#as a white woman it’s my duty to push back on this problem
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Mine- Bradley Bradshaw x reader
Day 1. public sex + hair pulling
Summary-Summary- just nasty, possessive bathroom sex with Rooster, everyone say thank you to @roosterforme 😂😂😂
Warnings- Warnings- smut, choking, degradation, unprotected sex, language. It’s kinktober y’all, it’s gonna be filth.
The agreement was simple. Hot, dirty, mind blowing sex and no strings. He’d agreed months ago that he would be totally fine with this, no attachments, no falling in love. It had been so good, fulfilling every dirty thought he’d ever conjured up with you, things that should make a woman blush when he suggested them only made you wetter. But now there was a problem.
Bradley was down BAD.
Horribly, miserably, unnervingly down bad.
If Natasha knew she would joke that he was a simp, his obsession with your body had been borderline inappropriate these days, big brown puppy eyes following you around during the duty day, and undressing you at night when everyone was out for a drink. He was trying to keep it together, keep the line between the two of you friendly in public but god, he knew what you looked like all tied up and blissed out in his bed, with your pretty lips wrapped around his cock…how the hell was he supposed to keep his hands to himself? Especially when Seresin was dancing with you, his big stupid hands touching the places Bradley had touched, making you laugh like he should be doing, it was enough to make him white knuckle his beer bottle to make sure he didn’t start a bar room brawl.
When you decided it was time for a bathroom break he made his move, pushing through sweaty bodies in the crowded club as he followed your form to the darkened hallway. Catching your arm before you reached the threshold he shoved you into the dingy stall and had the door latched before you could even discern who held you in their grasp.
“Rooster?! What the hell! I almost maced your ass!”
You said with a huff, arms crossing underneath your breasts which only made them more of a focal point, saliva pooling in Bradley’s mouth at the thought of having his mouth on them.
“Get this scrap of fabric you call a dress off kid, and bend over. I’m done with watching someone else touch what’s mine, you’re gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy and then I’m gonna send you back out there dripping with me.”
You gaped at him, doe eyes wide at his candor. He’d kept the ruse up during the day, all of his dirty talk left strictly to texting and in the dark of your bedrooms, but there was something about the look in his eye that told you this wasn’t up for discussion. Still, you were an absolute brat, he knew you’d do what he wanted but you were absolutely going to be a pain in his ass about it.
Swiping the tiny satin dress over your head and dropping it on the counter, you took your time slowly bending yourself across the sink and eyeing him up in the mirror. He looked wrecked already. Hair mussed up from running his hands through it, wild eyes, hands clenched at his sides like he might put them through a wall if he didn’t get what he clearly, desperately needed.
“Yours huh?” You said with a wink as you smirked at him, and that was his undoing.
He pushed his cock into your heat roughly as he wrapped his fist in your ponytail and pulled you into his chest, rough voice rasping in your ear when he was fully seated.
“Yeah sweetheart, mine. Now shut your mouth and take it like a good girl.”
Your hipbones were sure to be bruised from slamming into the grimy countertop, he’d set a bruising pace, whispering filth in your ear as you clenched and writhed in his arms.
“You knew what you were doing didn’t you y/n? Getting me all riled up while you were grinding all over Jake. You think he could get you this wet? Practically dripping down my jeans. You didn’t have to be a slut about it doll, I would’ve just given you what you wanted, but no you had to be a fucking brat. Maybe I should just get myself off and leave you wanting, make you beg for it. What do you think?” He slid his hand from your neck down to your breast, grasping and tweaking your nipple as you cried out, practically drooling as you begged him not to stop.
“Ohh you poor thing, need my cock so bad huh? Tell me baby, tell me who’s fucking you so good.” His condescending tone had you even more turned on, head lolling back to his chest.
“Oh fuck- Rooster! You! Please, please don’t stop. Please baby I’m sorry, no one is as good as you!”
He shouldn’t have been so turned on by this, degrading you in public, but god this was something he’d never be able to dream up.
The knob on the handle began to jiggle, and you both startled, maybe the lock wasn’t as secure as Bradley thought. The dented metal began to swing open, but Bradley didn’t stop pounding into you, and it had you clenching around him at the possibility of someone finding him taking you like this.
“Oh shit! Sorry I-Bradshaw?! Jesus Christ man!” Jake calls out as he covers his eyes, but his body doesn’t make a move to vacate the space, and Bradley doesn’t slow down.
“Get- Out-“ he grits out and Jake seems to get the point, stumbling backwards and slamming the door behind him.
You cry out as he thrusts hit a bruising pace, mustached smirk grazing your neck with a chuckle.
“Oh you like this don’t you? Knowing that Jake knows I’ve got you like this. That’s the only shot he’s getting at seeing you like this, this pussy is mine. Mine to eat, mine to fuck. Say it. Say it sweetheart and I’ll let you come.”
“It’s- ‘s yours” you slur out, drunk on the feel of him.
“Atta girl, you need to come? I’ll get you there baby, taking my cock like a goddamn champ, come on sweetheart just a little more, come for me and then I’ll fill you up.”
He wrapped his large veiny hand around your throat and one to pinch your clit and you were done for, choking his dick with your orgasm so tightly that he could barely thrust into you. Screaming his name loud enough that someone outside definitely heard you, and sending him over the edge. He shouted your name and flooded you with his release, big heavy body all but crushing you into the sticky formica surface.
“Goddamn.” He chuckled as he helped pull you up and slide your dress back on, sticky cum painting your thighs as you tried to make yourself look presentable.
“I don’t know that there’s any salvaging this, everybody’s gonna know” you whispered against his lips, and to be honest you weren’t sure you cared if they found out.
“Let ‘em look baby, I meant what I said. This, us. I want it. You can take your time thinking about it but I know in the end you’ll say yes.”
His eyes danced with mirth as he waggled his eyebrows at you, and yeah, he was right. You were his, and there was no going back.
Tagging- @roosterforme @attapullman @bobgasm @seitmai @mynameismckenziemae @shanimallina87 @callsigns-haze @honeytwrites @kissmecaitie @sebsxphia @djs8891 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @dizzybee03 @sunsetsimpsblog @senawashere @86laura11 @jessicab1991 @sio-ina-bottle @nouis-bum
#top gun maverick#top gun maverick fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradsaw x reader#bradley bradshaw smut#kinktober#kinktober 2024
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those eyes
♡ Douma x innocent angel!reader
♡ cw: descriptions of sex, oral sex, unprotected sex, Douma being a complete liar, dominant Douma, Douma being a JERK, creampies? creampies, slight degradation & humiliation, loss of virginity, basically sexxxx.
♡ Douma is known for being cunning, so no figure he was able to fool you~
Humming softly you cleaned the delicate vases in the cool spring water allowing all sprinkles of dirt to get off of the vase. Your thin white dress was floating slightly in the water not bothering you the slightest. You would come down to this spring every now and then to wash different things, a way of blessing an item. Being an angel who had just recently arrived on earth you were getting used to the whole angel thing, you didn’t have much to do just visit small communities and offer small blessings. Blending in was easy, you had the appearance of a normal human your wings only being out when necessary since being here you haven’t run into any problems. Until.
Shaking the access water from the vase, you began making your way out of the water dressed, completely clinging to your body and showing off your lovely figure. Nipples poked through the long sheer gown, showing off the hue of the nubs.
“My my my, a woman shouldn’t be out here all alone you know” You turned your head left and right looking for the mysterious person who spoke suddenly. Facing back forward you were met with a pair of rainbow-colored eyes. You jumped slightly causing you to fall into the spring and drop the vase you were blessing causing it to break.
“Oh no you’ve fallen in, my deepest apologies. Please take my hand and allow me to help you out.” He smiled sticking his hand out to you. You took his hand as he helped you up and brought you out of the water.
“What might you have been up to? Out here all alone, how dangerous.” He kept that smile on his face, something about him was hypnotizing it was like his eyes put you in a trance.
“I was simply cleaning some belongings, I come quite often I was doing fine. Thank you for being concerned sir.” you smiled at him shaking the access water off of you.
“Oh no problem at all, a beauty like you must be protected you never know what could be lurking in the shadows out here ready to gobble your up.” His head tilted slightly to the side. Perhaps he was right, you know demons are real and they like to prey on the innocent. So it could be quite dangerous for you, you’ve only spent a total of 8 days on Earth and all has been swell so far.
“Perhaps you’re right, it is best that I do get going thank you for helping me.” you began walking away grabbing the one other vase that had not been broken.
“Ah, I can’t let you go just yet it is my fault that your other vase broke. It is only right if I replaced it. I have a dear friend who makes the loveliest vases you would just adore. So please allow me to replace it?” he placed his hands together almost begging you to come with him.
As an angel, giving the man a chance would be your moral duty. “Sure, however, I am soaking wet.” you sighed referring to the soaked sheer dress you were still wearing.
“Here” he wrapped an overshirt over your body, taking your hand. “Let us be on the way, I stay not too far from here” he began walking taking you with him. It took quite literally no time to get to his “home” it was more like a temple. Quite off that you did not see this any other time you wandered these woods, possibly you’ve missed some areas.
He pushed open a set of cold stone doors, the room decorated with nothing but shades of red and hints of black. The room was cold, not your average cold but below-freezing cold and you wearing wet clothing which made it no better. Your nipples began hardening making you cross your arms along your chest attempting to shield them from the male in the room with you.
“My would you like to shed your wet clothing? You would only get sick wearing such clothing at this temperature. I will go get you a towel, you may remove your clothing.” he hummed slightly making his way from the bedroom area. You began removing the overshirt from your body, laying it on a nearby rack. Peeling off the wet dress, you were left in your bare state. You had really no reason to wear any garments under your clothing, although you didn’t own any anyways. Jumping slightly, you felt a cloth being brushed along your skin.
“Shh it’s just me dear.” the familiar voice ranged out. He ran the cloth along your back, your arms, and slowly down your legs. It was almost embarrassing being exposed so freely to a man you hardly know but there was something so charming about him.
“No need to be so shy, I'm simply aiding you as it was my fault you fell in anyway.” he hummed. He made his way to the front of your body brushing the towel over your breast and making a circular motion with the cloth.
“Hm, it would be better if you at on the bed. I can dress you better that way” It was as if your body moved on its own causing your bottom to make a connection with the bed. He took the towel and began drying your left foot making way up your leg. Switching to your other foot, he began drying up your leg making his way up to your thighs. Taking the cloth he began drying your thighs, ensuring to absorb any moisture from the spring.
“Spread your legs,” he stated as if that was a normal thing to say to any woman.
“Uh, I-” Your face flushed to a shade of strawberry red.
“I’m just drying you off any I can’t dry you properly when you’re clamping your legs together locking their moisture in,” he states hands finding themselves on your plush thighs. Although it did not matter considering the strong grip he had on your thighs, you cracked your legs open slightly only for him to spread them wide open. Taking the cloth once more, he began wiping at the inner parts of your thighs getting rid of the last bit of spring water. He dropped the cloth to the floor, allowing his ice-cold hands to dance along your body. He ran a finger up your body, stopping right at your chin.
“You just smell of innocence, never been touched by a man or woman if you’re into that. The way you glide through the water of the spring just begging to be eaten up.” your face twisted up in confusion, what was he getting at?
“As I was drying you, you don’t think I noticed the way you tensed up or the way you clamped your legs together as if begging for me to touch you more?” he brought his face close to yours those rainbow eyes glowing even in a room with little to no light.
“Sir I must not do this, it isn’t right and I must remain pure.” you turned your head away from him.
“You will still be pure, just do whatever your heart desires~” his cold tongue licked along the side of your neck making you squeal. He lapped at your neck licking from the bottom all the way to the tip of your chin. You felt him push your body back slightly, your back coming in contact with the cool sheets. His large body towered over yours with ease. He licked at your neck again, this time trailing down making way from your shoulders to your right nipple. He licked ever so lightly at the bud that had been hardened by the temperature causing your to squirm under his body. He took his time with your nipple, sucking at the bud getting it nice and wet, rolling it along his tongue. He brought one of his fingers up your leg, dancing its way up to your warm entrance. You’ve never been touched by anyone like this before, it was a new feeling of complete bliss. Your body felt as if it had electricity flowing through it. His finger poked at your entrance, swiping slightly to remove the stickiness of your juices that held your folds together. Stroking at your entrance was enough to get your hips rolling. Just as he switched from your right nipple to your left, you felt him insert one of his cold fingers inside your warmth. He moved the solo finger slowly, allowing you to adjust to his finger. The feeling of his finger inside you and him toying with your nipple was almost enough to send you over the edge.
He released your nipple from his mouth, a thin trail of saliva bridging between the two. Your body tensed up as you felt him slide down to your lower half, cool breath tickling at your entrance. Taking both of his hands, he pushed your thighs apart spreading them to the widest of their ability. You felt his tongue lick with the perfect amount of pressure at your clit causing you to let out an erotic moan. You heard him chuckle slightly before he dove into your cunt licking sloppily while sucking harshly at the right areas. He sucked at your clit rolling the nub along his tongue, cool breath mixed with your warm heat causing your back to arch off of the bed. He gripped at your thighs, cuffing them into his hands holding you in place as he lapped at your cunt as if it was his last meal on earth. Your hands soon found their way to his golden hair, gripping the hair in your fist tight but not tight enough that it’ll cause pain. As if it was not enough already, you felt him release one of your thighs, taking two of his fingers and pushing them into your entrance. You groaned feeling the pressure of his fingers mixed with the feeling of him eating at your heat. Before you know it, he flipped you over so you were now on all fours and he was laying flat on his back. Your body hovered over his as he locked his hands into your thighs once more, pushing your heat down onto his face and allowing him to smother himself with your juices. The feeling was too much as your legs began shaking, but that did not stop his pace at all. With one final suck at your clit your body trembled to feel a euphoric feeling flood over your body.
You began catching your breath, chest heaving with each breath. You have never experienced this feeling, not once in 100 years. Was this wrong? Dragging you out of your thoughts you felt something fairly large Without any warning, you felt your inside being stretched to the fullest. The feeling was a mix of pain and pleasure and at the moment you were definitely feeling more pain.
“Please Sir I can’t take it.” your face scrunched up as the burn started to slowly fade.
“Oh but you can, and you will” he smiled showing those rainbow eyes. Looking into them almost had you in a trance, you didn’t realize that he began moving as you stared so deeply into his eyes. It wasn’t until a sharp snap of his hip that brought you to your sense. With every stroke he was slow but sharp, letting you feel every inch that he had to offer. Taking your hands and pinning them above your head, he began adjusting the pace. Things had gone from slow and sharp to a new pace of fast and rough. Each thrust was jagged, snapping so harshly into you as if he wanted to rip you in half. Your breast bounced at each thrust, the bed creaked loudly through the room, and the only sound left would be the sound of your squelching cunt that filled the room with its wetness.
“Fuck, you’re so tight I could barely fit still.”
“Gonna stretch you out nice and good just for me.”
“My hell you’re so fucking wet’“
You whined as his fast rough pace began puncturing your insides, you could feel every inch of him within the deepest parts of your stomach. Your cunt swallowed him whole, as it had been stretched as if it had been perfectly molded to his shape. He removed himself from you, once more finding yourself being flipped back onto all fours. He pushed you back down creating the perfect arch for him, allowing himself to push deeply back into you, The burning was still there as his raw flesh met your soft spongy walls. He dug himself deep into you, the deepest you’ve felt him go so far. He lowered his body, his chest resting on your back as he wrapped his hands around your lower waist slamming himself deep into you. You gripped the sheets under you, as a new wave of please came over your body.
“Sir please” you called out eyes shut tight body barely can hold on much longer. He licked at your ear, whispering a bunch of sweet nothings.
“Who would’ve ever thought that fucking an angel would be this easy? Oh, I have to tell the other uppermoons.” he chuckled body still pressed deep into yours. Uppermoons? What..
“Demons and angels aren’t supposed to be together but I think we fight together perfectly like two missing puzzle pieces.” Demon...? He was a demon?
“Oh don’t tell me you really couldn’t tell. How sad, the big scary demon just devoured the poor innocent angel. What are the odds you let a demon not only fuck you but take your first time?” he laughed not missing a single thrust.
“Don’t tell me you like that, your clamping down on me mighty tight” Your face flushed with shock so many emotions ran through your head.
“Don’t worry, your Lord Douma will take good care of you.” he snapped his hips sharply one last time enough to push you over the edge. You felt his own bodily fluid mix with yours, invading your intimate areas. He pulled himself out of you, laying your body down softly. He propped himself up staring at you with those rainbow eyes once more, this time a kanji symbol appearing in them. How can you be so dense, sadly to say you kinda liked it?
