to find someone new with a bad reputation; Matthew Sturniolo.

Matt was the textbook definition of a bad boy, and if there was a guide he’d definitely check off all the boxes. He had the angsty, quiet demeanor with a touch of humor. His body adorned with a multitude of tattoos, each one representing something different from his life. His hair was long enough to be considered too long by conservative parents, framing his face just around his scruffy beard perfectly. The outfits he wore, matched his mysterious persona perfectly, allowing him to disappear into the shadows seamlessly.

If anyone was going to help you piss off your parents, it was definitely going to be Matt. But you had to start off slowly, this wasn’t a one and done type of plan, it was more intricate than that and you were playing the long game. If you wanted to get to Matt, you needed to get to get to one of his triplet brothers first.

You had two options; Chris or Nick.

Chris was your stereotypical jock. He was the captain of the school’s varsity hockey team, occupying most of his Friday nights with hockey games and following them with a Saturday night full of partying. His weekdays were obviously spent at school, but he did the bare minimum to keep his grades up, he focused most of his attention on flirting with girls. Chris was loud, outgoing, flirtatious, and way too popular for his own good. If you tried getting to Matt through him, he’d surely think you were flirting.

So, if you wanted this to work, you needed someone equally as popular, but not as cocky.

That left you with Nick. Nick was on a completely different side of the popularity spectrum than Chris; he was your stereotypical cheerleader. He, much like Chris, spent his Friday’s at hockey games except he was leading his team in cheers and chants instead. The rest of his time was spent organizing the important school events such as prom and homecoming, and when he wasn’t doing that he was boosting student morale through heartfelt speeches at school assemblies.

Nick was the perfect contender and since cheer tryout were opening up soon, it was the perfect excuse to get to know him. First, you’d earn your spot on the cheerleading team. Then, you’d slowly enter Nick’s inner circle, using it as leverage to finally get to Matt.

It was the perfect plan. What could go wrong?

—

One of your dad’s frequented sermons plays over the car stereo as he drives you to school, he’s adamant on silence in the car so you can fully absorb the message behind the sermon. It doesn’t bother you anymore, you usually just tune it out and scroll through your phone, especially on weekday mornings on the way to school.

Before you fell asleep last night you decided that today was the day, cheer tryouts were after school and you were going to saunter in there, perform your best routine, and complete the first step of your plan.

“Listen, Y/n. This is important,” your dad snaps his fingers in front of your face, breaking your gaze from your phone. He turns the sound up, the words of the sermon taking over the car, “Children, obey your parents. Do as you are told and you will be blessed.”

You rolls your eyes, it was always the same thing with you dad. “See, be obedient. God will only bless you if you’re obedient,” he says. The man on the stereo continues, “Parents, do not anger your chil-“ Before the man can finish his sentence, your dad turns the sound off. If he had to follow any rules that gave you any sort of power, he didn’t want to hear them. You side eye him, glad that he’s too focused on the road to notice.

Most kids hate school, they claim it’s a waste of time or that they hate doing all the work, but not you. You’ll gladly welcome the extra hours of homework, volunteer opportunities after school, and early tutoring sessions just for an excuse to get as far away from your controlling family as possible.

Your dad pulls up to the school parking lot, immediately commenting on something he found distasteful before bidding you goodbye. “Be the light, Y/n!” he exclaims as you hop off the car, shutting the car door without turning back to him. A wave of relief washes over you when he pulls out of the parking lot, you felt so tense the entire car ride. But now that you were finally at school, it was time to put your plan into full effect.

You were getting rid of the ‘good girl’ title no matter what.

—

When the last school bell rings you’re practically flying down the stairs to the gym. You wanted to get to the girl’s locker room as quick as possible so you could be the first in line for cheer tryouts. Nothing said ‘co-captain’ like punctuality. Or, actually, would it be better to make a fashionably late entrance? You shake the thought off, you’re just going to be on time. You’re sure Nick would appreciate it.

The tryout requires that you wear a pleated skirt along with a school shirt so that the judges know what you look like in school colors and that you know how to perform in a cheer uniform. As a classified church girl, you had a wide variety of skirts to choose from, but you made sure to pick your newest one just for the occasion. You changed quickly in the locker room, tying a bow into your hair before anyone else arrived.

When the second person entered the locker room, you were already walking out, mentally going through your routine in your head. If you wanted a spot in Nick’s inner circle, you needed to execute this routine perfectly. You choreographed it yourself after watching endless hours of cheer routine videos, making sure to incorporate as many dazzling moves as possible.

The gym is quiet, the only sound being Nick and two teachers setting up the judges table. They’re surprised to see you already dressed and ready to perform, no one had ever been this early before. They’re even more shocked that you’re here, everyone knows you’re the Pastor’s daughter and the cheer team was known for everything but modesty.

“Are you here for tryouts?” Nick asks, a big smile on his faces. He’s excited for the new year and to find a new co-captain amidst the crowd of talented dancers and performers.

“Yes, my name is y/n,” you reply, watching as he finds your name on one of his many clipboards. Suddenly, now that you’re standing in the gym, you don’t feel so confident anymore. The nerves are starting to settle and you’re becoming anxious at the thought of forgetting your routine, messing up and embarrassing yourself, or just not being good enough to make the team let alone become co-captain.

One of the teachers heaves a large stereo onto the desk, connecting it her phone and cueing up your song before asking, “Alright, Y/n. You ready?” Shaky, sweaty hands smooth down your pleated skirt, a long exhale following right after. It was now or never, if you wanted to get back at your dad for all the years of religious trauma it was going to start now.

“I’m ready.”

The teacher smiles at you, all the judges taking a seat behind the table as she presses play on the song. A funky pop beat plays over the stereo, and immediately your routine is in full swing. One of the male judges is humming along to the music, all their eyes trained on you as you dance along the gym floor. The song wasn’t necessarily inappropriate, but you managed to pull out as many sultry moves as possible.

Nick is instantly impressed by your routine, taking down a few notes on how graceful and elegant you move. The teachers, who are mostly there out of obligation, refer to their rubric before giving you a final score. If Nick could have it his way, he’d make you co-captain then and there, but there’s plenty of other girls still waiting to tryout.

You finish your routine in a split, slightly out of breath but trying to keep your composure. The music stops, but the noise is replaced with the judges clapping for your performance, “Great work! The team list will be posted end of day tomorrow. NEXT!”

Just like that you’re being rushed out of the gym for the next girl as Nick sends you an enthusiastic thumbs up. All you could do was hope you earned a spot on the team, and by the way Nick looked at you, you were almost 100% you’d be this years cheer co-captain.

You’re daydreaming about making the team, feeling confident that your plan is working and you’re not paying attention to where you’re waking. So, on the way back to the locker room you accidentally bump into someone, their hard chest causing you to stumble back slightly.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize, looking up at who just bumped into.

“No problem,” a deep voice croaks in return, you’d recognize that voice anywhere. You look up to see none other than Matt, fully clad in his signature all black style. His hair falls in front of his face, hiding just enough of his eyes to give him an even more mysterious aura. He smells of cigarettes and cologne, a delicious scent that has you weak in the knees.

Without another word, just a sly smirk, Matt is walking past you and into the gym. He saunters up the bleachers, managing to find a perfectly secluded corner to hide in. Not long after, he’s joined by Chris who just finished hockey practice. Chris doesn’t bother hiding, instead he sits right next to Matt where the gym lights are still illuminating. They’re both waiting for Nick so they can head home, and although they’re tired from the school day, they’ll gladly stay a couple extra hours to watch all the pretty girls do their tryout routines.

Matt can feel you watching him, allowing the darkness to serve as a veil as he looks you up and down. He’s noticed you in the halls before, but never took you for a cheerleader. You can’t even see Matt anymore, but you have to force yourself to look away, quickly continuing your walk back to the locker room.

The next day after school you’re once again rushing down the stairs, trying to get to the bulletin before anyone else. You push past a few people, weaving your way through the crowded hallway. This is the defining moment, if you made the team you’d be one step closer to achieving your final goal: get Matthew Sturniolo.

