#like it’s becoming increasingly obvious that’s the case

[tiredsadpeach]

I don’t matter until I’m a danger to myself

[reidsfilm]

UNDERCOVER — SPENCER REID

dividers credit: cafekitsune.

PARING: spencer reid x fem reader

WARNINGS: crime, blood, spencer being overprotective, (normal warnings in the series) innuendo to spicy time, physical fight, spencer from season 10, hotch and derek being cheeky fuckers, fluff, a bit of angst.

SUMMARY: SUMMARY: You and Spencer are undercover on a case, acting as a couple. When you stray from the original plan, it leads to danger and ends up with your friendship with Spencer being much more than just that.

WORD COUNT : 6,7k

Notes: English is not my first language, so bear with me. There might be spelling mistakes here and there. I need to start watching Criminal Minds. This isn't proofread!

It had started as a normal case. An unsub had been killing women, taking and leaving behind pieces of themselves. You and Reid had been assigned to go undercover in a bar at night to get any possible leads. You were a couple.

And now here you were, sitting at a table in the bar, your legs crossed and head resting gently in your hand. You weren't actually dating. Not at all. Just working together.

Spencer had a hand on your knee, gently tracing small circles with his thumb as he kept an eye on the patrons in the area.

You glanced around the bar, feeling Spencer's touch on your knee. You tried to remain in the undercover character you had created, sipping your drink and feigning being interested in the people around you. It was hard when Spencer was so close to you, but he made you feel protected, even if it was only for a case.

The bar was bustling around you, music playing in the background while people chatted, laughed, danced, and drank. Spencer’s thumb gently tracing circles on your thigh sent a flutter of butterflies to your stomach. It was always like this when the two of you were on a case. It was always so.. different, but no matter what, you trusted him, especially when he got to show his protective side.

You glanced sidelong at Spencer, noticing the small pout that had formed on his lips as he looked around the room. He always wore that expression when he was lost in thought. It was kind of adorable how focused he got. He didn't seem to notice that he was still tracing circles on your thigh, his hand resting there like it was natural. But to you, god it felt like your skin was on fire by his touch.

You continued to watch him, admiring the intensity of his gaze as his eyes scanned the room for any suspicious activity. You knew he was focusing on the case, that was obvious, but as his hand continued to caress your skin beneath the table.. it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep up the act. Why did he have to be so good with his hands?

Spencer suddenly tensed up, his grasp on your knee growing firmer as he spotted something on the other side of the room. He leaned a little closer to you, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in a low voice. "Someone is watching us. Don't turn around."

Your heart skipped a beat. His closeness alone sent a shiver down your spine, but hearing his voice in your ear? It was almost too much. You struggled to keep your cool as you casually took another sip from your drink, resisting the urge to turn and see who was watching you.

He moves even closer to you, his hand still firmly on your knee. He was acting so casual as if he didn't notice the effect he was having on you. How unfair.

Spencer noticed the shudder that ran through you as he leaned closer. For a moment, he almost forgot about the case at hand as he took in the sight of you struggling to remain collected. He was tempted to tease you for it, but he knew there were more pressing matters. He let out a shaky breath before whispering to you again. "They're coming closer. Stay calm."

Spencer's hold on your knee tightened as he saw the figure approaching your table. You could feel him tense up beside you, his hand remaining a steady presence against your leg. As the person drew closer, you could see that it was a man, tall, with a sinister smile on his face.

He stopped at your table, his eyes flickering between you and Spencer. "Well, well, well. Aren't you two a lovely couple?"

Spencer forced a polite smile, his grip on your knee growing tighter. He could practically feel your anxiety radiating off you, matching his own. This wasn't good. The man's comment had set off alarm bells in his mind. This guy was definitely the unsub.

"Thanks," he replied, feigning nonchalance. "We like to think we make a good pair."

The unsub's gaze lingered on you, his eyes roaming over your body in a way that made Spencer's blood boil. But he kept his cool, knowing that any overt display of jealousy might give away your cover. He leaned slightly in front of you, almost as if he was trying to shield you from the unsub's leering eyes.

The unsub chuckled, clearly enjoying the situation. "You two look so cozy together. How long have you been a couple?"

Spencer's jaw clenched, but he managed to maintain his facade of calmness. He wanted nothing more than to deck this guy, but instead, he chose his words carefully. "Oh, we've been together for a few months now," he said smoothly, his hand rubbing small circles on your leg again.

The unsub's smile widened, clearly finding some sick amusement in this situation. "Well, isn't that just adorable," he cooed, taking a step closer. "You seem very much.. in love."

Spencer suppressed a scoff, his hand clenching into a fist under the table. He would have liked nothing more than to wipe that smug look off the man's face.