#I dont think this was good#I got tired of writing ugh#demon slayer#douma#douma x reader#reader x douma#demonslayer#demon slayer smut#douma smut#douma x reader smut#ayeteen plus#demon slayer imagine#anime smut#smut#doma x reader#kny#kimetsu no yaiba#kny douma
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warnings: a mention of death, loneliness, depression. soundtrack: last christmas, santa baby, let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!
this is part 1.
The day before Christmas 10:15 PM
"Oh, thank you so much, Y/n," your boss said warmly. A few strands fell onto her narrow shoulders, caressing the fabric of her burgundy sweater. She was no more than sixty but with her class she would still beat most of the modern supermodels.
You've been working at Josephine's shop since November with the main goal of earning extra money for your college. You needed it to pay for your college tuition. Before, your financial situation was making you suffer. You no longer had any hope. You were even close to dropping out of college. But then Josephine appeared, looking for an employee for her Christmas store. After a very long period of poverty you could finally afford a nutritious meal during the day.
Your previous boss didn't treat you right. He was behind in paying you money, he didn't respect the fact that you had studies outside of work, and there were times when he was verbally violent towards you.
Josephine was always understanding towards you and took an extremely sensible approach to mental health. She assured you many times that if you felt unwell, she would immediately offer you a break from work for a few days. You tried not to take advantage of her kindness, so at ten o'clock in the morning you diligently fulfilled your duties in the Christmas store.
Today was quite… different. It was Friday evening and instead of enjoying your free time in your small apartment, Josephine asked you to take over the duties until midnight.
"I have so much mess to clean up at home, and tomorrow is the day. If you said no, I would probably have let all my grandchildren down. Last year I promised them I will bake cupcakes for the next Christmas. They were so excited and happy about it…"
You giggled at her adorable confession.
"No problem, I swear," you assured her, but the woman didn't seem fully convinced. "Josephine, I don't mind staying here for a bit longer. It helps me to relieve stress a lot."
Josephine pursed her lips. Then she straightened her slightly hunched back and whispered with a soft smile on her face:
"Your soul is so pure. Your parents must be so proud of you."
At the sound of these words, spoken with surprising lightness, you immediately stiffened.
Parents, a thought crossed your mind.
Right. She couldn't know.
You brushed strands of long hair from your cheek, smiling awkwardly. Josephine started looking chaotically for her purse. Once she found it, she hugged you and squeezed your hands. When you felt her warmth in your hands, you froze. No one has ever given you as much love as Josephine did in that moment.
"Thank you so much, Y/n, but I really have to go. I'll make it up to you!" She turned and started towards the exit. When the door opened, frosty night air rushed in. An old guy walked in, passing your boss, but you didn't pay attention to him. Instead, you looked in Josephine's green eyes for the last time. She lowered her voice a bit, continuing. "Merry Christmas, Y/n."
Oh, no one in this world knew how much you hated those words. You swallowed loudly, pushing away the feeling of sadness with all your strength. The sight of the smile on the woman's face made you feel a knot in your stomach.
"Merry Christmas, Josephine," you replied, trying to reciprocate this warm gesture. After a moment, you realized that you had said it to yourself. Josephine was already gone. Now in the room, there was only you and an older customer, probably looking around for gifts for his loved ones.
11:55 PM
"Uh, is anybody there?"
You caught yourself falling asleep, but the stranger's nervous and deep voice woke you up.
You looked up from the till and saw an older man standing in front of you. His white beanie and fluffy Christmas sweater definitely caught your attention. You rubbed your eyes and was about to laugh when you realized how thin he was dressed. Okay, maybe he wasn't that old.
It seemed like he had arrived by car, because no one would wear just a sweater in a snowstorm like that. Before you could respond, the man overtook you.
"Okay, okay. I know you're about to close, but listen to me. This case is extremely serious. I drove all over town and, damn it! All Christmas shops are already closed! Can you help me choose the gifts? If you don't help me, I will be.."
You raised an eyebrow, trying your best not to smile. He got stuck in his little speech, but you had no idea why. Instead of continuing, he lost himself in your gaze, completely ignoring the ticking of the clock behind you. His mouth hung open slightly and his eyes which were already almost black seemed to darken as he focused on you. His body went rigid as he searched your eyes. Your heart was pounding in your chest. He was beautiful. You had never thought of a guy as beautiful, and it was strange. It was strange how he seemed to be looking right into your soul. But you didn't mind. No, you didn't care at all.
Or.. maybe a little bit.
In fact, you were the one who jumped back like someone had burned you when you realized it was almost time to close the shop.
"You must leave this store. Now."
"Huh?" he frowned, distracted. It took a while for it to dawn on him. "No! You can't do this to me."
You took the key out of the locker and were in the process of closing the cash register. Shit. Nobody taught you how to do that. That was always Josephine's responsibility and she was the one who always closed the shop. The man looked at you strangely. You decided to pretend you knew what you were doing.
"Do you even work here?" he mocked.
You felt his eyes on you and you clenched your jaw. You glanced up to tell him to piss off, but then your eyes met and the feeling of anger melted away. His eyes were widened slightly as you looked at him curiously. He felt the nerves radiating off of you. You shot him a tight lipped smile and you felt himself smile back. Fuck.
"Shit," you cussed under your breath. "I have to close the shop now."
You were still struggling to close the cash register.
"I'll help you close it," he muttered, still staring at you but you were too tired to even notice. "I've dealt with this before, too."
"And why should I believe you? Maybe you are some kind of thief? "
11:58. Fuck. The time was passing.
"I am not a thief."
"And why should I believe you?" you repeated the question once again.
"Just google my name," he sighed a little tiredly. You blinked your eyes twice, not knowing what he meant. "Let me buy something for my parents and I'll do whatever you want."
When you heard parents, you forgot what he had just told you. You were definitely traumatized or triggered by the word "parents", which was usually noticeable by the sudden change in your behavior.
Your soft breaths echoed through the whole Christmas shop. You lowered your head, completely embarrassing yourself in front of the potential client. It was the second time today. At least you didn't have to explain yourself to Josephine because you were able to mask it before.
"Please, don't hurt him." Y/n cried. "Please, I can't lose him too."
[…]
"Don't take loans on the black market, or you'll end up just like them."
[…]
"I'm completely alone."
[…]
"Shit, are you okay?"
You looked up, grimace on your face as the tall body of a man came into view. He looked concerned as he crouched down before you. His dark eyes searched for any indication you were in pain and when he saw you weren't he held out his hand for you to take.
"I'm okay," you nodded. "What am I doing on the floor?"
"I saw you fall," he said, as he lifted you up. You brushed the dust and dirt from your jeans. "Does it hurt?"
"No," you shook her head, still stunned. "Not much anyways."
"You hit the ground pretty hard," he frowned. "Maybe you should get yourself checked out."
You let out a forced laugh and he raised a brow. "Honestly, I'm good."
He nodded his head, eyes narrowed slightly before sighing. "Let me take care of you. Need a ride?"
God, just a few seconds ago he was using his all strength to buy something for his parents. Unless..
"Show me your pockets."
"What?" he frowned. He tried to find some clue in your eyes. "You think I stole something?"
God, he was atleast a foot taller than you were and you had to crane your neck to look at him.
"Well, seems like I have no choice," he shrugged.
The two of you fell silent, it wasn't awkward but neither knew what to say. He emptied all his pockets, the only things he had were his phone and his bank card.
You wanted to sink into the ground.
This stranger just offered to help you and you thought he was a thief. You tilted your head back, thinking about your next move.
You sighed, knowing exactly what you should do.
"Take it."
You handed him a matching sweaters that you assumed should be for his parents. He sighed in relief.
He was about to take out his card to pay, but you placed your hand on his, trying to making him understand that he doesn't have to pay.
"Just close the till, please." You smiled, feeling a bit better now. "And make your loved ones happy."
"No," he refused quickly "I have to pay for it. There is nothing for free."
It took a while to convince him not to pay. He finally sighed and accepted the two wrapped gifts from you. After he closed the till, he offered you a ride once again.
"Why don't you introduce yourself first?"
You were just leaving the store. It was cold. That was perhaps the understatement of the century. You couldn't remember the last time you had been so cold: the spiteful wind sliced through you like a sharpened blade, leaving a chill that shook you to your very core, and you tightened the thick scarf around you neck, pulling it up over your mouth. You locked the door and both went away, looking for his car, which wasn't parked that far away.
"It's strange that you don't know me."
"Woah, so you're kind of celebrity?" you laughed loudly. "You've got a big ego, man."
You finally reached his car. You didn't even notice the color because it was too dark and the car itself was covered in snow. But it didn't matter.
"Oh, that's very kind of you. Thank you." You said surprised as he opened the car door for you. He gave you a small smile. You took the front passenger seat. When you heard the sound of the trunk being closed, you realized that he must have been putting the gifts in there. You saw him through the snow-covered window. His hair was messy, and his sweater was slightly damp from the snow. His pink cheeks totally stole your heart. He looked like a little child after playing in the snow for several hours
"I'm Y/n," you spoke up as he appeared next to you. He clicked the heat button, smiling to himself. "Normal people usually say their name after my introduction."
"Who said I was normal?" you rolled your eyes before bursting out laughing again.
"You've got a beautiful name," he said, starting the car. "You can just call me Colby."
His eyes found yours and he smiled brightly. Your tiredness melted away instantly and you grinned back at him.
"Colby," you whispered to yourself.
"Hm?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the road. After a moment you could feel the relaxing warmth.
"Uhm," you cleared your throat. "You've got a beautiful name, too."
The corners of your mouth turned upwards. Eventually you stopped having everything under control. It was inexplicable. Every word this boy said aroused some emotion in you. It was strange because you two had just met.
He wanted to know more about you, every single thing. What you like, what you love. A twisted smile formed on his face. As he continued to steal glances at a female, who remained clueless about his mind.
You glanced out the car window, trying to see anything but darkness. Thanks to the car lights, you could have noticed that the streets were empty, not a person in sight that late, not even the stray dog walker or person who decided to go for a late night walk or run. Cars passed by from time to time, but there weren't many of them.
"Not a single soul." Colby sighed, a dreamy smile on his face as he looked down on the road. You nodded, stifling a yawn.
"I bet most of them are washing windows now," you whined, making him chuckle. "Can you take me to the nearest gas station? It's not far from home."
You noticed a slight disappointment on his face, which he quickly masked.
"Yeah, sure."
For a moment there was silence, and you took the opportunity to organize your thoughts. You wondered if you should start a conversation about what happened at the store. You were sure Colby had been thinking about it the whole time, but he didn't want to be too insightful. Even if he asked about your past, you wouldn't know what to answer him. That your parents owed a debt to evil people and died for not paying it off?
You squeezed your eyes shut at the thought. You stared at the moon, trying to calm your thoughts. Then you took a moment to appreciate that wonderful, breathtaking boy next to you. You looked at him in some kind of admiration. He was so beautiful that you were about to cry. You were so close to burying your hand in his messy hair, but it took all of your strength to hold back. A smirk formed on his face as he noticed you staring at his facial features. Instead of laughing at you, he simply changed the topic.
"How do you spend Christmas?"
"Hm?" you muttered, your voice still laced with sleep.
Colby raised his eyebrows at you. "You got a Christmas tree?"
You looked up at him and were torn between telling him the truth or lying.
"I spend Christmas alone. I don't have, I don't have anyone around me with whom I could share this evening. Also, Christmas are overrated. "
"I can help," he said, the words dropping out before he could think about them. Ordinarily, he calculated his sentences, sometimes spending hours or even days thinking about how he would word something, whether it was an email to a friend or a hypothetical debate. But there was no time for that now, the dilemma thrust right into his face with no escape route.
"What?" You swallowed.
"I can help you," he said. "You shouldn't be alone in this time. If you let me, I'd love to invite you to dinner with my p—. " he stopped mid-sentence. You felt like crying. No one in your life has ever shown you as much love as this man. Okay, maybe except Josephine.
"You don't mean that," you said quietly.
"I do," he said, a little more confidence in his voice now. "Let me help. I'll do anything. You shouldn't be alone. You can't be alone. Can I help?"
A faint smile grew over your lips and you nodded, colour rising to your cheeks as your smile grew. "Thank you. But your family-"
"Oh, they will be delighted to meet you."
He seemed nice enough, you thought, and there were surely worse ways to spend the next couple of hours than accepting his helping hand: you could take your mind off the solitude and maybe even make a friend.
But nothing could help you forget your past.
To Be Continued.
#colby brock#colby brock fluff#colby brock smut#sam and colby#sam golbach#colby brock fanfic#hell week#sam and colby smut#sam golbach smut#sam golbach x reader#colby brock imagine#colby brock x reader#colby brock fanfiction#colby x reader#colby brock x oc#colby brock x y/n#colby brock x you#snc#sncf#sam golbach x you#sam golbach x colby brock#jake webber#jake webber x reader#christmas#xplr#xplr club#colby#sturniolo triplets
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I cannot find the ask for this, but to the anon who requested sick Wendy + Max caretaker, here you go!!
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"Marshall, you've gone over your hours," her supervisor had squinted at her in a tired manner, "again."
She was a resident doctor, meaning Wendy's hours were split between clinic, or more often than not ER in her case, and specialized clinic, where she took the neurology cases and discussed it with fellow residents and her supervisor.
Problem was, Wendy had taken half of Jon's general clinic hours during his three weeks away. She had figured it wouldn't be an issue, given those were up for grabs and she'd get a considerable pay bump that month...
"No, I didn't," Wendy pouted, rubbing at her forehead and drumming the pen impatiently against her notepad, "I did my math, I didn't go over 80 hours per the week..."
"You got Patterson's double shift last Monday and came in an hour early every day this week. That puts you at 96, Marshall," her supervisor, Dr. Jones, was a woman in her early sixties, who always looked annoyed, "I'm putting you on leave for the rest of the week."
"What-" Wendy's eyebrows jumped up, "you can't do that, ma'am-"
"The hospital cannot afford all the hours you think you can do," Dr. Jones glared at her, "and frankly, Marshall, it's neither financially feasible or healthy. Push me on this and I'm gonna request your psych eval."
Well, shit.
Really, what was there to even say?
Wendy's frustration at being forced away from work dragged during most of morning, until Jonah had sent her a string of laughing emojis when she told him about it and the text, You're pissed because you got a free vacation? get out of my sight Dee and Bella had sent her a middle finger followed by go FUCK YOUR BOYFRIEND, WOMAN!!!!!
Her mood had cleared up considerably as she was forced to realize this meant five uninterrupted days of waking up next to Vince and eating her boyfriend's cooking and getting dicked down until she forgot her name.
Her bag was 70% just lingerie and Wendy had put on her best matching set under her outfit — beige flared jeans, chunky white heels and a sage green frilly crop top, with silver jewelry — all but bouncing to her car. She had turned up the music and ignored the drumming behind her eyes.
By the time she got to Doverport, though, her headache had escalated enough to cause Wendy to shut the music off. She had taken the max dosage of tylenol already and her stomach was iffy from a mix of hunger and too much medication, since she had skipped lunch when trying to get to the town before the school day ended, so she could wait for Vin in the parking lot.
She was glaring at her phone, trying to will Vince to answer her text, when the screen lit up.
P.Mgnt: you're here???
This caused Wendy to pout. She had expected a more enthusiastic reaction than this.
Wendy: sorry?
Vince was typing back an answer immediately.
P.Mgnt: I'm sorry honey, I'm happy you're here. I just can't go meet you right now, I'm stuck in detention duty :/ I'm gonna be here for another hour :(
Ah, shit. Wendy rubbed angrily at her forehead, the throbbing there increasing considerably. It was a warm day and she really didn't want to wait in the parking lot for another hour... She just wanted him.
She considered telling Vince she wasn't feeling well, maybe he'd find another teacher to watch the kids, when another text came in.
P.Mgnt: Go ahead to my place. Get a shower and catch up on an episode of 911 , i'll be there soon🥰
Wendy sighed heavily, feeling a knot form in her throat and her eyes burning. The text wasn't dismissive and she knew it was only one hour and that she had dropped by surprise, but it still sucked and she really just wanted him.
Her headache spiked to the point it it felt like an actual physical drilling on her left eye and Wendy bit back a groan, getting inside her car once more. There was no kidding herself this was just a headache anymore and she felt even closer to tears, it was so unfair she got a migraine right now, of all times.
Not only that, but a sense of urgency overtook her. If it was a migraine, she needed to get to Vince's place quicker, before her brain forgot how to drive and was too busy attacking itself in a constant pain loop.
With something closer to a whimper, Wendy started her car.
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Max Daniels was not a snoop, he'd like this in writing.
Sure, he had been very curious when he saw Vince's cute girlfriend in the parking lot, but instead of staying to meet with her boyfriend she had gotten in the car back again and left.
And sure he was tailing her, but that was only because the shortest route to his own place was through the main avenue and he was not about to take the longer way just to avoid her.
