#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

[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?”

[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.

[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!” 

[gghostwriter]

Yours Truly, Romeo

Chapter 5 __ Paris

Spencer Reid x FOC

Summary: Washington, DC - A string of grizzly murders and obsessive love letters causes Olivia and Spencer’s paths to intertwine. With a serial killer proclaiming his undying devotion to her and the thick tension surrounding her and her agent turned bodyguard, Olivia’s life is writing out like a contemporary love story that she, as a successful writer, could see herself publishing.

previous chapter || series masterlist || next chapter

“Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee.” - Act 5, Scene 3. Romeo & Juliet by William Shakespeare

As Spencer drove off earlier that same day, the remaining two members of the team—the steely unit chief and the specialist in obsessive crimes did just the same. They headed to Random House Washington, Olivia’s publishing label, to interview her agent for possible matches to their profile.

“Ms Amanda Miller, we’d like to ask questions regarding male personnels at your office,” Agent Hotchner stated as he pulled out his FBI credentials. “The man we are looking for doesn’t stand out in a crowd. He’s introverted and shy when it comes to approaching his female counterparts.”

“You described almost all of the men who work for the publishing,” the publicist lightly scoffed. “The publishing industry is filled with introverts, Agent Hotchner.”

“He may be quiet but there’s something about this man that seems off-putting. Something that puts the women on edge,” Morgan explained further as he observed the employees around the office.

“Uhm—there are maybe seven men working in this office that our female employees tend to avoid alone—something they tell newly hires, nothing untoward had ever happened though,” she grabbed a piece of paper and started scribbling down their names and company positions. Once done, she reached out to hand it over to Hotch. “Here you go.”

“Thank you. By any chance, is Ms. Hollie Taylor currently in the office? We’d like to ask for her own observations.”

Her black office chair swiveled to face the computer for access to the company log in and she shook her head. “No, she’s scheduled to work from home today.” 

Thanking her again for her time, the duo exited the premises and drove towards Ms. Taylor’s residence which was a thirty minute drive.

The dark skinned agent, seating on the passenger seat, dialed Garcia as the ex-prosecutor turned right to on the intersection. “Hey Sugar, I need you to run background checks for me.”

“That’s easy work, Hot Stuff. Tell me their names and I can even tell you their last grocery purchase.” 

He smiled as he listed off the names written on the piece of paper.

Before long, the SUV pulled into a stop in front of the red bricked apartment. Both FBI agents exited the government issued vehicle and entered the building, flashing their badges to the security personnel, and rode the elevator up to the 11th floor.

“Ms. Hollie Taylor, I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner and this is SSA Derek Morgan. We’re with the FBI, Behavioral Analysis Unit,” the stern unit chief spieled out once more. “We’d like to ask you some questions regarding Ms. Olivia Hill.” 

The brunette haired woman gestured for them to come in. “Call me Hollie, please. How can I be of help?” 

“We’d like to ask you about your male colleagues in relation to Ms. Hill’s stalking case. Do any of them stand out to you?”

Morgan added on. “Did any of them flirt with her? Try to ask her out on a date?”

She wrapped her arms around her body, clearly intimidated by the presence of two imposing agents in her home. “Not that I know of. Olivia rarely comes in to the office—only there for urgent meetings regarding new book ideas or promotional book signings prepared by the marketing team. The only male colleagues that she has contact with on a daily basis is Robert, Amanda’s assistant, and Elijah, her senior cover illustrator—”

Her voice drifted off into silence as her brows knitted together in thought before continuing. “We did have a new junior illustrator come in recently—the team met him once since the management wanted to get him on board working with romance writers. Nothing untoward happened but he did seem a little bit flirty with her but he went AWOL after that first week so I’m not sure if that’s much of a help.”

That piqued their interest. “Is his name perhaps Ian Cromwell?”

She nodded her head slowly, a slight furrow on her eyebrows, confused as to why his name had already been known. “Yes���yes that’s right. How’d you know?”