You did your best to maintain a calm and cool demeanor despite the growing sense of unease. The unsub's presence was making your skin crawl, but with Spencer's hand resting on your leg and his protective stance, you remained collected.

"He makes me very happy," you said in a soft voice, glancing at Spencer with a smile that was half-genuine, half-act. "I'm a lucky girl."

The unsub's expression turned almost predatory at your comment. "Oh, I bet he does."

Spencer's eyes narrowed as the unsub leered at you, his grip on your leg growing firmer. He forced himself to remain civil, knowing that one wrong move could compromise the entire operation. But it was difficult, especially when he could see how uncomfortable and uneasy this whole situation was making you.

The unsub leaned closer, eyeing you up and down like you were a piece of meat. "He better treat you right," he almost purred. "A pretty thing like you deserves it."

Spencer bristled beside you, his jaw clenching as he bit back a scathing remark. The unsub's leering made him sick, and knowing he couldn't confront the guy outright drove him crazy. He wanted to punch the bastard's lights out, but that would definitely blow your cover.

The unsub smirked, clearly noticing the change in Spencer's demeanor. "Oh, don't like me commenting on your girl." He chuckled. "A little possessive, are we?"

Spencer couldn't hold back any longer.

"Yeah, I am." The words came out through gritted teeth, his hand instinctively rubbing your leg in a possessive gesture. He knew he was letting his emotions get the better of him, but he couldn't help it. Seeing this creep ogling you was driving him mad.

The unsub chuckled again, clearly amused by Spencer's reaction. "Careful now, pretty boy. Wouldn't want to do something you'll regret."

Spencer clenched his jaw tighter, his knuckles turning white as he held back a torrent of profanities. Seeing the unsub taunt him and openly flirt with you was pushing him to the edge. He was about to snap.

Suddenly, as if on cue, Hotch's voice came through your earpieces. "Keep it cool, guys. We've got eyes on you. Don't let him get to you."

Spencer closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep, slow breath to try and regain control. Listening to Hotch's calm but stern voice cut through the tension, reminding him that they needed to keep their cover intact.

Knowing that the team was watching and they had your backs helped to settle the nerves, but the unsub's unsettling presence was still making your skin crawl. And Spencer's obvious tension only heightened the situation.

Meanwhile, the unsub continued to leer at you and Spencer, enjoying the way he was clearly getting to him.

Spencer was trying to regain his composure. He let out a slow breath, his hand still gripping your knee like a vice, but he was clearly struggling to rein in his emotions. Despite his efforts to appear calm, it was obvious to everyone listening through the earpiece that he was on the verge of exploding.

The unsub, of course, noticed this and seemed to relish the power he had over Spencer. He chuckled again, relishing in his ability to provoke a reaction. "Looks like I hit a nerve."

You did your best to maintain a cool facade, plastering on a polite smile as you spoke. "Yeah, my man can get a little overprotective," you said with a laugh, trying to keep your voice light and casual. "It's kind of sweet, really."

You cast a glance at Spencer, hoping he would pick up the hint and reign in his emotions a bit. But with the way his jaw was clenched, it was like trying to tame a lion with a collar.

The unsub snorted, clearly not buying your attempts to downplay the situation. "Overprotective, huh?"

Spencer's grip on your knee grew even tighter, his knuckles white as he tried not to snap. But the unsub's words and the way he was still eyeing you were only fueling the fire.

A thought suddenly flashed through your mind. An idea. A dangerous one, and definitely against protocol, but you were certain you could handle it. You had to let Spencer know, somehow.

You reached down and gently placed your hand over his, giving it a subtle squeeze, hoping he'd pick up on the cue. Then, as casually as possible, you turned to glance at him. "Baby, I need to use the ladies' room, I'll be right back."

Spencer tensed up even more as you spoke, his eyes flicking to you with a mixture of disbelief and concern. He knew you well enough to know when you had a plan. And Spencer had a bad feeling about this one.

He caught the subtle squeeze of your hand, and the tone in your voice when you spoke to him. Danger, danger, danger. He wanted to protest, to tell you not to go alone, not to put yourself in danger, but you were already standing up and heading towards the bathroom.

You could feel Spencer's eyes on you as you made your way towards the bathroom, the unsub also watching you leave with a leering gaze. You maintained your calm demeanor, but your heart was racing inside. This was dangerous and stupid, but you were certain you could handle it. Hell, Spencer would probably kick your ass after this, but as long as it got the job done...

You reached the restroom door and pushed it open, stepping inside the dimly lit space.

As the door closed behind you, the sound seemed to echo in your ears. You took a deep breath, pushing aside the nerves and reminding yourself that you were trained for this. You could do this.

You glanced at the mirror above the sink, taking a moment to check your reflection. It was still you, same facade, same expression. But there was a flicker of determination in your eyes, something that hadn't been there before. You were ready.