And yes, when she turned the emergency lights and pulled over on the side of the road, he had pulled over as well, but that was called Being A Nice Person, after all he knew the woman. What if she needed help?
He was currently sitting in his pickup, staring at Wendy's car and trying to figure if it was completely out of line for him to approach her or not. Vince wouldn't be pissed Max had tried to be nice to his girl, right? He didn't seem the jealous sort, but then again he had bitten Max's head off for less regarding the woman and he had been all sarcastic that one time Max hit on Wendy, before he knew who she was.
Why wasn't her getting out of the car, anyway?
With a frustrated sigh, Max got out of his own pickup and circled Wendy's pale pink sedan, until he was in front of the driver's side. She was crumpled forward, forehead pressed to the steering wheel and flinched visibly when Max knocked on the window.
His curiosity only grew as he saw her bloodshot eyes and Max jumped back as she pushed the door open and squinted at him, "yeah?"
"You need help, gorgeous?" The nickname rolled past his tongue, before he could think better of it, "you turned your emergency lights."
"Uhm-" Wendy pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead like she wanted to push her eye in its socket, "car-" she gulped down, frowning, "carsssmakin' a weird noise..."
Max's frown deepened, noticing the slight slur of her words, "are you okay?" he asked, really taking in her appearance. Her lips were pale and she looked close to the color of spoiled milk, eyes rimmed red...
"Mmm'kay," Wendy groaned, then a small, cute little burp shook her frame and she squeezed her eyes shut, "S'ry..."
Max was well versed enough with puking to recognize nausea from a mile away. He stepped to the side, but crouched down to touch her arm, "you're feeling sick?"
She nodded, gulping down, without opening her eyes and Max winced in sympathy, looking around her car. There was a suitcase in the backseat and a frankly ridiculously looking Stanley cup sitting the cup holder. Max chewed on the words, hesitantly, before saying, "would water help?"
Wendy shrugged, the hand that was pressed to her forehead digging in even more, so much it looked like she was gonna leave a bruise there. Max reached in and grabbed her cup, opening the lid and sniffing at it. Monster Energy, great. No wonder she looked sick, just smelling that made Max's stomach squeeze, he couldn't fathom drinking it.
He needed a new plan, because Wendy was leaning forward, elbows on her knees now and breathing slowly through her mouth, condition deteriorating by the seconds, "were you headed to Vince's?"
She nodded, then let out another little burp, this one not as dainty, with a brassy tone to it.
"Alright, hurl and then I'll drive you there. I can come back for your car later," Max decided by clasping his hands and the clap noise they made caused her to flinch, then another burp snuck up on her, this one turning wet... She whimpered and cradled her head with both hands, while Max moved further away so his shoes wouldn't get covered in vomit.
"Get it up, gorgeous, you're gonna feel better in a second," he figured her stomach was rejecting all that energy drink, as his own would've been, and planted a hand on her back, looking around to give her some semblance of privacy. It was a sunny day and the main avenue was quite busy, cars continuing to go past them.
Under his hand, Wendy's shoulders rolled and she let out a little choked, "Oh god-" before heaving and nearly falling from her seat. Max cringed, glancing down and noticing her wavy hair getting in the way, so he carefully held back her curtain bangs, just in time for Wendy to vomit. A small light brown puddle formed on the tarmac and Wendy let out a burp again, before melting into a coughing fit.
Max grimaced as he heard another whimper, then a gag, "there you go," he moved his hands so his left one could cup her clammy forehead, "get it up."
She nearly fell out of the door with the next heave, whole body lurching as a much bigger wave came up and splashed on the ground, causing Max to internally curse as the tips of his brown boots got splashed with puke.
Then Wendy went boneless.
He let out a yelp as she collapsed forward, only not falling because he was holding her, and puke be damned, Max crouched down in front of her, "Wendy, Wendy, hey-" he said frantically, patting her cheeks, "Wendy, c'mon, don't do this to me, open your eyes."
It was just a small black out, she started to straighten up again, but Max's heart was now in his ears. He couldn't believe his luck if girl died on him. He pushed her hair back, no longer trying to be gentle, hating how white she was, "Wendy?"
"Sssstop-" she grabbed his wrist, whole face scrunching up with pain, "talkin..."
He snorted in disbelief. Some nerve she had to tell him to shut up!
"Well, fucking excuse me if I'm worried! If you die on me, your polar bear of a boyfriend is gonna have my head!" Max glared at her and Wendy opened her eyes. He knew they were pretty, but he couldn't remember their color. Now he saw they were a beautiful dark green shade, currently welling up with tears, "wait, no- No, don't cry-"
"Stop. Talking," she said strongly, as tears ran down her cheeks and gritting her teeth, "hurts..."
Oh.
Max felt stupid and embarrassed, his whole face turning red as he understood why she was shushing him. He wiped the tears with his thumb, trying to collect his thoughts. She needed to be lying down in the dark, not sitting on the side of the road with a puddle of puke in between them.
"C'mere," Max whispered, grabbing her arms and throwing them around his neck, silently praying she was too out of it to comment on how touchy he was being when they were basically strangers. There was no other way of getting her out of that car, "hold on me," he wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted Wendy out of the car.
It was a good thing she was so tiny, because he managed to lift her up entirely, so she didn't clumsily step on the mess. She was panting in pain against his ear, burying her face in his shoulder, body tense as a slab.
"Almost there," he stumbled forward with her, all but bracing against his pickup. Max opened the passenger door, then cringed, "sorry, uh- Excuse me," he mumbled, then hugged her waist and lifted Wendy up to sit in the passenger side. Whatever misplaced intimacy he was feeling, was promptly ruined by her gagging and burping up a small stream of puke, down his shirt.
Max froze, while Wendy's forehead pressed to his shoulder, like she couldn't lift up her head. Her shoulders were shaking as she sobbed and he rubbed her back, "it's alright, gorgeous, don't even worry about it," he sighed, straightening her up to rest against the passenger door. It was terrifying how quickly she had become unresponsive, "I'll just put this down in Vince's tab, don't stress it."
He leaned over her, grabbing his shades in the glovebox and then planting them on her face. Wendy let out a little sigh, body melting slightly, "t-thanks..."
"Yep," he grimaced at the mess in his t-shirt, wanting to remove it, but worried it'd make her uncomfortable if he was shirtless around her, "I'm gonna lock your car, be right back."
At her car, he grabbed her purse and suitcase in the backseat, her keys still in the ignition and then stripped his shirt, using her Monster energy drink to wash off the puke. He'd rather be smelling like that than vomit. Then he drove her car further to the dust shoulder and turned off the emergency lights, locking it.
Wendy was curled up as much as she could in the passenger seat and Max squeezed her knee in a friendly manner, before driving off.
#ending here bc I think its very very long already#sickfic#mywriting#wendy marshall#emeto#emetophilia#migraine
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girl like you 2
Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as kidnapping, marital discord, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.
Summary: a fight with your husband leads to an unexpected situation.
Characters: Lee Bodecker, Jake Jensen
Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself. <3
Sheriff Bodecker drives you through the suburbs. You know most of the houses. For five long years you’ve studied it as you worked tirelessly for the HOA, and for what? You don’t get paid. Just like you don’t get anything from your shell of a marriage. How have you spent so long trying to please those who will never be happy?
You sink into your self-pity, vision blurring behind a wall of tears. You flick away the moisture. You can’t cry. Not yet, not here. You sniff and look away from the green hedges and pristine white pickets.
You see the Sheriff’s eyes flick away from the rear view. God, how pathetic.
You clear your throat, dislodging the frog ready to croak, “thank you, sheriff. I won’t be long at the station,” you rub your neck as you lean an elbow on the door, “think I should just call my sister.”
“No problem with me,” he assures as he steers, keeping a lazy foot on the pedal. “Lady like you, you don’t deserve all that. What man chases his wife away like that, huh?”
“Well, you know, it’s just an argument. Marriage, right?” You try to laugh it off even though you know this time is different. You can feel it. You just don’t think you can keep pretending and you’re all done hoping. “You fight, make up, whatever.”
“Hm, yeah, me and the wife... ex-wife, we were the same,” he drawls as turns along Riverview. Riverview? Why the hell is he here? If he’s going into town, he should’ve gone down Walnut. “Think you can guess how that ended.”
He chuckles and you crane your neck to see behind you. Where is he going? You turn forward and sit back. Should you say something? Surely, he’ll realise he’s not paying attention.
“Thing is, can’t keep a woman if you don’t treat her right. Your man isn’t doing that, is he? You dolling yourself up all pretty, going down that little club, and he’s arguing with you in the street,” he sucks his teeth, “no way to treat ya. No way at all.”
He slows and turns into a driveway. You vaguely know the lot. It isn’t the sheriff’s. He rolls towards the garage as the door opens. Your scalp itches as a glaze of sweat rises under your strands. You only realise his scanner hasn’t made a noise. Is he even on duty?
“Sheriff?” You slide forward in the seat.
“Now you sit back, sweetheart, you don’t wanna hit yourself on the cage.”
You blink and put a hand to the barrier, “what’s going on?”
He throws his elbow back into the divider and rattles loudly. You sit back with a gasp as he enters the garage and the door descends behind you. The engine shuts off and the lights on the dashboard all dim. You’re left in stagnant darkness.
“Sheriff,” you whisper.
You squint through gloom and see his shadow. He’s not moving. He just sits there in the front seat. You push yourself forward again.
“Sheriff, what’s--”
The door opens to your left, right next to you and suddenly you’re grabbed by your arm. You’re forced out of the car and an arm swiftly circles your neck as another comes around your stomach. You thrash and wriggle, grabbing at the forearm that traps you.
“Sheriff!” You shriek as terror courses through your veins, ice water zipping through your veins. “Sher--”
“Now, sweetheart, you don’t wanna make all that racket,” the front door opens and the policeman’s sole scuffs, “ain’t no one gonna hear ya in here.”
“Sher--”
“Shut her up!” Bodecker demands.
The arm retracts from around your stomach and a hand covers your mouth. You writhe and swing your arms out, kicking as you try to see the sheriff in front of you. You gnash your teeth together and pinch the palm against your lips. You hear a grunt as the silent accomplice struggles to keep a hold on you.
“Calm down,” the sheriff warns, “we can be nice or we can be... not nice. So, you simmer and we’re all get through this.”
You squeak as the hand against your mouth clamps down, squeezing your jaw until it aches. Your panic swells in your chest as you claw at the body behind you. You continue to blindly stamp your feet, aiming for your invisible assailant.
“You best get her on a leash or I’m gonna have to do it myself,” Bodecker warns and you hear the jostle of his belt.
The other man grunts again, wrestling with you. You twist and swing your elbow back into his ribs. He releases you, staggering back with a startled noise. You hear him crash into something as you scream, “help!”
Before you can get your bearings, a loud crackle snaps in the darkness and a zinging ripples paralyses you. Your legs fold and your muscles all tense then release at once. You collapse to the cold cement and groan as you spasm with the echoes of the current. The tazer cracks again as the electricity flickers in the dark.
“Now, sweetheart, I was being real nice with you,” Bodecker tuts, “but you just don’t know a good thing when it’s right in front of ya, huh? Not after all those years with that deadbeat.”
He clucks and steps over you, “get her up. Gotta get her below before she can start her squawking again.”
You can’t move or speak. You can only twitch as you try to get control of your body. The other man scoops you up, overly gentle despite the situation. You tremble against him as hinges whine loudly. A light radiates from the ground and illuminates the open hatch.
“Gonna need help,” the second man speaks at last.
You recognise his voice and it confirms the property owner’s identity. You remember the lot from more than just the neighbourhood roster. You know Jake Jensen. He installed the surveillance cameras at the public park after a bench was grafitti’d and is a deputy in the neighbourhood watch. He always praised your jello cake at the cookouts.
“J-Jake,” you sputter out.
He says your name in return, almost as surprised as you. Was this not planned because it feels pretty planned. He climbs down the steep steps to the underground and your head lolls against his shoulder.
“Wh-why?” You creak through your sandy throat.
“I’m sorry,” he says but he doesn’t stop.
He carries you forward toward another door. Toward whatever twisted plan these men have in mind for you. Away from the life that doesn't seem so bad in hindsight.
#jake jensen#lee bodecker#dark jake jensen#dark lee bodecker#dark!jake jensen#dark!lee bodecker#jake jensen x reader#lee bodecker x reader#the losers#girl like you#the devil all the time#au#drabble#series#dc
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This is the very messy and not good first draft I wrote for my hospital AU. I currently have corona and wrote this while I had a fever and you can definitely tell my head wasn’t working.
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2k+ words
Hospital AU, Maura is a surgeon, Jane is a homicide detective and they tend to meet in the ER and always end up fighting
It was like a routine at this point. Jane getting hurt on a case and being brought to the hospital that Boston finest always went to. Luckily doctor Maura Isles seemed to always have her shift when Jane got there either in the ambulance or driven by a colleague who had to drag her there with the threat of desk duty if she didn’t go. For Jane this was everything but luck, she hated having to argue with the pretty woman who didn’t seem to understand a single emotion. She was always only focussed on the numbers and stats and telling Jane how risky and bad everything was that she did.
So when Jane was sitting in the ambulance after catching a suspect who had a gun which was something they had figured out too late, or well, Jane had seen the gun, pushed Frost out of the way and in turn got hit by a bullet right in the shoulder. Bullet proof vests be damned, the damn tweaker hit her right where the vest didn’t cover her and judging from the way he was shaking he didn’t plan on hitting anything anyway. Jane had pushed through the pain and quickly tackled the guy but that didn’t stop the bleeding and the sharp pain in her shoulder and since she was shot in the line of duty she had to be checked out and get driven there with an ambulance.
Jane had already made the poor paramedics' lives worse by arguing over having to take her shirt off or more like having to cut her shirt off, which was something Jane didn’t want to do. Even though there was already a bullet hole in her shirt and it was completely ruined by the blood, Jane felt like arguing and she had no intention of making anyone's day easier than her own. So the paramedics just drove her to the ER with a makeshift bandage over her shoulder, ready to make her someone else's problem.
That someone else turned out to be doctor Maura Isles who had sworn that the only cop that ever gets to the hospital is detective Jane Rizzoli anyway. So when the call came and the information was a gunshot wound to the shoulder, patient female in their thirties, Maura knew who it was and even if she didn’t have to she took the case knowing how difficult detective Rizzoli made it to actually work. She didn’t need one of her colleagues wasting their time with this impossible woman.
So when the ambulance arrived Maura was already well prepared, especially since she knew that there would be no chance that the detective would cooperate with hospital rules, which was proven to be true when the back of the ambulance opened and the detective stepped out ignoring the paramedics and rolling her eyes as soon as she saw Maura. Who in turn was glad that she was so used to seeing wounds, so that she didn’t involuntarily wince seeing the detective holding her arm, the blood having drenched her white dress shirt and the color in her face being way paler than her usual olive tan.
“Detective Rizzoli, you have to sit down in this wheelchair or I will have to call security to make you sit down.” Maura greeted her with a stern face and pointed to the wheelchair by her side. She had long given up on making the detective lie down on a gurney unless it was medically necessary, which was only when the detective was basically half dead, which was also the only time she didn’t give them any problems when trying to care for her.
“Hello doctor Isles, come on, it’s a shot to the shoulder, probably clean through, nothing that means I can’t walk.” Jane tried to be smug and smart about it but Maura just continued pointing to the wheelchair and after a minute of just staring each other down Jane finally sat down with a huff.
“Seeing how often you are here, you really should be aware of the hospital rules and the way you are already getting special treatment for being such a pain in the ass. So, what happened this time?” Maura asked while wheeling Jane to a free bed, motioning for her to lie down, which meant that Jane sat down on the edge of it, like she was a child that had to disagree with every direction she got told.
“Well, next time I’ll try harder to explain to my boss that I really don’t need to come here, then you won’t have to deal with me.” Jane grumbled, while Maura put the bullet proof vest to the side and touched the shoulder that was all bloody, which immediately made Jane curse out loud, wincing away from the touch and angrily staring at Maura.
“The fuck, you’re supposed to make it hurt less not more.” Jane said through gritted teeth while Maura continued to feel her shoulder. “I thought you’re the best surgeon around here or was that just an exaggeration.”
“Detective, if you were easier to work with then I didn’t have to probe you like a medical student. I am a renowned trauma surgeon and I spend my days arguing with you like a child.” Maura noticed her voice getting louder and judging from the way that detective Rizzoli had opened and closed her mouth without saying anything she had hit a nerve with it. “So now, you will let me cut your shirt, you will let me disinfect your wound and then you will let me take you up for x-rays and continue on with your care and I won’t hear a single word from you unless I ask you something.” Maura continued while the detective looked like she wanted to wreak havoc but couldn’t since she was in a hospital and it wouldn’t be appreciated if a renowned member of the Boston PD yelled at a renowned surgeon who had saved her life multiple times.