Morgan shared a look with Hotch, not keen on informing her the reason as to why his name has been brought up. Ian Cromwell was the third body found floating in Maryland—he possibly had a connection with the unsub. The latter subtly tilted his head to the side as if to silently instruct Morgan to wrap up the interview. 

“He’s not the stalker, is he? I mean, Olivia met him once and never interacted with him again,” she questioned, the silence further rattling her nerves. “Right?”

“Thank you for your time, Hollie. If there’s anything else you remember—anything at all, give us a call,” Morgan said as he handed his card and hastily exited the apartment.

———

The sun was beginning to settle on the horizon when they arrived back at the station.

“There’s got to be some type of connection there, Hotch,” he said closing the passenger door with a thud.

Rounding around the vehicle and pushing the precinct door open allowing themselves inside as the cool air blasted around them. “I agree, Morgan. Call up Reid and tell him to—”

Hotch cut himself off when he noticed an unopened white envelope with the letter cutouts that spelled ‘For the FBI’ on the meeting room table where their case papers and images were situated. He brought out his own set of latex gloves from his pocket and quickly picked it up, walking up to a nearby man in uniform. “Who delivered this?” 

The officer’s eyes widened as he stuttered to explain. “It—It was found taped on one of the police cars situated at the end of the parking lot. We checked surveillance cameras but that area is hidden by the trees and—and we also ran prints but there was none.”

Hotch deeply sighed, clearly frustrated with not being kept in the loop with the happenings in their own backyard, and dismissed the man in front of him. He returned to the conference room where Morgan stayed behind. Curious as to what had rattled his unit chief, he peeked at the envelope, catching the address, and his eyes widened. “That’s pretty ballsy of the unsub to deliver it here, a deviation from our profile.”

“He’s devolving. Something we did that disturbed his fantasy with Ms. Hill,” Hotch commented before carefully cutting the envelope and pulling out two letters inside. The first was a type written line from Romeo & Juliet.

“I must indeed, and therefore came I hither. Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man. Fly hence and leave me. Think upon these gone. Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth, Put not another sin upon my head By urging me to fury. O, be gone!”

“Wilt thou provoke me? Then have at thee, boy!” - Romeo. Act 5, Scene 3

Derek scratched his forehead, silently wishing that Spencer was nearby to translate the lines into modern English. The other flipped to the second page that contained magazine letter cutouts, similar to his first and second letters to Olivia. 

You have provoked my blood coated hands.

No longer must Paris be and come in between me and my beloved Juliet.

He has been struck I tell you. Struck! 

The two agents exchanged stares before bolting out the station and swerving out of the parking lot without so much of a word uttered. 

Ring. Ring. Ring. Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system—

Derek noticed the way his unit chief’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter with every unanswered call. The surrounding lights dashing past the SUV faster as he stepped on the gas further. 

“Garcia, I need you to track Reid’s number for me now,” Morgan urged on the phone without any pleasantries.

Having heard the frustration laced with concern from his voice, she typed on her keyboard quickly without a quip back to lighten the mood. “His phone last pinged on Olivia’s residence. I also tracked her phone and it says that she’s also within the premises.” 

He hung up and cursed under his breath before redialing and painfully hoping for Reid to pick up. The tension inside the vehicle increasing with every automated message. He swore again, wishing he should have gone with him instead and that the boy genius was alright.

———

“FBI!” Hotch shouted as he entered the unlatched front entryway with Morgan right behind. They continued moving forward in darkness with just their flashlights illuminating the way, checking every area, until they reached the staircase landing. The ex-prosecutor pointed upwards with his gun indicating to his team member that’ll he’ll take the upstairs while the other continues the search downstairs. 