"What are you doing?"

Damn, you'd almost forgotten about the earpiece. But Hotch's voice snapped you back to reality. He'd seen you stand up and walk to the bathroom, and you could sense his concern through the comm link.

"I have a plan." You muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you stepped further into the bathroom.

There was a brief pause before Hotch's response came through the earpiece. "What kind of plan?"

You could practically feel the disapproval in his voice. But you'd already made up your mind.

"I'm going to try and detain him."

Another pause, longer this time, as Hotch processed what you'd just said. You could almost see the disapproving look on his face. "That's not within protocol," he replied, his tone stern. You know you should wait for further instructions, for backup. But you were set on your plan, no matter how much trouble it would end up getting you in.

"I know," you admitted, your voice still hushed. You stepped over to the sink, pretending to fix your hair in the mirror as you continued your conversation. "But it's the best shot we have at him without causing a scene."

"You're putting yourself in danger," Hotch protested, his voice tight with concern. "We can't risk-"

You interrupted him, your voice firm. "I can handle myself. Just trust me, okay?"

The comm line fell silent for a moment as Hotch considered your request. Trust was a big thing in the BAU, and he knew you well enough to know that you weren't one to take unnecessary risks. But you were determined, and he wasn't about to stop you.

"Be careful," he said after a moment, the hint of reluctance still present in his tone.

"Always am," you replied with a hint of a smirk, your voice regaining some of its usual confidence. The nerves were still there, but you pushed them aside. Time to focus.

"Keep an eye on Spencer, would you? I don't want him charging in here like a bull."

You could hear a huff of amusement through the earpiece as Hotch replied, "I'll try. You know how he is."

You couldn't help but chuckle softly, knowing full well how protective Spencer could be. But you had a job to do, and you needed to remain focused.

"I'll report in once I got him cornered. Wish me luck."

With that, you pulled off the earpiece, not wanting to draw attention to yourself with any potential noises. This was it. Time to see if your plan would work or blow up in your face.

You took one last deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. You'd taken care of dangerous suspects before, this was no different. At least, that's what you told yourself.

You reached a hand down to your hip, making sure the small handgun was still secure in its holster. Just in case. Now, all that was left to do was wait and see if the unsub would take the bait.

You stood at the sink for a few moments, fidgeting with your makeup and waiting for any sound that would indicate the unsub was coming. Your heart beat anxiously in your chest, the anticipation growing with each passing second.

Then, you heard the sound of the bathroom door opening and the scrape of shoes on the tiled floor. It was him.

You turned around slowly, forcing a casual expression onto your face. He stood a few feet away, a smirk on his lips as he regarded you. He looked more sinister now, without the cover of the restaurant between you.

"Well, look who we have here," he drawled, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. He took a step closer, his gaze roaming over your body in a way that made your skin crawl.

"Just needing a little touch-up time," you replied, trying to keep your voice light and unbothered. You leaned back against the sink, trying not to flinch as he closed the distance between you.

"Yeah? I think you look perfect to me." He was standing way too close now, his body practically pressed against yours. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and it took everything you had to maintain your composure.

You tried to subtly shift away from him, your heart racing as your back pressed against the cold porcelain of the sink. Your hand casually reached back, fingers inching closer to the gun hidden at your hip.

He seemed to notice your subtle movement and leaned in closer, his gaze flickering down to your hip. "Whatcha got there?" he asked, his voice a low, mocking whisper.

Your heart was hammering against your ribs now, but you tried to keep your voice steady. "What do you mean?" you feigned ignorance, hoping he wouldn't notice the way your palm was slowly closing around the grip of the handgun.

He leaned in even closer, his face just inches from yours. "Don't play dumb. I know you're hiding something." he reached out, his fingers ghosting along the edge of your hip, dangerously close to your gun.

You froze as his fingers brushed against your hip, adrenaline coursing through your veins. It was now or never. You had to act fast.

In a swift, fluid motion, you grabbed his hand and spun him around, pinning his arm behind his back and pushing him against the wall. The sudden movement surprised him, and he let out a grunt of surprise as his face pressed against the cold tiles.

The element of surprise gave you the upper hand for now, but you knew he was still dangerous. "You've got some skills," he grunted, a hint of anger in his voice as he tried to twist out of your grip.

You pushed him harder against the wall, applying even more pressure to his arm. He grunted again, unable to move. "And you talk too much," you retorted, keeping your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you.

You could hear his breathing getting faster, his body tense as he tried to break free. "You think you've got me cornered, huh?" he spat. "You're not the first agent to underestimate me."

"I think I've got you right where I want you," you replied, your grip on his arm tightening. You could feel his muscles straining under your grasp, but he was still pinned against the wall.