So Jane shut up and let Doctor Isles do her thing, she did roll her eyes and act like it was the worst thing to ever happen to her though. Definitely making her job harder but at least this time without arguing with her. Something that Jane actually had come to like a bit, the doctor didn’t shy away from putting Jane in her place and she never shied away from making her words come true. Which was why Jane had one or two run-ins with security so far, one was a misunderstanding though, the second time was just Jane testing the limits.
When doctor Isles came back to Janes room (Jane had no idea why and when she had gotten a room but apparently she had fallen asleep at some point between coming from the x-ray and waiting for the doctor to make an appearance) she looked stressed, something that Jane hardly saw, she had seen the doctor get annoyed, she had seen her angry for the first time today and she had seen her nice and friendly a lot, especially the first few times Jane had met her, before their relationship was established as hating each other for reasons that didn’t even make sense.
“You good?” Jane wasn’t about to make the doctor's day even worse when she already looked like something horrible had happened (well something worse than having to deal with Jane).
“Detective, the bullet didn’t leave your body in full, there is a fragment stuck and we will need to operate so you won’t be having any problems with your shoulder in the future. The surgery is scheduled for this evening and doctor Chang will make you as good as new. DO you have any questions regarding the surgery or do you need anything else?” The doctor just completely ignored Janes question, which made her angry, since she was actually being sincere and the woman in front of her decided to just ignore her like she was some background noise.
“Don’t you usually operate on me?” Jane asked, trying to be nice and all that.
“Yes, I usually operate on my patients but for personal reasons doctor Chang will be your surgeon this evening and you are in the very best hands with her.” Doctor Isles explained while looking through Janes chart like she couldn’t even look her in the face when telling her that she despised her so much that she didn’t even want to do her job anymore.
“So, I’m such a pain in your ass that you just won’t operate on me anymore or what personal reasons do you have to give my case away? Don’t you usually act like the good samaritan that works with me so nobody else has to deal with moody detective Rizuzoli who is so horrible to work with.” Jane was angry, she didn’t even know why she was angry really, she just was, something about doctor Isles politely telling her that someone else would be looking after her for personal reasons just made her mad.
“Detective, you will be in good hands and there is no reason to get so loud over this.” Doctor Isles just replied, her voice clinically smooth and void of emotions, something that made Jane just all the more angry.
“Yeah, fuck that, just tell me why you hate me so much that you can’t even do my surgery.” Janes voice had dropped lower but the anger was still seeping through like venom and she couldn't stop it.
“Detective, I don’t think.” Doctor Isles started but Jane immediately stopped her from continuing her polite answer by quickly getting out the bed (something she immediately regretted since she felt a bit woozy on her feet) and accusingly holding up her finger.
“Oh bullshit, you’re trying to give me the nice and polite official answer to that question, but I want to know your answer, I want to know what you think and not that shit you always tell me that makes you sound like a fucking robot.” Jane was taller than doctor Isles but even with her lingering over the doctor, she didn’t seem to have the power in the situation, something about doctor Isles continuing to stand so relaxed in front of her just gave her all the power. The only real reaction she had shown was the concern when Jane got out of bed but that soon washed away.
“Detective, I don’t appreciate you accusing me of things that aren’t true and if you don’t want me to call security on you then you will get back into bed and follow doctors orders.” Doctor Isles just replied, standing her ground and carefully leading Jane back to the bed, something that Jane didn’t even want to but somehow did with how careful Doctor Isles was leading her.
“If I stay here and stay quiet for the rest of the day, will you tell me what that personal reason is?” Jane tried the more polite route this time, seeing the dark circles under Doctor Isles eyes and feeling bad for her. Jane had emotional ups and downs that were worse than a lot of suspects she had in custody, but only when she was talking to doctor Isles.
“Detective Rizzoli, that is hardly professional.”
“Buuut you bend the rules for me anyway, so why not tell me when I ask so nicely?” Jane tried to smile like she was innocence itself, which made doctor Isles smile a bit.
“Detective Rizzoli, I do a lot of things for you that I shouldn’t and you don’t seem to appreciate them enough and because I already do all of those things it would hardly be appropriate for me to operate on you, there would be a conflict of interest.” Doctor Isles explained and Jane found it hard to follow her admission or what exactly she meant by it.
“A conflict of interest?”
“If a surgeon is involved with a patient there is a conflict of interest and isn’t allowed to operate on said patient.” She explained like Jane was five, it didn’t help her understand the situation at all though.
“Woah woah woah, but we aren’t involved, we always just fight and that hardly counts as being involved.” Jane rambled, unsure of where this was going.
“Detective Rizzoli, I cannot operate on you because despite all of our fighting I have started to develop feelings for you and it would be against all that I stand for to continue your care myself. I hope that reasoning is enough for you.” Doctor Isles explained, now fiddling with her fingers and looking away from Janes eyes, something that Jane wasn’t aware of not liking, she liked the way the doctor never looked away from her, just never shied away from a challenge.
“You have feelings for me?”
“If you plan on torturing me with this revelation detective Rizzoli, then please make it quick.”
“No, no, I uhm I just didn’t know that you liked me, like in any kinda way, ya know.”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Well, ya know you’re real pretty and smart and I’m a bit stupid and hard headed, so yeah, I tend to miss a few signs here and there.” Jane awkwardly scratched the back of her neck before breaking out in a small smile.
“Sooo, if I were to ask you out for a cup of coffee you’d say..”
“Make it dinner and I’ll say yes.”
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May Prompt #22: Grief for @hinnymicrofic (This literally has nothing to do with the prompt, but I used the word so I'm counting it! Muggle AU. CW for language)
Harry loops Hedwig’s lead around a park bench and pours some water into her collapsible bowl he’s unclipped from her harness before working through some stretches for his post-run cool down when a yappy hairball rushes up to them, quite literally hopping with each yap. It would be funny if he didn’t think the fluffy thing could fit entirely in Hedwig’s mouth if she saw fit to bite the dumb dog yipping at her feet.
“Oi! Control your dog,” he calls out to no one in particular, unsure of where exactly this tiny dog came from.
A woman saunters up lazy like and scoops up the hairball. She’s wearing the tightest fucking t-shirt Harry’s ever seen, an electric blue scrap of fabric that proudly pronounces her to be a “Cereal Killer” in shiny silver vinyl letters straining across the most perfect pair of tits in the universe. Her jeans are clearly men’s and at least one size too big as they sag low over her hips, exposing nearly a hand’s width of taut belly absolutely covered in freckles and the tiniest sliver of the elastic of her neon green knickers. Knickers Harry has to physically shake himself from staring at when she tucks her dog into her jean pockets and the weight of it pulls her trousers down that much more. His eyes jerk to her face in an attempt to be less pervy, only for his brain to stutter to a complete stop at the sight of her flaming hair and doe-eyes.
“Sorry about that,” she says brightly, “I’m dog-sitting Pig here for my brother across the street there and this little shit used his tiny size against me to slip out the door just now.”
She pats her pocket with the dog in it fondly, clearly not too fussed at the “little shit” who is fighting to push its head out. Harry is standing like an absolute imbecile with his right leg still bent up, heel to arse for a nice quad stretch, staring completely dumbfounded at this stunning beauty. Hedwig seems to understand that his brain is short-circuiting and nudges his hip with her nose, jerking him out of his stupor. He drops his foot to the ground and thrusts out his hand.
“No problem, I’m Harry.”
She laughs, a full bodied, head thrown back laugh, and shakes his hand, leaving his tingling in her wake.
“Ginny. I think you know my brother, Ron? At least, I’m assuming you're Harry with the wicked big dog that Ron always talks about,” she says with a pointed look at Hedwig, his Great Dane. The dog in question preens under her attention, sitting regally next to Harry to allow Ginny to scratch her ears. Harry feels an irrational pride at hearing Ginny coo over his dog, even though he knows Hedwig’s beauty has everything to do with her rare white coat speckled with black and nothing to do with him at all.
“Yeah, I know Ron. We usually wind up running together in the mornings. I didn’t know he had that furball though,” he says, pointing at the fluffy face that had finally succeeded in removing itself from Ginny’s pocket.
She waves dismissively, “Ron’s aways going on about birds of prey snatching little puppies off the street. If you ask me, he’s a little ashamed of falling in love with a purse pup instead of a hulking beast like your beauty here. But the heart wants what it wants and I give him enough grief as it is. It’s my duty as the youngest.”
She ends with a little shrug and shoves Pig’s head back down into her pocket, pulling her jeans down a little more and Harry gets enough of a glimpse of her knickers stretched over her hipbone to know her freckles are everywhere. He coughs, choking on his spit and flushing furiously, sure his face is as red as Ginny’s fire-kissed hair. She’s staring at him, a polite smile on her lips, waiting for him to respond like a normal human being, but all he can do is nod and gather Hedwig’s bowl and lead and run away like an absolute coward.
#hey look at me writing again#hinny microfic#hinny#muggle au#I really just wanted Hedwig to be a Great Dane#and Pigwidgeon is a Yorkshire Terrier
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day 19: hazy
for supercorptober 2023
read on ao3 instead
crepe AU: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 day 19: hazy, day 22: art, day 24: enchanted, day 30: magic
author's note: this is kinda sad with no real resolution at the end. so if you don't wanna read it, then that's fine! feel free to skip. thanks!
---
“Kara, who am I?”
“You’re Lena. You are my life’s greatest love.”
“Don’t forget, okay?”
“How could I ever?”
—
Kara, depleted of all her energy, watches as the vengeful alien points a specialized extraterrestrial gun directly at her. She places her hands up in surrender, but he is not so merciful, his final act before his inevitable death is simple: take Supergirl down at any cost, to isolate and ruin her the way her people had done to his.
But, of course, Kara didn’t know that.
The gun blast hits Kara dead center in the solar plexus, penetrating through the dwindling defense of her supersuit, propelling her back several yards until her back collides with the wall. She is caught under the rubble, her body buzzing like it’s been infiltrated by white noise under her skin.
She hears a muffled voice yelling after her, pushing through the debris until she finds Lena hunched over her.
Her consciousness starts to wane and within one long blink of an eye, the vengeful alien’s mission is complete.
—
When Kara first opens her eyes, her gaze immediately lands on the source of her deepest comfort standing by her bedside: dark hair framing pale skin, sculpted brows arching beautifully, and light green eyes the color of moss in sunlight.
She blinks a few times to clear the remaining haziness in her mind and she is awash with relief, her nerves settling.
“Hi,” she offers, her voice croaking. Lena turns to her, relief all over her face as she stations herself by Kara’s side. Alex rushes to her other side, quick to give her the once over and check for her vitals. “What happened?”
“You don’t remember?” Lena asks, her voice tinged with worry.
“I just remember this nasty alien shooting me and it blasted me against the wall.”
“Well, that’s about the long and short of it, actually,” Alex offers. “You’ve been out of it for about 36 hours.”
“Didn’t think a gunshot would render me powerless,” she comments, grimacing as she pushes herself upright. She does not see the way Lena and Alex glance at one another.
“It didn’t.”
Brows furrowed, she asks, “What do you mean?”
“We’re not….we’re not sure what the gun did to you. All of your injuries and your blown powers can be traced back to everything before he shot you.”
Their worry gives her pause, but she is not the paragon of hope for nothing, so she bravely wears a reassuring smile, and grabs hold of their hands. “I’m sure whatever it is, we’ll figure out in due time. For now, though, mind if I go home?”
Her wish is easily granted and she makes her way back to her apartment, Lena by her side. Kara senses the tension and worries all over Lena’s face.
“Are you worried?”
Lena’s gaze softens. “I think you know by now I’m always going to be worried.”
She slumps against the bar stool and beckons for the other woman. “Tell me. Please?”
There’s hesitance in Lena’s posture, but Kara only flashes her a reassuring, albeit tired, smile.
“I just…it doesn’t make any sense. You were affected by the blast, but the shot itself did not affect anything, at least none that we can trace or track or check for. But…we can wait until tomorrow to start solving that particular problem. How about for now, you get settled in bed?”
She doesn’t protest and follows silently as Lena ushers her to bed. Lena tucks her in before sitting on the edge of the bed, their joined hands resting on Kara’s stomach.
“Whatever it is, I know you’ll figure it out. You protected me before, I know you’ll protect me again. You always do.”
Lena smiles and clutches at Kara’s hands. “Always.”
—
The return to normal is expected, and goes without any special notice. She attends to her duties and her obligations, savors every minute with her loved ones. Her days inch forward the same as they had always done. And the case with the vengeful alien laid to rest a few weeks after the attack, though without any real conclusion or closure.
Yet despite moving forward, the tension in her shoulders never quite disappears, not when Alex and Lena continue to share worried glances from across the room when they think she’s not looking. Or when they huddle together in a corner in hushed tones when they think she’s out of earshot.
“Maybe it was just an anomaly,” she offers one late night at the Tower. “I just don’t want the two of you to carry all these stresses when nothing has happened.” The ‘so far’ hangs unspoken.
Alex and Lena share one last glance before they nod and accept that perhaps they have given this incident more power than it truly wielded. Satisfied with their promise to let the issue go, Kara gave them both hugs. She wished her sister a good night just as she left with Lena to spend the night back home, the two of them under the security and comfort of rest in bed.
They break their promise: speaking in codes, meeting in secret as they pursued the niggling thought in the back of both of their heads that there was something more. They don’t get very far, every theory hitting a dead end.
But, of course, Kara didn’t know that.
—
Exactly 42 days, 13 hours, 56 minutes, and 27 seconds after Kara was shot that they enter the point of no return.
—
It starts with her nightmares, the images playing in high definition—vivid and real and altogether harrowing. She wakes up from them drenched in sweat, limbs tangled in the covers. She’s gasping for breath, like desperately breaking through the surface after having been underwater for a minute too long.
Lena is there, always, with a mixture of fear and worry and helplessness. Kara eventually comes down from the adrenaline rush, and she is filled with equal measures of guilt and regret when their eyes meet under the blue shadows of the moon that filter in the bedroom.
“You’re Lena,” she gasps out, a means of reassuring herself, even as she reaches forward to tether them together. She shuts her eyes tightly and lets herself be comforted by Lena’s arms that circle around to her back and rubbing it soothingly despite the dampness of her shirt. Or the way Lena presses comforting kisses on her hairline.
What Kara doesn’t see is the tremor in Lena’s lips that she tightens against her forehead nor the dawning fear in those eyes of what she and Alex had feared from the beginning.
—
The changes are gradual, almost imperceptible until she’s already in the middle of something that she realizes something is amiss.
Like ordering takeout from three places despite agreeing to only order from one.
Lena’s confusion is apparent when she enters the apartment and slowly drops her purse on the counter amidst the bags of takeout. Kara scratches the back of her neck as she does her best to explain what she cannot explain.
“Pizza, postickers, and sushi?” Lena asks, amusement laced in her voice even as she looks at Kara incredulously. “Are you really that hungry?”
No, she wants to say. This wasn’t her plan, she wants to say. She doesn’t know what made her do it, she wants to say.
“I saw a bunch of videos while at work and got carried away,” she offers with a shrug. Lena studies her for a moment before sighing and helping spread out the containers all over the coffee table and ottoman that they pull closer.
Kara’s not even that hungry, but she pushes herself to eat everything so that Lena doesn’t question her even as her mind reels.
—
On and on the days progress and Kara is beginning to buckle under the strain of making sense of her world and failing.
“Jess, how much longer is Lena gonna be? You think I can sneak into her office and wait?” she asks one late afternoon, carrying a bag of donuts for the two of them.
Jess only stares at her in mild confusion before slowly looking at her monitor.
“Is this some kind of trick?”
Kara’s brows furrow and she stares dumbfounded. “Wh-what? Why would you think that?”
“Because Ms. Luthor is in Metropolis for another two days.”
They stare at one another, the assistant’s face quickly transforming from confusion to concern, slowly reaching for the phone, no doubt on her way to call Lena. Kara reaches forward and places her hand on the phone.
“Gosh, I just—I must have been losing track of time and missing her so much. I’ll call her on the way home and see how she’s doing. Here, have the donuts and share it with your partner.”
Jess stares at the bag that gets dropped right by her keyboard.
What Kara wants to do but will not do in front of Jess is check her phone with the text message she knows is there from Lena telling her that she’s been craving a strawberry frosted donut and that she’d love to have one miraculously appear after her meeting with the board today.
“Can you do me a favor and not tell Lena about this?” she pleads. “She worries enough about me as it is and I want her trip to go without a hitch. I just, you know, really miss her.”
It’s another few beats of growing awkward silence until Jess nods.
“Thanks, Jess. I owe you.”
She doesn’t quite break into using her powers, but she hightails it out of the office, practically slamming her hand against the elevator buttons, hoping that it swallows her whole. She doesn’t dare look past the doors as they close knowing that Jess is watching her every move.