Derek nodded once before progressing on inwards on the first floor. He rounded every room with his flashlight darting to every corner looking for any sign of Spencer and Olivia. As he entered the kitchen, a pair of distressed black Converse were caught peeking behind the counter near the ajar pantry door. It was Pretty Boy, lying face down, unresponsive. 

“Reid, Reid!” Morgan rolled him over to check for any bleeding, breathing a slight sigh of relief having spotted none. “Hotch, Hotch! He’s here!” 

Reaching over to where his phone was clipped on his belt, he called for an ambulance and indicated that there was an agent down at their location. Bruises were starting to form near Spencer’s temple possibly from a blunt force object to the head and an empty syringe lying nearby—the unsub was getting sloppy, leaving such evidence that may contain prints at a crime scene. 

As Hotch rounded the corner with the paramedics seconds behind him, there were two things they concluded that were unaccounted for. The first was Spencer’s standard issue gun and the second was Olivia Hill herself.

[imperiuswrecked]

Here lies Namor. Invader. Avenger. International Terrorist. - Namor (2024) #1

I am Namor. The Terrorist Propaganda says I have issues. Don't trust the Terrorist Propaganda. - Bucky Barnes: Winter Solider (2014) #1

You know what annoys me about Aaron's writing, where is Defender? Namor is part of and actually is the instigator in creating Marvel's The Defenders, the first trio called Titians Three consisted of him recruiting Hulk & Silver Surfer to aid him in stopping humans from hurting the Natural World in The Sub-Mariner (1968) #34. This would later spin out into Doctor Strange recruiting Namor, Silver Surfer, Hulk, and later joining them Valkyrie for the main and first wave of The Defenders. A team made up of outsiders who defended the world from supernatural threats. Namor is literally a founding member of (in my very strong opinion) the best modern team he's ever been on.

Yes, he's Namor the Avenging Son, but he was only ever called Terrorist by his enemies. Namor wouldn't think of himself in that way, he'd call himself a Defender, a Protector of his people, of the seas, his home. If Aaron means Invader as in he was part of the Invaders team then that also is a defense because he and the Invaders were fighting in WWll.

Namor knows the humans see him as a threat and for the most part he doesn't care if they label him as a monster because he's always had this strong belief of defending his home and people, he worked past his hatred of humans to help them all the way back in the golden age, but time and time again the humans do something that he has to respond to.

If you ask me for 2 panels to understand Namor in a nutshell then it would have to be;

The Defenders (1972) #53

Sub-Mariner (2007) #4

He's actually so easy to understand if people actually took the time to read his freaking comics. He's complex yeah, but that's what makes him so interesting as the first comic Anti-Hero!

Aaron focusing on Namor's outsider status isn't something new, it's been explored in his comics a lot of times. What really frustrated me was back in Avengers (2018) #9 Aaron had the chance to set up Namor to combat Captain America in terms of ideology of what is right and wrong, how is the defense of his homeland wrong? how is resistance against oil drillers, and poachers, and corporate greed, and polluters, and giant space robots falling and crushing his city and people wrong???

Human Laws have always been in favor of Humans, not the Atlanteans, not the Sea. Instead of exploring the concept of Namor being a Defender of his home and his people, Aaron constantly labels Namor a Terrorist. The he makes Namor want to atone for the wrongs he's done (never specifying exactly which ones, just a general "crimes against surface humanity") while never addressing or exploring the wrongs done to him by the humans/surface world!

Even now Aaron sets up Namor for conflict under the sea, and states it's for the best interest of the human world that their shipping lines and cruises be uninterrupted by the "shrieking blue skinned warriors who've invaded their coasts". Basically it's "We humans don't care if the Atlanteans are suffering so long as they suffer in silence and don't bother us or disrupt our money & lives".

Aaron writes in Avengers that Captain America offered aid to help the Atlanteans, but it's Namor who's rejected it, why would he accept help from the people who constantly hurt his people? Why would Namor ever trust them when they've broken his trust so many times in the past? Humans make promises and then break them all the time. Why should Namor ever accept the crumbs they deign to give him in return for obedience and silence so the humans can keep doing whatever they think is right? Why is the Surface World more moral and more right than the Undersea World? It's Namor's land, it's his home, they broke his laws, they broke his home, his people, his seas.