You must’ve been lost in thought because you once again manage to bump into someone. You stumble back, some of your textbooks falling out of your arms and onto the floor in the process.

“You need to watch where you’re going, sweetheart,” Matt says, reaching his arms out to steady you before you can fall over. The nickname turned your legs to jelly.

How was it that you always managed to bump into him? It almost seemed like fate.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” you reply sincerely, kneeling down to pick up your books from the floor. He does the same, picking up one of your stray books, fingertips grazing your hand when he hands it to you. Your eyes can’t help but travel up his arm, mentally counting and admiring the different tattoos that litter his arms. He notices, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Y/n, right?” You hold your textbooks in a firm, anxious grip as you stand up. Matt is still kneeling, your knees aligned with his face. He lets his eyes trail up your legs and up to your face, a devilish grin on his face. The position felt so compromising, but you had to try an act casual.

“Yeah, you’re Matt. Right?” He hums in response, tracing your entire silhouette one last time before he finally stands up. His height causes him to tower over you, a whiff of his cologne once again hitting you, immediately putting you in a deep trance. Matt is handsome and he knows it, he notices how hypnotized you looked and it only serves as an ego boost.

“See you around, Y/n,” he smirks, sending you a quick wink as he walks outside. “See you around,” you reply meekly, mentally facepalming for letting the anxiety take you over.

You felt like a little mouse who finally gained the courage to scavenge for food only to be chased around by a ravenous cat. The only sounds coming from you being squeaks and chirps, too anxious to form coherent words. This was going to be harder than you thought.

When you finally reached the bulletin, your eyes scanned over the new team roster. Your name was all the way at the bottom in bold, capitalized letters, ‘Y/N: CO-CAPTAIN.’ At least you did that part right.

—

It’s been 2 months since your cheer audition and since then you’ve risen in popularity dramatically. As co-captain you were invited to join Nick at his table for lunch and worked closely alongside him to choreograph new routines. This led you two to become close, your friendship blossoming over the countless hours of cheer practice.

Your dad hated that you were a cheerleader, finding issues in everything about it. He deemed the uniform too provocative, the cheers too sexual, and claiming that you were spending too much time practicing and not enough time studying your Bible. The only reason he didn’t force you to quit was because your mom finally grew a backbone and stuck up for you, advocating that this was a good hobby for you. Cheerleading was the perfect scapegoat, even on the odd days when you didn’t have practice you were able to sneak out of all your other responsibilities. No more piano, golf practice, volunteering at the food bank, or Bible study for you.

Eventually, the hockey season ended so you and Nick modified the chants to fit the lacrosse field. Chris was known to play every sport possible, so you weren’t surprised to see ‘STURNIOLO’ written across one of the jerseys running on the field. But upon further examination, you realized you were seeing double. Matt, who usually watched from the sidelines, was running plays alongside his brother and absolutely dominating the field.

It was hard for you to focus on your routine, your eyes kept following his sweaty figure as it raced across the field. Nick, who notices your sudden offbeat performance, was sending you warning looks to get it together. But you couldn’t help it, Matt had an alluring aura to him that seemed to draw you in without fail each time.

The school band plays loudly over the course of the game, making it hard to hear anything other than the loud drums and trumpets. During a small break, Nick nudges you, mouthing a quick “what the fuck?” You give him an apologetic smile, adjusting your uniform slightly before mouthing back an “I’m sorry.” He gives you a look that says, ‘yeah, you better be’ before getting back in position, ready to cheer the rest of the night away. You do the same, forcing yourself not to look at Matt for the rest of the game.

Before you know it, the game is over and the stadium was filled with hooting and hollering as Matt scored the winning goal. The school and his entire tram cheered for him in unison. You and Nick guided the bleacher full of students in a big chant, cheering for the lacrosse team loudly for their victory, “Yeah, yeah, do we rock? Yeah, yeah, take it to the top! Yeah, yeah, we are never gonna stop! Get wins till the other team drops!” Pompoms are in the air, rhythmically swaying to the beat, your feet twisting and turning as you pop your hips.

These type of events were always full of school spirit, but when they ended and the team headed towards the lockers and the cheerleaders went in search of their boyfriends, the air quickly became chaotic. Especially with everyone else piling off the bleachers and into the parking lot, trying to get home before it got too dark. You stay back and chat with Nick for a while before he dismisses himself to find one of his brothers.

So, now you’re left to wander the field on your own, taking a seat on the grass under the bright stadium lights. You loved moments like this, moments when you got to be alone with your thoughts. All you could think about was Matt, and for a second you thought he might be here on the field with you, the smell of his cologne and cigarette smoke whipping past you with the breeze. You look around, thinking your mind was playing tricks on you.

But it’s not, you see the light at the end of his cigarette deep within the shadows, followed by cigarette smoke that forms a cloud once it dances into the light. For some reason you feel bold, or maybe it’s just the same alluring feeling from earlier that makes you stand up and walk over to him. You can’t see him, but the lit cigarette between his fingers serves as a place marker for his location, the embers crackling brightly in the dark.

Matt’s eyes train on your figure as it approaches, squinting slightly in confusion. He’s never taken you for a smoker, but then again he didn’t take you for a cheerleader and you were clearly the best dancer on the team.

The whole night he couldn’t stop sneaking glances at you, even earning a tongue lashing from his coach for missing a few passes. Towards the end he had to force himself to focus, scoring the winning point in hopes of impressing you.

It obviously worked because once your eyes adjust to the darkness you’re commenting on it, “Good job on the field today, that last play was awesome.” There’s a twinge of innocence in your voice that Matt wants to destroy. “Thanks, you weren’t too bad yourself,” he replies, taking a long inhale of his cigarette before blowing the smoke away from you. The wind only blows it back into your face anyways, causing you to cough slightly.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, ready to flick the cigarette on the floor and stomp it out. But you stop him, a gentle hand holding his arm, “no it’s okay, I’ll get used to it.” The comment is bold, but you needed to be bold if you wanted to get Matt.

Was this the same girl that everyone knew as the Pastor’s daughter? Where was all this sudden confidence coming from?

“Oh, will you?” he asks with a quirked eyebrow, dusting the ash off his cigarette before taking another hit. You hum in response, slowly moving closer to him, allowing him to blow the smoke close enough to your face for it to sting. You hold in a cough, offering Matt an innocent smile that he returns with a smirk.

If this was the game you were starting, he was ready to play.

—

From that moment forward, Matt has been obsessed with you. He gave himself a day to decide whether he wanted to pursue you or not, but after hearing his lacrosse buddies talking about you one time after practice, he decided no one else could have you. The comments they were making were typical, the same things they said about every girl they found attractive, but because it was about you it irked him.

So, two days after your fateful encounter on the lacrosse field, Matt was waiting for you to finish cheer practice from outside the gym, fully clad in his lacrosse uniform, sweaty and dirty from practicing just moments before. Chris was standing nearby, chatting up another cheerleader who snuck out of the gym to be with him. Nick always reprimanded Chris for this, especially because it directly affected her performance and it showed on the field when she was struggling to keep up.

Matt debated on whether or not he should do the same, call you out from practice to tell you everything that was on his mind, but he loved watching you perfectly execute your routines during games. He wanted his girl to be the best, outperforming everyone else seamlessly. So, instead he decided to patiently wait for you.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the music in the gym turns off and he can hear sneakers against the waxy floor as you all rush towards the locker room. For someone so dark and mysterious, Matt actually found himself getting excited.

Not long after, you and Nick walk out of the locker room. You’re laughing at something Nick said as you sling your duffel bag on your shoulder. Matt watches as you throw you head back in laughter, the bow in your hair twirling in the wind.

Nick instinctively walks towards his brothers and you follow suit, still too immersed in the conversation to notice Matt. Once you’re close enough, Nick sends the cheerleader talking to Chris a disapproving look that has her scurrying away and into the locker room.