When she opens her phone in the comfort of the empty elevator, she is filled with abject horror when she finds no textual evidence of Lena’s craving for a donut anywhere in their messages.
—
The moment it comes to a head for them all is when Alex and Lena find Kara sitting by the window of her apartment in front of an easel and a table with paint supplies.
“Hi guys,” she greets them over her shoulder before returning her attention to the image of what she’d drawn, putting the palette down, the brush gripped in her hands.
“That’s beautiful, Kara,” Lena says, placing a soft kiss on her cheek and resting her chin on Kara’s shoulder. “What is it?”
“Thanks.” She stares at the canvas in front of her; hues of red skies and purple mountains, a vista of a distant yet familiar landscape. “It’s…”
Kara’s silence stretches, her mind searching for words to come to mind, yet none appearing.
“Krypton.” It’s Alex who supplies the response when Kara’s silence has stretched entirely too long. “Kara, that’s Krypton.”
“Right.” She frowns, her eyes searching the canvas for answers, but not finding any. “This is Krypton. I am from Krypton. I am Kryptonian.”
Her heart sinks when she moves to look at Lena and Alex’s eyes, her eyes brimming with tears.
“I think I’m in trouble.”
—
She explains the last few weeks, the way her mind has been playing tricks on her, fabricating memories about dates and appointments, swaths of her memories blank for a time.
She confirms their suspicions and they explain all the secret work they’ve been testing.
The rest of the Superfriends are briefed about her situation and they all get to work as a team, coming together to pool their wits and resources on finding a solution that will reverse this problem and get Kara back to them.
Kara maintains her unwavering hope, if not for herself, then for Lena who touches her softly, reverently, cautiously.
“I won’t break,” she whispers to Lena, afraid to break the quiet that has blanketed over them in bed.
“But I might.”
She pulls Lena closer to her, their noses touching slightly. “I won’t let that happen. I’ll always protect you.”
Lena is crying now, and Kara’s heart splinters and cracks.
“I love you,” she says, kissing away each tear that escapes. “Please stay strong for me, Lena."
Lena’s face is tear-streaked and heartbreaking, but she’s kissing Kara and holding onto her, the two understanding what’s at stake, the gravity of their situation weighing on them.
—
When Kara opens her eyes, she sees the most beautiful woman in front of her.
Dark hair framing pale skin, sculpted brows arching beautifully, and light green eyes the color of moss in sunlight. Her face is light and pale save for the pink hues of her cheeks and the tip of her nose, like she’s been crying.
How unkind, she thinks to herself, to have such a beautiful woman cry.
She flashes the woman a smile. “Hi.”
“Hello.”
“Who are you?”
The woman flinches slightly, and Kara thinks she’s done something wrong. But the woman’s smile is soft, is sad. “I’m Lena.”
She likes that name, it’s familiar to her. She warms to it instantly.
“Hi, Lena. I’m…I’m Kara. Yes, right. Kara. Kara Zor-El.”
She offers her hand and Lena glances down at it for a second before gingerly placing her own.
It’s the same hand that has held her and touched her and loved her for years. So to offer it now as if for the first time is a cut through Lena’s heart and soul.
But, of course, Kara didn’t know that.
—
Alex sidles up next to Lena as they watch Kara talk with Kelly from across the Tower. Close, yet far. A chasm now between them and Kara.
She is determined above all else to get Kara back, but it doesn’t soften the blow or lessen the ache of having Kara stand in front of them in this state: like a stranger, like an alien.
“We won’t stop, okay? We’ll get her back. Just hang in there.”
She nods, restraining her tears as she watches Kara’s every move. As unreachable from this distance as she would be if she was in Kelly’s place.
Kara seems to sense her, and she turns to meet Lena’s eyes. Her smile is bright and lively and beautiful and darling and it’s still directed at her. Lena knows Kara is still there, and she’ll do anything to have Kara back and fight their way back together again.
—
“Lena, who am I?”
“You’re Kara. You are my life’s greatest love.”
“Don’t let me forget, okay?”
“How could I ever?”
#supercorptober 2023#supercorp#supercorp fanfiction#my fanfiction#this is mm sad#so sorry in advance
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TW: racism, antiziganism, whitewashing, uses of g slur, fatphobia, misgendering, ageism, toxic fandom, long post.
This post is a bit off topic but, as someone who has been following Marvel’s comic book industry for almost ten years now, I feel like it’s my duty to use my voice and not be quiet about the blatant shit show that is happening to a character that is also a member of the magic community and has been suffering a lot lately in the hands of people who have little to no regard towards her heritage.
It was just a rumor back then (and Donny Cates even denied it in the past) but it does seem that Feige is using the MCU to influence comic books in most recent runs, ESPECIALLY regarding certain characters.
Now, let’s be honest. This is not new. We all remember when the cast of the Fantastic Four reboot died in a explosion in the pages of Punisher #12, eight years ago. A clear retaliation at the movie and FOX’s terrible decisions. We all know that this is probably the reason why the first family book was cancelled as well. The group remained in the shadows and only Reed had a decent spotlight thanks to New Avengers v3 and Secret Wars, disappearing next along with Sue, the kids and the Future Foundation. They only returned fully with a new volume in 2018, and most fans’ dreams and hopes slowly died out with Dan Slott’s bad takes and writing (erasing Franklin’s X gene, putting three women to fight over a man, reversing Infamous Doom to his villain self and throwing away his character development just because he wanted Victor as a villain etc etc etc).
Very well. Still, the FF survived. No one reversed Galactus into a cosmic cloud. No one turned Victor into a metallic guy with electric powers who wanted to marry Sue (thank the Vishanti). And whatever happened in the reboot (which I didn’t watch) certainly wasn’t adapted into comics.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not here to gatekeep comic books. In fact, I’ve been committed to introducing them to my followers since day 1 on this hellsite. Unlike many fans, I didn’t grow up with them. Movies had a huge influence on me and I had a long journey. Movies and animated TV shows are part of the reason I dove into this universe, in the first place. Which is fine. I can take a bad adaption and move on.
What I can’t take is what they’re trying to do with Wanda, because it reeks of racism.
The whole point of this new Wanda volume is to give her the proper representation and atone for the years of colorism, a systematic problem that keeps happening in the industry. Just because she was portrayed as white in the past, it doesn’t mean she’s not a woc, especially when it’s said in canon that she has dark skin. There are plenty of roma people talking on this matter and how it’s meaningful to acknowledge that Wanda is brown, even when white roma people exist (1, 2, 3, 4).
The crew is in fact very committed to it, as stated by Steve Orlando here:
Now, what is happening to the new Scarlet Witch volume? Two things. The blatant whitewashing in variant covers and their need to push the MCU into 616!Wanda, first by introducing Darcy and now deaging Agatha.
Let’s be clear. There was a MASSIVE effort from the team to portray Wanda's heritage, which has been constantly dismissed by the lack of effort from the artists.
Here’s one example, from Jeehyung Lee, tracing what I think is a k-pop singer (but I don't really remember her name so correct me if I’m wrong). In any case, she was traced over a korean woman. This is not the first problem with this artist since he also made the same with Storm’s model in MFF by tracing Charlize Theron over Ororo.
In addition to anti-blackness, this is also an issue of interchangeable ethnicity, the same that happened to America Chavez, when she’s established as Puerto Rican, not Mexican, as the pin on her jacket suggests (and yes, her cast is also filled with anti-blackness. Nothing against Xochitl, but I touched this matter before when I wrote about DSIMOM. And yes, TAO’s MCU is also bad, very bad, very very very bad).
I just keep seeing this over and over again. You shouldn't be defending her whiteness. You *SHOULDN'T*. Unless you have a problem that Wanda is a brown romani woman. It’s imperative that people understand that representation matters and poc have been time and time whitewashed in this very same industry (Sunspot/Roberto da Costa is just one example and was also whitewashed in that terrible New Mutants adaptation).
The issue here is to push a problematic and harmful portrayal of Wanda on her comic book version. And it’s only happening to her due to the popularity of said character and artist.
More thant that, her stans ARE using Olsen’s Wanda to shield racism. Some of you are actually not even hiding it. The following is a list of racist comments and accounts. I’ll leave them under the cut in case people don’t want to see it.
Regarding the WV variant cover for Wanda #3 by David Nakamura:
And plain racism overall:
On a side note...
Just today I was harassed by this troll here. And no, I’m not hiding your @ because you went to MY post and felt compelled to misgender me, be fatphobic and also god knows why felt entitled to call Wanda ableist (????)
As I said, I didn’t grow up with comics. When I first met Wanda, I didn’t know she was neither Roma, Jewish or brown. And this itself is a problem because it should be clear, it should have been portrayed in the comics, it should have been common knowledge. All it takes is just to listen to people and understand the systematic racism and whitewashing in the comic book and cinema industries.
They ALWAYS double down on Wanda’s whiteness. No, darling, it’s not okay to stan two versions of the same character when time and time the marginalized one is a target of racism. When they weaponize every single attempt at calling out the harm that MCU has caused on her character to the point of even using reverse racism, ableism and many other blatant lies to slander 616!Wanda, when her MCU can do pretty much whatever she wishes because she’s white so that’s okay. And don’t even dare bring feminism here because you don’t care about woc. You only care about white women.
In any case, I just want to shed light on this matter because this effort of pushing MCU into comics isn’t happening to any other Marvel character, ESPECIALLY when the change is for the better. Wong is powerful, body-positive and having more than one-dimensional relationship in the MCU. Where’s the effort to do that in comics? Layla is literally the best part of Moon Knight. Where is she?
Why they want so bad to push a white woman on a book that is supposed to praise Wanda’s romani heritage? It’s obvious that they want to sell and some execs are siding with the portion of this toxic and racist fandom.
Comics are not perfect, we know that. But there has been a huge effort to support the marginalized voices in this industry. Marvel’s Voices, pride and heritage are all examples. Besides, they’ve always been political. Always.
What they’re doing to Wanda is evil and lazy. As an artist and colorist, it’s YOUR DUTY to search and at least be aware of what characters you’re trying to conceive. There’s no way variant artists didn’t see the main cover for issue #1 by Dauterman.
This is not just ignorance. It’s a statement. A statement that it’s okay to ignore a marginalized group and its attempt to give visibility to said group. And Orlando knew that when he said he didn’t have control over the rest of the creative team.
It’s fine if the MCU wants to push some elements like they did in the past. But this is not just any element. It’s harmful and I’ll not be quiet about it. 616!Wanda is getting more and more marginalized, whereas her whitewashed version is praised and loved. And now there’s an attempt at reconciling both as if it was okay. It’s not. MCU!Wanda doesn’t know racism. MCU!Wanda joined Hydra. MCU!Wanda has the privilege 616!Wanda could never afford for being a brown roma woman. And now the racist fandom wants to claim both in order to erase 616!Wanda’s heritage and history of fighting racism.
All I can ask is, if you’re buying this comic book, DO NOT SUPPORT the variant covers. Let them rot. We know the racists are not supporting the book anyways. They’ll just buy the variant cover and that’s it.
PS: I’m not Roma so feel free to correct me in any aspect. Just using my voice to boost awareness.
PS²: Olsen stans DNI or else will be blocked at sight. I’m done with every single of you.
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TWILIGHT HOUR 02:00 - TATARIMOKKE
The sun has long since set, but Cornelia and Vivienne still remain in the Twilight Detective Agency’s first floor. The lights out front are on, white shining through the windows, even when the rest of the world is winding down to end their day.
Content warnings:
Child death (separate from other warnings)
Child abuse
Murder
Dismemberment
Vivienne takes an experimental sniff at what she’s busying herself with; lavender and sugar syrup, attempting to make a coffee flavoring. Her nose wrinkles up. “It smells like perfume…”
“How long did you…” Cornelia trails off, “Marinate it?”
“Don’t say marinate,” Vivienne replies, with a pout. She takes a sip. “I guess it’s not that bad.” She pours about a tablespoon into her mug, and then offers a sip to Cornelia, who raises an eyebrow but takes it regardless. “If there aren’t any customers tomorrow, I want to look around and go shopping. We’ve only gone out for groceries…”
“You don’t need permission.” Cornelia says, handing Vivienne’s coffee mug back to her, “You can come and go as you please.”
“Well, yeah, but I need money if I’m going shopping. This place,” She gestures to the stairs leading to the second floor, “Is about as decorative as a hotel. You hadn’t even bought a rug, but I’m dead. It’s not like my parents felt like leaving me behind a trust fund or something.”
“Good point.” Cornelia replies, hoping that’s the end of it.
Vivienne, naturally, continues, “It’s not like you’re doing this for money, anyways.”
“Right. It’s my duty.”
She sighs and wraps her hands around her mug, “What are our hours, anyways? Can’t we just go before opening tomorrow, since we close so late?”
Cornelia sheepishly mutters, “We’re open 24 hours.”
Vivienne doesn’t hide her disdain, “Why? That’s crazy.”
“Half of our customer base are yokai, and the other half are dealing with them. I don’t think a 9-to-5 is going to work here. Besides, I’m not human. It’s not like I need to sleep.”
Vivienne feels herself frown at Cornelia’s insistence, and reaches out to brush her fingers against her cheek. “You are, though, in this form. You won’t last if you keep going like this, pushing yourself and pushing yourself. Life is sacred, you know. You only get one, and once it runs out…”
Cornelia prepares her response when a voice interrupts, the door to the Twilight Detective Agency opening and closing with a soft click. “Alas, not everyone can claim such a luxury.”
The pair turn to see the Undertaker, standing in the doorway of the office with two women neither of them recognize. They look similar enough to be related, and based on their ages, seem to be mother and daughter.
The Undertaker continues, “And to others, it is a heavenly curse. I’ve brought you a client. One of mine.” It gestures to the younger woman, her shoulders tense as she keeps her hands folded in front of her lap. The older woman wraps her arm around her daughter as a cavernous sorrow dims her expression.
Vivienne looks between them before she raises a hand to her mouth, her voice quiet and fractured as she whispers, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
The older woman glances Vivienne’s way as she speaks, and she squints at her, not out of judgment but thought, as if she was trying to click the pieces together, searching for something, searching for a memory in the recesses of her mind. Her lips part, as if she’s about to speak, when Cornelia asks,
“Would you tell me more about the problems you’ve been experiencing?”
Vivienne cuts in, her voice with an edge of forced cheer, “And would you like anything to drink? Coffee, tea, water… I just finished a batch of lavender syrup if you’d like that, as well!”
The younger woman glances at her mother, who nods, “We’d love some. Thank you.”
Vivienne smiles at them both as she walks to their coffee station in the corner. She catches the Undertaker’s eye, who nods at all of them and announces, “Now that your consultation has begun, I’ll take my leave.”
“Do you want anything before you go?” Vivienne asks. It wordlessly stares, eyes tracing the counters.
“Do you have any pastries?”
Cornelia takes a seat across the clients as the Undertaker leaves, a bag with two pastries hanging from its arm. As the door shuts behind it, Vivienne asks, “I wonder who those are for? It really doesn’t seem like the Undertaker eats.”
“Probably for Narcissus and Ivy,” Cornelia answers, pulling out a small notebook and her fountain pen. “That’s just the kind of person the Undertaker is. In any case, I apologize for the delay. You can start whenever you feel ready.”
“Several months ago,” The young woman starts. Her hands are shaking. She takes a breath, “My son…” Her voice wavers. She takes a breath, but it doesn’t come. Her mother reaches out for her, a hand resting soothingly on her shoulder as she rubs comforting circles with her palm. “Ever since then… things have been strange. Little things. Little things, but they…” She shakes her head.
“Strange how?” Cornelia asks. The woman looks over at her mother, and she gives an assuring nod. The woman continues, although hesitant.
“Sometimes, even when I’m sure I’ve closed it—shut and locked it—I’ll walk into my son’s room and find the window open. It’ll be… cracked, or wide open. Even when I’m absolutely certain I’ve closed it, and there’s a similar situation with the light in his room. In the middle of the night, I’ll pass through the halls and—see it on, and it’s almost like—” A tear slips down her cheek, and then another. She cries as she speaks, “It flickers like a candle. But it’s mostly in the middle of the night. There are a few other small things, strange noises and an uptick in critters outside, but I’ve been finding odd things in the house.”
She opens her bag and pulls out a ziplock bag of miscellaneous items. Cornelia slips her gloves on, and peers into the bag. “A feather… a few polished coins, and…” She pulls one of the items out. It’s in pieces. “A broken child’s toy.”
It was a wooden plane with broken parts. Although it had wings, it couldn’t fly far.
“I’ve found a lot of others like it. Not this exact toy, but…” She shakes her head as she examines it, watching as flecks of dirt fall from it when Cornelia picks it up. “They don’t seem new. At first I thought it might be… a cat, or some sort of animal, because I just… can’t tell where any of these toys came from.” She takes the bag back, and tucks it away again with a soft sigh.
