#it's a crime that i haven't written for him in ages

[marvelfanfics1]

Loki trying to understand the current drama between your stuffed animals:

*still doesn't understand but nods his head anyway* "Yeah, that makes sense, little one..."

[maidenborn]

Detective Love-struck!

Shoto x reader in which Reader discovers a love letter in her locker, and recruits deku to help her. fem reader, maybe oc deku and shoto idk, reader has an older brother, first little fanfic thingy, I haven't written in god knows how long don't burn me at the stake plz

Word count: 1,707

When you were younger, stupider and shameless, you and your only friend Shoto, would play detective during your free time together. At the age of five, you and your comrade had already solved ONE case, the infamous 'who stole older brother's motorbike?!' case, which you and shoto apparently 'took credit for' or whatever that means. Despite how much you swore to your brother how you and Shoto knew where it was before the police. And how you tipped the cops off with your super secret telepathy quirk that no one but shoto knew about.

He responded with a, "well if you're so smart why don't you figure out where my old 3DS is?? by the way, you don't have telepathic powers, forehead." You'd clench your fist every time that cursed nickname left his lips, but anyways, you accepted his challenge, walking away cursing him with the most vulgar name you could think up, telepathically of course. you swear you heard his breath stifle in shock as you stomped off, coincidence? I think not.

Your winning streak of problem solving ended with anger at your rivals, the police down the road, when they refused to let you into the station after you relentlessly demanded that they let you see the files of fifty year-old unsolved homicide case. The next day you sulked to Shoto during lunch, who stared at you with that blank stare he always does."you tried to break in again?" An accusation?!?!?!? The tipping point.

You fake-angry threw your paper cut-out detective badge, that you and your best-friend made during arts and crafts, with all your strength, only for it to slowly flutter to the ground awkwardly. That day you announced your retirement from the force. Claiming all the hard thinking was giving you wrinkles, that only caused shoto to look more confused, tilting his head to the side. "Wrinkles?"

"On my forehead." You huffed.

Your interest for the antics of detectives on tv and corny live-action crime thrillers died off as your ambition and hope to become a real life pro hero ignited, as did your connection with Shoto, even if you started to see him less frequently as the years of your childhood passed by. It was a blessing that you managed to land a place in class 1-A alongside your companion. Your bond reinvigorated, grew stronger as you were reunited with the boy, the lingering figure of his father, Endeavour had dissipated, granting the boy a newfound freedom. You found yourself spending almost all your free time with him now, way more than you ever did when you were kids. And you were grateful for it. So very grateful.

Now, both you and him had matured, albeit not a lot since you were both fifteen, but in a fifteen year olds eyes, it was a lot. The boy's once chubby cheeks now had a more slim-chiseled appearence. His head of hair was the same length, perfectly split down the middle, not one stray hair misplaced on either side. His eyes were more narrowed and stern, still fronting that blank look that his eyes always held. However hard his stare was when he looked at others, he'd never dare look at you with that coldness, whenever he caught himself glancing at you his creased brow would almost immediately flatten. His gaze defrosted into liquid, a softness so delicate and reminiscent of the early days of your relationship. The days where he'd follow you around, craving the warmth of your presence, your smile, you, and everything a five year old brat could offer. In your case, it was friendship.

You and him were two peas in a pod, Detective Shoto and his partner, Sometimes in class you'd daydream about playing detective with him, like how you used to, but you guess you both were a little too old for that now. Besides it's not like there was any mysteries to be solved in the halls of Yuuei.

Not until today.

"a love letter!?!? oh wow!" Deku shrieked a bit too loud for your liking. His whole body shook as he held onto the straps of his backpack. A few students lingering around the halls looked towards the commotion.

"Yeah but shhh!" You leaned closer to the boy pressing your finger to your lips harder and harder. " I don't want anyone to know, it's embarrassinggg! What if they're messing with me? I don't even know who wrote it! I don't wanna get my hopes up you know..." You mumbled that last part, your finger silencing yourself made it hard to talk. You've never been popular with the male species, only ever receiving confessions as jokes from more popular, less disliked, boys. Not that you minded all that, you had a best friend after all, and he was a boy! You were considered popular and you were liked by him!

You tossed your head about to shake the thought of Shoto to no avail. You felt you cheeks heat up. "Can you read it out to me? Maybe they gave a clue as to who they are!" Deku ignored the redness in your face, chalking it up to nervousness. Yeah, you were nervous alright, nervous about what Shoto would think. He's always been relentless in the pursuit of your attention, you couldn't help but wonder how he would react to all this. Would he be mad? No why would he. He has no reason for all that.

You take your time reading out the letter you found in your locker, looking up to meet Izuku's eyes after every sentence, waiting to see if he caught on to any hidden meanings written in-between the lines of the confession. You'd read the letter countless times, scanning over every word to no avail. Only deciding to drag Deku into your conundrum as he was walking past. Whoever had written the letter gave no clue towards their identity. It was just a confession. No 'can you meet me behind the school later today?' or ' will you go out with me? Just an ordinary love letter. Apart from the last section. At the bottom of the paper read a slightly threatening, ominous quote:

"I'll set your heart alight. "

The words made your chest tighten, but not in a good way. It gave you a funny feeling in your stomach, such a normal letter ending so strongly, you were kind of unsettled. "Don't you think that last parts s'a little odd?" You mentioned after finishing up reading. "Kinda sounds like a threat to me." You suddenly gasp, "What if our undercover lover is a villain! They could be plotting to kidnap me ..or worse!" Due to recent events, everyone had the possibility of kidnapping looming over them.

" Umm.. I doubt that a villain could sneak into Yuuei, especially now. I think it was maybe just an attempt romance." Deku chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

"No I seriously thi-

"Yn. Midoriya." Shoto Todoroki stood behind you. You hadn't even noticed him sneaking up on you, whether it was his intention or not, he scared you straight.

"Oh! Hi Shoto!" You calmed yourself, turning your head to make eye contact with him. He only grew closer to you, taking the eye contact as permission to get closer. You could feel the air get hotter as he lingered next to you, reaching his head forward so he could peek at what you were holding so tightly in your hands. His eyes offering no insight to his current emotion whatsoever.

"What is that?" Tilting his head. Suddenly embarrassed you smushed the paper into your chest, crinkling it. "Uhhh.. I got a letter! I don't know who it's from though. Not that it matters." You shrugged. Nice, the nonchalant approach.

"What kind of letter?" He strained his neck for a moment longer before backing up. Face still, ice cold. You sighed at his retreat. Anxiety welling up in your stomach, 'why the hell am I so paranoid for?' You thought.

You were about to dodge the question when Deku asnwered for you, "Its a love letter! From someone unknown, we're actually trying to figure out who it could be from!" At that you crumpled in defeat. Thanks a lot Izuku. Why the hell are you trying to cover it up so much anyways? Huh?!? Your inner monologue accused you.

"Oh." He stepped back even more, No longer feeling his warmth, the hall seemed a whole lot colder without him so close, you urged to scuttle up to him, Only to turn to see Shoto preparing to leave.

"Would you like to help us Sho?" You offered, not wanting him to go so soon. Leaning at the hip towards him, head tilted down, eyes looking up at him.

"No thank you. I have to go, Goodbye Yn, Midoriya, good luck." And at that he started to walk away. You rushed to find something to say, deciding to just let him go, offering a small, "Bye Sho." Along with Izuku's cheery goodbye. 'Was something wrong? Did I do something wrong?' Your spiralling thoughts were soon interrupted by Deku," I wonder what that was all about." The look on Izuku's face mirrored yours, laced with confusion, only less angsty than yours.

"he's probably just busy with assignments or something, wants to get ahead." You chirped, lightening the tension.

"weird of him to turn down an opportunity like this though, he's usually all over this kinda stuff, he's a real hardcore theorist sometimes!... don't tell him I said that."

"oh really?" you jest. Tension dissolved, nice. As if you and him weren't attempting to solve murder mysteries during break time a couple years ago. The memory returning to you, you can't help but feel a little sad.

A couple moments of silence and then, "Ive got it! we could track them down through their handwriting!"

"yeaahhh... but the letters printed!" you retired the letter from your iron grip with an obnoxious groan, provoking a handful of glances from students passing by. "good idea though." You shrink into yourself a little, eye twitchy as you try to disappear through sheer willpower.

"the culprit has thought this out really well.."

"Yeah.. no clues or anything. Apart from the curse at the end."

"Yeah."

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH PLZ LET ME KNOW IF YOU ENJOYED THIS IM WORKINT ON A PART TWO!!!

I don't rlly know how to write stories like this, perchance ill turn it into a mini series or something

part 2

[frenchkisstheabyss]

୨୧ Ｍｏｄｅｒｎ Ｌｏｖｅ ୨୧

୨୧ Pairing: criminal!boyfriend!mingyu x chubby!waitress!fem!reader

୨୧ Genre: crime au/a mix of fluff & angst/smut

୨୧ Summary: Your friends always told you that Kim Mingyu was trouble but when he shows up unexpectedly at your job, covered in bruises with a bag of stolen money, you see how much trouble he really can be.

୨୧ Word Count: 3.5kish

୨୧ Warnings: mention of blood/injuries, a gun that's not used but is in there, strong language, unprotected sex, a lil bit of rough sex, fingering, creampie, & that's all I'm pretty sure

୨୧ A/N: I haven't written in a bit and I really wanted to start writing something crime related so here we are 🖤

There’s a lot you’ve come to tolerate waitressing at the diner. Customers with shitty attitudes who leave even shittier tips. Line cooks who get every other order wrong only to blame you because you must have mixed their tickets up somehow. The thin layer of grease that lingers on your clothes, leaving the scent of day old fries to haunt you even after you’ve washed your uniform a thousand times. All of that you can tolerate but this, your boss screaming at you like some psychopath, never fails to make your blood boil.

It’s always something with him. This time it’s that you didn’t refill the ketchup last night before close even though you weren’t the one who closed. The waitress who closed, a soft spoken girl who only started a week ago, called in this morning to quit just like every other waitress before her. The only girls insane enough to stick around are you and Moon, the waitress who trained you and the only person you’ve ever seen go toe to toe with your boss. 

His screaming’s getting louder but you can’t even hear it. You zoned out ages ago. It’s like watching a TV on mute. If not for the growing redness of his face or the flinches of the passing food runners, you wouldn’t know a thing. Everyday you think about quitting. You lay in bed fantasizing about a life where you don’t have to put up with this to survive but in the end you always roll out of bed and show up.

What else are you supposed to do? You weren’t born into money and, luck never quite being on your side in life, it's not likely to just fall into your lap. So this is it. This. Is. It. Your stomach sinks as your boss steps closer, the veins in his hairy neck straining enough to pop a blood vessel. This can’t be it. ��What the hell is wrong with you?” Moon shouts, pushing through the double doors behind you. The noise of the kitchen cuts back in at a dizzying speed. Dishes clanking, grease sizzling, water running, cooks calling out orders.

“You don’t talk to me that way!” your boss shouts back, dialing down his rage as he aims it at Moon. She pulls her dark hair back into a tight ponytail, cornering him against a rack of dirty dishes. “You don’t talk to her that way! The next time I hear you yelling at her I’ll report you to the health department for all of the little critters we have running around here or would you like me to tell the customers first?” He wants to say something to her but he can’t.

He knows she’s serious enough that she’d pop on a glove and go show off the bug traps to every customer packed into the questionably clean booths of the dining room. “Get back to work!” he snaps, “Both of you!” With that he storms off to his office mumbling every misogynistic thought in his pea brain. Moon turns to you, giving you a hug. You let out a sigh of relief, enjoying the comfort of her arms even though she smells like sandwiches. You do too. 

“I fucking hate him.” “Fucking hate him for sure” she agrees, “But I know something that’ll cheer you up.” “What could possibly make me feel better?” Moon grabs you by the shoulders and directs you to the small round window on the door, “Your boyfriend’s here. Looks a little beat up though. Wonder what he got into this time.” Before she can finish her sentence and launch into another lecture about your choice in men, you’re racing to the booth in the corner where Mingyu sits patiently waiting for you.

He spots you in an instant, jumping up to give you a hug and soothe the panic that paints your face. A little beat up is an understatement. He’s covered in cuts and bruises. A busted lip here. A bruised eye there. A bandaged cut on the side of his neck. His knuckles skinned and raw. Your hands don’t know where to go or what to inspect. They’re just frantically skimming his frame, dreading the next surprise. “What happened?”

Mingyu tries to downplay it, apprecating that you’re worried for him but still not wanting you to worry too much. “Baby, I’m okay. Calm down.” He’s lying and you both know it. Everytime something like this happens he tries to shrug it off, pretending that he doesn’t get hurt worse and worse each time he gets back from one of his "jobs". “How can I calm down? Look at you.” “Look at me? What does that mean? Don’t you think I’m pretty?” he teases, placing his hands on your cheeks. Even with his fingers all beat up and achy, he has the most gentle touch you’ve ever felt.

He smiles and all you can do is smile back. Of course you think he’s pretty, the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen, and you’re a sucker for him in the worst way. So much that you forget for a few fleeting seconds that there’s the lightest spot of blood seeping through the crisp white bandage on his neck. “Cute but I still need you to tell me what’s going on” you persist, glancing back to catch Moon watching over you as she works her tables.

Mingyu turns you back to look at him, the wildness in his deep brown eyes thrilling and frightening you all at once. 

“You trust me don’t you?” 

“Ming—” 

“Do you trust me?” 

“I mean, duh, of course I trust you but—” 

“Then quit” he says as if it’s nothing. As if this job isn’t the only thing paying for the hole in the wall apartment you rent up the street. “I can’t just quit. I need this job.” Mingyu presses his forehead to yours, bringing his arms around your waist to hold you closer. “Not anymore. I can take care of you now. I just really need you to trust me and come with me. We don’t have a lot of time.” 

It’s impossible to make sense of anything he’s saying when he’s being this vague. You have a million questions and no time to ask them. “Hey! Play with your boyfriend on your own time!” your boss shouts from across the counter, “Get back to these tables before I fire your ass!” Mingyu’s jaw clenches, his temper ready to erupt on your boss for daring to speak to you that way. “I got this” you whisper, rubbing his shoulders to cool him down. He’s already had enough action for one day. The last thing he needs is another scuffle.

Your boss goes on rambling but this time you don’t drown him out. You hear every word. Every disgusting, vile thing he can spew in your direction. The thought of dealing with this every single day is torture. Mingyu's way out, whatever it is, has to be better than this. Your friends might not agree, Moon would surely have you thrown in an asylum, but you have to trust Mingyu or risk this being the rest of your life.

Grabbing a pitcher of ice water from one of the tables, you calmly approach the counter and throw it in your boss’ face. “Oh my god” Moon gasps, covering her mouth to hide her amusement. “Do it yourself. I quit. Mingyu, let’s go.” You march out of the diner, ripping your apron and name tag off as your sneakers hit the dirt of the parking lot. Your palms are sweaty, your heart’s racing, and you have no idea what’s gotten into you but it feels good. “That was sick” Mingyu applauds, kissing your fluffy cheeks, “I didn’t know my girlfriend was such a badass.” “Shut up” you giggle as he guides you to his car, a vintage deathtrap that his father gifted to him.