“What was that for??” Chris exclaims, watching as the girl he was chatting up disappears. “Dude you always distract her, it shows on the field. She has the sloppiest performance out of everyone on the team,” Nick comments blatantly, readjusting his bag on his shoulder. “So? Just kick her off then!” Chris retaliates, running an exasperated hand through his hair. “Would you date her if she wasn’t on the team?” you chime in, laughing at how flustered Chris has become. He thinks about it for a while, “no, yeah probably not.”

His response elicits a laugh from you and a scoff from Nick, who begins scolding him. Matt is watching you intently, trying to gain your attention through some form of telepathy. You feel his burning gaze on you, finally looking at him through your long, thick eyelashes. “What about you? Any girls on the team won your heart yet?” you ask, a playful grin appearing on your face. After your last encounter with him, you’re hoping he doesn’t even know anyone else on the roster and just blurts out your name.

���Hmmm maybe,” he replies with a smirk, reaching in his pocket for his lighter and a cigarette. “Oh really? Mr. Tough Guy’s in love?” you tease, watching as he places a cigarette in between his lips and lights it with ease, taking a quick draw of it before pinching it away. Nick and Chris have started walking to the parking lot at this point, too immersed in their own world to notice you and Matt flirting.

“Something like that,” the smoke puffs out with each word, swirling in the air before fading away. He brings the cigarette back up onto his lips, intently waiting for you next move. What you say next is unexpected, “can I try?” You’re pointing at the cigarette innocently, causing Matt’s eyes to open in shock.

“Too strong for you, sweetheart,” he replies coyly, blowing the smoke out through the side of his mouth. “How am I supposed to get used to it then?” you’re referring to what you said the other day, hoping to jog his memory and let him know that you still want him.

Matt doesn’t skip a beat, within seconds he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him. “Slowly,” he answers in a whisper, taking a long drag of his cigarette before moving his face closer to yours. You’re holding onto his shoulders for support, watching intently as his face gets closer and closer to yours.

Without another word, his lips are inches from yours as he exhales the smoke into your mouth, capturing your lips in a quick kiss. His mouth melts into yours, working the smoke into your lungs with each movement. When he pulls away from the kiss, you’re immediately coughing up a storm. Your nose burns and tears brim at your eyes from the strong sensation.

“Told you it was too strong for you,” he comments with a chuckle, putting the cigarette out on the brick wall behind him before moving his other arm around your waist. Once you’re finally not coughing he speaks again, “Here, let’s try that again, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, moving your hands from his chest to his neck. He leans in for another kiss, this time savoring your sweet kiss without any smoke to inhibit his taste buds.

In that moment, Matt knew he didn’t have to say anything else, you became his girl.

—

The next few weeks were amazing, you finally got everything you wanted, all you needed to do now was flaunt all of it in front of your dad and watch how horrified he became.

“Hi baby,” Matt whispers, throwing an arm over your shoulder while you wait in the lunch line. Matt never ate lunch at school, he’d usually get in his car and hit up the nearest fast food place or walk off campus for a smoke break. He found the cafeteria to be too chaotic, there was nowhere to seclude himself and even less areas to eat a meal in peace and quiet. But, that you two are dating, he’s started dragging you along on his school day adventures. Sometimes you’ll just get lunch, other times you’ll sit and talk to him while he smokes, but most times you’ll end up making out in the backseat of his car.

“Hi handsome,” you reply in a cheery tone, tiptoeing so you can plant a quick peck on his lips. He smiles into the kiss.

“Let’s go to my car? I’ll treat you to lunch, pretty girl,” he suggests, already beginning to walk towards his car with you under his arm. You don’t complain, especially because this is the closest you’d ever get to real dates with Matt, especially when under the careful watch of your parents.

You guys end up at a local Mexican restaurant, it was a restaurant that your family frequented on Sunday’s after church so you were well acquainted with it. Once inside, you and Matt are directed to a booth in the back, perfectly secluded and away from prying eyes. He takes a seat across from you, smiling at you in a lovesick gaze.

Maybe it was too early to say it, but Matt definitely felt it; he loved you. He was apprehensive to admit it, even just to himself, because he was scared to get hurt, but so far your relationship has been nothing but sweet.

The waitress takes your order and you don’t even need to look at the menu to know what you want which catches Matt by surprise. “You bring all your boyfriends here?” he jokes, folding the menu and handing it to the waitress after placing his order. “Only the cute ones,” you joke in return, sending him a playful wink. He laughs, holding your hand in his on the table.

“This is my dad’s favorite restaurant, we come here like every Sunday after service,” you explain, taking a quick sip of your drink. Matt nods his head, of course he didn’t suspect you were cheating, but he appreciated the explanation.

“Your dad has good taste,” he comments. You never spoke about your family so everything he knew was by word of mouth. He knew the basics; your dad was a Pastor, you came from a conservative family, and your Sundays were usually occupied with church.

You hum in response, trying to think of a topic to avert the conversation from your dad, and, as if on cue, the front door rings. A customer just walked into the restaurant, nothing out of the ordinary, but upon further inspection you realize it’s your dad. You’re mid sip, choking slightly on the liquid as you try quickly swallowing from the shock.

Matt notices your distress, following your gaze to see what has you so nervous all of a sudden. That’s when he sees him, your dad standing by the front waiting to be seated. Matt’s not scared, but he is nervous to possibly meet your dad. He wants to make a good impression, but with the tattoos, long hair, and lingering smell of cigarette smoke, he doubts he’ll be successful in doing that.

“Speak of the devil,” you mumble, watching closely for your dad’s next move.

Matt’s surprised you’re not rushing to leave, you actually look calm now, almost like you’re hoping your dad will be seated one booth over. For the first time in your relationship he senses an ulterior motive behind your actions and he doesn’t know whether to be scared or turned on.

He remembers the good girl you were, the girl who always arrived to class on time, the girl who would never be caught skipping school and he wonders where this sudden rebellious nature came from. But now he gets it, this is a game to you, you want your dad to catch you skipping school with the ‘bad boy,’ you want to make your dad so upset his face turns red. Matt doesn’t know what to think about that, but if this is the game then he’d happily play along, he’d do anything for his girl.

The restaurant host sits your dad a few booths down and he situates himself in the seat directly facing you, if he looks your way at the right angle he’d easily see you. But he’s too occupied in conversation with the waitress to notice anything, ordering his food before pulling out a book.

“Here’s your food, Miss Y/n,” the waitress says with a smile, placing plates of food on the table. The waitress learned your name from all the years your family visited the restaurant, and although you appreciated the effort, you wanted to slap a hand against her mouth for giving you away. Matt’s eyes go wide, she said it really loud, did your dad hear?

“Thank you,” you reply quickly with a tight lipped smile, trying to shoo her away as fast as possible. You look back towards your dad’s booth, fully expecting him to still be turning pages in his book, but his eyes are locked on you. He’s seething, you can practically see the smoke coming from his ears.

You waited for him to get up from the booth and walk over to your table, but instead he pulls out his wallet and throws a bill on the table, grabbing his stuff and walking out. The waitress watches in confusion, and so do you. What the hell was he doing?

Matt senses the movement, straining his neck to watch your dad walk out. He suddenly becomes nervous because even though he wanted to help you piss off your parents, he also wanted to be the boyfriend parents welcomed with open arms despite his appearance.

When you finish eating, you’re walking out of the restaurant intently searching for your dad. He was sure to be lurking around the parking lot somewhere. You’re holding Matt’s hand, walking slowly to his car.

“Y/n! Where do you think you’re going?!” your dad’s voice booms from the other side of the parking lot. He waited outside until you and Matt finished your meal, not wanting to make a scene in his favorite restaurant.

You watch as he slams the car door closed, storming over to you and Matt with an unreadable expression on his face. “Is this what I send you to school for? So you can skip with.. with this?! What will people think? What will the church think? The pastors daughter off fornicating with a- with a delinquent,” your dad motions up and down Matt’s body, clearly displeased with his appearance and attire. It makes you so mad, but you don’t even get the chance to respond because your dad won’t stop talking, “You’re coming home with me right now. Say goodbye to your phone, cheerleading, and this boy because you’re never seeing them again!”