I've always said the biggest obstacle and mistake writers often encounter when writing Namor is they come at him from a very surface world mindset, where the humans are right and Namor isn't. Namor was never meant to be a champion of humans, but of the Atlanteans, the Seas, and all it's creatures.

I could not care less that you are breaking the Laws of Man. What you do here violates the Law of Namor. And thus you shall now endure Namor's Justice. - Defenders (2012) #1

Namor being seen as a Invader/Terrorist began back with his first fight against The Human Torch in Marvel Mystery Comics (1939) #8, Jim was championed as the Hero of Humanity, while Namor was labeled as Public Enemy No. 1. and even now 85+ years later Namor faces persecution for doing what he was raised to do all his life, be a king, be a protector of his people, take justice and vengeance for the wrongs done against his home and people.

Aaron wants to focus on Namor's outsider status of being born half human/half atlantean. He's already shown Namor being bullied and nearly killed as a child for being born different by his people, but that isn't anything new, that's been canon that Namor is an outsider among humans and atlanteans, it's canon that the Atlanteans are just as racist as the humans, but often they're framed as worse than the humans.

One comic reviewer questioned if Aaron is making statements about the current political climate but honestly anyone who reads Namor comics can see these themes, the tensions among atlanteans and humans, have always been there. What remains to be seen is if Aaron can actually deliver on some good writing.

[vbecker10]

My Best Friend...

(Part 1 of 2 - Part 2)

Pairing: Loki x plus size female reader (y/n)

Warnings: angst (of course, not sorry), self depreciating thoughts, feeling inadequate, issues with self image, low self worth, annoying friends... but I promise lots and lots of fluff so just hold on until the end - let me know if I forgot anything 💚

Summary: What you thought would be a relaxing girls night quickly turns into an interrogation by Nat and Wanda about your non-existent relationship with Loki. After denying you are anything other then friends for as long as you can, you finally tell them how you really feel about him... and why you know he will never feel the same. The night goes from bad to worse when you realize Loki overheard you talking to them and you try to hide from him.

A/N: Loki is talked about in this part a lot but he doesn't really show up until the very end, don't worry he is going to be in the whole second part though. Also, I was going to make this one very long fic but @michelleleewise suggested breaking it into two parts so you can thank her for all the angst being in the first half and having to wait another few days for the fluff - love you @michelleleewise 💚

Dividers by: @harlequin-hangout

"Oh, come on Y/N," Natasha laughs as she sets the pizza box on the coffee table. "Just admit it and we can all move on with our lives."

"I can't cause it's not true," you tell her, looking down to avoid eye contact with the spy. You sit on one end of the couch and she sits next to you, you pass her and Wanda plates. "I'm disappointed, I thought you would be better at reading situations then this," you say sarcastically and she let's out a dramatic gasp, pretending to be offended.

"I think the real problem is you are worse at hiding your relationship with Loki then you think you are," Wanda says as she grabs a slice of pizza. "And since you won't just admit it, how about we review the facts?" Wanda asks with a wide smile before sitting cross legged on the floor on the other side of the coffee table.

"Oh, I can't wait to hear all of these supposed facts," you roll your eyes.

"Exhibit A, breakfast," Wanda says too excitedly for your liking, "Loki brings you coffee and something to eat every single morning. How do you explain that if the two of you aren't dating, hmm?"

You decide maybe it would be better to just play along with your friends this time, hoping you might be able to convince them they were both wrong once and for all. Wanda and Nat had recently become obsessed with the idea that you and Loki were secretly dating but it had really picked up over the last week.

"I'm telling you, we aren't dating. He just knows I have a lot of early meetings so it's easy for me to get distracted and then I forget to eat," you tell them.