Mingyu seats you on the passenger's side, picking up a heavy black duffle bag from the floor and plopping it onto your lap. You stare down at it, too afraid to even touch it. With Mingyu’s line of work anything could be in this bag. Not a body, of course, it’s much too small for that. But guns? Drugs? “Just open it” he says, starting the car. You’ve been so deep in your own thoughts, running through the possibilities of what’s in the bag, of what happened to his face, that you hadn’t even noticed him get into the car.

Noticing your hesitance, he reaches over and unzips the bag. “It won’t bite, honey” he promises, turning out of the parking lot and leaving you to take in the bundles of crinkled money packed into the bag. You carefully pick one out, fanning through it like a deck of cards. There’s more money here than you’ve ever seen. More than most people will ever see. 

“Whose money is this?” 

Mingyu shrugs, flicking on the radio, “Mmm, it’s ours.”

“You asked me to trust you now I need you to trust me. Just tell me what’s going on.”

Mingyu made a promise to himself when you first started dating that he’d keep the other side of him hidden. He loves the way that you see him. You see him as his most ideal self. As the man he wishes he could be all of the time and not who he has to become when you aren’t together. But you were bound to find out one day and if today has to be that day then so be it. “You know how I do drop offs for the mob?” You nod, your fingers still petting the edges of the money like one would a new puppy or a luxurious fur coat.

“I do pickups too. Retrivals I guess. If people owe money and they don’t pay up it’s my job to go get it even if it means I have to hurt them...” He trails off, fearful of your reaction, but you only listen attentively, free of judgment. “Earlier I had one of those pickups” he continues, “Things got kind of crazy. A lot of people got hurt.” He flexes his hand, wincing at the pain. “Including me but, you know, at least I’m alive. The other guy...anyway. I was supposed to take the money back but I didn’t. I kept it for us.”

You insantly regret ever pressing him for this information. Maybe ignorance truly is bliss and you've just given it up. “So you killed someone?” “I kinda had to.” “Right. You kinda had to kill someone and stole a bunch of mob money now we’re—we’re on the run aren’t we?” Mingyu nods, chewing on the inside of his lip, “We are.” “Oh, fun. I’m dead. We’re dead. They’re gonna chop our heads off.” “No one’s chopping your head off! They don’t even do that anymore. It’s more of a burning the whole body thing. Buried alive usually.”

“Not helping!”

“I’m sorry!”

Mingyu tosses the bag into the backseat, freeing your lap up for his hand to massage your thigh. Your legs are shaky, every part of you is, and no amount of massaging can stop it. “This is a lot. It’s so fucking much. I can’t even…” Leaning your head back against the headrest, you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. “I never meant to put you in danger” he says softly, “We spend so many nights talking about the life we want. A better life. You deserve it and I just want to give you that so when I saw the opportunity I took it. If it means anything, I’d die before I let anyone hurt you. I’ll protect you with my life.”

You open your eyes to catch him staring at you, his attention only half on the road where it should be. He means every word he says, no matter how fucked up his methods are. A part of you can’t stand him for what he’s done and you can't stand yourself for how small that part of you is. In a matter of minutes he managed to destroy the life you knew. A life you’ve been longing to destroy yourself for far too long but never had the courage to. You can’t hate him for that. In fact, in some strange, twisted way you've never loved him more.

You look so peaceful when you’re sleeping. The two of you had plans to go out for dinner after you hopped out of the shower but hours of driving in no particular direction had exhausted you. The moment you sat down on the bed of the floral wallpapered motel room you were out like a light. Mingyu can’t bring himself to wake you up. You deserve the rest, he figures, after all he sprung onto you.

He has no real idea where you are. Your cellphones were tossed off a bridge two towns ago and every road sign in whatever nowhere town you stopped in is too faded too read. There’s no way anyone will find you here when you can’t even find yourselves. Even still, Mingyu finds himself pacing the floor in the darkness of the motel room, a handgun held tightly in his right hand. Paranoia weighing heavy on him, he wishes that he could fall asleep but every time he relaxes in the slightest another set of headlights beam through the curtains and he’s on his feet again.

What if someone followed you? What if they spotted his car? He truly would protect you with his life. But what if he failed? “Idiot” he huffs, hitting himself on the side of the head. “Hey, I’d appreciate you not hitting my boyfriend. Thank you very much” you yawn, stretching out, your eyes only cracked enough to make out his fuzzy silhouette. You snuggle up to his side of the bed, the blanket quite cozy against your bare skin for something that's for sure been here since the 90’s. You try not to think about it, your focus quickly shifting to the gun in Mingyu’s hand.

“When’d you get a...” you start but abandon your question. When’d he get a gun? That’s silly to ask. Of course he has a gun, probably a few. Why wouldn’t he? “Put that thing away and come to bed.” “You worry too much. I’m good. You rest.” Outstretching your arms, you pout and kick your feet knowing that he's a softie for your tantrums. “Five minutes. That’s it. Please” you whine and he’s already dragging himself over to the bed, reluctantly tucking his gun into the bedside table.

By now the haze of sleep has fallen away, offering you a clear view of the gorgeous man hovering above you. “Stop looking at me like that” he blushes, his fingertips dancing along your jaw. It sends sparks through your system, stealing your breath away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mingyu leans down to kiss you, his hand slipping beneath the blanket to ride the curves of your body. “You don’t?” he asks, nibbling at your bottom lip. He presses a thumb into the tender flesh of your thigh, feeling your body tremble the way you did in the car.

Only now it’s not because you’re scared. Fear is the furthest thing from your mind. It’s because you’re craving some relief, craving him, badly enough that the faintest brush of his thumb over your clit has you snatching him on top of you. Your tongue’s down his throat, legs thrown around his waist, hips raised to feel the bulge fighting to free itself from the confines of his jeans. Nothing gets Mingyu hotter than when you’re like this, clawing his clothes off as his fingers delight in the velvet warmth between the lips of your pussy. “Ming—” you gasp at how effortlessly his fingers glide into you. Your walls flutter in excitement as if to welcome him home and he couldn’t be happier to be back.

“You’re dripping, baby” he coos, pulling out just enough to glimpse your juices coating his fingers. You reach between you, finally feeling the heat of his cock in your palm, and stroke his length, collecting pearls of his arousal each time you run over the tip. “So are you” you tease, grinning at the way his hips stutter. With one arm holding himself up and the other busy between your legs, his muscles flex in a certain way that makes your mouth water. In your eyes his body’s a work of art and the feeling couldn’t be more mutual.

Your body’s so soft, so sensual, that he’s dying to be inside of you just to see the way your body jiggles each time he thrusts into you. Your muscles tighten, the ecstasy coursing through your veins making you feel lightheaded. “Make love to me” you say in the sweetest voice, not begging nor demanding, simply confessing how much you need him. Mingyu twitches in your hand, his heart skipping more than a few beats. Without a word, his hands are gripping your plush hips as he guides himself to your entrance.

He takes his time, rubbing the tip in the wetness escaping your core, bumping it against your clit to make you quiver. You rub his biceps, nails digging into his arms, giving him such a rush that he can’t tease you any longer. He delves into your core, feeding his length into you gradually until every inch of him fills you. “So beautiful” he whispers, kissing between your breasts as he strokes in and out of you. His tongue traces the contours of your breast, flicking at your nipple before his lips wrap around it. Nibbling, suckling, all while watching the faces you make when he hits that sensitive spot.

He’s throbbing inside of you, so tight against your walls that you swear you can feel the blood rushing through those pretty veins that run up his cock. It’s sweet of him starting out slow but you want more. You press down onto him, using the minimal space between your bodies to ride him, picking up the pace. Mingyu gets the hint, rising to his knees as he presses yours to your chest. “You said make love to you” he says, his hands tucked behind your knees, “If you wanted me to fuck you, you should’ve just said so.”

He kisses you ravenously, like he wants to consume you entirely, wasting no time pulling back to bounce you on his cock, his hips moving faster with each thrust. Mingyu palms the softest part of your stomach, caressing it as his other hand reaches up to cup your cheek. His thumb runs across your bottom lip, feeling your breath as you cry out his name. “Mingyu—ah—yes—fuck. Harder!” you scream and this time you are begging.

Never being a man to deny you what you want, he obeys. Harder, faster, impossibly deeper, until you feel him in every part of you. Holding onto his wrists, you surrender, letting yourself get lost in him. So lost that you’re caught off guard by the sudden explosion of the pressure that's been building inside of you. Your lids barely fall shut before they’re shooting back open, your body quivering as your orgasm barrels down on you. Mingyu’s hypnotized by the sight of you, addicted to the way you gush and clench around him.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me. So pretty when you cum for me, aren’t you? So so pretty. Mmm—.” He wants to hold back, to at least try, but it’s no use. How can he hold back anything with you? It only takes one more pulse of your walls for him to come undone, barely able to maintain his thrusts as he spills into you. You’d feel this forever if you could. The warmth and the fullness. You’re so greedy for it, taking every drop until he’s collapsed beside you trying to come back down to earth.

Using the last bit of energy in your body, you lay your head on his chest, tossing the blanket over the two of you. “Tomorrow you’ll teach me how to shoot?” Mingyu wraps an arm around you, gently petting your hair. “You? With a gun? No way.” You nod, intimidated but confident in your decision, “We’re in this together now aren’t we? It’s not just about you protecting me. I wanna protect you too. So teach me.”

His instinct is to tell you no, that he can protect both of you on his own, but he knows it’s not fair. He’s the one who drug you into this, the least he can do is show you how to defend yourself.

“I’ll teach you. Tomorrow,” he relents, “But tonight it’s back to sleep, okay?”

"Only if you promise to stay here with me.”

“Always.”

Silence falls across the room and, as you drift back off to sleep, you know there’s so much more to that “always”. “Always” doesn’t just mean tonight or tomorrow. It’s more than next week or next year. It stretches far beyond whatever hell might lie before you. It means forever. It means that Mingyu would go to the ends of the earth for you. And there’s no way you won’t be by his side when he does. 

[sant-riley]

Uhhh brain wracking brain wracking-

Imagine S/O surprising Ghost with their strength by picking him up and perhaps spinning him around

They insist that he's as light as a feather. They're visibly struggling while holding him up

Thank you anon for the food, I haven't written anything in AGES I'm sorry if I'm rusty but fuck it we ball, gonna do these as bullet points!

Warnings; nothing I can think of! But as always, lmk!

(Literally me and Simon)

Trying and somewhat achieving in picking up Simon!

The first time you bring it up, asking if you can attempt it, Simon looks at you like you're fucking stupid.

He's a big dude, bigger than most and will almost always be the biggest person in the room, he's built like a fucking mountain.

You throwing him pretty eyes and begging for his permission isn't gonna change the fact that you're smaller than him, you'll hurt yourself, he knows you will, so he says no.

This does nothing to ward you off, only fueling you to want to work out and gain upper arm and body strength to prove him wrong out of spite.

He'll ask Soap where you've been in the last few weeks,, noticing your slight absence when training hours are over, nowhere to be found an hour or so afterwards.

Soap only chuckles and throws a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the gym where the creaks of the workout gear can be heard still.

"They're still workin' wouldn't tell me why though."

Simon makes his way towards the gym, leaning on the doorway as he sees you huff and puff as you do sets of bicep curls.

He can't help but a small smirk run under his mask, you're so committed to this. It's so stupid, but he can't deny it makes him happy.

No one can just pick the man up, takes Price, Gaz and Soap usually to keep up right and that's with his arms thrown around their shoulders.

He still doubts you'll be able to, but he's flattered. You're trying (asshole)

Simon creeps silently to you, waiting til you set down the weights before whispering out a "boo", his shit eating grin when you yelp and whirl around, wide eyes staring oh so prettily up at him.

"What the fuck! Why would you do that?" "It's funny." "It is fucking not." "Mmm, sure is."

He moves to ruffle your hair, ignoring your hand swatting at his own.

"Why are you here afterhours? You're missing chunks of your dinner." He knows why, he just wants to hear you admit it.

"Is it a crime to work out some more? To stay in top shape for our job?" The eyebrow he raises is catastrophic, immediately calling you the fuck out without any words.

"Okay, fine. I've been working out so I can prove to you I can pick you up."

At this point, he figures he can humor you, you've been trying so hard.

"Y'know what? Why the hell not, cmon, try and lift me."

"Are you fucking with me or-" "hurry up before I change my mind." "Aye Aye sir."

He stands in front of you, arms loosely at his side, head tilted to the right as he watches you get into form.

The key to lift with your legs, the strength in them far outweighing anything else, wrapping your arms across his stomach (a feeling of electricity jumps up his spine at your touch, he hopes you don't notice.)

You take a deep breath, nuzzling your head into his chest and try your fucking damndest to lift this behemoth of a man up and to your and Simon's surprise, you DO manage to lift him up, at least an inch of the ground before your legs buckle and you shakily place him down.

A whoop leaves your mouth, jumping up and down as you giggle about lifting Ghost, "I did it! You weren't that heavy at all!" Simon can literally see the sweat on your brow, but he just rumbles out a laugh and moves to plant a masked kiss on your temple, congratulating you on your win over him.

You run out into the base, no doubt going to tell the others about your feat.

He sighs a gross lovesick sigh, and moves to grab your gym bag from the bench and follow after you.

[from-the-clouds]

bad liars (savior complex ii) - joel miller x f!reader

part one | masterlist | song inspo |

Baby, you're a vampire You want blood and I promised...

summary: It's been a month since Joel has last seen you, fully healed since your last interaction. But you haven't spoken...at all. Your radio silence becomes cause for concern when he hears about an outbreak of Infected at the hospital where you work. There's enough explanation in this part that you could read it on it's own, probably, but I'd highly recommend reading part one first to get the full experience. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7.9k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. (porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, age gap. dom/sub dynamics.) Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, canon-typical suffering! Blood mention. Both reader/Joel are insanely emotionally unavailable, and love to lie to themselves and each other! (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: Ya'll loved savior complex and I'm so happy! Literally don't think I've had a fic get that many notes before, i had so many requests for a part two and because it felt like i left things open-ended enough, this came to me pretty easily! It might be the horniest thing I've ever written and also very angsty (what's new?)....but I think you'll like the ending <3 Special to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about my writing and to @zbeez-outlet for the wonderful idea.

Joel exhales and runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair – the tips of which were frozen together from standing outside for so long. It had gotten cold out. Very cold. Boston always did this time of year, and because of it, people stayed in, and crime in the QZ dropped, making it a safer place - though that wasn’t saying much. 

Of course, the cold didn’t stop him from dealing. It did make his job a hell of a lot more difficult, since FEDRA was bored, out looking for trouble, and didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. Although today, he must’ve been in luck, because the only sign of FEDRA had been helicopters and tanks that were clearly on a mission, driving to the opposite side of the QZ. Good, he had thought. A distraction. 

Joel leans back against the brick wall of the alleyway, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears, stares at the ice in the cracks of the pavement. When he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, he straightens.

The man approaching looks nervously over his shoulder, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his flimsy sweatshirt. Dave, a customer of his for some time. 

“You’re late,” Joel doesn’t bother with a proper greeting.