He attempts to grab your arm, but you pull away. “Y/n. Do not make this any more difficult than it already is. Let’s go!”

“No.” Your reply is short and curt, but it’s stern enough to appall your father.

“No? No?! Who do you think you are?! You’re nothing but a stupid little girl, now get in the car.” He reaches for you again, this time managing to pinch your skin slightly. “Ow, stop,” you exclaim, pushing him away from you slightly. Matt protectively moves you behind him in one quick swoop, using his body to prevent your dad from touching you again.

“Get out of the way, this is between me and my daughter.”

“Not happening,” Matt replies, towering over your dad.

“This is what you want, Y/n? A stupid hippie? He reeks of cigarettes and has tattoos, didn’t I teach you better?!” Matt is fuming at this point, your dad was the most disrespectful person he’d ever met. “Dad, just go. I’m not choosing you over Matt,” you reply, trying to stand your ground, but sounding so weak and small.

“I’m not asking you to choose me, I’m asking you to choose God. But if you want to choose this boy, then go ahead, but don’t come knocking on my door when he gets you pregnant and leaves you,” he yells. Was he kicking you out?

“What?” you ask, stepping out from behind Matt.

“You heard me, girl. Don’t bother coming home unless it’s without him.”

Without another word your dad is walking back to his car and pulling out of the parking lot, driving away and leaving you with nothing but the dust. You watch with teary eyes as his car disappears into the horizon, you never meant for it to end like this. All you wanted was a little freedom, but your rebellious actions have warranted a consequence you never anticipated.

“Hey, hey. It’s gonna be okay,” Matt whispers, bringing you in for a warm hug. He’s patting your hair as you bury your face in his chest, allowing the tears to flow. “What am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to go?” you hiccup, wrapping your arms around Matt’s torso in an attempt to feel him closer.

“You can stay at my house,” he replies and he means it, he’d do anything for you. In retrospect he should’ve seen this coming from the moment he realized you were trying to piss off your parents, but he’s too far gone now to turn back. Matt’s too in love with you at this point for his own good, the only thing he can think to do is protect you.

“Are you sure?” you feel like a helpless little mouse again, except this time Matt feels like a security blanket instead of a potential threat.

“I’m sure.” Matt places a loving kiss on your lips before kissing your forehead and pulling you into him again.

Whatever happened, you and Matt were going to get through it together. After all, Matt decided to play your game.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

Shwoop here you go luv u honey bunches thank you for the request. I hope you enjoy!!

Also, I had never heard this song before but it’s def going on my playlist now & I will be searching for those tiktok edits hehehe

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

[feyhunter78]

AAAA I’M SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT PART I LOVE YOUR WRITING SMM ❤️❤️

Thank you!!!! 🥺🥺 I'm excited to see y'all's reactions to the newest chapterrrrr Also, I lied about the smut it's in the next chapter, but there is some suggestive type stuff unfortunately it's from Todd

Pink Pastels Pt 9

Description: It's Saturday, and you're at a sports bar with Todd, until you find yourself on the roof with Spiderman.

Pt 10

It’s Saturday. One of your two days off, and all you want to do is relax, but here you are at a shitty sports bar, beer already spilled on your shorts by some drunk idiot, your boyfriend completely ignoring you as he pounds his fist against the bar, screaming at the TV. His team is losing, you assume, as you push away from the bar, drink in hand, and wonder back to your table.

You pull out your phone and scroll through your email, responding to a few, ignoring others, until finally you see a response from a kid in your class’s mother.

Jessica Tompson: Ms. Y/N, I will be available at six PM on Monday to meet with you regarding Tommy’s behavior. I look forward to getting to the bottom of this issue.

You smile and send her a quick response back; you’ve been trying to get Tommy’s mother in for a meeting since October. Tommy wasn’t a bad kid, he just needed extra support and attention, and potentially some ADHD testing. But you knew people were hesitant to test their kids, afraid to “label” them, even though those “labels” could really help their kids in school.

You couldn’t count how many times you’ve explained that identifying where kids are struggling can get them access to accommodations that they need to thrive. Such as extra time on assignments or a quieter, smaller room to take tests in, so they weren’t as distracted. Sure, they wouldn’t get these things forever, but if they got them now, it would help them learn how to self-regulate for the future.

You tap your fingers on the tabletop happily and bound over to Todd. “Hey, guess what, I’m finally getting that mom to come in and talk to me.”

“Who?” He asks, beer in hand, his eyes glued to the screen.

“Tommy Tompson’s mom.”

“Oh, the hot one with the nice rack?”

One of his friends high-fives him, and you put on a tight smile. “I don’t really look at my students’ parents like that, but maybe?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve got eyes, sue me.” Then he slammed his beer down on the bar. “Are you fucki—that’s bullshit, Ref!”

Miguel wouldn’t say things like that, he wouldn’t ignore you for football. He’d congratulate you, slip between your legs, his full lips parted, his pink tongue finding a hom— You shake yourself out of your thoughts.

This was crazy, you shouldn’t have done that… Should have stuck to fantasizing about a celebrity, or well, you should’ve been thinking about Todd, he is your boyfriend.

“What a shitty call, Ref!” You echo him, and that earns you a smile thrown your way, and an arm around your shoulders.

You just want things to go back to how they used to be, but honestly, you’re not even sure it used to be good. Maybe you just didn’t really know any different, but now after, all those little chats at pickup, during parent teacher meetings, and then the day at the zoo? How is it that a man, who barely knows you, treats you better than your boyfriend of years?

You walk home with Todd leaning heavily on you, his lips are on your neck, sloppy and clumsy, missing that certain spot on your neck in favor of slobbering all over your skin.

“Todd, maybe we need to slow down a bit.” You say carefully, trying to pry him off you.

“Again?” He sighs heavily, annoyance clear in his tone.

Your face flushes, shame burning through you, and you bite your lip to keep the tears at bay.

When you first started dating you were so new to everything, you’d had a few boyfriends before, but they were short-lived, almost chaste. Todd on the other hand was a complete and utter manwhore.

“I thought you were over all that.” He grumbles, trudging along the sidewalk, refusing to look at you.

He wanted everything fast, fast, fast, and you were dragged along for the ride, anxious and unprepared.

“I am, I am, it’s just you’re drunk, and your head is going to hurt in the morning…” You tell him, helping him up the stairs and through your apartment door.

He makes a beeline for your living room and flops down on your couch. “So, what, I want you, and you’re my girlfriend, so.”

You try to hide your grimace, but he sees it and groans.

“You’re always like this, I swear, such a prude.” He throws an arm over his eyes and unzips his pants, pulling his cock out.

You blanch, there’s no way he’s just going to jerk off, drunk, in the middle of your living room, right?

“Todd, seriously?” You snap, grabbing a decorative pillow and hurling it at him.

He ignores you, pumping himself, grunts and groans spilling from his lips. You used to find him attractive, you’ve always liked when he was vocal but now? Now it feels traitorous to hear him instead of Miguel.

But you’ve never heard Miguel, your mind was just making things up, that’s what dreams and fantasies are.

“You’re such a dick.”

He sat up, still gripping his erect cock. Was it smaller than you remembered? “Maybe I wouldn’t be if you’d do your job.”

"My job?” You ask, thoroughly confused.

He points at his cock, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, there’s no way he means what you think he means.

“Good girls suck their boyfriend’s dick.” He says it with such certainty, that it sounds ridiculous.

You bust out laughing, doubling over, gasping for breath. “You’re so full of it.”

“I’m not, you’re just a—” then he goes quiet, and you look up to see him passed out cold, cock still in hand.

You stand there for a moment, flabbergasted. There’s no fucking way that just happened.

Throwing a blanket over Todd, you head for the fire escape a different blanket in hand, climbing up to the roof, and sitting on the edge of the roof, feet dangling, your hands behind you supporting you as you lean back.