Suddenly, he let out a dark chuckle, the sound sending a chill down your spine. "And what makes you think I'm alone?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "What do you mean?" You demanded, your voice steady but your mind racing with the implications of his words. Was he implying that there were more people involved? People who were never mentioned in the case?

"Oh, you really think it's just me in on this?" He twisted his head to look at you, a sly smile on his lips. Despite the situation, he seemed to be enjoying this. "You've been too busy watching me, you didn't even spot the two guys outside."

Your fingers closed around the familiar grip of your gun, heart thundering in your chest as the man advanced towards you. You could hear more gunshots and commotion coming from outside, but that didn't matter right now. You had to focus on staying alive.

And take this man down.

You tried to back away, your back hitting the wall behind you as the unsub stepped closer to you, his gaze locked on yours. "Think you can shoot me, sweetheart?"

Your finger rests on the trigger, ready to shoot if needed. But the unsub is faster than you, managing to grab your gun, and it goes off, sending a bullet into the mirror by the sink, shattering it.

he sudden sound of the gunshot and shattering mirror jarred you, but you fought back against him, your adrenaline kicking into overdrive. You cursed the fact that you were wearing heels, the thin stilettos making it difficult to keep your balance.

You threw a punch, aiming for his face, but he caught your wrist, and the fight turned into a grappling struggle for the gun.

You could feel your heart sink as the gun skidded away from you, the sound of it hitting the tiled floor echoing in your ears like a bad omen. The unsub noticed it too, a victorious glint in his eyes as he took a step back from you.

"Looks like you're out of weapons," he jeered, his voice low and mocking.

You looked around, trying to think quickly. You were outnumbered, unarmed, and trapped in a confined space. The odds were not in your favor, but you refused to give up.

You took a step back, putting some distance between you and the unsub as you scanned the small bathroom for anything that could be used as a weapon. There wasn't much – a few toiletries, a paper towel dispenser, nothing that would be much use against a man twice your size.

The unsub's gaze was on you like a hawk, following your every movement. "Where you think you're going, pretty girl?" he taunted, moving forward slowly, his footsteps echoing loudly in the small space. "You're not gonna get away that easily."

With no chance of running or finding another weapon, you were left with no choice. You clenched your fists, readying yourself for a physical confrontation. You hated hand-to-hand combat, it was never your strong suit, but you had to make do.

"Bring it, buddy," you taunted, trying to sound braver than you felt.

The unsub chuckled at your challenge, stepping closer again. "You've got spirit, I'll give you that," he said, his eyes scanning your form up and down. "But you're way in over your head."

He lunged forward, his hand shooting out to grab you. You managed to dodge the first attempt, twisting your body away from his reach, but he was quick and relentless. He kept coming at you, his movements swift and fluid, like a snake.

You threw a punch, aiming for his face, but he dodged it with ease, his hand catching your wrist and yanking you to the side. You stumbled, the heel of your shoe catching on the edge of a tile. You barely managed to keep your balance, your heart hammering in your chest.

You gasped as he grabbed a handful of your hair and slammed you into the edge of the sink. The impact sent a sharp pain through your skull, making your vision swim for a moment. You tried to fight him off, but he had an iron grip on your hair, keeping you pinned.

The sudden sound of the door crashing open and the sight of your teammates appearing in the doorway sent a wave of relief through you. Hotch, Derek, and even Spencer, all holding their service weapons at the ready.

The unsub's grip on your hair loosened slightly, his eyes wide with surprise at the unexpected arrival. For a moment, it seemed like the tables had turned.

Derek quickly assessed the situation, his eyes scanning over the scene in front of him – you, pinned against the sink, the unsub's hand in your hair, the shattered mirror, and the gun lying just out of reach on the floor.

"You wanna let her go, pal?" he barked, his voice hard and unwavering.

Hotch's gaze fell on you, his eyes instantly locking onto the blood dripping down your face. Concern flashed across his features for a brief moment before he schooled his expression back into his usual stoic demeanor.

"Let go of her," he repeated Derek's command, his voice firm and commanding. "Now."

The unsub didn't move, his eyes darting around the room, calculating his options. But his grip on you loosened as he realized he was outnumbered. He released your hair, his hand dropping away from your scalp.

"Hands on your head," Hotch barked, stepping forward. Derek moved in as well, his gun still raised and aimed directly at the unsub.

Spencer lingered by the doorway, eyes wide and worried as he took in your injured state.

The unsub complied, raising his hands slowly and placing them on the back of his head. He looked resigned, his earlier bravado replaced with a resigned acceptance that he was outnumbered and outgunned.

"Turn around slowly," Hotch instructed, his voice leaving no room for argument. The unsub obeyed, turning slowly to face the wall, his hands still on his head.

Within seconds, Derek had him restrained, his hands cuffed behind his back. Hotch holstered his gun and moved swiftly towards you, Spencer right behind him.