“I know, I know, I got held up on my way here,” Dave answers, immediately beginning his excuse. “They cleared out the hospital because of an outbreak, that whole area was locked down so I had to take the long way.”

“Outbreak?” Joel tilts his head.

“Infected. I guess a bunch of hospital staff got bit. FEDRA had to go in and put them all down.” 

Joel feels a distant pang of concern somewhere in the back of his head. “How many?”

Dave shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man, that’s all I know. It’s not like they’ll ever tell anyone what actually happened.”

Joel can’t help but think of you. He knows a couple people who work at the hospital, most of them through smuggling, but you’re the only one who he’s really able to bring to mind at the moment.

“So, can we, uh…”

Joel pulls the plastic baggie out from his pockets, fishing out the pills. On his end, Dave produces a wad of credits, his shoulders sagging in relief once they’ve made the trade and the drugs are in his hand. He takes one immediately, shoves the rest in his pocket. “Thanks man, I’ll see you next week?”

Leaning back against the wall, he nods, and watches his customer disappear down the alleyway. 

The second Dave is out of sight, Joel’s chest tightens, and he takes a deep breath. There’s no reason why news of Infected at the hospital should concern him. If FEDRA had been called in – they would’ve gunned down anything that moved until it was under control. He knew, better than anyone, that they would do unspeakable things in the name of keeping order. Innocent people probably died, but the dead can’t get infected.

It had been about a month since Joel had last seen you, after he’d gotten beaten within an inch of his life and ended up on your doorstep, and you were the only person that could help. It hadn’t gone at all how he expected it would – at the end of the day, he had been surprised by your tenderness. 

Still, despite that you’d let him take you on the edge of your bed, legs wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock, he wouldn’t really say that it changed anything about your relationship. He had actually been kind of afraid that it would, that your attitude towards him would shift to something more amicable.

But you hadn’t spoken to him in a month. Joel had told you he owed you one after you stitched him up, and had anticipated that you’d take him up on his offer pretty quickly. There were so many things he could do for you to make your situation better. Maybe you’d need credits…. Medicine…. Food…. Booze… Pills, something, but you haven’t reached out. You could just be biding your time until you really need the favor.

Still, the radio silence takes him aback. He should be relieved that you aren’t talking to him. But nothing? Even if it’s not about a favor…he wants some kind of confirmation that you’d both made a mistake. After all that, did you really expect nothing from him?

It dawns on him there’s now a chance you’ll never speak to him again, because you’re one of the ones that FEDRA killed. Or worse….you had gotten bit. 

Joel passes by the hospital, taking the long way home. Everything is locked down, taped off. There’s a crowd around the place – family members, he assumes, pleading with FEDRA agents for information and getting nothing in return.

“Go home. I’m sure they’ll turn up,” he hears one of them say to a weeping woman. It’s useless to ask for an honest answer, for one of them to actually care. 

Joel could go home. He could crush a couple pills, snort them, and quell the burn with a couple drinks. He could fall into restless sleep and wake up the next day as he always did, go about his business as usual. Survive. One day at a time. 

Would he ever get confirmation that you’re alive? Because at this rate, he’s not sure he’ll ever know either way. 

The feeling is going to linger. He hates it. Were you gone? If you are, he can handle knowing. Its somehow worse not to. 

He tries to justify it to himself. You’re one of his solid connections to the hospital, you’d traded with him for medical supplies before. This is business, really, if he thinks about it that way. If you’re dead, he and Tess need to find someone else to work with. 

Joel decides to take a detour on the way back to his place.

It’s past curfew when he arrives at your apartment, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon and with that comes an even harsher cold. Boston winters, he thinks to himself. If he is capable of missing anything, he’d say he missed Texas. Before all this, the last place he’d be caught dead was on the East Coast. 

Joel raps on your front door. He forgets how shitty your building is, that you sleep here alone every night, listening to your neighbors arguing through the thin walls, shady characters slinking out of shadows in the dimly-lit hallway,

A few seconds pass. When he hears nothing behind your door, he knocks again, a little louder. 

More time passes. He knocks again, louder. Maybe you didn’t hear him. 

Nothing. He does it again. Could you be asleep? His jaw clenches.

Still nothing, and Joel knocks even louder. Maybe you’re not even here, and you work nights, and he’s just missed you as you head out for another shift. But he knows that’s unlikely. Since he’s known you, you’ve never worked nights. So where the fuck were you?

Joel’s pounds on your door, yells your name into its chipping paint. He listens for something, anything, on the other side, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, but he keeps going The side of his fist starts to hurt, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he hears one of your neighbors yelling from the end of the hallway. 

‘Shut the fuck up!’

Joel doesn’t hear exactly where the voice comes from, but it’s enough to snap him out of it. He halts his movements, his forehead falling against hollow wood, and in the silence, hears his heart pounding in his ears. 

“Fuck!” he kicks the wall just outside the frame of your door so hard the drywall gives, leaving a hole behind. “Fuck.”

He stares at the result of his outburst for an undetermined amount of time. You were all alone. To his knowledge, you had no immediate family to inform. Who would be around to remember you? He’d never really know for sure what had happened. 

“Joel?”

He looks up, his hands still clenched tightly into fists. When he sees that it’s you, standing at the end of the hallway, they loosen. 

You look horrible - haggard, tired, your hair tangled and matted. As you move closer to him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders are hunched underneath the weight of your backpack. But once you’re standing in front of him, you straighten, lift your chin. 

“What is this?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

There’s no animosity in your tone, he thinks. You might be trying to put some in there, but you don’t have the energy to do so, so it just comes out sounding very flat.

Joel realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have a reason. A real reason that wouldn’t….give him away. He puts his hands on his hips, thinks desperately. You do nothing to help.

When he settles in silence, offers you nothing, you just sigh and shake your head. Your teeth are chattering, lips cracked from the cold, and you seem desperate to get into shelter, twisting your key into your lock and opening the front door. Once you step inside, you flick on the lights. He follows you, closes the door behind you both, and locks it.

“Oh, yeah, come on in, I guess,” you say over your shoulder. 

Joel crosses his arms, standing in your kitchen. 

“What, am I in trouble or something?” you ask. “Because if I am, you’re gonna have to wait until I’ve showered.”

“It can wait,” Joel says, and sits at one of your kitchen chairs. 

You shrug off of your backpack and leave it on a chair, then unbutton your coat, tossing it on top. Joel swallows hard when he sees the damage it’s been hiding. Your scrubs are dirty, tattered in some places, one of the sleeves hanging, partially ripped off. And they’re covered in dried blood. It’s smeared on your arms, on the back of your neck. Not yours, he hopes. 

What the fuck happened to you? You don’t turn to see his reaction, don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s going to ask about it. It’s almost like he’s not even there, and you clearly wish he isn’t. 

He realizes then, that he has the confirmation he’s looking for. You made it out alive. He doesn’t actually need anything else from you. And you’ve given him a perfect out. He can leave while you’re in the shower. 

But he doesn’t. Not when he hears the shower start, or the screech of the curtain across the metal rod, the sound of water hitting the basin. He stays there, motionless, until you duck out of the bathroom with your arms wrapped around yourself, wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair damp and teeth chattering. 

You pad with bare feet onto the tiled area of the kitchen, brushing past him. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks. 

You finally look at him, like you’re surprised he spoke up, or even asked the question. A choked, bitter laugh leaves you, and you shift your attention away from him, reaching into your cabinet for a bottle of bourbon. “Pass.”

You pour yourself a whiskey, and Joel watches you throw it back in one go, your nose scrunching up, your hand clasping into a fist as you take the shot. The taste doesn’t stop you from pouring another drink and gulping that one down, too, without as much of a reaction as the first. It’s only when you start pouring the third that he intervenes, standing and crossing the room to cover the glass with his hand before you can grab it. 

“Slow down,” he says.

“I know you’re not telling me what to do in my own home.” Your mouth opens as you look up at him, incredulous. 

Joel looks past you, shakes his head. He supposes your right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch the self-destructive behavior, which is funny considering how often he engages in it himself. He gives in, removes his hand from your glass. “At least…pour me one. You shouldn’t drink alone.”

Your expression softens slightly, and he’s able to see all the pain you’re hiding, just for a flash, before you turn to retrieve a second glass from your cabinet. 

Once you hand him the whiskey, he sits in the middle of the tiny loveseat you’ve got in your front room, expecting you to sit in the armchair across from it. Instead, you approach with your own drink, nudge his knee with your own, and Joel slides over to make room so you can fall onto the couch beside him. Much closer than he’d expected. 

It’s surprisingly good bourbon, and he wonders how many times you’d wasted it by downing it like you just had, instead of taking your time, savoring. He waits for you to get settled before he speaks again.

“What happened to you?” he tries once more, a little softer this time. 

There’s some contemplation on your end, you look at him for a moment, then at your glass, then back up at him again. He can almost see you trying to figure out how much you’re going to share, but he wants to know everything.

“There was an accident at the hospital,” you answer, finally. 

Joel slings his arm over the back of the couch, angles his body towards where you’re curled up, legs tucked underneath you. I’m listening.

Your voice stays even, blase. “A guard at the border broke protocol…and someone who was infected was brought in. By the time we realized, it was too late….”

“Were you hurt?” 

“Almost.” you say. “I mean, yes, actually, I’m a little scratched up, but…it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

Your teeth start chattering again. Joel wonders if it’s because of the cold, or your nerves. Figures it’s probably both.

“My coworker turned and I uhm….I had to…” you say into your glass, your free hand flexing like it’s trying to shake off some unpleasant muscle memory. “I had no choice.”

“I understand,” For whatever reason, he spares you from telling the story. To him, taking down Infected was nothing. But to you…“What else?” he presses.

You shrug, avoiding his eyes, one of your arms coming to grip at your opposite shoulder. “I can’t really remember. A bunch of people died. FEDRA came in and just started gunning everything down….” you shook your head, and straightened up.

“I heard about that,” Joel offers.

“Wait…you knew about this?”

“Yeah.”

“So then why are you here, asking m-” the rest of your sentence drops off, your lips parted slightly. The look on your face shifts, slowly. Your eyes narrow. Remorse turns into something more neutral, then into curiosity. “Oh my god….you were worried about me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking were,” your lips curl slightly, it’s not quite a smile, but it’s something close to amusement. 

“No,” Joel defends himself. “I wanted to hear what happened from someone–”

“No you didn’t,” you interject, but he raises his voice to finish his thought.

“–who actually works there, not FEDRA’s propaganda.”

“No you did not. You’re checking up on me. You came over here after curfew to see if I was–”

“Enough,” Joel growls with enough conviction that it shuts you up, and he’s grateful, but its not enough to wipe the self-satisfied look on your face, because it doesn’t.

“What are we, like, friends now?”

He doesn’t answer, and slugs back the rest of his whiskey.

“Or would that be too much for you?” You don’t wait long for him to give you an answer, probably because you know he won’t respond. “I mean, if we’re both being honest–” He definitely wasn’t being honest. “–Today was really fucked up.”

You’re leaning forward now, some of the space between you is gone. And though you’re trying to give the impression that you’re unphased by everything, your hand is clenched tightly around your glass, and you avoid his eyes. It’s painful to watch you resist the urge to trust him. Not that he’s ever given you a good enough reason to – he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he wants it anyways.

“It’s funny…” you say after a while. “I remember thinking that I didn’t want to die. At least… not like that. I’ve never felt that before…That’s something, isn’t it?” you ask him. 

Joel looks at you, and is surprised at the vulnerability in your expression, sees you looking for some kind of validation from him. “....It is.” 

You finish off your drink, and put the empty glass on the coffee table, shift closer to him.

“It looks like you healed up okay,” you say, after a spell. “How’s your shoulder?”

“A little sore, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did you take those antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I can’t even tell you had a black eye.”

“I’m fine,” Joel asserts. 

Another shiver wracks your body, and he can tell this one is actually from the chill – your apartment is cold as fuck, it even is starting to bother him. 

“Don’t you have a heater?”

“Kinda,” you glance over at the radiator in the corner. “Sometimes it works.”

“What do you do when it’s colder than this?” It was only November, things would only get worse. 

You shrug. “I don’t know….just be colder, I guess.”

Joel imagines you curled up in your bed alone, wrapped in a thin comforter, shaking in front of him like you are now. He winces. 

“How long are you going to stay?” you ask, changing the subject.

“I should probably go now.”

You nod, scoot closer. “But maybe…” you trail off, contemplating. 

Joel sits up straighter, prompting you when you don’t speak again. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could stick around for a little while longer.” There’s a warm hand, yours, that lands on his thigh, and he recoils like you’ve touched him with a fire iron. He rises to his feet. 

“Hey,” you stand along with him, step in front of him to block the pathway to the door. He could easily get past you, obviously, but it’s not as simple as that. 

Of course he’s fucking thought about what happened the last time he was here – his arms around your waist, his mouth on your neck, your chest, your hands on his shoulders, whining his name. A freak accident, a glitch in the matrix, a statistically improbable thing. 

“What?” he asks as you step forward, the fingers on your free hand sliding into the belt loops of his pants. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, to other places. And you’re still fucking shivering. You look so fucking miserable, he wants to yell at you to put on a coat, to wrap yourself in a blanket, in his arms. 

“Joel,” you say his name softly, tilting your head up, leaning close. And then your hand is on the side of his face, and he realizes you’re fucking pleading with him. He knows what you want, but he has a feeling this isn’t just about sex. You’re looking for comfort, as if he’s capable of giving it. 

“We made a mistake…once,” he tells you. “We’re not going to make it again.”

He says it to hurt you, but it doesn’t work. It’s like you knew it was coming all along. “I knew what I was doing,” you answer, earnest. “Didn’t you?”

Yes. You glance down at his hands, which are squeezed into fists so tightly, his knuckles are white. If he’s not rigid, he’s not sure how he’ll be able to resist. He wants you. God, he wants you. He never thought he’d be able to have you again. 

“I could help you loosen up.”

Joel’s walking on the edge of a one-thousand foot cliff and hoping his foot slips. He wants to surrender. The only thing he thinks might save him is to say the meanest thing he can. Maybe you’d get turned off.

“Listen to yourself,” he says, finding the strength to meet your eyes. “You want me so bad, you sound pathetic.”

“Asshole,” you step closer, your mouth twitches, your lips are inches apart. “Do you think I care what you think about me?”

Joel realizes his plan has backfired. But he really only has himself to blame, he should’ve known better. With you, he’s never in as much control as he wants to be, and deep down, he likes it. 

“Go lie down on the bed.”

It’s the only thing that seems to shock you. “What?” 

“I won’t ask you again,” Joel steps backwards, crosses his arms. “Go lie down.” 

──────

If you told yourself a couple months ago that one day you’d find yourself pinned down by Joel Miller, you’d think it’d be because he was about to kill you. Maybe because you cheated him out of something, maybe because you did something else to piss him off – it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how fucked up it was, that idea would seem more dignified than what was happening now. 

Your back is being pressed deeper into the lumpy old mattress, and he’s on you. His mouth is warm, hot, wet, and dragging down your neck, nipping, sucking, licking. Your hands are itching to reach out, to skate down his torso, trace along his jawline, tug at his hair, but you can’t because he’s got them pinned above you with only one of his own. Anytime you try to fight him, his grip only grows stronger. 