You let out a sigh, tilting your head up towards the night sky. It feels good out here, cool breeze, the sounds of the city at night, the gentle coo of the pigeons the apartment manager cares for.

A soft thump draws your attention, and you jump scrambling away from the edge, and turning on your heel. Only to come face to chest with Spiderman.

“I wish it was that easy to get everyone off the ledge.” He says, a hint of humor in his voice.

You remember what he looks like, and his face, mask? is everywhere, but it’s different when you’re not terrified or watching some grainy news footage.

“And he’s funny too.” You joke, giving him a small smile.

He tilts his head, scanning you, then reaches out and his gloved thumb brushes across your cheek. “You were crying?”

Were you crying? You touch your face, your fingertips coming away damp. “Oh, I didn’t even notice, it’s just been a long day.”

You spread out your blanket and sit, your back against the wall, and you pat the space before you.

“Won’t your boyfriend be upset if he found out, you’re sharing a blanket with a masked hero?” He teases, sitting in the space you made for him.

“My boyfriend is currently passed out drunk with his dick in his hand.” You tell him, the low light making you braver than you’d normally be.

He goes silent, the eye parts of his mask widening, and you think that’s his version of raised eyebrows.

“He was drunk and pissed at me because I didn’t want him to slobber up my neck, so then he whips it out, and when I tell him to stop, he calls me a prude and says I should do my job , which is such an asshole thing to say.” It feels good to ramble, to just vent all your feelings onto this masked semi-stranger.

“Do your job?” Spiderman asks, his eyes narrowed.

“He said, and I quote, good girls suck their boyfriend’s dick.’ Literally so ridiculous…” You trail off as Spiderman rolls his shoulders back.

For a moment you’re hypnotized by the movement, the sheer mass of muscle.

“…shoes?”

You snap out of it. “I’m sorry?”

“Did you like your new shoes?” He asks, and you hear a smile in his voice.

Wow, y/n, rude much? You didn’t even think to thank the man who not only saved your life, but also replaced your shoes.

“Yes, thank you so much, how much do I owe you?” You go to pull out your wallet but realize you left it in your bedroom.

“No, it’s alright, consider it an apology for not getting there fast enough.” He holds his hands up in a pacifying manner.

You purse your lips but nod. “Alright, well, again, thank you.”

You’re fiddling with the necklace Gabi and Miguel got you, and it seems to catch his eye. “That’s pretty, your boyfriend get you that?”

You shake your head, dropping the pendant. “No, it was a gift from one of my kids, I’m a teacher.”

“That’s cute, do you mind if I?” He motions towards it slightly, and you lean forward, letting him catch it between two long fingers. “Very nice.”

“Yeah, I think it’s really sweet.” You smile up at him, breath catching in your throat when he releases the pendant close to your skin, his fingertip brushing the tops of your breasts.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to touch...” He says quickly, retracting his hand.

You give him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, it was an accident.”

“What’d your boyfriend say?”

“About the gift? I don’t think he even noticed.” You scoff, brushing your hair back from your shoulders.

“No, what did he say after you turned him down?” His voice is lower, warmer, spreading across your skin and seeping into your bones.

“Oh well, he tried to argue then passed out.” You giggle, Spiderman’s masked form still inches from your own.

Spiderman lets out a low hum and tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “He phrased it all wrong, good girls don’t suck dick, they take cock.”

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7

[molluskmirage]

The villainization of Bad is perplexing to me for a lot of reasons. Fandom wanting him to pay for his actions when he didn’t even have the highest kill rate in purgatory on his team… Bad and Tubbo had the same amount of kills day 1. Bad was probably killed more by red team then he killed yet still its not enough for the red fandom.

also regarding Dapper. ‘Bad’s actions made it so no one would help dapper’…. Bad would never hold a parents actions against a child. Leo actively helped Vegetta and Roier place bombs all over Bad and Dappers farm house causing them to move. And even when they moved Bad still included Leo on the allow list. He loves Leo. Dapper really admired Vegetta and wanted to speak with him but was struck by him for teasing Foolish.

Bad teases and tricks and lies about unimportant things, steals furniture and he has trust issues yes, but he also counter balances that by providing others with lavish gifts and items and knowledge that takes hours to do. He repairs broken machines the kids have done for there parents, he takes care of the kids so no one dies of neglect, he keeps people company, he’s provided so much countless food and armor and exp to everyone at such volume its absurd to count. He made spawn so that it would be easy for others to get around when they died and constantly refills the xp.

He’s rp an actual demon but genuinely most of Bad’s actions while surface level inconvenient in depth he’s ridiculously generous and kind. The only time of him ‘cutting loose’ being in a game that was designed for killing and his son instructed him too. So many in the fandom gave weight to Chayanne’s message but for Dapper it was :eyeroll: whatever. Dapper who had been self harming themselves to help aid his siblings and other islanders was instructing Bad to run over other islanders, he wouldn’t say that unless it was important.

I can understand not liking a character theirs plenty I dont personally find my cup of tea but that doesnt make them evil. Its so strange to me that the fandom finds Bbh to be ‘the worst’ narratively, when Slime actively tried to murder Dapper and the other kids, Cellbit has gone full serial killer, Vegetta nearly killed Bobby with bombs, Forever lashed out in anger at Leo yet Bad stealing furniture that can be replaced by sticks and wool is the absolute dread of the server. Bad in a killing game was mean when others were mean and one of the few members of his team that could protect his team.

it’s interesting because for the most part Bad’s crimes are psychological (not to say its not a torment) but it’s interesting because it seems to be labeled so much worse then physical actions other characters have made. Bad doesn’t let others actions get to him he forgives and picks himself up and tries again maybe more guarded this time but he doesnt complain about others actions he always blames himself and carries on. Bad doesnt excuse himself he knows that his actions can cause distress from others and still does them without regret but he also understands others wont like him for his actions and fully accepts and expects it.

[hisonlyreid-er]

School Girl Crush Pt 1

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5| A new BAU member appears and Spencer sees her as a little threat to his status of boy genius. Being unable to get comfortable with each other causes some issues within the team. Will they be able to move past it and work together?

Spencer Reid x FemBau!OC

Moving to the US was daunting. Coming from a smaller English town hadn't prepared me for the move. At only 23, I was joining the FBI. It was a dream of mine to catch murderers and profile serial killers so when I was put forward, I couldn't contain my excitement.

I first arrived at the start of the month and now, 2 weeks later, I was entering the FBI office in Quantico, Virginia. This morning, I had a big panic about what to wear. I settled on black trousers and a white button up blouse. My satchel held everything I would need. My hands held the strap tightly as I stood in the lift, making my way up to my dream job. I watched the numbers go up as I got closer and closer to my floor. My nerves were in full force as I chewed my lip out of habit.

The lift dinged, signaling my arrival. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the corridor. People bustled around me as I just stood there. The clack of heels echoed around me as I became conscious of my heavy combat boots, hidden mostly by my long trousers. The glow of florescent lights added to the intimidating feeling. Long, white hallways with many doors and framed photos of Agents killed in action. My British upbringing became very obvious as I became aware of how many guns were around me. Almost every single person had one on them. I had my own gun tucked in the holster as my side. Learning to shoot hadn't been very difficult and I gained my license to carry within a few weeks of accepting the position. It wasn't like I had no experience, I had worked with the NCA for years and knew a lot about chasing down dangerous criminals.

While preparing for the role, I had been in frequent contact with SSA Hotchner. He was my new boss so it was him I was meant to find first. A little intimidated by the agents around me, I kept my head down, letting my hair hide my face. In the center of the floor was a bullpen with a number of desks. Agent Hotchner was in charge so he would most likely have an office, with this in mind I walked towards the small set of stairs. I didn't want to ask for directions, my stubbornness was to blame for that. I felt some eyes on me as I ascended the stairs. Not wanting to be stared at, I quickly scanned the doors and spotted the one labelled SSA Aaron Hotchner. With one hand I knocked against the door and with the other I straightened my blouse. "Come in." Breathe.