Hotch stepped closer, his eyes scanning over you. His hand reached up to gently cup your chin, tilting your face to the side to examine your face, and the blood trickling down the side.

"How bad is it?" he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

Spencer, lingering at Hotch's side, leaned in closer, concern etched in his features. "Does it feel swollen? Are you dizzy?" he rattled off, his usual rambling coming in rapid-fire.

"I'm okay," you assured them, though you leaned slightly into Hotch's touch. Your head throbbed, the adrenaline from the fight starting to wear off.

Hotch gently released your chin, his fingers still lingering near your injury for a moment longer. "We need to get that cleaned up," he said, gesturing to your temple.

Spencer had already taken a handkerchief out of his pocket, gently dabbing at the blood The white cotton quickly stained red as he cleaned the blood away.

"You'll probably need stitches," he commented, his fingers gently prodding the edges of the wound.

The sounds of your teammates clearing the scene faded into the background, leaving you alone with Spencer in the now-silent bathroom. The adrenaline was quickly being replaced by the pain from your injuries, but it was his silence that was unnerving you more than anything

Spencer was focused on cleaning the blood from your face, his touch gentle but his expression unreadable. He didn't say a word, just continued his work silently, but you could tell he was tense, his jaw set in a firm line.

Once he was satisfied that the wound was clean, he finally spoke, breaking the tense silence. "You should've waited for backup," he said, his voice cold and clipped.

He kept his gaze focused on the cut, refusing to meet your eyes. "We could've taken care of this without you getting hurt," he added, his tone bordering on accusation.

"I had it under control," you protested, but even as you said the words, you knew they weren't entirely true. You'd acted impulsively, putting yourself in danger just to prove a point.

Spencer's hands stilled, finally meeting your eyes, his gaze burning with a mix of anger and worry. "Under control? You're bleeding. You could've been killed." His voice was a growl, his frustration palpable.

He looked at you, his eyes searching your face, as if he was trying to see past your bravado and into your true state of mind.

"You can't just throw yourself into danger like that," he said, his voice softer now but firm. "We have protocols for a reason."

"I know we have rules and protocols, but sometimes situations don't allow us the luxury of following them," you muttered, your stubbornness rearing its head even in your injured state. "I didn't feel like I had a choice."

Spencer's grip on your head tightened for a moment, his jaw clenching as he fought back a more heated retort. He exhaled through his nostrils, his frustration clear.

"There's always a choice," he argued, his voice a low growl. "You just took the most reckless one."

Spencer's eyes flicked over your face, lingering on the gash on your temple for a moment before moving down to your lips. The atmosphere was thick with the kind of tension familiar to both of you, leading to late nights and whispered secrets.

"You don't get to throw yourself into danger like that and expect me not to worry," he nearly hissed.

He was standing close, his body practically leaning over you as he tended to your wound. His hands were still on your face, one gently holding the side of your head while the other held the handkerchief against your skin.

As he spoke, you could feel his breath, warm against your cheek. "Don't do that again," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Don't make me worry like that."

"I can't promise that I won't get myself into dangerous situations," you said quietly, your eyes meeting his stare. "It's part of the job."

There was a pause, the tension thick between you. His hands were still gently cradling your head, but his touch felt more possessive now, like he was silently claiming you as his.

"Just promise me you'll be more careful," he said, his voice pleading.

His fingers trembled slightly against your skin, the vulnerability in his voice only increasing your desire to comfort him. You reached up and gently laid your hand over his, silently reassuring him that you were okay.

"I will," you whispered. "I promise."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, an idea forming in your mind. You knew that one way to get past Spencer's stubborn facade was through bribery, particularly with his sweet tooth.

"How about this," you began, your voice taking on a slightly teasing tone. "I'll be more careful, and I'll buy you some donuts as an apology for worrying you

His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise flashing through them. It was almost comical how quickly you saw him crumble, his resolve melting under the suggestion of donuts.

"You're bribing me with sugar," he stated, sounding almost offended, yet the corners of his mouth were twitching upwards.

"Is it working?" you asked, grinning up at him. You could practically see his weak willpower crumbling away. Donuts were his kryptonite.

Spencer tried to maintain his stoic exterior, but the way his eyes lit up betrayed his true feelings. He was a sucker for donuts, and you knew it.

"I mean, it's not the worst bribe," he admitted, his voice laced with resignation but also with a hint of playfulness.

You let out a soft laugh, his feigned resistance amusing you. He could pretend to be mad all he wanted, but you knew he was already imagining the taste of those sugary treats.

"I'll even get the ones with sprinkles," you promised, knowing that would practically seal the deal.

"Sprinkles?" he repeated, his voice a little too eager to be convincing. "You know me so well."