It was shameful, really, but you had asked for this – begged for it, basically. There were a number of reasons why – one of which was to blow off some steam after a near death experience, the other because you’d fucked him before and it had been good, much to your dismay. There was also a third reason that you weren’t interested in acknowledging now. 

After the night Joel had gotten jumped, and you’d taken care of him, everything has changed. It’s a cliche, but true. You’d known what you were doing when it happened, and had no regrets. But it was probably not supposed to happen again, and you tried to keep it that way, more for his sake than anyone else’s. But….he was the one who showed up tonight after he’d heard what had happened. It wasn’t nothing.

Joel pulls away from you so abruptly that you gasp, shivering in the wake of his impossible warmth. 

“Sit up,” he instructs, and you turn to find him at the end of the bed, arms crossed. 

You obey, mostly just for the view. You hope to admire him, fresh from kissing you – flush skin, wet lips, tousled hair. Only he’s frustratingly stoic, unsullied – like he hadn’t been touching you at all. 

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. 

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s nothing,” you agree. 

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Good,” you watch his shoulders loosen, just a little, and he takes one step backwards, his eyes tracing down your body and then back up. “Strip for me….” 

You aren’t dressed sexy at all, you remember, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. If you had thought this through a little more, you might’ve tried to make it nicer for him. “....Okay.”

“Start with your shirt,” he says, and you grab at the hem, but he snaps at you. “Ah-ah….slower.”

You swallow, nod, and carefully lift the fabric, dragging it up over your stomach, over the swell of your breasts, revealing your tight, thin white tank top. 

“That’s it, nice and slow.” 

Joel’s voice is soft but stern, a low rasp that makes your cunt clench around nothing, and he’s not even touching you. The sweatshirt is pulled over your head, falling somewhere on the crumpled bedspread. 

Languidly, you lean back, shifting your weight to get off the mattress, and Joel palms himself through his jeans. You can see where he’s straining against the denim, and you find it hard to tear your gaze away as you go to pull off your sweatpants. Joel stops you again. 

“Turn around.”

You do, and you’re sure he has a nice view of your ass as you slide them over your hips, bending over to let the fleece pool around your ankles. Slowly, you rise back up, looking at him over your shoulder for approval. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs. Your stomach flips. A month ago, you would’ve done anything to get him to stay away from you, and now, you’re terrified to disappoint him. 

That’s the problem. You’d spent most of the day fighting for your life — literally. But even after standing behind a barricade of heavily-armed FEDRA soldiers outside the hospital, you didn’t feel as safe as you did when you saw Joel at your door. You need him. For now, at least.

“Now the shirt,” he tilts his head towards the mattress, nodding encouragingly.

You get back on the bed, sitting back on your heels, and begin to pull the tank top up. It’s your last layer up top, you’re not wearing a bra, and you’re feeling a little vulnerable with him just watching you, fully clothed and composed, your gaze falling down to look at the threadbare linens. 

“Eyes up,” he instructs. “Look at me.”

Taking in a shaky inhale, you do. It’s not easy. Everything about him looks dark, animalistic. A coiled ball of energy, waiting to pounce.

But, even when you’re bare before him, he doesn’t. 

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

Of course, you don’t refuse, settling your head against the pillows. 

There’s a sound of a belt – his belt, unbuckling, the snap of a button, the dip of the bed where he kneels when he comes to hover over you. Two hands land on top of your thighs, pressing the backs against his denim-clad knees, thumbs pushing your legs further apart. 

And then…nothing. He’s still. He’s still for so long, that you actually think that something’s wrong. When you open your eyes, you’re met with a view of the underside of his jaw. You can just make out the pinched expression he’s wearing as he looks down upon you. Disdain, maybe…but it’s not meant for you, it’s for someone else….him.

“Joel,” you murmur. Instinctually, you reach for his hand.

The second it makes contact, he smacks your hand away so hard your whole body jolts. “I told you to close your eyes.”

“Sorry,” you mumble quickly, closing them again. 

You are well aware that he’s actively working through shit, probably doing some kind of mental gymnastics to rationalize why it’s okay to fuck you again, which, when you really think about it is kind of….pathetic. It’s the only thing that makes you feel any sort of power in a situation where you’ll surrender everything else. It’s a fair exchange. 

Maybe, on a different day, you would want it softer. You’d like to think he’s capable of that, even though he seems determined he isn’t. Luckily, you don’t want it softer. After today, you want to be so far gone you can’t think. 

Joel answers by leaning down and catching you in a bruising kiss. Finally. You press yourself against him cause you’re freezing and he’s so warm, and you frantically begin to unbutton the flannel he’s wearing, making it about halfway down before he pins your hands above you again.

“Slow down.”

You whine, a little frustrated because all you want to do is touch him. The fingers on his free hand hook around the elastic of your underwear, and he starts to drag them over the curve of your ass. 

He’s got to be joking with how deliberately he’s moving, anticipation only building underneath his featherlight touches.

When he’s got your panties around your ankles, you slide your legs together so he can pull them off entirely, keeping them closed as his weight shifts, and your thighs are pulled back apart.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he doesn’t need to feel you to see it clear as day, with you spread open in front of him. “So fucking desperate.”

He’s all-but glaring at you, like you’ve done something wrong, and for a minute, your eyes flick away, just for a second of relief from the tension.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asks. 

“N-no,” you stammer, though it was supposed to sound confident. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t press you, his head dipping down to press his lips to your knee, then an inch higher, then an inch higher, then higher – keeping his eyes locked on yours the whole time, an arm winding around your thigh.

“I wanted to do this last time.” A confession. 

“Yeah?” you sigh, trembling. It’s maybe the nicest thing he’s said to you, but you can’t even acknowledge it, because you’re buzzing.

He turns his face, his beard scraping along sensitive skin. “Mhm,” his deep rasp vibrates directly to your cunt, and when his head dips down, you close your eyes – it might just be better to focus on only one sensation at a time, you’re not sure you can handle seeing what he’s about to do.

Joel’s mouth is on you the second you do, and you gasp. He licks up the seam of your lips, mouth latching around your clit, swirling with his tongue, and back down – firm, determined, practiced. You try to buck up, but he has an arm locked around your hips. 

He removes himself from you just enough to utter two words. “Stay still.”

You want to protest, but you realize that he’s let go of your hands, and it gives you the opportunity to thread your fingers into his hair, while you dig your heels into the broad expanse of his back, and he groans, tongue curling into you. 

“I’ve thought about this,” you gasp, answering his earlier admission.

“When?”

“At night. More than once.”

“Fuck,” Joel growls, and you wheeze when he works one finger into you, forcing you to take it along with his next words. “You know how fuckin’ bad that is? Dreamin’ about a man nearly twice your age?”

“I d-don’t care, I want you anyway. Y-you can do whatever you want to me,” It’s too early to be past the point of speaking coherently, it really is, but you’re already there. 

“F-fuck,” Joel repeats himself, and pushes another finger inside you next to the first, the stretch almost uncomfortable, but quickly fading to pleasure. “I’m going to.”

You’re not the going to tell him, though, that he’s the first man whose ever gone down on you, because you’re a little fucking scared for some reason. It’s intimate, very intimate, more than you expected. 

The truth is, you weren’t actually very experienced at all. You could count on one hand the number of partners you’d had, and still not use all of your fingers. While some of them were good enough, they all paled in comparison to Joel. There had never been anyone like Joel. 

His fingers curl as his tongue swirls around your clit and you cry out, inhale sharply. Minute by minute, you’re getting wetter and wetter – can hear yourself with each twist of his fingers inside you, bearing down on him. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, and your eyes flutter open just for a second, just to see his forehead, dark eyes staring back at you, and his hips dipping, rutting against the mattress. God he’s getting himself off to this. As hot as it is, the thought of not getting to feel him inside you causes a rush of anger. 

“F-feels so good,” you’re right there, already, and it’s pitiful.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, you just nod, gasping. Joel works you right up to the precipice, hands tightening in his hair, hips lifting off the bed – and then he slows a little –  just enough – to pull you back off the edge, and you let out a humiliating sob.

“Shhh!” he hisses with his mouth still on you, resuming the steady pace he had going. A little sigh of relief when you feel your release approaching again. He just lost his rhythm for a moment, it was nothing.

Again, he’s got you right there, you’re so close, hips jerking, breathing in short, sharp pants, something molten working its way up your spine. “Joel, that’s it, please I-”

He falters again – just enough. And it’s gone again.

You realize, with dismay, that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He hadn’t lost his rhythm. He’s doing this on purpose. 

If someone asked – not that anyone would – you wouldn’t be able to recall how long he keeps you in that state, being dragged and dangled, but denied the privilege of falling. It’s torture. 

And at first, you try to be patient. You figure he’ll grow tired, desperate, and eventually want to move on. But apparently, he doesn’t want to move on. He’s content to keep you this way for as long as he sees fit, and you can’t handle it any longer. It’s starting to hurt.

“Please, Joel, let me-” you gasp.

“Let you what?” he pulls back from you, frustratingly too soon, once again.

“Let me come, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please, please-”

“Just a little longer,” he dismisses you.

All you can do is pant and writhe, completely at his mercy. He keeps going like that, and you’ve stopped trying to filter yourself, the sounds he makes as he laves at you are obscene, you can see yourself glistening on his chin, and can feel the sheets damp beneath you. At this point, he’s enjoying this more than you are.

“Joel,” you plead with him again. “It’s too much, I c-can’t. Just, please I really need-”

“You wanna come for me, baby?” he asks. You nod ferociously. 

“Yes, please, please,” 

“You’re so fucking sweet when you beg, you know that? ” he murmurs. “Wish you were like this all the time.”

“Fuck off,” you manage, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You should do this to me more often. 

Joel chuckles, and it vibrates just right, his fingers curling again and you moan, hands tightening in his hair. He’s focused now, you can tell because the constant stream of filth he’s been whispering has finally stopped. He’s persistent.

You’re unable to stay quiet, continuing to whimper just like that and please don’t stop over and over. And then all at once, every muscle in your body grows tense and you cry out, cunt pulsing around him so tightly that his fingers slow. “There you go, pretty girl, that’s it.” 

You whisper his name as he continues to fuck his fingers into you, riding you through your orgasm and licking up the mess you’ve made. 

At some point in the aftermath, Joel withdraws from you, and you hear the sting of his zipper. It takes a moment, but you’re able to see him through heavily lidded eyes, kneeling in front of you with his shirt unbuttoned all the way, pants around his ankles, jerking himself slowly in his hand. God he’s fucking huge, how had you forgotten about that? He’s a vision, beard still wet with you, looking down, watching your chest rise and fall. In that moment you realize two things. One, even though you’ve already come, you somehow want him even more than you had before, and two, you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life. 

So you sit up, crawl towards him, and reach out with one hand to take him in your palm. He lets you, sighing, closing down his eyes. First, you have to kiss him, so you rise to your knees, and he pulls you into his arms, one of them winding around your waist, the other coming to rest at the small of your back. “You take such good care of me,” you whisper. 

He grimaces at the words like they’re an insult. You expect him to retaliate, to tell you that you shouldn’t say that sort of thing, but he never does. So you kiss him, gently, bringing your free hand to the side of his face. Once again, he lets you, and you taste yourself when his tongue presses into you mouth. You run your thumb over the head of his cock, and he hums against your touch, almost contentedly.

You’re doing whatever you want to him, and you’re shocked he hasn’t put a stop to it. It could be satisfying enough, you think, just to keep kissing him like this. Still, you sink back towards the bed to test things further. You’re about to wrap your mouth around him, but he pulls you off by your hair, so quickly, so hard that you yelp.

“No.” he says firmly. “Lie back.”

“But I just wanted to-”  

“No.” 

You consider trying to reason with him, but decide it won’t be worth whatever he’d do if you continue to argue.

Joel braces himself with one hand above your shoulder, the other wrapped around his cock, slowly teasing you by rubbing himself up and down a few times, before he gives in, finally pushing into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp at the stretch, reaching out grasp at his bicep, arching your back. He’d prepped you, and it was still too much. 

“You can take it,” he says, pressing deeper into you. His hips are all the way flush with yours, he’s to the hilt, and he still snaps them even further, once, holding you there, so deep, you feel like you’re choking on him. “See? There you go.”

It seems like you can’t quite catch your breath, and you squirm underneath him for some kind of friction, some kind of relief from how intense it all is. You can feel him throbbing inside you, feel how badly his own body is begging him to move, but he doesn’t. 

“Joel,” you cradle the back of his head, look him in the eyes. “Move, please.”

He doesn’t answer, he just brings his hand to grip your jaw, his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks. 

“Please?” you murmur again, and his thumb slips into your mouth, silencing you. You suck on it obediently, and after you do, he finally gives you what you want.

──────

Joel told you he wouldn’t be gentle, and he isn’t. 

He hadn’t been able to do this last time. Taste you, spread you open, fuck you properly. His hips snap against yours – ferociously, unrelenting, over and over. You’ve been going at it for awhile now, and he actually wants you to break. He wants you to tell him to slow down, to be a little more tender, not press into you so deep, so hard, so that if he listens, it wouldn’t mean he’s breaking his own promise. He’s got to be rough with you, because he’s afraid of what could happen if he’s not.

But you don’t break. You fucking take it, take him, each time, again and again, your nails digging into arms, your legs locked around his hips. Each time he delves into you, you’re getting wetter and wetter, and yet, you’re still so fucking tight. He doesn’t understand it. It’s been a long fucking time since he’s been with a woman like you – and you might be the best he’s ever had. 

You’re not even making any noise – you’re just panting, gasping in Joel’s ear as you cling to him, and that’s all. He can’t even look you in the eyes. If he does, he knows you’ll see everything that’s wrong with him, and still beg for him to give you more. 

Two hands land on either side of his face, turning his head so you can kiss him. Despite how he’s treating you, you keep trying to connect, to ground yourself. For as much as he wants to refuse, it feels too cruel to deny you. He lets you lock your lips with his own, feels your cunt clutch him even tighter. It’s impossible for you to kiss for more than a few seconds at a time without it getting broken up by a whimper here and there. You’re getting close again, he’s started to get better at recognizing it.

“You’re fucking so perfect on me, baby, you feel that?” he asks, and you nod, breathless. “Taking me so well, such a good fucking girl-”

A gasp from you cuts him off, your eyes squeezing shut as you are taken over by your climax. Joel groans and does everything he can not to come when you start pulsing around him, holding him closer, since there’s nothing else to do. It’s way too intimate…because it’s missionary, and he should’ve known better than to start off like this. 

Pulling out of you is the hardest thing he’s had to do in a while, and he ignores your noises of protest now that he’s left you empty. Then, he flips you onto your stomach. He takes a moment to admire the curve of your ass, how it dips into your waist….to him, your body is perfect, and you’re young, your skin still supple and smooth. There are still places he hasn’t gotten his mouth on, and it’s a shame, he thinks, but tonight his patience is wearing thin. Joel pulls you back until you’re on your knees, and slides back inside. There’s a little resistance, you whimper, but it’s easier than the first time. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other across your chest, and starts to jerk his hips upwards, into you. 