I push the door open. Inside the office was larger than I expected. A large wooden desk was the main focus of the room. My eyes found Agent Hotchner sat behind the desk, stacks of paperwork surrounding him. He was a serious man, his hair was dark and his suit was neat. I felt the need to impress him, to make him proud of me. He looked up at me, placing his pen down and turning all his attention to me. "Agent Hotchner?" Why do I ask stupid questions? This man was sat in the office labelled with that name, sat at a desk with a plaque and I was asking if it was him. Sometimes I don't feel as smart as I should. "Yes. Agent Colesta I assume." As I nodded my head he rose from his seat, walking towards me. His hand extended. With as much confidence as I could muster, I shook his hand firmly.

Agent Hotchner wanted to ask me some questions and update me on everything I needed to know. We sat across the desk from each other. My leg bounced as I realised how important this was. He needed to believe in my abilities. "How are you settling in?" He didn't look up at me as he searched through one of his drawers. "Its definitely a change but I'm doing pretty well." A small hum was the only response I got as he lay a folder on the wood. My folder. I could see my name printed on the front. Lyn Colesta. I tensed as he opened it, revealing everything about me compressed onto a mere few pieces of paper.

Over the next hour, Agent Hotchner asked me questions and allowed me to ask some back. In that time, I became less nervous of his stoic demeanor. "That is all of my questions. Do you have anything else you would like to know?" I thought for a moment, running a mental check. "I don't think so. Thank you Agent Hotchner." I gave a small smile to the older man. "Most members of the team call me Hotch. It is up to you but that's the norm here." Nodding, I knew it would take a while for me to get comfortable using a nickname.

Agent Hotchner stood from his desk, leading me to do the same. Without saying a word, we exited his office and walked down the stairs to the bullpen. I became very conscious of the small group of agents at one of the desks, staring at the two of us. Unfortunately for me, Agent Hotchner led us towards them. The members of the BAU. My need for a good impression wiped my nervous fidgeting from my body and replaced it with a confident expression. As we neared the group their conversation slowed to a halt, showing they were probably discussing the strange girl who had been with their boss for some time.

Hotchner made some conversation with a blonde woman. I took this time to examine each of them. Closest to me was a tall, dark skinned man. He was perched on the side of the desk, mug in hand. He was quite muscular and by him demeanor, I could tell he was confident in his physical capabilities. There was an uncertain look in his eye as he looked at me which showed he wasn't easily accepting of new people. I would have to earn his trust. I love a challenge. The desk clearly belonged to the dark haired woman sat on the chair. She held herself with propriety, more than most, which showed she had an important role at some point. I had a feeling I would get along well with her as there was a hint of mischief on her face as she smirked. Then there was the woman talking to Agent Hotchner. It was clear she had a fairly important place around her because of the way Hotchner was listening intently to every word she said. She seemed like a kind hearted woman but also someone that I shouldn't cross. I made a mental note of all my observations.

"This is Agent Colesta. She will be joining the unit." Agent Hotchner gestured to me, bringing all sets of eyes to me. Resisting the urge to shrink under their gazes, I gave a friendly smile and a small wave. Thankfully, each of them returned my smile, settling my nerves a little more. "Its nice to meet you. I'm Lyn." My meek attitude creeping out as I greeted them. "Derek Morgan." The man gave me a sly smirk as he reached out to shake my hand. I gladly shook his hand. I turned to the dark haired woman. "Emily Prentiss." She didn't make a move to shake my hand, opting for a small nod. " Jennifer Jareau. But you can call me JJ." Now, JJ did go for an handshake. Normally I wasn't a huge fan of shaking hands, especially with strangers but I knew I needed to make a good first impression.

Agent Hotchners cell phone began to ring in his pocket, causing a groan to erupt from Agent Prentiss. "Hotchner." He answered instantly, opting to walk away from the small group to take the call in private. I was left with my new colleagues. Suck it up Lyn. Time to schmooze them off their feet. "I was under the impression that there was more of you." I feigned a puzzled expression as I spoke to them. Agent Morgan chuckled slightly. "Yeah, there is. Rossi's somewhere around here and Reid will be here in about 10 minutes." I nodded, remembering those new names for later.

Agents Jareau and Morgan excused themselves, walking over to their respective desks. I was a little unsure what to do. I didn't know where my desk was and hadn't been given any orders so I just stood by Agent Prentiss's desk. "You know, you could go meet Garcia. I'm sure she'd love to meet you and would really appreciate you going to her." Clearly I looked confused at the new person added to the mix. "Derek forgot to mention her before. She's our tech analyst. Her office is up there, right at the end of the hall." My eyes followed where Agent Prentiss had pointed. "Thanks for the advice." I was truly grateful. I needed all the friends I could get. Bidding her goodbye, I walked in the direction she said.

The hallway was fairly long and a little darker than the rest of the floor. I almost gave up when I finally spotted the last door. I had no clue how this Garcia would be. She could be completely horrible. Despite my hesitations, I knocked on the door. Some frantic shuffling could be heard on the other side as I waited patiently. After a few long seconds the door is pulled open. This woman was dressed in a bright pink cardigan, and white pencil skirt. Her blonde hair was in pigtails and on her face was a pair of statement glasses. Her eyes widened as she saw me. "Hello, are you Garcia?" She continued to stare at me before nodding aggressively. Still, she didn't say a word. "I'm Lyn. I just joined the unit." I gave an uncertain smile. Somehow, her eyes widened even more. A wide smile broke out on her face as she pulled the door wider and let me in. The office reflected her perfectly. There were little toys and knickknacks scattered about. Fuzzy topped pencils sat in a bedazzled pencil pot on the desk.

"You're Agent Colesta?" I hadn't told her my last name, but I nodded. Before it can register, Garcia pulls me into a hug which I halfheartedly reciprocate. "I'm Penelope." Penelope. I knew she wasn't an agent, she didn't carry herself like one and was much too positive to be one. "It's good to meet you, Penelope." I had a feeling we could be friends. "And you're British." Her excited squeal seemed strange to me. What's so exciting about being British?

Penelope and I spent sometime chatting. More like her talking and me nodding or giving a short response. She gave me a brief run down of everything going on around her. It was actually very helpful. Apparently her and Agent Morgan were the flirty two in the unit. She only mentioned it to reassure me if I heard any of their conversations which can get quite 'graphic' according to her. Agent Rossi was a famous author. I knew I recognised that name, I'd read his books on serial killers and the psychology behind their actions. Dr Reid was the genius of the team with an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187. That was actually quite impressive. Garcia told me that he didn't like physical contact and loved to spurt random facts at any given time. Dr Reid was only 8 months older than me according to Garcia. Hold on. I never told her my birthday. "How do you know that?" I was getting a little suspicious of this bubbly woman. Her demeanor turned sheepish. "I looked through your file." My mouth fell open as she spoke. "I'm sorry but I just got curious."

This, of course, led to me asking questions about what she can access. I was then shown through Garcia's set up. It was extremely impressive, she could access almost anything from her little office. I think I might have fallen in love with her when she pulled up the cameras from the bullpen and showed me a clip from a few weeks ago. The clip was from a late night in the office and showed Agent Prentiss tripping over a bin and then she just didn't move for a few minutes. It was pretty funny. I was glad Agent Prentiss had advised me to introduce myself to Garcia. Talking with her had relaxed me and I felt prepared to start my new job simply because of her being there.

A ping came from Garcia's system and she immediately spun in her chair to see what it was. "We have a case. To the roundtable we go." Her wording amused me. I stood by the door, watching Garcia rush around, grabbing files and other various things from around her office. Deciding she didn't have enough arms, Garcia handed me a few things off her pile and started out of the office and down the hallway. I froze for a second but quickly rushed after her. She walked quickly. The clicking of her kitten heels filled the silence of the empty space. It took a bit of effort to keep walking beside her.