He tried to play it cool, but his eyes betrayed his excitement. It was almost endearing how easily the idea of donuts broke down his defensive walls.

"Of course I do," you said, a hint of satisfaction in your voice. "I know exactly how to get you to forgive me."

You knew that donuts were his weakness, and you were more than willing to exploit it when necessary. After all, it was a small price to pay for Spencer's forgiveness.

He looked down at you, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his expression. He was fully aware of his sweet tooth and the power it held.

"You're not playing fair," he muttered, but there was no real heat behind his words.

He knew he was defeated, and deep down, he was probably already planning which donuts he wanted.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his response. He was adorable when he was trying to resist, even though you both knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"I never said I would play fair," you teased, a cheeky smile on your face. "I play to win, and this time, winning means getting you a dozen donuts."

Spencer flushed, his cheeks coloring slightly under your touch. He hadn't expected the gentle gesture, and his usually stoic demeanor faltered for a moment.

He turned his head, his gaze meeting yours. He looked a little flustered, his usual controlled expression replaced with a hint of vulnerability.

"That's...that's a good start," he murmured, his voice a little shaky.

He swallowed, trying to regain his composure but failing. The simple act of you kissing his cheek had thrown him off balance.

"But it's going to take more than that to truly make it up to me," he said, his voice regaining a bit of its usual teasing tone.

He leaned in a little closer, the air between you growing more charged. His eyes held a hint of mischief, his smile growing wider.

"I mean, I do like donuts, but I think I'm going to need something a little more substantial as a true apology," he whispered, his voice low and suggestive.

His hand lightly rested on your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle path over your skin. He was being playful now, his usual serious demeanor giving way to his more flirtatious side.

His hand moved down to your chin, his touch light but deliberate. He tilted your face up to meet his gaze, his eyes darkened with desire.

"Can you think of anything more substantial that might serve as an adequate apology?" he murmured, his voice dripping with suggestion.

You felt yourself shiver under his touch, your body responding to his proximity and his words. There was a hint of hunger in his eyes, and it sent a thrill through you.

"Maybe," you replied, your voice a little breathless. "But I think I'll need a hint first. I wouldn't want to disappoint my favorite genius."

Spencer's smile widened, his fingers tracing a slow path down your jawline. He leaned in, his mouth close to your ear.

"Hmm," he pretended to think, his hot breath against your skin sending another shiver down your spine. "Perhaps the apology should be a little more... physical."

His hand moved from your chin down to your neck, his fingers lightly tracing the sensitive skin there. He was so close to you now, his body almost pressed against yours.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, his breath growing a bit heavier as he continued to toy with you.

"Something that involves a lot of... touching," he whispered, his voice low and seductive.

His hand moved lower, his fingers tracing a path down your collarbone, down your arm, and finally settling on your hip. His grip was firm but gentle, his touch possessive.

He stepped even closer, his body flush against yours now. You could feel the heat of his chest against yours, his heart beating a little quicker.

"That's the kind of apology I might forgive," he murmured, his mouth hovering just above yours.

He was so close, his eyes locked with yours. His thumb continued to trail patterns on your hip, his touch both maddening and exhilarating.

His hand slid around to the small of your back, pulling you even closer. He leaned down, his mouth now just a whisper away from yours.

"I'm a very tactile person," he whispered, his voice dripping with implication. "I need to feel my apologies, not just hear them."

Your pulse quickened at his words, his proximity and his touch sending a wave of heat through you.

You reached up, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling his mouth close to yours. "Then I guess I'll just have to make sure my apology is extra convincing," you whispered, your voice husky with desire.

You closed the remaining distance between your lips, kissing him hard.

Spencer let out a soft groan at the contact, his hand on your back tightening as he pulled you close. He responded immediately, his mouth moving against yours with a ferocity that caught you off guard.

He tasted like coffee and some lingering sweetness, a combination that was irresistibly addictive. He nipped at your lips, his hands roaming over your body, touching and caressing with an increasing hunger.

The sound of the bathroom door made you both pull away. You looked past Spencer to see Hotch and Derek.

Derek's smirk widened as he saw the two of you quickly pull away from one another.

"Well, well, well," he said, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. "Looks like we've interrupted something."

Hotch couldn't help but chuckle, his gaze flickering between you and Spencer. Hotch pulled out his wallet, handing Derek a 50$ bill.

You looked between Hotch and Derek, your confusion deepening at the sight of the fifties changing hands.

"What are you two doing?" you asked, your voice a mix of amusement and bemusement.

"Oh, we just had a little bet going," Derek explained, his smirk widening.

Hotch nodded in agreement, his expression still one of mild amusement. "We bet on when you two would finally stop dancing around each other and just admit your feelings," he explained.

Your confusion slowly turned to embarrassment at their words. They had been betting on your relationship?