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you sigh in relief.

“I know, I know.”

You drop your head back until it falls against his shoulder, winding your arm back so you can pull at his hair, which kind of fucking hurts, but he likes it. 

Ultimately, you’re pretty easy to please, and it’s not long before he feels the telltale flutter of your walls as you drip down over him, soaking his lap. 

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby. You gonna come for me again?”

All you can do is plead with him. “I can’t, Joel. I can’t do it again, please just-”

“Yes, you can,” he interjects. “I know you can, baby, don’t worry…I’ll help you.”

“O-okay.’ 

He slows the roll of his hips just a little, focuses on deeper, longer strokes, and lets the hand that’s currently squeezing one of your tits fall to where your bodies are joined, finding your clit immediately.

You whine, arching back against him, the swell of your ass packed against his lower stomach. He sees a single tear leaking from the corner of your eye and feels a little guilty for what he’s doing to you. Only a little, though. 

Without any warning, for the third time, you’re coming around him – easier than the last time, like always – and he uses the feeling of you throbbing around him to chase his own release, his hand clapping over your mouth to muffle your moans as he becomes increasingly frantic. 

He turns his head, rakes his teeth along your exposed neck, and sinks them into your pulse point with a groan. Your breath is hot against him when you whimper in response. 

“Just a little more, honey.” He’s so close. You bob your head, though you’ve nearly gone limp in his arms.

Like last time, Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s not going to pull out. The thought of deliberately coming inside you is actually what sends him over the edge, and he’s cursing and moaning your name. You whine at the feeling of him pulsing inside of you, arching back for more, even though he can tell you’re exhausted. 

It’s fucking freezing in your apartment, and yet, his skin is damp with sweat when he finally regains some awareness of his surroundings. He’s panting, you’re sniffling, a weak smile on your face as you catch your breath. Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to your cheek. 

Joel tilts you both forward – very tentatively, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. At some point, your hand settled over top of his, and you threaded your fingers between his own, holding his hand across your stomach. You keep it there, even after you’ve settled onto the bed.  

It takes a few minutes before either of you move, but it’s you who gives in first, wriggling out from where he’s got you trapped partially underneath him. 

You retreat to the bathroom, like you did last time. Somewhere during your coupling the linens have slid down the bed, and Joel settles back against the pillows, throwing an arm behind his head.  Now that he’s stopped sweating, he’s just cold, and he reaches to pull the bedspread over him. He should leave, he thinks, before you come out and ask him to. Beat you to the punch. Maybe while you’re still in the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, and you return from the bathroom, dressed again in sweats. He hears you pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. You flick off the lamp on your bedside table, and fall into bed next to him, lying rigidly on your back. He should reach out, pull you against him, let you settle in his arms. Instead, Joel rolls over on his side. 

It’s terrible how beautiful you are, he thinks, watching you stare up at the ceiling, hugging yourself. So beautiful, and fucking smart. You’re strong, too, but not as strong as he wishes you were. Of course, no one could ever be that strong.

He whispers your name. You turn your head, pupils still blown wide with lingering lust.

“You need to learn to defend yourself, to shoot a gun, to fight,” he says. “After today.”

“What?” you roll to face him. 

“You said you didn’t want to die,” Joel continues. “So you need to learn. ‘Case something like that happens again.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you’re gonna teach me?” your voice is a little hoarse after what he’d done to you, and you smirk at him.

“Yes.” It sobers you up, that he’s not fucking with you, or giving you a hard time. “I owe you, remember?” 

“You do.” 

“So…. I’ll teach you.” 

“....Okay.” 

“Alright.”

Joel rolls over to his opposite side, and you’re left staring at his back. Arms wrapped around 

himself in a tight hug, he waits for you to tell him to go.

You never do. 

Instead, he feels the heat of your body as you curl up against him, slotting one of your legs between his own. Your hand grazes up his ribs, over his bicep – a gentle, quick massage – before you tuck your arm underneath his own, your palm flat against his heart. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, frozen at how tender the embrace is. It’s a foreign feeling, he can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this. 

The tip of your nose hits the nape of his neck, and he can feel your shuddery exhale.

“I’m cold,” you say, like it’s obvious, lips brushing featherlight against his skin. “And if you’re staying, you might as well make yourself useful.”

He can’t roll over and wrap his arms around you. He can’t kiss your forehead or play with your hair or murmur into your ear. He can’t offer you anything in return. Joel decides, though, if he’s going to accept comfort from anyone, it’s going to be from you.

──────

taglist (basically if you asked for a pt 2 on the last part i tagged you): @bbyanarchist @dlwrish @imaginewrites24 @captain-yellow-96 @daisyintheskyewithdiamonds @sludgec0r33 @c0wb0ym3nace

[starrystormwritings]

Something's Off

Something's Off

Master List <3 Request List <3 Criminal Minds Master List

Spencer Reid x Reader

A/n: Hey so I haven't written anything in over a year and this is my first criminal minds thing ever so any criticism is welcomed. This was written at 3am so any bad grammar or writing can be excused in my opinion lol. Please consider sending me some requests or ideas for anything on my request list, I'm desperate to get back to being active on here but I'm running low on ideas.

Summary: You and Spencer work at the BAU and after a lapse in Spencer's judgment you end up getting hurt.

Warnings: Murder, guns, shooting, stabbing, blood, hospitals, possible death, general criminal minds talk to gruesome murders

Word Count: 2669

(NOT MY GIF)

"There she is, we were starting to think you'd quit on us." Derek joked as me and Spencer walked into the briefing room hand in hand.

After a particularly long and emotional case I had decided to take some time to myself to recover from it.

It had only been a week but in this job that felt like years.

"Yep here I am, no need to worry. I know how much you all missed me." I said with a laugh while sitting down at the round table, Spencer going to grab our coffees.

"Can't argue with that, lover boy over there has been lost without you." Emily said with a laugh smiling at me.

Everyone else had taken their seats as Spencer sat next to me, sliding my coffee in front of me with an excited smile.

"Well as much as I wouldn't use the word lost I have missed having you around here." He blushed lightly, trying to speak in the least awkward manner as he could.

I knew he had missed me at work, everyday he came home to our apartment he'd be glued to my side explaining every detail of the case he'd just gotten back from, wanting to hear my opinions and spend time with me.

As much as hearing about work took away the point of taking time off from it watching Spencer ramble on passionately and excitedly to me was nice.

Plus if I'm being honest with myself I'd be bored without it.

"Six women have been found dead in a suburban town in Texas, all between the ages of twenty to thirty and have appeared within forty-eight hours of each other." Hotch explained whilst Penelope showed the pictures of the crime scenes behind him.

"All girls were found within sixteen hours of being deceased and had already been missing for more than a day, meaning he keeps them before murdering them. He has stabbed them all once in the abdomen, careful not to hit any vital organs so the body doesn't shut down. Instead he stabs them to leave them to slowly bleed out." Penelope added whilst handing folders of information out to everyone.

"So it's likely he already has another girl with him now?" Rossi asked with a frown as he flicked his folder open.

"More than likely yes, and with and increasing confidence and skill set we can only assume he's going to continue at a quicker or more brutal pace the longer he's able to." Spencer added, looking to the group with a smile that matched nothing that he just said.

I sighed and looked at the images in front of me, at least this case seemed fairly simple in comparison to some of what we've had to face.

~~~

"This guy is most likely a social younger man who holds enough respect and familiarity within the area for people to feel comfortable enough to get into his vehicle alone at night. He doesn't force his victims to comply they willingly trust him until it's too late due to his natural charm and charisma. Then he holds them for a day before killing and disposing of them. He doesn't hurt them in their time of captivity, meaning he most likely feels remorse or is unsure of his actions, but the thrill of the kill is to enticing for him to let them go. He's confident within his ability to kill, shown in the slow and precise manner he takes in the murder. He is most likely a local who has lived here his whole life due to his knowledge of the area and the trust everyone has toward him. He also appears confident in his ability to not be caught, since he dumps the bodies rather than hiding them. He believes he's more intelligent than most people and above the law, and his high IQ helps fuel this narcissistic ideal he has of himself. That is all thank you." Hotch walks away from the room of police officers who were noting down his profile, gesturing to Emily, Rossi and Derek to follow him into an interrogation room.

I jumped up from the table I was sat on and gathered my notes from next to me.

"I just don't understand how we could have such a sick individual in our community doing this to women. It's just shocking to me." Officer Davis said from beside me.

He was the head officer on the case and the chief of police in this town, he'd been assisting me and Spencer in the last few hours with trying to create an idea of where to begin looking.

"Yeah it always comes as a shock when a member of your community causes something like this." I offered him a small smile whilst gathering my stuff to head over to Spencer, Officer Davis following closely behind me.

"I just can't believe something like this could happen here."

"Can you think of any groups of people within the community that hold a lot of respect and trust? Like public speakers, church groups, large charity groups or public helpers?" I asked him flicking to the page of possible careers I had, smiling at Spencer as I settled my stuff next to him.

"Well apart from the obvious like the police and fire force, I couldn't think of anything. We're quite a religious area but none of our churches have any well known priests that everyone would know, we have too many churches and priests for people to form personal connections with. Although we do have a large neighbourhood watch group. They do nightly patrols in cars around the streets and main roads. They're a very large group of people."

Spencer's head shot up at the last bit. "Do they have a known leader people would know? Or any type of uniform they wear to be recognisable?" He asked Davis while scribbling something on his whiteboard.

"Not uniforms no. Although, the patrol cars they use do have these stick on lights they use to be recognisable. Pauls the leader, he tells people when their needed for patrol."

"So our unsub could be a patrol member, approaching women in his car so they know he's apart of the watch group and trust him enough to get into the car without any hesitation!" Spencer said turning to Davis "I need a list of names of the leaders of the group."

I opened my phone, calling Penelope "I'll get a list of the people on patrol the nights that these girls were taken, see if there's anyone that was working every night."

~~~

Less than a day, that's all we had to find this woman before it was too late.

I was stood in an office with Spencer and Rossi, bouncing ideas off of each other, hoping something stuck.

"Penelope got him." Derek said with a smile walking into the room.

"Paul Fredrick, thirty-five years old, lived here his whole life, was arrested ten years ago for an assault against an twenty-one year old woman, and in charge of the neighbourhood watch patrol schedule." Spencer read from the paper Derek just handed him.

"Hotch, Emily and that detective are already heading there. We need to go this girl probably hasn't got that long left." Derek said gesturing us out of the door quickly.

~~~

"He's confessed." Spencer said with a smile, kissing me on the head as he took a seat next to me.

I'd been sat in this empty office in the police station for an hour now, something just doesn't feel right.

"Really? Doesn't that seem strange to you? I mean according to the profile this guy is confident and intelligent. Surly he wouldn't confess after an hour of interrogation." I bit my lip lightly as I re-read my notes again and again.

"Well sometimes the profile isn't completely correct. Plus they found the girl in an abandoned warehouse a ten minute drive away from his house." Spencer shrugged "he isn't as confident as the profile indicates, he was also quite anxious and stressed when confronted which was surprising, but the evidence points to him and he's confessed. All of the logic adds up."

"I guess. I just don't feel right." I sigh and look up to him with a frown.

He matches my expression and stands up, kissing my forehead lightly before collecting his stuff. "You probably just need some rest it's been a long weekend. The plane leaves in an hour, I'll go collect our stuff for us."

He gave me one more smile before leaving the room. As I glanced after him I saw the rest of the station basically empty and the time was three in the morning.

With another sigh I gathered my stuff and headed out the door. Maybe ten minutes outside in the fresh air would chill me out.

"Everything alright?" A voice from behind me asked, making me jump.

"Davis hi you scared me." I said with a laugh, holding the door for him as we both walked outside. "Everything's okay yeah I'm just rethinking the case."

"What's bothering you about it?" He asked, lighting himself a cigarette.

"I don't know, the whole thing just seems off, I mean why would Fredrick confess so quickly? He doesn't match the profile at all, he's awkward and of a lower intelligence. I just don't see how he could do this alone. Plus why would he take these woman to an abandoned warehouse that could be accessed to the public or the police whenever rather than his own house? He lived alone in an remote area with no neighbours. It just doesn't add up." I shrugged and pulled my arms closer to me since the cold was nipping at my arms.

All of a sudden I felt a blunt pain hit the side of my head.

~~~

(Spencers pov)

"Everything alright kid?" Derek asks me with a concerned look.

"Yeah, I'm just worried about Y/n." I reply, fidgeting with my fingers as I talk "She's been questioning the case and I'm starting to think she might've been onto something."

"What do you mean?"

"Well didn't Fredrick seem odd to you? He had a low IQ and no charisma at all, even if you knew of him I doubt many people would willingly get into his car. Plus he transported the girls for no reason, he put himself at risk by doing it in that warehouse rather than his own home. There's no way he could've done this alone."

"What are you getting at here kid?"

"Well didn't he come across to you as more of a submissive personality?"

"You think we have two unsubs here? A team?"

I shook my head quickly calling Y/n as I spoke. 

"No not a specifically a team. A dominant who lured the girls and killed them, and a submissive who picked the girls out, disposed of the bodies and took the fall. It would make sense, Fredrick was to easy to find, this unsub would be to intelligent to be this simple. Fredrick was on patrol the nights the girls were taken, he most likely saw them first and then alerted the other unsub of them so he could then take them."

"Well if this unsub was so intelligent how come it was so easy to find his partner?"

The phone rang out, that's strange Y/n always picks up.

"He wanted us to. He pointed us in that direction to throw us off, he didn't need Fredrick and he knew he would stay loyal if he was caught. He wanted us to catch Fredrick so we'd leave."

Derek's eyes went wide as he got his phone out of his phone to call someone.

"You know who told us about the neighbourhood watch and the list of likely suspects?"

Derek asked with a frown.

"Davis."

~~~

"Has anyone seen Y/n?" I asked as I walked into the room that the rest of the team were in.

They all looked at me with worried expressions as Emily handed me my bulletproof vest.

"According to the CCTV she was last seen leaving the station with Officer Davis" Hotch said clearing his throat, trying to remain stern and collected even though he was as distraught as the rest of the team.

"What?" my face fell as I scanned the room, everyone either looking away from me or straight at me with concern. 

Derek's phone beeped and everyone's heads snapped up to look at him as he stood. "Pen's got an address, lets go."

~~~

"FBI!" Derek yelled as he kicked down the door, letting himself into the house as I followed behind, gun trained ahead of me.

"What am I looking for here Reid?" he asked, clearing the first room.

"A basement most likely." I said walking ahead, spotting a door that appeared to be heading downstairs.

I nodded my head toward it and Derek went ahead, opening it slowly and walking down.

I followed close behind him, a loud smash was heard from in front of us and before I could even see Derek shot, leaving Davis on the floor.

"He tried to run, threw something glass at me." Derek said, gesturing to the blood from the new cut on his arm.

"Can you see her anywhere?" I pushed in front of him as he flicked on the light switch.

I scanned the room before my eyes landed on her figure in the corner, laying on the floor looking pale and bleeding from somewhere. "Y/N!" I ran over there, putting my gun away as Derek called for a medic through the radio.