“Are you able to help us?” The mother asks. Cornelia looks between them.
“If nothing else, I can most certainly investigate the issue. Thank you for trusting me with this. When would be a convenient time for my assistant and I to investigate the site of the problem? We’re happy to organize around your schedule.” The pair say nothing, exchanging a restless look. Cornelia takes a chance, “We’re available today.”
“If it isn’t inconvenient for you.” The daughter says, her voice soft.
“Oh, no, not at all. This is what’s expected of a good detective. It’s no trouble at all. Right, Cornelia?”
“She’s right,” Cornelia says, with a nod, “If there’s nothing else to note, we can get going right away.”
“Of course,” The daughter says. The mother helps her stand.
“Thank you for the tea,” The mother smiles at Vivienne. “The lavender syrup was delicious.”
Vivienne offers her a beaming smile as they take their leave to their house, several streets down from the cemetery.
“I really appreciate you coming out here on such short notice, even if it is part of your profession,” The mother says, words punctuated with a comforting squeeze on her daughter’s shoulder, “I’m sorry that my son in law isn’t home and here with us yet, but he should be soon, if you’d like to make yourself comfortable in the meantime. May I offer you a cup of tea? If it wasn’t nearing such a late hour, I would offer you coffee.”
“The Detective over here is a real caffeine fiend, I’ll tell you that!”
The caffeine fiend in question cuts Vivienne off with a curt, “We’re here to investigate, so you don’t need to go out of your way for us, or anything.”
Vivienne shoots her a warning look, but it goes either ignored, or unnoticed. Instead, the mother says “Please. We don’t get many visitors these days. I’m sure you can imagine why.”
The two of them keep their glances around the kitchen subtle. The room was well loved and lived in, but there was a blanket of melancholy draped atop it, punctuated by the scent of blooming calla lilies and flush morning glories. Their darkest night was an inescapable memory; even the walls seemed to be mourning alongside their inhabitants. Sympathy cards stood in a line like soldiers on the counters, and a stack of fruit steadily rotted away in an overfilled basket.
“No one knows what to say. It’s far from their fault, but,” The mother’s eyes glaze over with a glassy sheen as she looks around the room, “It can still get awfully lonely for my daughter, son-in-law and I.”
“Okay,” Cornelia says, her voice solid, but small. “We’ll both have a cup. Thank you for your hospitality.”
“Thank you!” Vivienne chirps, as she reaches her hand into Cornelia’s back pocket, the latter whipping her head around to stare incredulously at her assistant.
“What are you—”
“You’re carrying my lavender syrup,” Vivienne explains, as she pulls the small, thankfully sealed tight, bottle from Cornelia’s pocket. It’s labeled in Vivienne’s jagged handwriting; every other letter with the ink skipped as if she lost grip on the pen, or perhaps her hand on her wrist. “I thought, since you seemed to like it…” She doesn’t look at the flowers, but her shoulders fall as if she did, “There’s nothing wrong with a little extra sweetness, right?”
The mother laughs, and the daughter smiles.
“You’re very kind,” The mother says, taking it as she begins to prepare cups of tea for all four of them. “Thank you.”
There wasn’t much to see in their clients’ home. The first floor contained the kitchen, the living room, a bathroom, and a spare bedroom diagonal across a door that led to the backyard. Cornelia’s cursory peek outside hadn’t amounted to much; just a tree in the center of their yard and a small array of a once-garden, their deciduous flowers having given way to the shadows of a winter chill.
From the moment they step on the second floor, Cornelia feels a prickle at her temples, a gyroscope pointing her to the correct direction. Neither the mother nor the daughter speak, they simply watch Cornelia turn, eyes stopping on one of the four closed doors on the second floor. She doesn’t break her gaze from the door as she asks, “It’s that one?”
“Yes,” The daughter says, her voice thin as if she couldn’t take a steady breath, “It’s… strange, to see how quickly you knew. Is there something about it? My son’s room?”
“To a degree,” Cornelia replies.
“How could you tell?” The mother asks, and Cornelia glances up at the ceiling as she puzzles her words together.
“It’s no different from those who have a good nose, or good ears. Have you ever met someone who could take a bite or a sniff of a meal, and pick out each individual ingredient and spice? It’s difficult to explain if you haven’t experienced it yourself, but in the end, it’s no different from tasting notes of pomegranate in wine, putting a name to an indescribable sense. But it isn’t a taste, or a smell, or a sound; it’s a feeling.”
“...I wish I could feel it.” The daughter says, in a voice so small Cornelia and Vivienne almost didn’t catch it. When they look at her, her mother is cradling her in her arms, holding her tightly as if she’ll be pulled away in a high tide current.
“Some of the toys you found…” Cornelia starts, changing the subject as she glances around. Aside from the flickering feeling in the air, it looked and felt no different from any other child’s room; a crib, a changing table, a rocking chair—a dresser, likely full of the child’s clothes, clothes he was meant to grow into, clothes he never would wear. “They didn’t come from here, did they? I can’t say there’s many in this room.”
“Oh,” The mother exclaims, “He had plenty, but they were all kept out of reach. It’s a choking hazard for small children like that, and…”
“He liked to bite just about everything,” The daughter says, “My husband said that he reminded him of his childhood cat. A little orange boy who chewed up just about everything in the house. He—our son—he never got a chance to play with any of his toys. Some of them are in the drawers. The rest are…” She trails off, and shakes her head as her lip quivers.
Cornelia hums as she continues to look around. His presence is far from gone. She slips one hand into her pocket, reaching for her gloves as she begins to think of where she’ll start her investigation; but the mother and daughter’s eyes burn against her flesh. She stills.
Vivienne catches her eye, and says, “I was wondering if you two could show me more about the backyard? We only got a quick peek earlier, so if it isn’t too much trouble, you two could accompany me there?” She doesn’t say, And so Cornelia can investigate here, but Cornelia herself can read it written all over Vivienne’s face, with all the subtlety of a second grader at a talent show.
“Oh, of course…” The daughter says, her voice trailing off. She seems hesitant to leave Cornelia alone in her son’s room, but her mother ushers her down the stairs with promises of tea flavored with sweet lavender syrup; Vivienne accompanies them, and waves goodbye to Cornelia as she shuts the door behind them.
“I’ll find some way to thank her later. For now…”
She takes another look around the room, with more intensity than her earlier glance. This time, she slips her gloves on as she commits the placement of each and every item to memory, so that she can return them to their places when she’s finished.
For now, though, she notes that there wasn’t a speck of dust in the room, but the bed was inmate, a yellow baby blanket messily atop the baby’s bed. She decides to start at the crib. She looks between it and the window; there was a negligible distance between them.
Cornelia hovers her hand over the baby blanket, closing her eyes as she lets the room’s energy wash over her.
Finally, she can feel the tides of her heart begin to rise as the light of the moon pulls her closer and closer to a sense of understanding. She can hear faint laughter; a baby cooing. She pulls her hand away, distracted by a sudden mundane, repetitive sound. The clock strikes twelve, and the rocking chair beside the bed is moving of its own volition. Cornelia touches it, and the direct contact is no different from a gravitational pull; she feels a flickering candlelight warmth on the tips of her fingers, “But it’s not necessarily coming from here…”
She glances around the room, and stops at the dresser, full of seldomly worn clothes and the bud of childhood dreams; toys with teething scars and dried saliva. There wasn’t enough time for autonomy, shame or doubt; only trust, mistrust, and something somewhere in between. Cornelia opens one of the drawers. The next contains about the same.
A stack of unused diapers sits in another drawer, and the one next to it is full of sealed ones and a few cloth diapers. Another held medical records, but nothing from the child’s death. Cornelia figures that the Undertaker might’ve offered to hold onto them until the family was ready; it often cited “the role of the Undertaker” as the reason for the lengths it commonly went to for those plagued by death.
Cornelia’s hand rests on the knob of the last drawer. Brighter than before, this drawer seemed to emanate life, like the sun slowly rising, a new dawn taking over twilight hour. Nestled in blankets was a small teddy bear dressed in overalls.
There’s a distinct scent clinging to it, and although it’s unfamiliar to her, she recognizes it as the scent that filled the room even when he was gone; a time capsule.
“But the presence I feel isn’t coming directly from this, which means…”
There’s a small pocket in the front of the bear’s overalls. Cornelia slowly reaches in, her gloved fingertip touching something smooth; almost velvet-like.
She pulls out a single feather that radiates warmth. With a sigh, she closes her eyes. “So that’s why. The open window, the light, the toys…” Feather in hand, she opens the window and stares out into the dark, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.
And then, she sees it.
There, in the tree.
“Oh,” She says, and steps closer, addressing the figure amidst the branches. “I’m sorry. You must’ve been scared.”
The four of them sit at the table. Their clients hadn’t wanted to discuss Cornelia’s findings until the third member of their family had returned home; he worked late, and the group sipped at their coffees. At first, they’d attempted idle chatter, but the anxiety and unknown had grown too large, and the room fell silent, broken only by a key in the door turning, as the son-in-law returns home.
He sets down his things with an eager impatience and joins them at the table, by his wife’s side, his hand finding hers like it belonged there. When she offers him a sip of her coffee, he takes it.
“Now that all of the family members are present…” Cornelia begins. “I’d like to introduce myself and our agency. My name is Cornelia Mori, and this is my assistant, Vivienne. We represent the Twilight Detective Agency, a private institution that handles the cases of human and yokai alike. And there’s more to our work than whodunits. Our true purpose is to keep balance between the two worlds. The world of humans, and the world of yokai must be kept separate.
“There are some yokai that might benefit humans, there are some that might even befriend them. There are some that cause mischief, and there are some that are worshiped by humans. But by far the most dangerous, is by far the most common: all of the rest. Humans may not be unable to see the yokai around them, but they can see how they affect the world around you, be it flickering lights, new or missing objects—shadows or sounds down the empty hallway—
“And you can see the corpses they leave behind in their wake. Those are the things that happen just out of your sight; from the corner of your eye, from the shadows…”
The son-in-law can barely stay in his seat, “Are you saying that we’re being haunted by something malicious?” He looks as if he has half a mind to cover his wife’s ears lest Cornelia speak a truth she would be better off not knowing.
“No,” Cornelia says. She pulls the feather from her vest’s inner pocket, settling it amongst the toys and trinkets gathered at the table like spoils of war. “I’m reminding you that you’re human. You aren’t being haunted. You’re being watched over by a yokai known as a tatarimokke. When a child dies young and loved, it can take on another form. There are some who inhabit or latch to the form of dolls; zashiki warashi, choupirako… and there are some who take the body of an owl.”
“So you’re saying that our son is—”
“The world of humans and the world of yokai must be kept separate,” Cornelia reminds them, her tone stolid as she eyes them, “But…” Her face softens, and she gestures towards their backyard, and the tree that had overseen the house for generations past, generations to come and go, and then be born again as time passed on, too.
An owl sits, perched in the trees, gazing into the window of his once home.
“It’s getting cold out there, so… it might be okay to leave the window open, every now and then.”
“Thank you,” The mother says, as tears stream down her face. The father squeezes her hand as he cries, too, and the grandmother pulls both of them into her embrace. “Thank you. For telling me that Aiden is still watching over us. He hasn’t forgotten us. He knows that this is his home, now and forever. Thank you. Thank you, detective Mori, Vivienne.”
Cornelia and Vivienne’s clients see them off at the door, their eyes teary and grateful. The mother waves goodbye, the bear kept locked away in a drawer nestled in her arms, the father kissing the top of her head as he thanks them again.
The grandmother, however, follows them out.
“I remember now. You,” She keeps her eyes on Vivienne, who stares back at her with an unfounded, childlike curiosity, “From forty-five years ago… the young girl who was murdered in this town. It was all the news could talk about for weeks, although no one knows about it now. There was hardly a stir when their names were in the weekly obituary recently; the parents who had dismembered their only child. It was so… gruesome, that I simply couldn’t believe it. But seeing you here, now… you’re that girl, aren’t you?”
Vivienne’s expression doesn’t change, but the innocence in her eyes had been smothered. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s true. That is, or I suppose, was, me.”
The grandmother ruefully shakes her head as she takes Vivienne’s hands in hers. “You poor thing. You’re always welcome here. You can come over whenever you’d like. And that lavender syrup you made? It was absolutely delicious. Full of love, it was.”
“Thank you,” Vivienne says, simply. Cornelia can’t tell to which point she’s expressing her gratitude, and she can’t tell if Vivienne even believes a single word coming out of this woman’s mouth, but there was something in her eyes, something in the air surrounding her that compelled Cornelia to speak.
“Are you ready to go, Vivienne?”
And Vivienne looks back at her with such a softness that Cornelia has to turn away. Certain lights were certain danger.
The grandmother offers Cornelia a similar gaze, one of being held, cradled, in arms like home. “You too, detective. The both of you are always welcome here. Keeping balance between the two worlds can’t be easy. If a cup of tea and company helps ease your burdens even slightly… our doors will always be open for you. Thank you for what you’ve done for my family.”
Cornelia sighs, and just can’t help but give in. “Okay. I’ll find some time in both of our schedules to visit you again soon. Thank you for being so hospitable.”
“And I’ll bring more syrups, as thanks! There are other flavors I want to try, and, well,” She trails off, uncharacteristically shy as she fidgets with her fingers.
The grandmother laughs, softly. “You don’t need to bring anything to come here. There’s no admission fee. Just yourselves is all I need.”
Vivienne skips up the porch stairs to the Twilight Detective Agency’s front door, kicking her feet as Cornelia unlocks the door. “They sure were nice, weren’t they? Even in death, it seemed like they loved each other a lot. That’s really nice.”
“Mm,” Cornelia says, by way of reply as she takes a seat at her desk and begins a report on today’s case. When she looks up at Vivienne, she doesn’t see her. She sees a young girl with tears streaming down her cheeks as she sobs, her head detached from her neck, disembodied arms wrapped around her headless body.
“I just wanted them to love me. But I was unlovable from the beginning, looking like this—!”
A figure stands by her side, monochrome, and yet the only drop of color in the girl’s life. █████… you haven’t done anything wrong. It’s them, not you. Loving you is easy.” Eyes soft, they add, “I wouldn’t lie to you.”
All she has to say is, “It’s okay.”
And it should be easy.
But the words don’t come. Instead, she says, staring down at her report as if it had suddenly developed eyes, “Tomorrow morning… We can go shopping. If you want.”
Cornelia couldn’t predict her assistant’s reaction as she lets out a squeal that rattles the coffee mugs across the room. Vivienne all but leaps on her, wrapping her arms around Cornelia as she stiffens up.
But eventually, she relaxes into it, Vivienne’s cold hands a comfort on her skin.
The Undertaker walks through the rainy streets, its veil lifting with the wind to reveal a languid expression, ice blue eyes watching the rain fall as it walks, not noticing a woman walking on the road behind it, steadily sneaking up on it, reaching out with an adipocere coated wrist—
“Have you seen my—” She cuts herself off as she spookily raises her head. “You! You!” She backs away as she begins to walk away in the other direction, quickly putting a vast distance between them as she shouts, “I won’t let you insult me again!”
The Undertaker says as she rushes off, “I wasn’t insulting you. I was just telling the truth… she’s already gone.” It shrugs, and continues walking, paying just as much attention as it did to its surroundings earlier, thinking about nothing in particular as it walks in silence.
A groan breaks the Undertaker out of its apathy as it looks left and right for the source of the sound, stilling its movements until it hears the groan again and follows the direction it came from; below the bridge it was standing on. It leans over the railing and listens, heading down when the sound rings out through the night again, more pained than before.
It finds what was making that noise in the rushing river underneath the bridge. The river flowers, its current embettered by the rain. “The rocks clustered in the river, the rushing of the current, the gloominess in the air,” it continues, speaking to no one in particular, and for a mere moment, in a trick of the light; the Undertaker smiles. “Is quite nostalgic… hm?”
It steps closer, the shadows cast from its umbrella cloaking the creature. It speaks in a hoarse voice as it looks around, checking its webbed palms. “The pain suddenly went away…?”
The yokai turns to see the Undertaker standing behind it, its impassive expression concealed underneath its veil. The creature screams, hand fearfully gripping the cracked basin of life atop its head, voice throaty and raw as it croaks out, “A human… no… whatever you are, stay away from me! I don’t want anything to do with you!”
It punctuates its words with another scream of terror.
The Undertaker stares down at the kappa, and says, with an almost petulant air, “Shouldn’t I be the one screaming?”
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Hostage(d) situation
Timari January: Day 28 (Problem? What problem?) by @maribat-calendar-events
Summary: That weird moment where you’ve been kidnapped and are being held for ransom but also the person who did that to you is letting you play video games so you can’t even be mad at them.