"I don't know," Natasha shakes her head, "Worrying that you're skipping meals seems like good boyfriend behavior."

"It is not, it's good friend behavior," you correct her, "Maybe the two of you don't worry about me enough." You cross your arms and stare at Nat then Wanda, causing them to giggle.

"Still, it's impressive. I don't think Loki even knows if Thor drinks coffee, forget about him ever bringing his brother or anyone else on the team anything," Nat says, picking up right where she left off before the minor laughing fit.

"I don't know what to tell you," you shrug. "Maybe he knows I'm less grumpy when I eat. Those mission report meetings we have are brutal if I'm not fully caffeinated," you suggest another reason.

"Nice try Y/N, but those meetings are only once a week," Nat reminds you and practically wince, how did you ever think the best spy on the planet would let that detail slip past her. "Care to explain away the coffee he brings you the other four days?"

You don't answer, pretending to be interested in reading the label on your drink instead. You remember when Loki started doing it roughly three months ago. One Friday while you were watching a movie together, you complained to him that you had missed breakfast three days in a row that week due to your tight meeting schedule. You hadn't meant for him to do anything about it, you were just venting. The following Monday and every morning since, Loki would stop by your office before he trained with Thor. He brought you a large coffee exactly the way you liked it, even though you don't remember him asking how you took it, and something to eat. You offered to pay him back after the first couple of days but he just smiled and told you not to worry about it.

Wanda laughs at your lack of response, pulling you from your thoughts and asks, "I think it's time for exhibit B, don't you?"

"Oh, of course," Nat smiles and you groan, quickly realizing this was a bad idea.

"Exhibit B, your weekends," Wanda says.

"There is nothing weird about our weekends," you tell them defensively. "What are you talking about?"

"Really Y/N?" Wanda says. "You're going to pretend you and Loki aren't going on dates all the time?"

"We aren't dating," you respond, this time you don't bother to force a smile. "We just like going to the same places."

"The two of you spend every minute of the weekend together," Nat chimes in. "I don't think Wanda spends as much time with Viz as you spend with Loki."

"It's not my fault Loki is more interesting than Vision," you reply quickly, earning a loud laugh from Nat and an eye roll from Wanda.

Natasha wasn't exactly wrong though. Over the last four months you and Loki had gone to art galleries, museums, plays and parks all across the city. These outings would have been truly amazing dates... if you were dating but you weren't. You think back to last weekend when you took him to the Winter Village at Bryant Park for the first time. Your fingers begin to play with the necklace you bought from one of the many artists who had set up stalls there. You were wearing gloves so Loki offered to put it on you, gently sweeping your hair away from your neck as he stood behind you to fasten the clasp. You hadn't been able to stop blushing when his fingers brushed against your skin but thankfully you could blame your red cheeks on the sudden cold breeze.

"Y/N," Wanda says, tossing a balled up napkin at you to get your attention. "Thinking about your next date night?"

You sigh and shake your head no. "Can't you both just let this go? We're going to waste the whole night on this."

"I only have one more exhibit to prove that you are dating, then we will leave you alone," Wanda says and you reluctantly agree to hear it, knowing she will tell you either way. "Exhibit C, you sleep in his apartment way too often. I mean really Y/N, I don't know why you pay rent at your place when you sleep with him two or three times a week."

"Ah, remember two weeks ago?" Nat asks Wanda and she nods. "How many nights in a row did you sleep with Loki?" she asks you with a smirk.

You sigh, "First off, stop saying it like that. I'm not sleeping with him, I sleep at his place. Secondly..." you pause not wanting to answer her question. "Five but you know that was because of the weather."

"Once in a while I get, but that many times in a row and you are practically living with him. I would bet you even have your own toothbrush and a drawer or two at his place," Wanda jokes.