The roundtable, as Garcia called it, was on the same level as Agent Hotchners office. It seemed like most of the unit was already there. From a distance I could count 5 heads and could see Agent Jareau stood at the front of the room. Agent Morgan and Agent Prentiss were easy to recognise. Agent Hotchners dark hair caught my eye as he sat closest to where Agent Jareau stood. The 2 remaining people had to be Agent Rossi and Dr Reid. Smile. Make a good impression.

As we entered the room, Garcia greeted the group, recieving a few greetings in return. "Good morning baby girl." So that's what she meant. Noted. I was directed to the seat between Agent Prentiss and Garcia. "Before we get started, this is Agent Lyn Colesta. She is now a member of the team." My head shot up at the sound of my name. "Agent Colesta, this is Agent David Rossi." I smile to the man Agent Hotchner gestured to. "Nice to meet you." He seemed nice enough. I felt like a fangirl but kept it to myself, figuring he was fed up of people telling him they love his books. "And this, is Dr Spencer Reid." My eyes moved to the last person at the table. He was clearly my age, had longish brown hair and wore a cardigan. He intrigued me. Dr Reid gave me a small wave, which I copied.

Agent Jareau started her presentation about the case. I focused all my attention on the manila folder in front of me. This was the start of my dream. Everything was falling into place for me and I couldn't contain my excitement. Profiling wasn't new to me but the BAU, they were legends in the psychology world and getting to work with them was what I wanted to do with my life. Nothing would get in the way of my work now. My sole focus would now be on this job.

[mizutsugi]

I have a hc that Will bites/chews his lips and that Hannibal reopens the wounds when they kiss so he can taste his blood…. im going feral i need a fic of this plspls…

bittersweet ♱ (hannigraham)

↳request!

↳word count: 1,297

↳cw: blood (lotsss of blood), biting

↳:a/n: OHHH MY GOD you. are actually. so. fucking. brilliant. i love your mind and i love love love this request tysm, i literally saw it in my inbox and started kicking my feet and giggling tehehehehe… i hope i did your idea justice! <3

Will had a lot of nasty habits, and his job with the FBI only made them worse. When he was thinking and working on building his design, he’d pick at the beds of his nails, chew on the inside of his cheeks and worst of them all, bite his lips. Analyzing the same crime scene photos over and over again, the clock tick, tick, tick-ing in the later hours of the night while his eyes scanned the glossy photos… his teeth would pull on his lips, slightly biting into the flesh as he worked. Sometimes, when he was so lost in his recreation of the crimes, or so frustrated with a case, he’d forget his own limits and bite until a wound opened, blood pooling at the impact.

It was no different during the Simmons case. Jack had him and the team at a crime scene in a remote part of a hiking trail in Maryland, mulling over the mutilated corpse of a man. Everyone had stepped out of the scene to let Will, quote, “do his thing”. He closed his eyes and tried to envision himself as the killer, immediately seeing himself on the hiking trail, slowly following a man- white, in his late 20s, hiking alone- like a predator stalking its prey. He saw himself dressed in all black jogging clothes, keeping a steady pace behind, waiting for the perfect opportunity. A window opened in a particularly heavily wooded section of the trail, where he knew no one would see a thing. He began to run behind the man, who had headphones in, before pulling a blade out of his pocket and sleuthing behind the man before skillfully slicing his throat in one quick, deadly move. Blood began to spray out of the open artery, the man falling to the ground before he could even turn to see his killer. He died clutching his neck, attempting to stop what was inevitable. But why were his eyes missing…

Will snapped out his trance, feeling something hot dripping down his chin. He had opened another wound on his lip. He wiped the blood on the sleeve of his jacket and sighed before walking out of the crime scene to regroup with the others. 

-

It was around 8:30 pm when Will arrived at Hannibal’s home, rapping on the door of the grand Baltimore home he found himself too frequently on the doorstep of. Hannibal answered the door after a few moments, smiling fondly as Will walked through his foyer. Will pulled at the heels of his shoes and left them by the entryway, hanging up his winter jacket, leaving him in a dark grey flannel and cargo pants. 

“How is dear Jack?” Hannibal asked, leading Will into his kitchen.

“He’s Jack. I don’t know.” Will stated boredly. He wanted to leave work behind him, as if that was something that was at all possible for him. Hannibal pulled out a nice red wine with an antique label out of his wine rack, uncorking the bottle before pouring the liquid into two stemmed wine glasses he had already had set out on his kitchen island. 

“How are you, then, Will?” Hannibal asked, eyes flicking up to meet Will’s as he topped off the second glass. Though Will avoided eye contact whenever possible, he never seemed to have an issue looking into Hannibal’s. It’s something Hannibal never took for granted, maintaining the belief that eye contact was the polite thing to do when having a conversation with someone- even if one struggled with it. 

“You know better than to ask that.” Will chuckled, accepting the wine glass as Hannibal held it out to him. The room was filled with soft classical music from a distant record player and the rich scent of a hearty roast- one that was slowly cooking in the oven. The boy was impossible sometimes. 

“Yes, I suppose I do.” Hannibal smiled, accompanying Will as he leaned against the marble countertops of the island, watching the dark liquid in his glass spin and spin as he twirled the glass by its stem in his fingers. Hannibal was in a black vest and dark dress shirt, sleeves rolled up midway to his arms to undoubtedly keep them clean as he cooked. 

“It smells good. What’s on the menu tonight?” Will asked.

“A garlic and herb roast tenderloin with a rosemary butter sauce.” Hannibal stated.

“Mm.” Will hummed, closing his eyes to take in the scent, already imaging the tender meat and herbs on his tongue. Hannibal took the opportunity to extend a hand to Will’s face, his calloused palm landing on the scruff on Will’s cheek. He didn’t hold him like a fragile teacup, but rather with a firm hand like something on the cutting board before he would draw the blade down to slice into it. Will opened his eyes, now revealing his exhaustion as they were barely able to stay open. Hannibal leaned in, pausing for a moment to take in Will’s scent- still that terribly cheap aftershave- before connecting his lip to Will’s in a manner that was all too familiar. 

Something was abnormal about their intimacy. When Hannibal kissed Will, it felt wrong to even call it a kiss. Will often felt like it was beyond that, just like how Will wouldn’t call what they had love… it was something beyond that, too. It was complete and mutual understanding. Maybe that’s what Will would call this- an understanding. He felt Hannibal softly pull at his lips with his teeth, feeling his hunger breaking beyond the kiss. He felt a slight sting in the action, and remembered just hours ago when he felt a similar pang when he was nervously chewing on himself. He then felt embarrassment, and wanted to pull away, realizing Hannibal had reopened the scar and was now bleeding into his mouth. 

Hannibal immediately tasted the hot iron on his tongue, and if his eyes were open his pupils would have been blown. He had tasted blood before, obviously, but something was different taking it straight from the wound and into his mouth. It felt primal, and it felt raw. It might have even felt impolite, like a monstrous vampire. But Hannibal knew with Will, it wasn’t monstrous. It was sharing, arguably the most respectable thing to do. Folie à deux. Will tried to break away, hands slowly lifting up to Hannibal’s chest to brace himself. Hannibal, however, couldn’t break away, and he kept sucking on the wound, pulling the crimson straight from the scar in a way that felt oddly… pleasant. Will’s hands fell back down to his sides, and Hannibal’s grip on him began to falter. He reluctantly pulled himself away from the other, still lightly holding his face, now with both his hands.

“Do you feel lightheaded?” He asked lowly, briefly remembering that they were both mortals and that he wanted to protect Will- even if he needed to satiate a hunger that was beyond his control. His eyes didn’t leave the open wound on the inside of Will’s bottom lip, watching as it slowly pooled with more blood. 

Will, feeling himself oddly missing the sickeningly sweet sensation already, shook his head no, lip slightly parted as he tried to regain his breath. Hannibal gave him a moment, and then returned to the boy’s lips, sucking again at the broken skin. Will slightly moaned into the sensation, feeling his hands reach again for Hannibal’s chest, but this time to grip the fabric of his shirt before his knees buckled. Hannibal kept sucking, savoring the new flavor of freshly drained blood. Just like with all the worst sides of Will, Hannibal never wanted him to stop his bad habits that he tried to keep tucked away. They were addictive.