Back to Timari January 2023 Masterlist
Tim squinted around. His head was fuzzy, the sedative was still somewhat in his system, but he was able to take in a few streaks of neon colors and a faint dinging sound.
Also, he wasn’t tied up. He shifted where he had been laid out on the floor, quietly confused, and found that the only thing holding him down was a blanket.
The almost videogame-like sounds stopped and there was a sigh.
He closed his eyes quickly, but he got the distinct feeling that it wasn’t fast enough.
And then he felt a gloved finger poke his cheek. Which, yeah, that settles that.
“You’re awake,” a voice said, and it wasn’t a question.
He blinked an eye open to find a blank white mask. Or, at least, he thought it was blank, everything was kind of blurry.
“Muddafucka,” Tim slurred.
She laughed in the face of his biting insult and reached behind herself. “I’m sorry, Mr. Drake, but I don’t happen to be a necrophiliac.”
His nose scrunched in confusion, his head unable to piece together what he was pretty sure was an insult, but she didn’t seem to be paying much attention to that. Instead, the mask got closer as the woman leaned in, poking at his face.
“Hm… I guess I should administer the rest…” She murmured absently.
He saw something silver gleam out of the corner of his eyes and thrashed to the best of his abilities, but the blanket was weighted or something and she was holding his head to the floor.
Something stabbed him in the neck.
He went very still. He wasn’t that fond of sedatives, but necks were fragile things and he wasn’t going to purposefully tear it open just in hopes that he would be able to avoid too much of it getting in his bloodstream. He liked being alive, thanks.
But then the weirdest thing happened. His vision got clearer. And he was able to push off the light blanket and her finger left his face.
He sat up slowly, testing out his ‘new’ limbs. “I think you gave me the wrong thing.”
She snorted. She didn’t seem surprised by his newfound ability to form sentences. “I’m not stupid, I wouldn’t do that.”
He tipped his head to the side consideringly. “But…”
“Listen, Mr. Drake, I might be dumb enough to kidnap you for quick cash, but I’m not going to mistreat you.” She winced just slightly, her head jerking to the side almost imperceptibly with the motion. “I’m not fond of the idea of the bats beating my face in.”
He stared at her.
She tipped her head to the side on purpose this time. “Did I not give you enough?”
“You’re… a normal person,” he said, quietly confused.
Her shoulders shook with what appeared to be laughter. “Duh. Now, how good are you at videogames?”
He finally took in the area. Maybe he should have done that earlier, as his bat training had always told him to do that first, but she had been pretty close to his face to examine how he was doing so he had an excuse as to why he couldn’t really see. Now, he realized he was…
“Are we in an arcade?”
“No. My house just has a giant game room complete with an entire prize counter. Y’know, for aesthetic purposes.”
He frowned. He wasn’t sure if she was joking.
She sighed. “Right. That doesn’t work with billionaires.” She pushed herself to her feet, brushing imaginary dust from her knees before gesturing around. “This is an arcade. I hijacked it because I was bored, happened to see you while heading here today, and now here we are.”
He looked around. There was a Frogger character consistently jumping to his doom. That must have been the game she was playing before he woke up.
There were a couple of employees around. They were ignoring the pair that weren’t supposed to be there, going about their daily duties as if everything was fine and normal.
There were no customers.
“Huh,” he said quietly. “So… you’re just going to play games with me until you get ransom money?”
“Yeah. I’m not even taking your phone.”
“Aren’t you scared I’ll call the police?”
Her nose scrunched. “Don’t do that. They’re buzzkills. I literally just want a couple of grand so I can make a quick downpayment. Chill.”
He thought that over for a moment before shrugging. He could play along. And, if she wasn’t taking his phone, then he could warn his family that everything was actually fine.
“Now. What do you think of fps games?”
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Tim squinted at the fake, plastic gun in his hand. “Does this have kickback?”
“Nope.”
“That’s so weird,” he muttered, frowning as he tried to imagine how he was going to un-account for kickback.
She shrugged.
///////////////////////
“-- and then the bastard stiffed me,” she said, throwing her hands up in frustration. Probably not the best thing to do during a round of basketball, but Tim was purposefully doing terribly and she had a good twenty points on him so she must have assumed it was fine.
He frowned and looked away from the hoop to find her pouting. “You don’t take your money in advance?”
“Of course not, no one would hire me,” she sighed, leaning back against the machine. “It doesn’t work like that. Think normal business paranoia, but instead of just trying to get the upper hand they’re also actively trying to screw you over. And they're expecting the same from you.”
He tipped his head to the side consideringly. “How often does this happen?”
“Oh, not that often. Most people are too scared of my general love of poisons to try things like this.”
His eyes narrowed. “Wait, did you –?”
The machines beeped to say they were done and she finally realized that Tim had beaten her score.
She gasped, pointing an accusatory finger. “You were lulling me into a false sense of security!” She said, puffing her cheeks in false anger.
But she snickered all the same.
/////////////////////////////////////////////////
It took an embarrassing amount of tries considering both of their intellects, but they ended up with a plush each courtesy of a banged up crane machine.
Tim hugged the dumb little smiling octopus to his chest. Technically, the thing was reversible, but consider: why would he want to make his darling baby sad on purpose?
The woman kissed the forehead of a duck plushie. “I’m going to love him and feed him and call him George. Or whatever.”
He snorted. “Please don’t feed the duck.”
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
“I’m here to take care of the problem,” Red Hood said, cocking his gun in a clear threat.
Tim rolled his eyes and motioned to the woman who was casually taking apart a sensor on a jump roping game to figure out how to make real life pressure plates. To the cherry slushie in his hand. To the plush in his lap. To the phone on the ground that he had used to tell his dumb, paranoid family that everything was fine. “Problem? What problem?”
There was a moment as this was considered, and then shrugged. “There isn’t one, I guess,” he muttered, sending the woman a wave that she only barely acknowledged.
He moved to walk away, but didn’t even get a full step in the opposite direction before he collapsed.
Tim almost choked on his slushie. He turned to give his kind-of-captor a wide-eyed look.
“In my defense, I thought he was going to kill me, I think sedating him is perfectly understandable,” she said, shrugging.
Tim was torn between laughing and going to check on his brother.
He settled for laughing. She’d said ‘sedating’, after all.
#maribat#timari#timari january 2023#timinette#timmari#shutterbug#tim drake#marinette dupain cheng#ladybug#red robin
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45. Sunbringer, by Hannah Kaner
Owned?: No, library Page count: 367 My summary: Kissen, the girl who dedicated her life to killing gods, is dying. But she's not out for the count yet. Her life may be in the hands of the gods she swore to kill, but her choices are still her own. And there's a much bigger, much scarier god on the horizon. Arren; once just a king, now literally hosting a god in his heart, burning from the inside. Elo's former commander. Elo's former love. When Arren marches on his own people, there are precious few who can stop him. But if they don't, the god will burn through the land… My rating: 3.5/5 My commentary:
Sorry for the sporadic updates over here! I've been weirdly busy lately, which translates both to having no time to write up books, and less time to read them. Not helped by the fact that many of the things I am reading are on the longer side. But I hope to be a bit more active over here now! This book is the sequel to one I read a while back, Godkiller - I found it interesting enough at the time to keep an eye out for the sequel when it dropped, and got my hands on a copy after the wait list at the library had died down a tad. I enjoyed Godkiller, on the whole, though I did have a couple of reservations about its storytelling. And by and large, the same holds true here! While I had a few quibbles here and there, this is overall a solid series that held my interest quite well.
The worldbuilding in this book continues to be excellent. I did have a problem acclimating at first, having naturally forgotten a lot of what was established in the first book, but to be fair the narrative caught me up quite well. I was very immersed in the environment after that, fully believing and buying into the world presented here. There's so many little details, and without a huge dump of exposition - the reader picks things up from context clues and from asides by the characters, it's very neatly done. I found myself getting absorbed into the setting very easily.
And our characters remain strong. Kissen's determination, Elo's worldweariness, Inara's search for herself; all of them are strong throughlines. There seems to be an push and pull with Inara where she's finding herself between Kissen and Elo in terms of role models - she ultimately finds herself with Kissen's tenacity, but not necessarily her ruthlessness, and Elo's compassion, but with a harder edge. But she's still her own person, and forging towards her own destiny, which tests her relationship with Skedi, the god of white lies who is attached to her. I really enjoyed their relationship, they're so close but Inara's actions are forcing Skedi to reconsider who she is and how he feels about her, despite him being very dependant on her. Elo becomes a commander once again, in charge of a resistence to Arren this time, and if you know anything about me you know I love male characters that are burdened by their sense of duty. Elo's pain was delicious. And then there's Kissen - angry, alone, isolated, on her one-woman journey to save the realm at all costs. I love how uncompromising she was in the face of the gods, considering each decision she made and deliberating over her choices in terms of her own morality, not the morality that the gods decided for her. Especially when it leads to tragedy.
What else? The other characters that populate this world are very believable. I grew pretty attached to the city and the inkers Elo helps - although the narrative proved a bit clumsy around Naia, a trans woman in that group whose identity just kind of gets announced in her introduction. The effort is appreciated, the execution less so. The battle scenes are really disjointed, but I mean that as a compliment; this kind of guerilla warfare is disjointed and confusing, and I think the narrative portrays it well. I'm fond of this world, and when the inevitable third part of this series shows up, I'll probably read that too.
Next up, puppets and robots and fairies, oh my!
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#i do find it very weird how the discourse surrounding taylor swift seems to have a recurring theme of “she doesn’t understand her own art”#as if her singing about mental illness = some republic exec told her to create a tiktok trend that capitalizes on anxiety#rather than her venting her anxiety about being The Most Famous Woman Ever through song. which is what her job is.#this isn’t a new phenomenon btw ppl do it to LDR to this day#idk i just find her work to be very self-aware
I have been waiting all day to finish work and get to these tags because I feel like you've hit on exactly what my issue was with this particular criticism of TTPD and I just hope I can articulate myself well enough.
Back during TTPD release week, a lot of people on this site and the clock app were taking the opinion that the themes of mental health were generic and basic because, essentially, "she's a rich billionaire who has never had any real problems" and she was simply making music that romanticised and simplifies mental illness because it's "trendy". Setting aside that I just don't agree with the first part because I think TTPD gives us a depiction of someone who was having very clearly struggling with alcoholism, passive suicidal ideation (seriously the amount of times she references wanting to die or feeling dead on this album is insane), manic phases (the title track and ICDIWABH come to mind) and self-sabotage via relationships. And these are just the broad strokes, you can break each thing I mentioned into sub-categories that still feature on TTPD. I am tempted to do so now, but that's not the point of this reblog and it would just feel like belabouring the point, so one we go. Basically, when you actually listen to the album, Taylor draws attention to specific struggles in a way that is so intimate because it is from personal experiences and is too personal have been made by some record label exec to be relatable and consumable. If that were the case, there would be generic "I'm sad" songs, not "getting lovebombed then ghosted has left me feeling broken, alone, naked and like I will never love again" or "this man is repulsive but it is my duty to fix him" or "I can't greive the end of a six-year relationship because people are already hounding at me for the juicy details". Each song highlights a new aspect of Taylor's psyche at the time and some of them feel like they can only exist in her circumstances.
But moving onto the second part, I think people made up their minds about TTPD before even listening to it, because Taylor is White Billionaire, and these words exist to handwave away any possible struggle she could have or sympathy another person could have for her. I remember seeing a comment on a TikTok saying "she's a billionaire, she hasn't had a non-generic problem in years". Which on the one hand feels strange given that a few months ago there was AI porn of her being shared on the internet, but I'm also interested in the phrase "generic problem". What is a generic problem and why does it matter? Do people who have quote-unquote "generic" problems deserve no sympathy and should not make art about their feelings? And again-who decides what these 'generic' problems are?
It is also worth noting that Taylor's wealth comes with the price of being the most famous person alive. As she said in the Lover music video, her life is a fishbowl. She gained insane amounts of wealth and influence but in turn lost privacy and basic normalcy and as such her "problems" are pushed so far down the spectrum to things most of us cannot understand.
I feel people made the assumption before listening to the album that Taylor Swift has no 'real' problems because she is Taylor Swift and therefore all the struggles she sings about are fake, generic, made up to capitalise on a mental illness trend. They don't want Taylor to have struggles, because they don't like her and don't want to sympathise with her, so any and all struggles are brushed off.
Which honestly brings up some interesting questions on how far should your personal opinion of the author influence the art. And if I wanted to be spiteful, I could say it shows a significant unwillingness to sympathise with anyone whose mental illness doesn't present in a way you would like it to.
once again being reminded of how weird being a taylor swift fan on this website is because the people who claim to hate her just clearly do not listen to her. I saw someone say "does taylor swift even know she's been turned into a brand and stripped of her humanity? is she aware of the fact she lives in a gilded cage where she can't be imperfect?" like my sibling in christ that's what her past two albums have been about about. what exactly did you guys think anti-hero was?
#I said so much. does it mean anything? idk#if ttpd taught me anything it's that if tumblr existed in 2024 the mentality would've been#'wdym princess diana has an eating disorder she's rich and lives in a castle how can she be mentally ill?'
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Love Blossoms in the Spring
Criminal Minds One-Shot
Aaron Hotchner x Teacher!Reader
Rating: Teen
Prompt: “The ladies love a guy who’s good with kids.”
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Screams filled the air and the BAU team was on alert.
“This is pure pandemonium,” Rossi said, his eyes wide. The rest of the team nodded at the assessment.
Hotch chuckled and pushed the sleeves of his shirt up, ready to work.
“Too late to back out,” he said, leading the group onto the grounds. They passed underneath a large banner declaring the entrance to the annual Spring Carnival. Elementary-aged children ran around, their parents and guardians following their kids around.
Jack tugged on his father’s hand.
“Look, there’s Miss (L/N)!” he said, pointing into the crowd. The team peered over the children to see a young woman, dressed casually in a cute cotton print dress with a soft cardigan over it. The most eye-catching thing was the delicate flower crown nestled in her hair.
“Oh my god, she is adorable,” Garcia gushed. “Is that Jack’s teacher?”
You gently pushed your way through the crowd, waving to students as you passed. Jack released his dad’s hand and ran to you. You kneeled down primly and hugged the young boy. You knew as a teacher, you weren’t supposed to technically have favorites, but Jack was special.
As you stood, you took in the group that accompanied Jack. Aside from Aaron Hotchner of course, you had never met the BAU team that your student called family. But from all the stories Jack had told you, you felt as if you already knew them. You recognized them for sure.
“I’m so glad to finally meet you all. Of course, I know Mr. Hotchner, but it’s nice to finally put faces to the names,” you said, shaking the hands of the BAU team. “I also wanted to personally thank you for volunteering on your day off to help out.”
“It’s no problem. Helping to wrangle kids for a few hours is much easier than profiling,” Morgan said, dodging a small boy who nearly ran into his legs.
You grinned wryly, motioning to the chaos surrounding the group.
“You say that now, but you may change your mind in a few hours. Several areas can use volunteers. I didn’t want to overwork you guys, so you should only be working about two hours, and then you are free to enjoy the carnival.”
“I call face painting duty,” Garcia blurted out, pulling a rolling tote behind her. “I have paint, glitter, and stickers out the wazoo.” You glanced at the peppy blonde, taking in her eccentric and colorful outfit.
“You must be Penelope, the kids are gonna love you,” you said, shaking her hand.
“Like you I bet, you’re like a young adorable Ms. Frizzle,” Garcia said, admiring your daffodil print dress.
You laughed and referred to the clipboard tucked under your arm. You turned to the dark handsome man that towered over the group.
“Agent Morgan, I had you down for the games, and surprise surprise, the only opening is for the dunk booth,” you said, fighting off a blush. “I am so sorry,” you apologized.
Derek grinned, his pearly whites surely giving the nearby single mom’s heart attacks.
“No complaints here, anything I can do to help. And Morgan is fine.”
Emily shoved Derek’s arm playfully, and Garcia fanned herself.
“Derek Morgan, in a pseudo-wet t-shirt contest? Someone get pictures, please for all that is holy.”
You took in Dr. Spencer Reid’s attire, the sweeping cape affixed to his shoulders and the white gloves on his hands.
“The kids are excited for your magic show Dr. Reid. According to Jack, you’re the best.”
“Well, David Copperfield is widely considered the best, but I’m not too shabby,” he said, pulling a deck of cards out of seemingly nowhere. You clapped, amazed already at his skills.
“Mrs. Jarreau?” you said, turning to the other blonde of the group. “Is your family coming as well?”
“Oh JJ is fine, and Will is bringing our son Henry a bit later on.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I know you talk a lot for your job, but do you mind MC’ing the talent show?” you asked, handing her the list of sign-ups.
“Oh, that’s no problem at all,” she said, taking the list of contestants and glancing at the entries.