You bite your lip before you respond, you did have a toothbrush and a few things stored in Loki's apartment. He had suggested you leave some items there so you were more comfortable since you slept over so often.

"I only sleep there cause he worries about me getting home safe if it's after a certain time, like if we are out until midnight on the weekends or I work really late during the week," you explain truthfully then add, "And sometimes I accidentally fall asleep at his place if we're watching a movie and he just lets me sleep. It's really not a big deal."

"Mmhmm..." Nat nods.

"I know that look Nat so don't even say it. I've already told you, nothing happens. Loki always offers me his bed and he takes the couch in his living area," you add quickly.

"Damn," Nat laughs and pretends to look disappointed.

"Now, you've finished with your 'facts' that prove nothing. He's just my best friend, that's it," you say, desperately trying to avoid talking about Loki any longer. "Can we please move onto something else?"

"Come on, what else do we need to do to get you to just tell us the truth," Wanda says.

"We aren't together," you tell them for what feels like the hundredth time.

"You can't lie to us," Nat says as if she didn't hear you, "Out with it."

"He's not mine!" you hear yourself say loudly and the smiles fall from their faces.

You look at them both silently, suddenly feeling too exposed as you finally give up on pretending you were unbothered by their constant questions and accusations. You slowly shift so you are sitting with your legs tucked underneath you, pressing your back into the couch. Picking up one of the pillows from between you and Nat, you hold it against your chest almost as if you are trying to hide yourself.

"He's not... he's not mine," you repeat again, a bit quieter this time. "He never was and he never will be. I'm just his best friend," you say.

"Wait... no, you really aren't together?" Nat asks almost in disbelief and you nod.

"I- we honestly thought you were just trying to keep it a really bad secret. I had no idea... I'm so sorry," Wanda says softly. "We never should have pushed you so hard."

"I'm sorry too Y/N but why aren't you two dating?" Nat asks. "The two of you seem so perfect for each other."

You shake your head then lower your face into the pillow to hide the gathering tears. "What did you say?" Wanda asks when you mumble something in response to Nat. You can feel her sitting on the arm of the couch as she gently tries to pull the pillow away from your face.

You cling to it tightly but allow her to lower it a bit. "I said... he would never want to date me," you tell them without looking up. "I'm not his type," you feel the first few tears slip free and fall down your cheeks.

You pull the sleeves of your sweater down over your hands and wipe your eyes. "Loki is a freaking prince and a God. Why would he want someone like me?" you ask them the question you had been asking yourself since you realized you were in love with him.

"Someone like you?" Nat repeats your question. "Because you are amazing Y/N. You're incredibly funny, clever and-"

You interrupt Nat, "But I'm not beautiful."

"What?" Wanda asks. "Y/N, of course you are."

"No, I'm not beautiful," you tell them. "I know what I look like, I'm short and I'm significantly overweight... I could lose a hundred pounds and I would still be nothing like the women Loki dates. They have all been tall and thin, perfect just like he is," you say, keeping your head down. "He's been with models, socialites, actresses and literal princesses when he lived on Asgard. Why would he ever want me when he could have them?"

You put one hand over your face as you lose the battle to hold back your tears. "I'm such an idiot," you say more to yourself than your friends. "I let myself fall in love with my best friend even though I know he will never love me back," you grip the pillow tighter to your body and keep your eyes closed behind your other hand.

You feel a hand gently settle on your knee, squeezing lightly to comfort you. You appreciate the gesture until you realize you no longer feel Nat and Wanda sitting on either side of you. You sniffle and wipe your eyes, your heart beginning to race as you recognize your favorite smell, Loki's cologne.

"Y/N," Loki says almost in a whisper. He looks up at you as he kneels on the carpet in front of you.

"No," you say in disbelief as you stand up, tossing aside the pillow.

"Wait-" he says but you ignore him, desperately avoiding his gaze.

"No, no, no," you repeat as you realize Loki heard you say you loved him. If he heard that, what else had he heard? Before he can say anything else you grab your phone off the coffee table and leave the common area as quickly as possible.