"Hey your going to be okay. I'm so sorry, I should've listened I'm so sorry. Y/n please. Come on open your eyes. Please..." I felt Derek's hand on my shoulder as I started to cry.

Before I could comprehend what was happening a group of medics came in and surrounded her, Derek pulling me out of the room.

~~~

I paced the hospital waiting room floor, it had been hours and we'd heard nothing.

Emily was asleep on two chairs. Hotch was sat looking at the floor, tapping his foot anxiously. Rossi had been standing up to speak to the receptionist every ten minuets, and Derek had be constantly picking up calls from Penelope who had kept ringing for updates despite Derek promising to call her as soon as we knew.

And I had basically paced a hole through the floor.

"Reid sit down and eat something. Stop punishing yourself." Hotch said with a frown.

I shook my head and continued pacing. "I can't, I should've listened to her, or stayed with her. I didn't even try first aid I just froze when I saw her..." I replied, voice cracking.

A doctor cleared his throat behind us "Y/n L/n?"

We all looked up at him with matching worried expressions.

I held my breath as we waited for him to say something.

"She was stabbed in the abdomen but luckily suffered no trauma to any organs. She's lost a lot of blood but she's going to be okay. She's just woken up so she's a bit out of it but she can take one visitor."

I felt my whole body relax as I took a breath.

"She's okay?" I asked again with a shaky breath.

Derek put his hand on my shoulder and nodded with a smile "She's going to be okay kid."

I let out a little sob and nodded my head with a small smile.

"Reid you should go see her, let her know we're all here." Hotch said patting my other shoulder.

I nodded at both of them and followed after the doctor, taking a seat next to her bed, holding her hand in mine as carefully as I could.

She opened her eyes, slowly turning her head to look at me.

Somehow she was still smiling as bright as ever, provoking my face to mirror hers on instinct.

"Hey you." she said with a small laugh.

"Hi." I kissed her knuckles, a few tears escaping my eyes as I looked at her.

"Why're you crying? I'm the one who's be stabbed dumbass." she joked with a small laugh, causing me to chuckle.

"I love you so much, don't you ever do this again. I really thought I'd lost you. I don't know what I would've done."

"I'll try my best to stay alive then, just for you Spence."

She smiled sweetly at me with another small laugh, I admired her face for a second before leaning in to kiss her lips softly.

[formulaorange]

2023 Fall Anime

This is honestly a loaded season full of new shows based on relatively new manga. Lots to look forward to

Spy x Family - Season 2 One of the most fun SJ series that have come out in a while. Season 1 was killer, high hopes for season 2.

Goblin Slayer 2 I didn't realize they were even making a second season. This was such a killer series. I'm really hoping they don't fall into the many mid-tier fantasy tropes out there in anime right now. I thought the appeal of the show was really Goblin Slayer himself and less about the lackeys along the way. So we'll see how it goes.

Frieren: Beyond Journey's End This is definitely one of my highly anticipated series. It's about an elf who was part of the Hero's party and her life after he dies. (Since elves live longer) Definitely a darker take on fantasy but has some really solid fantasy and adventure vibes.

Rising of the Shield Hero - Season 3 Season 2 was pretty disappointing and slow. While this looks like it'll be more fast paced, it does look like a tournament arc of sorts. I know some aren't a fan of that kind of arc, but honestly I think it's exactly what this series needs to pick things up again. We'll see.

The Faraway Paladin - Season 2 This was legitimately one of my favourite fantasy series. I thought it was really well written and didn't rush things like other series. I'm looking forward to this season.

Sequels/Continuations: Eminence in Shadow - Season 2 killer series with an anti-hero main character. Definitely worth checking out. After-School Hanako-Kun Hanako-kun spin off Dr. Stone Season 3 - Part 2 One of the best novel concept series with nothing else in it's genre to compare to. Definitely didn't drop the ball on the recent seasons and still worth watching. Dead Mount Death Play - Part 2 One that I didn't particularly enjoy, but has a decent sized manga following. Tokyo Revengers - Tenjiku Arc The continuation of the series. Might be just me but it feels like the series fell off after the first season. The Saint's Magic Power is Omnipotent - Season 2 A more mature take on fantasy isekai that just started to get into romance at the end of last season. A solid combo of shoujo genres. The Ancient Magus' Bride - Season 2 Part 2 One that I haven't had a change to check out yet but have only heard good things about. Hypnosismic - Season 2 a weirdly addictive musical/rap series. Unique characters and honestly solid rap battles. One I'll be enjoying. -- Related - Paradox Live - Music battle with what looks to be the same style of animation and solid character design. Definitely worth looking at if you're a fan of Hypmic. The Seven Deadly Sins: Four Knights of the Apocalypse A sequel of SDS. Looks like it could be a fun watch for the fans of the series. New:

Shangri La Frontier A new manga fantasy series. This may be a horrible way to describe but it is what it is - a new age SAO- full dive fantasy game. A gamer who only plays shit games, gets into a new massively popular MMORPG and is op. One that I'm excited for because it ticks all the fantasy game boxes I like.

Undead Unluck A relatively new manga series that gained a lot of traction in the last year or two. A gory action comedy that's super chaotic and a lot of fun.

Shy Brand new hero manga series about a shy girl and her anxieties and struggles going into the hero world who grows and gains confidence as she becomes a better hero.

Ron Kamonohashi's Forbidden Deductions This is a manga series that I have kept forgetting the name of so never got a chance to read but all the covers for the manga look phenomenal. Likely the anime doesn't do him justice but it is what it is. Essentially sherlock in anime form. A PI with issues and the wholesome police detective work together to solve crime. Other New Series: Green - Fantasy Pink - Romance Red - Action Purple - Drama The Kingdoms of Ruins A world where witches were hunted down by humans as science surpassed magic. A kid who was raised by a witch swears revenge on mankind. This honestly looks solid. The animations are very cool looking and the mc seems to be an anti-hero. Will be looking at this one. Under Ninja A well known manga series about modern ninjas. Definitely a unique series for this season. The Apothecary Diaries A historical medical mystery show. I've heard the name before and I've also only heard good things. Will be worth a watch. A Girl & Her Guard Dog The granddaughter of a crime syndicate goes to highschool out of town and the current young boss lies his way into the same school. Would be cute romance if it weren't for the fact she's 15 and he's 26.. Butareba - The Story of a Man Turned into a Pig What the title says. A girl finds him and the story goes from there. I'm Giving the Disgraced Noble Lady I Rescued a Crash Course in Naughtiness The usual light novel title. Honestly, doesn't seem as yikes as I initially thought, might just be harmless breaking the rules kinda thing. Could be fun, also a Capybara that strikes fear into people's hearts. My Daughter Left the Nest and Returned an S-Rank Adventurer Looks like a wholesome series where an adventurer finds a baby, raises it and she becomes so strong she's busy working all the time. Just a cute father daughter relationship in a fantasy setting about her wanting to come take time to see him but being caught up in OP fantasy battles. Ragna Crimson Dragons vs Humanity - a human and a dragon team up to destroy all the dragons. Action fantasy series. Berserk of Gluttony I honestly added this because I thought it was hilarious. Looks like a combo of knock offs - the Gluttony skill from Tensura (reincarnated as a slime) and the mc being called Fate with the main girl who looks exactly like Sabre. I'll be skipping but its' here so you know.

[ateez-himari]

Moments : Jungkook & Himari LIVE

(230802)

H : I think Atiny might be shocked if they hear that we did a live stream together...they don't know that we're friends...

J : We've known each other for 9 years and you haven't told them ?

H : No...because your tattoos make you look like a delinquent...and Atiny says that I can't be friends with delinquents

J : [Rummaging through the mini fridge] Hima...did you see the bottle of banana milk I brought over ? I thought I put it in here...

H : [Holding the exact bottle he was talking about with his name written on it] ...Maybe one of the members took it...Wooyoung oppa's sneaky

J : [Walking back into frame] I thought the only ones at the company were in the other practice room th-

H : [Didn't know he was coming so has the object of the crime in her hand while she reads comments] ...I have no idea how it got here

J : One of the comments earlier said that Wooyoung thinks your representative emoji should be a bunny like me...I think he's right

H : [Walks back from the computer and bites him on the shoulder]

J : AHH WHAT THE-

H : HOW WAS THAT FOR A BUNNY ?

[After reading a comment from a fan that had just heard about Himari getting her driver's license a while ago]

H : Not many people know this for some reason...but it's true, I got my driver's license in March actually...so before Hongjoong-oppa

J : Considering how bad you are at Mario Kart I'm surprised that they even let you step foot in a car...

H : ...Oppa are you gonna hold rainbow road over my head forever ?

J : Considering your height I'd say that everything is over your head...

J : [Responding to a comment asking how the two met] She just appeared in my nightmares one day...and she never left

H : ...That's why I'm Yoongi-oppa's favorite

J : [Whispering while Himari is laying on the floor looking at her phone] Watch...after years of knowing each other she still doesn't know the basics about me. [Turns to her and goes back to speaking normally] Yah Hima, how big is the age difference between us ?

H : [Puts her phone down and turns to lay towards him] Well you were born in '98 so...3 years, why ?

J : I was born in 1997...

H : No you weren't ! [Googles 'Jungkook birthday'] ...Why would you lie to Google ?

H : [Wordlessly walks behind Jungkook and grabs the sides of his biceps before shaking him]

J : What are you doing-

H : Jungshook...

J : What's wrong with you...

H : [Dying of laughter on the floor next to him]

H : Oppa I love you !

J : [Reaches into his bag and pulls out 10 000 won before handing the bill to her] Here you go

H : That's not even-

J : [Cuts her off by giving her yet another bill]

H : Can I not simply love you-

[scienceoftheidiot]

do you have any royai fic recs?

Ah Nonny, I have been wanting to make a royai reclist for ages, because some of my faves never make it on the ones I see ! So thank you so much for this !

Let's talk about the good stuff.

There's some I haven't re-read in ages, so if I don't say much about them it doesn't mean they're not good, just that I need to read them again 😜 also beware, I like Royai FOR THE ANGST so there'll be plenty of it there. I've decided to share fics that aren't smut (doesn't mean some of them can't be explicit but the smut isn't the only thing in them). I might make a smut rec list one day, we'll see.

(PS if I don't tag authors who are on Tumblr feel free to manifest yourselves so I can tag you !)

First and foremost, here's my fave fic ever in this fandom, one of the first I have read and still so good for me, Your Warmth Against My Scars by @lassusog characterization is on point, and it never fails to make me feel so much when I read it.

and when you can't rise (I'll crawl with you on my hands and knees) by starsinherblood. A great story, with tension and action on point, and perfect angst 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻

The Last Train Home by @rizaposting who has awesome 03!Royai fics, and this one makes me all warm and fuzzy inside 🥺

Under a Blood Red Sky by @liber-what-ia Ishval angst, great characterization and I was so happy to see Charlie ! It's not complete but I just love it anyway, especially the way the prose flows, it'w just beautiful (no pressure, friend! I just don't want to stop myself at only complete works!)

you can only touch him when he's dying, by lilantis. I love to see the story progress. So angsty and bittersweet, aaahhh ❤️

Like you do by wordslinger. This is a very intriguing story both in subject and the way it's written. Also I bawled my eyes out. Haha.

The meaning in each keystrokes by WorryinglyInnocent. Riza centric Violet Evergarden AU, knowing that : I don't know anything about Violet Evergarden AT ALL, never heard about it before, and I tend to avoid AUs most of the time for reasons, and yet I found this one randomly and it caught me. I really like the premises, and the fact that Maes and Gracia especially play such a big part. It was a very refreshing read.

Couldn't finish without The King's Counsellor by @qs63, since she's my partner in crime in writing royai, and while we share the exact same brainrot, which is already a perfect reason to share her fic(s) there, I love how much more gravitas she manages to give to Royai than I do.

Finally allow me some shameless self advertising, because I myself am a royai fic writer, so linking you my masterlist 😅

This is by no means a complete list ! I will probably come back and reblog with more if I think about others or find new ones ! I just wanted to reply quickly, because I have been trying to make such a list and always let it drag because I felt I was missing some good ones. I still know I am missing them. I'll just add them later 🥰 thank you again !!

[me-ments]

Family Jewels AU

Miles discovered what Manfred did. He didn't have the evidence, but he suspected he knew, and couldn't risk being next.

After the death of his father, little Miles is raised under Manfred's wing, in investigation and prosecution. Unfortunately for Manfred, Edgeworth uses these skills as he grows, along with his father's death as study material. Here, he is less credulous about the possibility of himself as the killer. Over his years and his growth into adolescence he begins to find holes that bug him in his father's case. Manfred begins to detect the dissent as well, up unto the point that Miles so explicitly begins to ask questions in search of that perfect evidence. His mentors' replies are not satisfactory, but clearly display the disdain he had for his father, and disdain for the damage Miles did himself ('i was an adventurer like you once until i took a bullet to the shoulder'). As Miles matures, he realizes that, perhaps pleasing his mentor will no longer suffice. And despite what he knows, he still just doesn't have the evidence for a court of law…

Manfred agitates Miles upon a more forward confrontation one night, and finds it to be his last. Miles is clean with his work and manages to dissuade enough suspicion that he acts as prosecutor on the case. Someone else is locked away for the murder, and Miles is freed of his mentor at a young age. But his aptitude in Manfred's case, and as his student, is enough to propel him in the world of law. Franziska on the other hand is left fatherless, and unknowing of Miles' transgression. As he has reached a point of maturity by the time of the murder, he is capable of taking responsibility of her. She is resentful, but distraught by the death of her beloved father. Miles is a more distant caretaker, but dutiful to his sister, and raises her with continued law education, but with less attention and involvement than her father would've afforded.

As time passes, Miles is haunted by the deaths that surround him. He becomes distant and irritable, reminiscent of Manfred, but still less strict and generally unconcerned with Franziska, which does stunt her growth in comparison to regular.

One night, while Miles is in a particularly irritable mood upon Franziska's return home, he is found tending to the gun he used. Franziska is avoidant, but he becomes aggressive. His fit is not harmfully aggressive at first, and he lays down the gun during it, which Franziska manages to pick up to remove from his access, and of an instinct that she may need to defend herself. As Miles spirals he begins to target her, and sees the gun, and demands it back. She insists she will not, and that he is unwell. He then begins to taunt her, telling her to shoot him if she will not, perhaps going as far to insinuate that it wouldn't be the first murder of family. As he becomes more threatening, eventually physically dangerous, she finds no choice but to shoot. And with that she falls the next in the long line, passed along the family jewels.

She calls the police, and admits to what she's done in self defense. She's a husk, waiting in the crime scene as police come and go. Gumshoe arrives and fusses over her, having still worked with her and Miles, though less chummy with Miles. But she's rather unresponsive. She's taken into custody for questioning.

Later that night is when she meets Mr. Wright, who wants to defend her in court. She is naturally suspicious, and of course a blood feud between prosecutors and defense attorneys. He elaborates, he knew Miles as a child and became a lawyer thanks to him. He never thought they'd reunite like this.

+ the redesigns for this. I love making au's, but I'm not particularly great at writing. I do have a little scene or two written out, mostly Phoenix and Franziska, plus some omitted details, so if anyone actually sees this post, lmk if you would like to see them in the future. I haven't touched this story in a while, i suspect it wont be hugely loved due to the Miles disrespect (I love him too but i also love evil little dudes) but I've also deliberated a Miles Lives route. This is a lot of yapping. I'll finish now ^^

[spider-jaysart]