You shot a glance over at Spencer, who was looking just as flustered as you were. He was clearly still a little worked up from your earlier encounter, his cheeks slightly flushed and his hair a little disheveled.

"You two bet money on our love life?" you exclaimed, your voice a mix of amusement and indignation.

Derek chuckled, pocketing the money Hotch had handed over. "Guilty as charged," he said, his grin unapologetic.

Hotch shrugged, his expression still mild but with a hint of amusement. "Consider it a friendly wager," he said.

"Friendly wager or not, you two are unbelievable," you muttered, still a little flustered but trying to play it off with a laugh.

Spencer, on the other hand, was trying to regain his composure. He ran a hand through his hair, fixing his disheveled locks and trying to look unfazed.

"It's not like we were the only ones making bets," Derek pointed out, his gaze flickering over to Spencer. "JJ and Penelope have had a bet going on for months."

Spencer's face flushed even deeper at Derek's words. JJ and Penelope had been betting on your relationship too?

You couldn't help but laugh at Spencer's reaction to Derek's revelation. His expression was a mix of mortification and resignation, as if he had known deep down that the rest of the team was watching the slow burn between you two.

You turned to him, nudging him playfully. "Looks like we're the talk of the office, genius."

Spencer let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping a bit at your comment. "Great," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair again. "Just what I need, the whole team betting on our relationship."

He looked down at you, his expression a mix of resignation and fondness. "But I guess it was only a matter of time before we gave them something to talk about."

You gave him a reassuring smile, reaching up to touch his arm. "Hey, at least they seem to think we're a good match," you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Hotch and Derek chuckled again at your comment, their grins still just as knowing.

Spencer let out another sigh, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. "Yeah, and they're enjoying our... progression a little too much," he grumbled, his voice still a little flustered.

Derek let out a bark of laughter at Spencer's tone. "Oh, come on, Reid. Lighten up. We're just happy you two finally got your act together."

Hotch nodded in agreement. "And I have to say, I've never seen you quite so worked up over someone before," he observed, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Spencer's cheeks colored again at Hotch's remark. He shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted at best.

"Can we please stop discussing my love life," he muttered, shifting his weight awkwardly.

Derek and Hotch exchanged another smirk, obviously enjoying their ability to embarrass him.

You guys left the restroom and the bar all together. The unsub as and the two others had been detained and taken to interrogation. The EMTs had just finished tending to your injured head the wound was cleaned and plastered but thankfully did not require stitches. You were sitting on the edge of the ambulance, a blanket draped around you

Spencer hovered over you, his expression one of concern. He had been by your side the whole time, watching as the EMTs cleaned and bandaged your wound.

Now, he was sitting next to you on the edge of the ambulance, his hand resting on your leg. He was silent for a moment, his eyes focused on your face, taking in the sight of the bandaid plastered against your forehead.

"About earlier...in the bathroom..." you began, your voice soft.

Spencer's hand stiffened a little on your leg at your sudden mention of the kiss.

He swallowed, his gaze flickering away from yours for a moment before coming back to meet your eyes. "It...it meant something," he said, his voice hesitant. His eyes searched your face as if looking for some sort of confirmation. "At least, it did to me."

You smiled at his words, your heart fluttering at the sincerity in his voice. "Good," you said, your voice soft. "Because it meant a lot to me too."

You reached up, your hand gently tracing the line of his jaw. You could see the emotions flickering across his face, his usual stoic veneer cracked just a bit.

"I still owe you a dozen donuts," you reminded him, your voice light.

Yeah," he mumbled, his eyes flickering with a mixture of annoyance and resignation. "But I think I'd rather have another kiss than a dozen donuts."

He looked down, his expression a little contrite. "Not that I don't still want the donuts," he added quickly, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

You leaned forward, your hand still tangled in his hair, pulling his face down to meet yours.

The kiss was soft, a gentle press of lips against yours, filled with tenderness and sweetness. It was different from the urgent, passionate kiss you had shared in the bathroom, this one slow and deliberate.

You thought back to how it all started - how you had both agreed to pretend to be a couple to gain information during the case.

And now, here you were, sitting in the back of an ambulance, your lips still tingling from the kiss you had shared with Spencer. You never could have predicted that this charade would lead to something real, but it did.

Somehow, the lines between acting and reality had blurred, turning your pretend relationship into something completely genuine.

I don't know a lot about Criminal Minds and the characters, so I'm sorry if this is completely different than what the characters would say or do. I haven't watched the series, but I know the basic things.

So I apologize to anyone who's watched the series and that it doesn't match their personality!!!

[bl00dh0rs3]

Am i. Emotionally unavailable?

[ddarker-dreams]

Lock I need you to share something about Gojo. Jjk is getting worse with no hope in the future. Plis just a tiny part is god. 🙏🙏🙏🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Detour.