“Mr. Rossi, you have the story circle. I figure a published author would be able to do the best voices,” you said.
“I’ll keep them on the edge of their seats,” he promised with a wink.
“And best for last- Emily Prentiss, I presume?” You looked to the final member of the group, the dark-haired agent stepped up and gave a little wave.
“If you could help judge the student art fair, I’d appreciate it. It’s in the gym, and out of the sun,” you stage whispered.
“You are an angel,” Emily thanked you, her long black hair already sticking to her neck. You handed all the agents maps of the carnival and lanyards with their names.
“Just ask the teachers on duty at each station and they’ll get you squared away,” you said. The group disbanded to their posts.
“And what about me?” Hotch asked.
“Your job is to escort this handsome young man to our class booth and help with the caramel apples,” you said. “We’re gonna get the most tickets, aren’t we Jack?”
“Yes ma’am,” he said resolutely. You looked at the older Hotchner who watched as his son animatedly explained how each class had a booth, and whichever booth in each grade had the most tickets would get a pizza party.
“Now Jack, can I trust you to keep your dad in line? Don’t let him sneak any caramel,” you asked, raising a brow at the elder Hotchner.
Jack nodded resolutely and shook your hand to seal the deal.
“I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise,” Hotch said, dropping his hands on his son’s shoulders. Jack looked up at his dad with a wide excited smile, before pulling him towards his class’s booth.
You stood there, watching them walk away with a smile on your face. You were so glad the father and son could have this time together. Jack knew his father had an important job he was so proud to talk about how his dad caught bad guys.
But you also knew exactly when Agent Hotchner was out of town on a cause because Jack would come to school a little diminished. Those were the days you gave him a little extra attention, drawing him out of his shell. All in all, Jack was a fairly well-adjusted kid for the circumstances.
It had been a good year for Jack, and you were glad to have been a part of it. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t going to miss him when he graduated to the next grade. He had a special place in your heart.
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A few hours later, the sun was setting and the carnival was winding down. The BAU team had done their volunteer hours and had joined in on the fun. Morgan had won Garcia a huge stuffed unicorn at one of the booths. Reid had somehow gotten tied up by his own rope of scarves by the kids, but luckily Emily and Rossi saved him. JJ called Will to bring Henry and the family spent some quality time together eating junk food and taking photos.
And Hotch, well he was having the best time. His work schedule wasn’t conducive to spending a lot of time with his son. Luckily, Haley’s sister Jessica was always ready to help. But any free time he had, he spent it with Jack. And he found out readily that his son was quite serious about winning the booth contest. By the end of the night, Hotch was sure Jack had caramel in his hair and that he had crushed peanuts in his shoes.
Hotch was attempting to help clean up by stacking chairs while Jack ate some ice cream with the team. But it seemed every time he took a step, different women would come up and make conversation with him.
Across the patio area, his team watched with amusement.
“Ladies love a guy who’s good with kids,” Derek pointed out, as yet another woman approached their unit chief.
“It’s almost shameless,” Emily laughed, as one of the women touched his arm and smiled.
Jack, who was sitting quietly, spoke up.
“Miss (Y/L/N) is pretty. And she’s really nice,” he said between bites of his sundae. The team zeroed in on their boss’s son.
“Does your dad think Miss (Y/L/N) is pretty?” JJ asked, her eyebrow raised.
Jack shrugged as the team eagerly awaited his reply.
“Whenever Dad talks to her, he’s always smiling.”
Garcia squealed at the prospect of a match for Hotch. After Haley, Hotch threw himself into work as usual, with only the team and Jack keeping him company. Playing Cupid was one of the tech goddess’s favorite pastimes.
“Oh please tell me we are doing something about this?”
Morgan leaned over to look around the group.
“We may not have to, baby girl. Look.”
They watched as you made your way to their Unit Chief.
Aaron Hotchner was too polite for his own good. No, not polite, diplomatic. Probably from all his years as an authority figure. All the single moms (and not so single you noticed) were fluttering around him like chattering birds. One of them, a PTA mom, Janet, whom you butted heads with before, was the leader of the group.
She placed a hand on Hotch’s arm, and you quickened your steps.
“Oh excuse me, Mr. Hotcher,” you called out, drawing his attention from the table he was currently cleaning.
“Can I help you, Ms (Y/L/N)?”
“I’m sorry to keep imposing on you for help, but can I ask you to help me with some of the decorations?”
“Of course, excuse me, ladies,” he said, tilting his head in apology to the PTA moms. The leader of the group narrowed her eyes at you discreetly but flashed a toothy smile at Hotch.
“We just wanted to personally thank Mr. Hotchner for volunteering. Please let me– us know if there is anything the PTA can do.”
You did your hardest to keep from rolling your eyes, but Aaron caught your expression. He held in a laugh but nodded to the group of moms.
“That’s not necessary, but thank you.”
He touched your back gently and motioned for you to lead the way. The two of you walked side by, away from the dispersing crowds.
“So, that was a lie I just told. You seemed uncomfortable.”
Hotch smiled and let out a chuckle. You felt your heart just a tad bit faster. Getting him to smile was one of your favorite things to do.
“Are you the profiler now?”
“I don’t know, maybe. Does the BAU need a teacher who can figure out which kid pulled pigtails or who stole whose glitter pencil?”
“Well, I have your number, in case I ever need a consult.”
The two of you made it to your classroom booth, already closed down for the night.
“Well hopefully you’ll use my number for more than that,” you said, pulling him into the booth away from prying eyes.
Aaron’s arms were around you instantly, his long fingers spanning your lower back.
“This was harder than I thought it was going to be,” you murmured against his chest.
“Oh? How so?”
“You, wearing that apron. Very sexy,” you said tilting your head upwards to smile at him.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” his voice rumbled in your ear. You stood up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips against his. He responded in kind, slanting his mouth against yours. Your legs started to shake from the strain and you pulled away reluctantly.
“So was all that for the apron? Or the PTA moms?” he asked, thumbing the skin of your arm.
“A little bit of both?” you said sheepishly. Hotch shook his head in amusement.
“I know, I know. It’s my reasoning for keeping this under wraps. I just don’t want the other kids to think Jack gets special treatment.”
Hotch raised a brow and you slapped his shoulder.
“Don’t you use those eyes on me, I confess nothing,” you sassed, causing Hotch to laugh.
“Okay, okay, Jack may get a bit of preferential treatment, but that’s more because he’s a great kid and less because I have a bit of a crush on his father,” you admitted with a smile.
“Is that so?” He leaned down and brushed his lips against yours.
“A bit of a crush?” he asked, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses and tingling skin in its wake. Your breath stuttered as he made his way down past your jawline and to your neck.
“More than a bit,” you amended as you crossed your arms around his neck. Your nails scratched at the nape of his neck.
A knock outside of the booth caused the both of you to jump apart.
“Hate to break this up lovebirds, but Jack is almost done with his ice cream. He’ll come looking for you in a minute,” Rossi’s voice broke the silence.
You felt your face flush in embarrassment from being caught. Hotch was a bit better at concealing his emotions but he did have a faint smile as he straightened his shirt. The two of you ducked out of the booth like a couple of teenagers.
Rossi raised a brow at the two of you, his eyes zeroing in on the lopsided flower crown on your head. You quickly fixed it, making sure there were no other signs of your hurried make out session.
“Is this a new development?”
“We’re keeping it quiet until the end of the school year, with Jack being (Y/N)’s student. We didn’t want to cause any friction at school,” Hotch explained.
Rossi held up his hands.
“I’m not judging. I’m happy for you both,” the Italian man said with a smile.
“But you forget who you work with. The team is taking bets right now,” he said, walking back towards the food court area.
Hotch took your hand in his, placing a kiss on your knuckles.
“They’ll keep it quiet until you are ready.” You raised his hand with yours, rubbing your cheek against his hand.
“School is almost out. Figure we can tell Jack then?” you said hesitantly. You didn’t know if Hotch was ready to tell Jack either. He sensed your uncertainty and kissed your temple.
“Agreed. I’m sure Jack will be very happy to find out.”
You kissed him again and stepped back, your hand feeling empty without his. Giving the agent a beaming smile, you tilted your head, wondering out loud.
“So, do you think we can get in on this bet?”
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“The beautiful spring came, and when nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive also.” – Harriet Ann Jacobs
#criminal minds fanfiction#hotch x y/n#hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x reader
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Fire Emblem: Three Houses Characters as Things My Family Has Said (⚠️General Spoilers)
Blue Lion:
Dimitri: "Give me access to the seratonin as I have never had before."
Dedue: "Ma'am please this is a Wendy's."
Sylvain: "I swear there's nothing in my underwear but me."
Felix: "Well, if Sylvain gets his butt cherry popped, it's his problem not mine, as long as it's his decision."
Ingrid: "NO DICK-WHIPPING DURING FAMILY TIME!"
Annette: "It was a snacks-ident."
Ashe: "Imma bad book! You can't read me!"
Mercedes: "This is for a girl that likes pink, plastic roses, and Sothis."
Black Eagle:
Edlegard: “I don't know, I might body swap with Dimitri just so I could kill myself.”
Hubert: "I probably scared them off with my scent."
Ferdinand: "If I had known about polyamory in college I probably would've done it."
Bernadetta: "I can't even scream, I just got that Windows XP load up noise."
Lindhardt: "I firmly believe I am asexual, but nothing gets me going like a tall woman."
Caspar: "My friend asked me 'if you were a pinata, what would you drop' and I said adderall and lego studs."
Dorthea: "If a guy wants to get you pregnant, tell him you left your vagina in your other pants."
Petra: *opening a peanut* "Oh I got a double nut!"
Golden Deer:
Claude: "Bro, being sad is dumb."
Hilda: "I got excited and forgot about the consequences of winning."
Ignatz: "He could cream his shorts and still be like 'it's okay'."
Raphael: "I need to Google why my farts smell so bad."
Marianne: "She's just hypersensitive to that good good."
Lorenz: "Ugh, women don't deserve a history month."
Leonie: "Me when I become your stepdad."
Lysithea: "No, honey. You should've been euthanized at 15."
Ashen Wolves:
Yuri: "I'll suck the emperor's ass before I let anyone convince me my father is a good man."
Hapi: "Why would you wanna be a politician? That just automatically makes you an ass."
Constance: "She's the definition of 'my life sucks so I guess I'll eat dirt.'"
Balthus: "I want people to lure me out places with meat on a stick."
Other:
Byleth: "Some of the teachers would sit in the cafeteria, making sure the natives don't go wild."
Rhea: "What about 'fuck dem kids'?"
Sothis: "I'm bout to Ooguay outta here."
Seteth: "STOP DON'T TAKE MY CHILD!! That's theft."
Flayn: "I'm gonna guppy your bubbles if you don't shut up."
Cyril: "The coolest thing I've ever made is a breakthrough in counseling."
Catherine: "I didn't body slam her, I accidentally pushed her."
Shamir: "I have a lot of problems and most of them have to do with straight people."
Alois: "I hope one day I'll never stop being funny."
Jeralt: “Please don't do anything behind my back, I'm sensitive there.”
Manuela: "I fulfilled my middle-class white girl duties today."
Hanneman: "Why do something if you're not going to research it?"
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Doctor Toge Inumaki: The Exam
jujutsuhub collab coordinated by @suna-reversed
Thanks Vee for this wonderful opportunity, I enjoyed writing about my future profession and doing things like “Grey’s Anatomy Porn”, hope everyone of you will like this ❤
Content: AU Doctor Inumaki Toge x Fem! Reader
Warnings: Roleplay, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, 18+ etc.
Words count: 1.6k
A.N: I choose Inumaki because is very difficult to find smut about him. In my AU Toge can actually talk and he is a Ob-Gyn. Reader is his wife. All characthers are aged up (27 years old).
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The day arrived, walking down the hall of the reward, the familiar scent of chemical products, inebriate your nostrils and in no time you find yourself in the reception where you hear young nurses and residents whispering about Doctor Inumaki, who opens the door of his studio giving to the nurse, patients cards. "Ahhh Doctor Inumaki, Ms Y/N is here" the man smiles, gesturing you a welcome and you follow him on his studio, "Then I leave you Doctor Inumaki, I'm going to check on the patient, she's coming back from surgery", Inumaki smiles and says "Thanks Nurse Yato, see you later", the white haired man adjustes his hairs behind his hears and eyeing you, he feminine and shily says "Goodmorning Ms Y/N, what does bring you here today?" bowing your head and being a little worried you say "Well I really want to have a child but I'm having some difficulties in the last times. I went today to see if there's some problem and if we can resolve it".
Doctor Inumaki is really popular and talented, everyone in the reward respects him: nurses, doctors and residents, they all have high thoughts of him and trust his opinion and lessons, he gives to the students. You trust him as well, and when he says to get naked you don't object his request, he's a professional.
"Ms Y/N I have to check every breast so that's why I have to leave you naked. Don't worry about anything it will not hurt!" he says calmly and touching your skin, he makes you shiver for stimulation "R-right Doctor Inumaki". His pale hands start roaming to your body and arriving to your breasts, they make circles on your nipples "Mmm they seem too little, I think I have to taste if they're producting the right way to see if you actually can conceive" Inumaki says lost on his mind. Continuing the careful circles on your left nipple, the right one comes to his mouth and he gives careful licks, trembling and moaning for the unexpected pleasure you stutter "Do-doctor In-Inumaki AH! Are you sure this is the right procedure to check?" The albino man raising from your cleavage and licking his lips, says "Don't worry, I have to check your sensibility. Sometimes conceiving is difficult because the intercourse doesn't satisfy the woman" and he winkes you,"O-ok, I trust you" smiling and circling again your nipples, he says "Then I continue with the other one" and start to vigourously lick your neglected nipple making you get out shameful moans "Ahh, ahhh oh god Doctor!", "That's it Ms Y/N, it seems that your breasts are quite sensitive. The ormones are making their work. Then I'll proceed" he seriously says to you, nearing his face to your intern thighs eyeing your drenched pussy "The smell is kind of suspect, I have to check more to be sure that there isn't any kind of sexual problem inside". Two slender fingers entry your spongy walls "Mmm so tight, and the labias are really beautiful. Such a delectable vulva!" and he scissors his fingers inside you making you scream in pleasure "Is something the matter?" he says looking at you with his purple concerned eyes , "N-no Doctor, whatever you're doing please continue it!" he smirks readminstrating his activties and starts pushing in and out his fingers from your pussy making you scream feeling the pressure on your g-spot "Ms Y/N don't hold, pleasure is useful for pregnancy", his tecnique and power makes you come undone and moaning his name you cum all over his fingers. Inumaki smiles and licking his fingers, says "The cervix liquid is perfectly health, but I need a sample to be sure that everything is perfect inside so that you can conceive. Please lay yourself on your hand and knees" doing that you hear the belt being unbuckled and his sigh of relief touching and jerking his long cock "Doctor Inumaki, so big! I'm sure after this exam I will have no problems having a baby!" Inumaki smiles and caressing the cheek of your ass, he says "Mmm Ms Y/N, such a naughty patient are you?" you smile to his statement but as soon as you feel the tip of his cock inside you, a moan comes out of your mouth "Ahh doctor, I want you breed me please!" Inumaki smiles and hiping his trusths inside you he says "As you wish Ms Y/N! Ahhh! It is a doctor's duty to help the patient feel better!" shameful moans come out both of you, Inumaki shaking his hips and touching your clit, huffs again and hearing your pleasure, says "Cmon Ms Y/N you're going to cum - ugh - cum and I'll spill everything inside you!" completely raptured by his moans and little groans you come undone "Ahhhh yes Doctor I'm cumming please! I need your sperm inside me please!" hearing these words Inumaki definitely triggered, pistons his cock in and out of you and feeling the coil on his stomach, he whispers "You're going to be so beautiful, round and full of life thanks to me!", then the seed starts to come out and fill your pussy making you cum again for the intensity. Inumaki falls on your back and says "Ahhh god this is the...", a knock on the door is heard "Doctor Inumaki, is everything ok?" a nurse says "Ahhh, ah yes don't worry nurse Kaito! I'm still with my wife, I'll be done in a minute!" hearing his laboured voice the nurse blushes and says "Ok see you later!", you smile cleaning your pussy and say "I think she caught us, but it was fun Toge! I love you" closing the zip of your cloth and kissing your neck, he says "It was, thank you my love. See you later at home" and then you open the door winking at him.
WEEKS LATER
"Is it true? Doctor Inumaki is going to be father?" the students and residents whisper in the hall, "The chief is following his wife's pregnancy, how lucky of her!" Inumaki hearing them smiles and nurse Kaito turn to him and says "I think you disappointed them Doctor Inumaki", readjusting his hairs and with shine eyes he says "I don't care, I love my wife and I love my job. I'm not here to entertain some people with gossip".
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