1: how did Jon and Damian meet in earth 1015?

2: how would they tease each other romantically?

3: how do they cuddle?

4: is the super-sons stories canon? Is so is it exactly the same or is there some difference?

5: who is their arch nemesis? Both together and separate

@pin-crusher2000

1: how did Jon and Damian meet in earth 1015?

The same way as the books, but they were slightly younger instead, like Damian was 10 1/2 and Jon was 9 1/2. Currently in my canon, Damian is now 12 and Jon is 11

2: how would they tease each other romantically?

It's pretty similar to how they used to do it when they were just best friends, but the only difference is that there are plenty of snuck in flirts thrown into it now lol and ends with some kind of affection or them playfully trying to hit eachother. Their love for eachother is too disgustingly cute and it grosses everyone out lmaoooo. It makes them wonder if their old constant fighting was better before this lol/jk

3: how do they cuddle?

Hmmm, the regular position usually. Jon is also the big spoon and initiates them a lot. He is always ready to grab Damian into one lol, even in his sleep, and he doesn't let go so easily when passed out

Despite being annoyed with it way back in the beginning of their friendship, Damian has grown used to them overtime ofc and now loves being in Jon's arms. Sometimes he even initiates them himself too when he's had a bad or long day and just wants peace and comfort to destress and get away from it all in his head, and his boyfriend is the biggest go to for all of that

Sometimes one of them sleeps on top of the other, while the other wraps an arm over them while also playing with their hair. Whenever Jon is laying on Damian, he's listening to his boyfriend's heartbeat, which is his favorite sound out of all things hehe

Other times they just come back from patrol and fall on top of one another and end up in a messy cuddle in their sleep lmao

4: is the super-sons stories canon? Is so is it exactly the same or is there some difference?

Yes, they all stayed the same for my universe, but that only goes for the og books, nothing after those like the age up and Jon solos for example are canon in it. The only thing I would change up though is the way Talia was written, but that's it. What I would rewrite entirely is the after books to fit my version of my universe better, which I already already have kind of done actually lol

5: who is their arch nemesis? Both together and separate

Hmm well, I saw your ask about Jon and a villian Peacock Boy/Man lol and I think it's a very clever and cool idea you came up with, so that's who I pick for him (I haven't answered it yet btw because I have a design that I wanted to put with it lol, so dw). I'm thinking it could be a creepy man who represents Peacocks as something more terrifying then what they are (to Jon at least lol) and happily uses Jon's fear to his advantage as much as he can to overpower him and win in fights between them. But overtime, Jon being forced to deal with this villian a lot of the time only helps him to unexpectedly become stronger against his big phobia so much better, helping him grow the courage to really start kicking this dudes butt and show him who's really boss. But the guy ofc always comes up with new ways to get back at Jon once again until next time, since he is so used to the good old pattern of messing with him as a victim before he learned to finally stand up to him properly, so with this, they still stay arch nemesis no matter what

And then for Damian, hmmmmmm, I got this on the spot tbh, but maybe someone who is just as skilled as him in combat, but with different techniques ofc, and they also have the ability to control the minds of animals they kidnap and makes them commit crimes for them (I'm thinking it should be a girl) and Damian is ofc very against it since he's an animal lover. I have don't have further details to go into rn, but I think it works well as something😅

And then for together, mmmmmm, I feel like this maybe needs more thought since I can't think of much rn, so I'll probably have an idea next time if that's alright

Thanks for the ask, crusher! :)

Hope I answered these well. Send in more if you want

[bethanydelleman]

do you have any book recommendations beyond classic lit + Jane Austen? Love your blog by the way!

Thanks! I read/have read a ton of books. My favourite genre as a child was fantasy, but I read almost everything except true crime*, thrillers, murder mysteries, self-help, and biography. But I do sometimes read those, my favourite thriller is Sometimes I Lie by Alice Feeney. I'm going to start with children's books because honestly, I find so much imagination in that genre.

Children's/YA Books: Gail Carson Levine, specifically The Princess Tales 1 & 2, and Ella Enchanted, among others Jean Little/Kit Pearson - these authors have the same vibe to me. Willow and Twig is a favourite from the first one, The Guests of War trilogy and Awake and Dreaming from the other. They both write coming of age novels for girls, both Canadian. Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs - I loved the whole trilogy (haven't watched the movie). The story being based around real antique trick photos is my favourite part The Echorium Sequence by Katherine Roberts - a trilogy of books about magical singers with blue hair and their interactions with half-human magical creatures Margaret Peterson Haddix, specifically Running Out of Time, the Shadow Children series, and Double Identity. Margaret Buffie, who writes stories about teenage girls and ghosts. Also Canadian, which I guess isn't that surprising. The Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins. Re-read it last summer and it's as good as I remembered. Roald Dahl, I really loved Matilda as a child, it's been fun to read some of these novels with my kids. Sideways Stories from Wayside School by Louis Sachar - and it's sequels. Amazingly quirky and funny stories about a class of students in a weird school

Fantasy: Mercedes Lackey, specifically the Five Hundred Kingdoms series and The Obsidian universe. I also loved the Elvenbane series, but due to the death of Andre Norton it may never be finished. I would advise caution if sexual assault is triggering for you, the ones I like are mostly free of it but that can come up in her other works. Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien - obviously. Also loved The Hobbit, have not read further The Broken Earth trilogy by N.K. Jemisin - the book opens with the triggering of an apocalypse. The world contains people who can control earthquakes A Baroque Fable by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - this book is so hilarious but I don't know if anyone has heard about it Once Upon a Winter's Night by Dennis L. McKiernan - and it's sequels. This is a romance retold fairy tale series

Science Fiction: Michael Crichton - who spans a bunch of genres but I'll put him here. I've read everything he's written and I recommend most of it. State of Fear has not aged well. His books are very fast-paced and Timeline has one of the best enemies to lovers. Orson Scott Card - I am aware, but Ender's Game is a masterpiece. He also has this single novel called Magic Street that is a sequel to A Midsummer Night's Dream. I also loved Memories of Earth but it's been a while since I read it. I, Robot by Issac Asimov - short stories about artificial intelligence and how it might go weird

Graphic novels: Astro City by Kurt Busiek - superhero, but more focused on how living in that world would affect normal people Y: The Last Man by Brian K. Vaughan and Pia Guerra - every male on earth dies, except for one, and his monkey Fables by Bill Willlingham - after being attacked by an army of wooden soldiers, fairy tale characters and creatures seek refuge in a non-magical world (ours) Nimona by ND Stevenson - a villain gains a shape-shifting sidekick, but she is not what she seems Scurry by Mac Smith - post-apocalyptic earth, the main characters are all surviving mice. Best artwork I've ever seen in a graphic novel American Vampire by Scott Snyder- vampires have different traits depending on their home country, this is about the new, American species. Asterix and Obelix by René Goscinny and Albert Uderzo - a small group of powerful Gauls defend themselves against the Romans using a magical potion

Non Fiction: Stephan Pinker, I've read both of his trilogies on language and the brain. Trying to get through his huge book about violence The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat by Oliver Sacks - writen by a neurologist, fascinating book Doing Harm: The Truth About How Bad Medicine and Lazy Science Leave Women Dismissed, Misdiagnosed, and Sick by Maya Dusenbery - what it says on the tin

Toddler/Young Child Books: The Monster at the End of This Book by Jon Stone - I give you a 100% guarantee that if you read this book aloud, the kids will be fascinated. It is literally always a hit Robert Munsch - most of his books are amazing, but if you don't want to cry, DO NOT read the backstory of Love You Forever. The Paper Bag Princess was one of my favourites as a child. Little Critter - only the older ones, the new ones are religious for some reason. Just for You and I Was So Mad were favourites for my kids. Early lesson in unreliable narrators. Phoebe Gilman - Something From Nothing, the Jillian Jiggs series, The Balloon Tree... so many good ones! Really good illustrations too Little Pea by Amy Krouse Rosenthal - a book about a pea who hates eating candy. This book is fun to read and my kids loved it (I have the box set) The Book with No Pictures by B.J. Novak - kids love when adults have to do weird things I Want My Hat Back by Jon Klassen - perfect opportunity to do a lot of funny voices The Mitten by Jan Brett - a whole bunch of animals squeeze into a mitten. That's the whole thing. It's great. The Very Cranky Bear by Nick Bland - and the rest of the series. These are fun to read because they rhyme. Jonathan Stutzman - my kids LOVE Tiny T. Rex and the Llama series. We haven't read the others An Elephant & Piggie by Mo Willems - we have this entire series, they are a delight. An elephant and pig are very silly friends. Good drawings Dr. Seuss - be careful with him though, his books are quite long and can be hard to read, so I recommend waiting until your kids are a bit older. But The Lorax slaps and my personal favourite as a kid was The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins

Other: Still Alice by Lisa Genova - or any of her books really. She is a neuroscientist and her books are really interesting explorations of different disorders. Book is better than the movie Warm Bodies by Issac Marion - zombie Romeo and Juliet Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder - a novel that is also an intro to philosophy course Calvin and Hobbes - I own all of them, so excited for when my kids can understand them. I also love The Far Side, Zits, and the earlier Dilbert comics The Women in Black by Madeleine St. John - this book is absolutely charming. I saw the Netflix movie and then bought it right away.

*I avoid true crime because I have heard that the genre causes harassment to victim's families

General Note: I am aware that some of these authors are now considered controversial, some for more serious reasons than others. Sometimes flawed people make really good art. I mean, flawed people make all art because nobody on earth is perfect.

[serpentinegraphite]

...re: your tags on the WFA Jason crowbar incident -- might one be directed to your referenced essay?

Since it's been a min, here's the DC meta post this ask is referencing.

I thought it was on my blog, but I haven't been able to find the essay in the weeks since this ask came in? It might have been a tag rant more than the proper essay I thought I had posted. Or I might have been thinking of a broader and more general essay on the current trauma in fanfic portrayal, which I have definitely posted on this blog somewhere and in several friends' inboxes.

The gist of the essay is that a) fandom as a whole has a tendency to treat panic attacks/flashbacks as the Only and Right Way to experience trauma, even though that's by far not universal and b) will apply this even to characters who have canon trauma and show specific trauma reactions!

With Jason Todd in WFA having a Crowbar Sound Flashback, it's a perfect microcosm of both! The problem, therefore, isn't necessarily WFA being Uniquely Terrible and Inaccurate; WFA just exclusively plays with a lot of softball, fandom-popular tropes, so it remains popular even and especially with people who aren't super familiar with the canon. And because WFA thrives on softball, popular tropes, of course it's going to pick up on the Best Way To Write Trauma.

The essence of the problem is actually the way trauma symptoms in fanfic are homogenized to the most palatable, most sympathetic reaction guaranteed to woobify even the most hardened crime lords and war criminals: a panic attack. But not ANY panic attack! Specifically the hyperventilating on the floor, curled up in a ball kind of panic attacks! (Characters who lash out in anger when they're scared? Characters who shout mean things? Not anymore! Now they're hyperventilating on the floor and they need tender care and possibly a hug.) The momentary full helplessness is integral to creating a miniature h/c journey for the characters (panic –> helplessness –> rescue –> bonding).

Panic attacks actually have a pretty wide range of symptoms! Sometimes they're focused more on derealization reactions or heart racing (loads of people irl end up in the ER thinking they're having a heart attack, when it's actually a panic attack).

This specific portrayal of trauma as panic attacks is, I think, most egregious with characters who would actually fucking die if they had this exact trauma response. E.g., Jason Todd, who infamously both commits crimes and fights them. If he has a panic attack at every scum bag who waves a crow bar at him, he's probably getting beaten to death with a crowbar again. If even one of his regular criminal contacts or enemies catches wind that he has a crowbar panic attack weakness, he's dead! And this could be played for drama in this kind of fanfic, but it never is. (Because drama isn't the point, quick and dirty h/c is.)

Distilling his trauma about dying into panic attacks dismisses his entire history and canon trauma response (rage and vengeance and trying a completely different tactic from Batman to better the city of Gotham when the Red Hood is being a good guy and not just being a crime lord for profit). Here is a solid discussion on how Jason reacts to his own death (I'm new here and this essay is already long lol, I'm not citing whole comics runs or anything myself), with a great addendum from Ragnarok-hound in the tags on the Doylist reasons for why the canon goes over Jason's death again and again anyway.

The problem further stems from everyone learning panic attack symptoms from a combination of personal experience (which for the AO3 crowd in the shippy tags does not as often include people with uh combat or crime experience) and actual mental health web resources, so any panic attack scene reads like it was written by someone between high school and college age checking off a list of psych textbook panic attack symptoms. So it makes sense why they would go with the thing that is easiest to write for them and stick with the approved symptoms they know will garner the most sympathy from the audience and, importantly, other characters in the scene. E.g., to return to bullying WFA's portrayal, having Bruce arrive to tell Jason everything will be okay and fix everything.

(I think ymmv more on Bruce portrayals, depending on Your Preferred Batman, whether that's the corresponding era of comics with Red Hood, the animated series, or some campy/classic live action Batman portrayal, but one thing that is pretty consistent in every Batman media is that he's not fucking great at feelings, so even with a generous reading, WFA simplifies a lot of fraught history between Jason and Bruce here. Further, I could write an entire second essay on how bystanders in fanfic always have the perfect response, to either use the right therapy speak and handle a panic attack perfectly or hug the person to help them calm down or what have you, but this is long enough as it is. To be brief, though: sometimes, especially in a situation like Jason and Bruce's, it's perfectly normal to see someone panicking and then also panic and fuck things up even worse! It's also common to feel frustrated or tired of seeing someone panic over the same thing! Like I know fanfic and WFA are wish fulfillment, but like. There's a lot of nuance and basic trauma understanding missing here.)

And that brings us to another point, which is that PTSD triggers don't necessarily manifest as anxiety disorders and textbook panic attacks. I mean, this feels obvious, but there are a lot of ways to experience PTSD! and that's the thing about Jason Todd! He has trauma, not an anxiety disorder! While panic attacks as the default and most common trauma reaction are very common in fanfic, it's not like even the top most common trauma trigger reaction? And it's weird that it's everywhere like this. Trigger responses have a wiiiiide range, e.g., nightmares, lashing out (the Netflix Jessica Jones show was especially good at this actually! Billy Hargrove on Stranger Things is a fucking perfect example too), dissociation (The Raven Cycle books do a great job with this, and then the fanfic forgets that it happened entirely), or simply activating one's fight or flight instinct (and we've seen with Jason, it's often a fight instinct!). There are probably also loads of Batman comics exemplifying each of these variations, but a) as stated I'm new here, I don't have comprehensive citations for every character (yet) and b) I really want to illustrate how fanfic specifically keeps sticking to one particular portrayal in a way that most canons don't.