Please let me know if you want to be added or taken off the tag list 💚💚

@michelleleewise @soubi001 @ace-of-gay @tessathechild @misunderstoodself @coldnique @lokiprompts @thomase1 @mochie85 @fi-recs-fics @huntress-artemiss @sititran @xorpsbane @kkdvkyya @lokisgoodgirl @harlequin-hangout @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @kats72 @avoliax @peaches1958 @peachyjinx @loopsisloops @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @high-functioning-lokipath @psychospore @dukes2581 @buttercupcookies-blog @animnerd @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @laufeyson-16 @lonadane @loki-laufeyson-1054 @pics-and-fanfics

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated 💚💚

[morganbritton132]

i wonder how steve’s neurological issues and eddie’s career interact. like obviously metal music is not gonna work with seizures and migraines, so im wondering if steve ever feels like hes not doing enough, like he’s a bad partner who doesn’t support eddie’s passion.. Plus i imagine the overprotective fans who notice steve is never at any concerts and how eddie keeps joking about how steve despises metal music, leading them to go on a whole tirade about how eddie deserves better yadayadayada ☹️

I have been staring at this prompt since you sent it, trying to articulate what I want to say because it’s so good. I think it really opens up the door to talk about parasocial relationships and fans who overstep, which I find endlessly fascinating.

Fans notice things.

They notice things and they think that they knows things, and then they tweet about it. They make YouTube videos and TikToks, and they post to their Instagram stories. Eventually articles are written about it and those articles make it into the Facebook algorithm and then mixed into Steve’s timeline.

So, he sees it.

A fan posts about how there are virtually no videos of Steve at award shows where Corroded Coffin had been nominated. They say that he was uninterested or not supportive, but not that Steve was just terrified of Eddie being outed and his career ending. Being in a queer relationship in the nineties could destroy your career and Steve never wanted to do anything that would jeopardize the band’s success.

Even after Eddie came out publicly, his record label’s PR team told them not to be seen being intimate with each other. They could walk side by side, but they couldn’t hold hands. They could hug goodbye but not kiss. It wasn’t just Eddie’s career. What do you think is going to happen when parents find out a homosexual was teaching their children?

A fan tweets about how Steve is never at Corroded Coffin’s concerts and when he is, he just hangs out backstage. Fans quote tweet it talking about how Steve doesn’t give a shit about the music, but say nothing about the noise and the lights that cause him to have migraines. They say nothing about how terrifying the thought of having a seizure in a moshpit is.

And it’s not just that.

It’s not just that everybody thinks that he’s an unsupportive husband or that he hates Eddie’s music.

Eddie live-streams in the car on his way to pick Steve up from work, spends the entire time talking about how he’s going to take him on a date. When Steve gets in the car, he turns Eddie’s music down. That’s a TikTok about how Steve refuses to show any interest in Eddie’s hobbies. Eddie tells him what he wants to do and Steve says, “Not today.”

That’s a YouTube video about how Eddie is a doting husband and Steve is an ungrateful bitch, and not that Steve had a seizure at lunch and a migraine pressing against the back of his eyes. It says nothing about how Eddie knows this, Eddie’s used to this. This is how it is with head trauma, some things falls through and they pick them up when they can.

None of these fans know anything and it ends up in the ads and the articles that Steve sees on Facebook, and it makes him feel like shit. It’s everything that Steve was trying to avoid when he told Eddie to break up with him in ’87.

He told Eddie then that all this shit in his head was only going to get worse and it was just going to hold him back when the band was just taking off, and Eddie had refused to accept that.

He refuses to accept it now and tells Steve that those articles don’t matter. They’re written by morons that don’t know shit, but it doesn’t matter. It’s like the whole world is looking at them and telling him that Steve is shit at loving Eddie when it’s the only thing he thought that he got right.