↳a/n: this is my first time doing a request and i already know it's the best one. you ATE with this idea! anyways sorry it was sort of short-tbh, i saw it going a nsfw route but i just couldn't think of anything... like to me, will and hannibal don't have sex... mizumono/wrath of the lamb was their ultimate version of intimacy to me, if that makes sense. anyways thank you so so much for the request, i love love LOVED it!

[garbinge]

Not Much To Tell

Jess Mariano x F!Reader

30 Day Fic Challenge

Word Count: 1.6k A/N: I've been rewatching gilmore girls and I'll always be a team jess girlie <3

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Mentions of pregnancy and toxic ex who suggests “taking care of it.” *Want to clarify we are pro choice in this house!!!* All Writing Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989kmc1

“So, Doose's Market is right downstairs across the block, the post office is on Peach Street, bookstore is on Plum, and the bakery is on Apricot Ave.” 

As you stood in what used to be Luke’s apartment which used to be a hardware store office surrounded by your luggage and all your personal belongings, you rested your hand on your stomach which was showing your obvious pregnancy. 

“One more fruit street name and you’d have a salad.” Your voice cracked at the awkward joke but you quickly smiled at Jess’ response. 

“Well I did forget to mention the gas station and Gypsy’s Auto repair which is on the corner of Cherry and Walnut.” 

“Walnuts in a salad, my God Mariano, the years have changed you.” You teased your old best friend.

It brought you back to being 16 in New York and teasing each other, spending all of your free time together. In all honesty, where you were at in life you wished you could just go back to that simpler time. Where your biggest issues were getting Jess to actually show up to school and not mark up all of your books, But seeing how that was impossible, you’d have to make due with what was in front of you. You supposed it wasn’t all that bad, Jess had swooped in and come to your rescue. But when you spoke the words “the years have changed you”, you couldn’t help but notice his eyes move down to your stomach for a millisecond before coming back up to your eyes. 

Yes, the years had changed you as well, although it was more like the months did. You were 6 months pregnant with no where to live, no where to go, no job, just $500 in your bank account with no expectation of anymore deposits to be made. But in this moment none of that mattered because Jess took one worry off your plate. A place to live. 

“You know I remember that one time I came to visit you here.” Your hand cupped your stomach instinctually before moving to look out the window. “You met me at the bus stop,” you pointed to the bus stop in view, “and then took me to the diner and made me a burger.” With that, you turned back to him. 

“Old habits die hard.” Jess shrugged since it was exactly what he just did. Picked you up at the bus stop and brought you to Luke’s. 

“Caesar made me my burger this time.” You corrected him. 

“And with no ketchup smiley face, I have to add.” Jess tilted his head and lifted his eyebrows. 

“Really changed the whole experience.” You nodded in agreement and then the booth of you laughed. 

“So, there really isn’t any food here, and I think the only soap Luke has here is an Irish Spring bar from 2002.” Jess was going to the linen closet to look for anything that resembled a toiletry. “But we have sheets.” He pulled out a blanket and a sheet from the closet on the side that used to be his. 

“Jess.” You interrupted him, you could have given him a funny sarcastic response but you saw how much he was scrambling. 

He was placing the linens on the bare mattress and turned to look at you, tucking his long hair behind his ear. 

“I can go to the store, it’s okay.” It was then when you were grabbing your bag from the kitchen table. 

“You want company?” He was asking, grabbing his keys. 

“Would love that.” You smiled and with that, you were off walking to Doose’s. 

The market was cute and had everything you could need in a off-brand label. Jess was holding the basket for you as you added in food and shampoo. As you two stood at the frozen food section, debating the art of the perfect hot pocket, Luke appeared. 

The whole interaction was short, less than 2 minutes but it felt like eternity. He was talking to Jess about his mom and TJ, something that honestly was too complex for someone who was new to the conversation to understand, but for someone like Jess who not only knew TJ and Liz but also was privy to information regarding their current distress the answer seemed pretty simple to him despite Luke’s clear frustration. His frustration soon turned to fluster because his eyes moved to your stomach. 

It was obvious, he did a full double take. Mid-sentence he looked at you, smiled, greeted you because he remembered you and then went back to talking in a distressed manner to Jess before his brain caught up to his eyes. His eyes moved directly to your stomach and then went wide as his stare went directly to Jess for an explanation. 

It was obvious what Luke was thinking despite his lack of ability to say it outloud. The stutters that left his mouth were incoherent but obvious. It was then clear that Jess was related to him because he matched his uncle’s fluster with his own. Trying to explain the situation in stutters, grunts, confused noises and head shakes while Luke similarly flailed around. 

When Jess told you Luke was willing to give his apartment up for super cheap every month, you had assumed he was aware of your situation but leave it to Jess to leave out any and all crucial details. 

“It’s not Jess’” You interrupted the two men with a neutral voice. “He’s just helping me out in a tough time.” 

Luke stood up straight, confusion still littered on his face but relief starting to wash over it. “Oh, uh, it wouldn’t have mattered, I just– kid doesn’t tell me much you know, never has and still doesn’t…” Luke pushed Jess awkwardly with a smile on his face. “I’ll uh,” He brought his hand up to scratch behind his neck and then brought his thumb out to point behind him and just turned to leave. 

A chuckle left your mouth as you turned to Jess who looked equally frustrated and embarrassed. 

“I’m sorry, he uh, is–” 

“So much like you.” You finished the sentence for him and smiled before turning to the freezer section and grabbing the pint of ice cream. 

Jess looked at you grabbing the mint ice cream and smiled. 

“Toothpaste ice cream really?” He grabbed it from your hand and placed it into the basket. 

“Always been my favorite, you know this.” You moved to the check out lanes. 

“I thought maybe pregnancy would have altered your taste buds to realize the true disgust of it.” He started to place all the items on the belt. 

It was honestly his first time really acknowledging the pregnancy. He obviously was aware of it, but even when he ran into you in New York a week ago he never really said anything about it. He just realized you were struggling and knew he was in a position to help. 

“You don’t really talk about it.” You passed him items from the basket as he placed them down. 

“I figured you’ll tell me when you want.” He wouldn’t make eye contact with you. 

“Not really much to tell.” You shrugged and moved to the cash register as he unloaded the rest of the items. 

“$72.56” The cashier spoke as they dropped the items into multiple bags. 

As you went to grab cash from your bag, Jess moved and handed the person a large bill before you could even get the zipper open. 

“Jess.” You said it calmly, but clearly feeling some way about it. 

“I wanted to do this for you before you got here but I got caught up in Philly.” His eyes were genuine, and you took a minute to decide if you were going to continue arguing or not. Ultimately you raised your hands and stepped back and let Jess pay. 

As you stepped outside with the bags in your hand, Jess immediately came from behind you and took them out of your arms. 

“I don’t want you thinking I’m a charity case.” 

“Do you not remember that you paid for everything when we were kids? Pizza, refilling my metro card, my CDs.” 

“I didn’t pay for your CDs, just lended you the ones I bought for myself.” You corrected him. “Plus, I had a good job making stupid good money for a 15 year old.” 

“Well I have a good job making stupid good money for a 30 year old.” He shrugged. 

“His name was Glen and he was in a band and decided touring was probably more important than this. Gave me $500 to take care of it.” You blurted out the sentence while both of you were crossing the street, although you stopped to let the words flow out of your mouth so when Jess turned around he was a few steps ahead of you. 

“Glen is a really lame name.” He said it so soft, and you knew what he was really saying with that sentence. 

“It was the name of his band, too, The Glen.” You felt the tears in the back of your eyes but you didn’t let them escape. 

“Even lamer.” He nodded. 

“Thank you.” You stared directly at him. 

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m ordering Thai food for us tonight and we’re watching Almost Famous.” Jess was turning around to keep walking towards your new place. 

You picked up your pace to keep up with him and called out, “I don’t know if you want to give the pregnant lady Thai food!”