Jason Todd can be easily written as having a Specific Traumatic Incident (dying hideously via crowbar) or having complex PTSD (little daily bullshit! you can do an entire deep dive on complex PTSD resulting from poverty, homelessness, and regular repeated exposure to violence as a child e.g. by being Robin, which is not even getting into the stuff you can gather from popular hc/later retcons about his mom's drug use or how his dad's working for Two Face and getting sent to prison might have affected him; another example it's a common hc that he's straight edge because of what drugs may or may not have done to his mom depending on the canon you're working with, but I don't see a lot of people writing him with the corresponding control issues that often pair with that). There are a lot of options is what I'm saying.

WFA choosing to double down on the sound of a crowbar scraping (when also like he's the one using a crowbar for actual mechanic things in this scene, he's probably used to a variety of metal scraping sounds, okay I'm nitpicking here again) over any of the more complex trauma under his belt is very lazy writing. They're distilling his entire history to one specific sound that causes a very targeted panic response, which I know. Is the format. That's how WFA works, it's not supposed to be deep, but this is again, a pattern I keep seeing again and again in fanfiction (to bully another fandom: Stranger Things fans insisting that Steve Harrington is afraid of his own swimming pool when the canon strongly contradicts that; he's swim team captain for 3 years running after this AND that's actually Nancy's trauma reaction, not Steve's).

Again, the problem isn't necessarily specifically with WFA or people who enjoy it or with h/c. But, yeah, the crowbar scraping sounds panic attack is a huge disservice to Jason's character, and it's like a ubiquitous pattern of writing trauma in recent years.

[abybweisse]

The copy of Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde I'm reading has an introduction and a timeline that discusses multiple interpretations that were made of the text, most of them psychological and/or sexual in nature. The text is placed into the context of political, socio-economic, psychiatric, and literary studies about the era.

A stage production of the novella was quickly produced and played in the US, but when it travelled to the UK, the actor who played Jekyll and Hyde had to suspend performances after four murders attributed to Jack the Ripper... because his portrayal of Hyde was so convincing that people suspected him of the crimes.

There's also information about a law that raised the age of consent for girls from 13 to 16... and how a rider on the bill outlawed certain acts between men... a few years later leading to the arrest and prosecution of Oscar Wilde.

A mention of "Bloody Sunday" in Trafalgar Square, along with other events of the class wars at the time.

How RLS and some of his colleagues and acquaintances were invalids who spent the greater part of their lives in health resorts in southern England as well as abroad, farther south. RLS himself eventually ended up in tropical Samoa, largely for health reasons. Didn't save him, though. I'm already older than he lived to be....

I haven't even started reading the novella itself, but my mind is reeling from all the information put forth in the introduction. I've barely scratched the surface of it here.

Now I want to put Black Butler into the same context, though it obviously wasn't written then, it's sure set then... and there, in England.

I feel like I need to read a bunch of works from the time, more than I already have. Thankfully, some of the other books I bought when I bought this are in the general category. Some of the authors in this latest major book haul are represented by Snake's snakes: Emily, Brontë, Oscar, Wilde, and possibly others.

I still haven't taken pics of the books I got, but I will. Probably tomorrow.

[gh0stlyfixation]

Winter

Part one

Paring Simon Riley x fem winter soldier reader, uses she/her, using Y/N.

Warnings: none? Let me know. May have put you inside of she/her in some spots haven't written like this in a while.

A/N: This is set after End Game, Nat and Steve are still around. This does not follow any of the MARVEL plot and it's move of a love story than action-packed. Not sure how this will play out, may be a mini series or another longer series if y’all like this part. This is just a test run really, so please let me know what y’all think.

Winter master list

“By the United Nations, we hereby pardon James Barnes and Y/N Y/L for all forced crimes committed. Both parties have agreed to court-mandated therapy and the court place of residence. James Barnes will reside in New York and Y/N Y/L will reside in her chosen place of Manchester England. Each party will be allowed to resume work with SHEILD, the newly founded organization after the HYDRA overthrow.”

That’s how she found herself here, alone in an unfamiliar town with unfamiliar faces. She hated it but as part of her pardon, she’ll stay as long as she needs to. She looks up at the three stories building full of apartments. She didn’t have much but the money the government gave her, would help. After all, they did provide a place to live with the necessities she needed.

“Door 102.” She says quietly to herself as she twists her head each way. Her eyes land on the number 102, she searches for her keys, and in the corner of her eye she sees a masked man doing the same with his door. She doesn’t question it though. The tenant told her of her neighbor, a masked man, quiet and reserved, in the army never really home much, but Jesus he could pick a better mask.

It didn’t help she was an ex-criminal, all her red alarms signaled in her brain, but she was able to ignore them. The words have been wiped from her memory, she now holds her notebook of herself in her bag so she can lock it away and never see it again. She realizes she’s been staring too long and mumbles a sorry to the man before hastily unlocking her door and shutting it.

The man recognizes her from the news he’s watched, an ex-criminal that was tortured and granted a pardon but also a hero who brought down Thanos. What in the hell is she doing here? Now that he was retiring, forcefully, medically discharged, he had nothing to do. The girl intrigued him, he wanted to know more about her kind, not that she’s a different species, just the serum and its effect, but he knew damn well that was classified and personal.

Simon showers and sits down on the couch and pulls his laptop out and sees if he can find any information on her, why is she here, this is creepy, he thinks, fuck what else can I do? He yells at himself but he continues to look her up.

The winter soldiers, James and Y/N have been pardoned following specific guidelines made by the United Nations. Those have been kept confidential but we are glad to see they are free as the crimes they have committed were forced by brainwashing, manipulation, and other tactics of fear. We know James “Bucky” Barnes was captured during World War Two and Y/N Y/L during the 50s, both in and out of a cryo freeze preserving their body’s as if they haven’t aged a day. Congratulations and may the rest of their lives be peaceful. A news person spoke.

Simon scoffed, her life will never be peaceful, she’s been through hell and back. He doesn’t know what to expect of his new neighbor, the last ones were quiet, and he hopes she will be too. He knows the walls are thin so when he hears the phone ring he thinks it’s his, but stops when his phone doesn’t light up.

“Hello?” her voice spoke, it was on edge, “I’m fine Fury. I'm supposed to be at the base tomorrow morning to meet Natasha … yes, thank you for letting her come, it certainly makes things easier for me … Fury? Really?” He hears the slight humor in her voice but knows that her face is stoic, it had to be. “We’ll tell Steve and Bucky that I’m fine and to stop worrying. They can call me a whine..” You grumbled, “okay bye.”

Fuck these walls need to be thicker, Simon thinks. What base is she talking about. It certainly isn’t the British base. Is there a SHEILD base? There was, about 20 minutes from here know that he remembers.

She glances around her apartment, it’s furnished, at least. Needs a few decorations. Maybe Nat can help with that, not now though I need to sleep, it’s late. She wonders to the bedroom and thank the heavens there were sheets and a comforter. After changing into a pair of leggings and a t-shirt she hops in and quickly falls asleep.

Simon sat in the quiet reading a book he picked up from the shelf, this shit is boring, he says to himself. That’s when he hears faint quiet screams, mumbled almost. His ears start to perk up and realizes it’s the new neighbor. Fuck these thin walls! Something could be wrong. Simon argues with himself but when the noise starts getting louder he runs to her door and knocks, but no answer. He twists the knob and thankfully it opens, she needs to fucking lock her door, what is she stupid?

No, because she can kill someone in point two seconds. But he runs to the screams and finds her sweating in her bed. A night terror. He knows how to wake one up properly without a fight or struggle, he nudges her arm hard a few times then lightly once she starts to calm down, “wha-what- who are you?” She scrambles to her feet, pissed that she let her skills out the window. She tugs down her sleeve and Simon sees metal flash by her now covered hand.

“You had a night terror. The walls are thin and the door was unlocked. I’m your neighbor Simon.” His voice was soft and deep.

She stands there for a moment, embarrassed at herself. “I’m sorry.” she tells him

“It’s no problem, um, I have them too. I'm ex-military. It happens.” He says, trying to relate himself to her.

“Oh, well maybe we can help each other then.” she shyly says. What the fuck is wrong with you! Why are you getting shy? She yells at herself. Simon smiles slightly under his mask, she doesn’t notice though, “you know when we start to scream? So we don’t wake the rest of the building.” She explained clasping her hands together in front of her.

Simon looks up at her and nods, “it’s probably best. Do you have an extra key?” He asked. She nods and looks for it on her nightstand that she threw her wallet and essentials in. She hands it over to Simon and he takes it in his hand. He pulls out his ring of keys and picks off the extra key to his door and hands it to her.

Ig’s silent for a moment but you sit back down on your bed. Does he know who I are? Who doesn’t, I’m all over the news. “Do you know who I am?” she quietly ask. She needed to know.

He looks into her eyes, “You're Y/N. I’ve heard about you.” He tells her honestly.

“Are you scared of me?” She thinks it’s a ridiculous question,

“What they say on the news, what your crimes were, what your capable of, doesn’t make you who you are. We both killed hundreds, but it doesn’t make us who we are. You’ve saved the world, give yourself the credit for that.” Simon tells her.

Who knew i’d be getting a pep talk from a stranger. You think. “You don’t know me though, what the news says, you don’t know the half of what I’ve done. I’m dangerous. Unpredictable.” She say.

He does not doubt that she's dangerous and unpredictable, he doesn’t know her and she’s right. “Well now that we’re neighbors and I no longer have a life, I hope to get to know you. Your the only interesting person around here anyways, besides that old man who’s constantly screaming at the kids down the hall.” Simon tells her.

“What? Don’t have any friends?” she tease, your face still stoic.

He rolls his eyes and gets up. “Go back to sleep.” He walks out the door back to his apartment, what the fuck was this feeling? Happiness? No, I rarely feel that. Is he a friend now? Fuck. What the fuck?

[karmas-chameleon]

Okay here's my Father's Day thing

Hope it doesn't seem too rushed (it was lol)

Manfred started bringing his younger daughter with him to work from a very young age. Little Franziska would follow along from the prosecutor’s office to the courthouse and all around the city. Every effort was made to accomodate the child of Los Angeles’ most famous prosecutor, with a little desk in his office and a tall chair in the courtroom that allowed her to see above the bench. Manfred would bring her everywhere with him - everywhere aside from one type of place, the most gruesome part of his job.

It wouldn't do to bring a young child to a crime scene, not when the body still lay on the ground, its limbs at awkward angles, an expression of horror still frozen on its face. It wasn't right to show someone so innocent the reality of the job, Manfred knew that. He could tell Franziska about what he did in vague terms - a hero fighting against villains, the triumph over evil in a court of law. But what those villains really did, and the cost of that evil, such things could wait until later. He didn't know when, exactly. But not now.

So when Manfred went to take care of the more grisly side of justice, he left Franziska under the watchful eye of another. His child's impromptu caretaker was a puzzling sort. Manfred would be hesitant to leave something as inconsequential as a drink in his care, knowing that it would be half-empty by the time he returned for it. Yet he knew that the man would guard young Franziska with his life, if need be.

On a Sunday afternoon, after leaving a particularly horrid crime scene behind, he returned to his office. What he saw upon entering wasn't entirely dissimilar to what he just left: two somewhat distraught people, and a sea of red. But this red wasn't blood; trails of crayon scrawled on construction paper were spread across the floor, leading up to the two sitting in the middle of the room. A small object lay between them, in the position of the murder victim.

“What exactly is going on here?” Manfred asked.

“Manny!” Damon Gant looked up from the floor, his grin looking slightly more sheepish than usual. “Sorry about the, er-”

“Papa!” Franziska cried. “Why didn't you tell me you had a holiday?”

Manfred could only make a confused expression before the chief of police interjected with an explanation.

“I…asked her if she was doing anything for Father's Day. Thought she'd say she got you a card or something, not ask me what in the world I was talking about.”

“Mr. Damon Gant told me that today is meant to celebrate fathers. And I haven't done anything for you, not for years! I had to fix that.” Franziska dragged the object beside her into her lap, then hefted it into the air with all the strength a child could muster. “Happy Father's Day, Papa!”

Manfred stared down at the item in her hands. It was familiar - very familiar. A green and gold object that had been sitting in his office for years.

The King of Prosecutors trophy all but belonged to Manfred von Karma. Taking the form of a broken sword and shield with a giant letter ‘K’ in front, it was first awarded to him, then briefly taken back, then awarded to him yet again, beginning a cycle that promised to continue into eternity. Once or twice, it would be given to another prosecutor, but that was less a sign of that individual’s superiority and more an incentive for them to do better. It would always be returned to Manfred the next year, with his name engraved into it yet again. It was the King of Prosecutors trophy, after all - who else could hope to claim that title?

Now, it sat before him, raised up by his younger daughter. It bore a wound of red crayon, marking out the ‘prosecutors’ on the title of the award, and replacing it with a crudely written ‘fathers’.

“...You didn't need to do that,” Manfred said quietly.

“I tried talking her into making a normal card, Manny. Tried making one, even. You can see how well that went.” Damon gestured around him to the scattered pieces of paper. It was unclear from looking at the half finished cards which of the two had worked on them. “But don't worry about your trophy; I'm an expert in cleaning up crime scenes.”

“I don't care about some ridiculous trophy.” Manfred looked at a pouting Franziska, and slowly knelt down beside her. “I meant that you didn't need to do anything for Father's Day. Your studies give you enough to work on, you shouldn't worry yourself with such nonsense.”

“But it's not nonsense, Papa. It's to celebrate you. That's important!”

“My work is important, certainly. What I do is important. That's why I was given this trophy, for what I've done, not who I am.”

“Hmm…” Damon Gant toyed with his hair as he hummed, and Manfred turned to him with a frown.

“What?”

“Well, that trophy there has a bit of symbolism to it. There's an old story about an unbreakable shield and an unstoppable spear, and- the point of it all is that it's a contradiction, you see. And I'm fairly sure I see a contradiction in what you're saying. Do you see it too, Franny?”

Franziska pursed her lips and hummed thoughtfully, seemingly less annoyed by Damon's nicknaming than her father. Finally, her face lit up with a grin. “Got it! You celebrate your birthday, Papa, and that's not for doing anything. So why not celebrate Father’s Day too?”

“Excellent!” Damon clapped his hands together and smiled wide. “I was going to say that being a father requires quite a bit of work, but your point works just as well. And it also raises the question of why I haven't been invited to any birthday celebrations.”

Manfred frowned at the two of them, and shot a glare at the police chief. Their arguments may have been logical, but they still didn't sit right with him. Birthdays were meant for anyone to celebrate the ones they loved - whether they were related by blood didn't matter at all. And being any sort of parent could require effort, but he knew that such efforts weren't always made. If his own father had expected some kind of gift from him, he'd have given it. But it would have been out of obligation and nothing more.

Looking down at Franziska and the heavy trophy she still raised in her little hands, however, Manfred couldn't believe that she defaced it out of any sort of obligation. To her, he was the King of Fathers, and nothing less than a trophy would suffice.

He took it from her and set it aside, then wrapped her in a hug. “Thank you, Franziska. I appreciate it.”

He heard a voice muffled slightly by his jacket, “Happy Father's Day, Papa.”