Gojo Satoru x F Reader x Geto Suguru.

Warnings: Mild not SFW implications, Gojo and Geto are Not normal about you, exhibiting possessive behavior. Word count: 1.2k.

-Index-

"—Excuse me, miss!" 

The exclamation barely registers amidst the crowded street's ambiance. Everyone has a destination they're eager to reach, and you're no different. Unlike those native to the area, however, you're more likely to get lost; hence your current conundrum. 

You examine the mess of squiggly lines, blocks, and patterns intended to function as a map. 

Kagurazaka, Kagurazaka... c'mon, I know this one... it starts with the kanji for god or something, right? 

While you scrutinize the map, the same voice from earlier calls out again, this time beside you. You glance around, not wanting to respond if he’s trying to flag down someone else. In doing so, it becomes increasingly obvious that you’re who he’s been trying to grab the attention of. 

From the looks of it, he’s a man in his late thirties, wearing a suit that could use a good ironing. You can’t recall meeting him before. Then again, you’re not privy to everything that happens back on campus. Meetings with influential figures frequently occur without your knowledge. You only ever find out about them later when Satoru loudly voices his critical view on everyone who attended. You are wearing your uniform, it’s recognizable to those in Jujutsu circles. 

You’d rather not stir up a scandal by unintentionally snubbing a Zenin or someone equally important. With this in mind, you politely inquire, “Can I help you?” 

“That uniform… you’re a high schooler, right?” 

You nod, figuring that this confirms your hypothesis. 

“What year?” 

This question makes less sense. Maybe he wants to know your proximity to Suguru, or, far likelier, Satoru. These types always have their own designs for the pride of the Gojo clan. 

“I’m a second-year.” 

“I see, I see,” he begins rummaging through his blazer’s inner pocket. He procures a business card and holds it out. “How about a job? From the looks of it, you’d make a good fit.” 

You blink. 

Are you… allowed to do freelance work? You’ve heard of specific sorcerers being requested for jobs, but that’s always been through the school. Besides, as a Grade Three, you don’t think you can go on unsupervised jobs. Not wanting to seem rude, you reach out to accept the card— 

—Only for it to be intercepted. 

“Sorry, she’s completely booked,” a voice that sounds the furthest thing from apologetic chimes in. 

Gojo Satoru stands to your right, adorned with his circular sunglasses and trademark grin. He rips the card in half without so much as a second thought. You stare at him, incredulous. Questions swarm around your head. When did he get here? How didn’t you notice him until now? Why does his cursed energy have such an unnerving quality to it? 

He bends down and hangs his arm around your shoulder. “You’re somethin’ else. Ignoring Suguru and I’s calls, chatting up strange men in Kabukichō… I swear, we can’t take our eyes off you for a second.” 

“Wh— I’m not chatting anyone up!” You whisper yell. His infinity nullifies enough for you to jab a finger at his chest. “Why can’t you give better directions?! ‘West of the Edo Castle’ doesn’t tell me anything, it just sounds like a TV drama!”

Satoru shrugs. “Should’ve just asked an auxiliary manager to drop you off.” 

“You might treat them like a personal taxi service, but I’d rather not. Taking the train’s fine.” 

The man finally overcomes the shock inflicted by Satoru’s audacity, taking a step forward. “What are you, her boyfriend or something?” 

“Bleh, no!” 

“Future husband.” 

Yours and Satoru’s responses come out simultaneously. 

“In that case—” 

“Excuse me,” A new presence interrupts the increasingly irritated man. Suguru wears a friendly smile which somehow comes across as more menacing than Satoru’s wolfish grin. He places a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You are aware that it’s a minor you’re trying to recruit, correct?” 

The man flushes at the accusation. “Listen, I dunno what you’re trying to accuse me of—” 

“I’d hate to see you get in trouble for a mistake like that,” Suguru cuts him off again, raising his voice ever so slightly. This attracts the attention of some bystanders. “Who knows what consequences that’d result in, especially for a married man like yourself…” 

Huh. You hadn’t even noticed the gold band on his ring finger. Suguru’s nothing if not perceptive. 

Nearby commuters whisper amongst themselves while eyeing the scene. The man’s gaze flits between a self-satisfied Satoru and an overly polite Suguru, eventually settling on an escape route. Wordlessly, he departs, although you swear you overhear him muttering ‘crazy kids’ and ‘doomed girl,’ along the way. 

“Yo, Suguru. Took you long enough.” 

“Unfortunately, not all of us can teleport.” 

“Your curse did a better job at tailin’ me than you.” 

Ignoring the jab, Suguru dusts his hands off while honing in on you. “You alright? You weren’t answering our calls.” 

“And you’re late,” Satoru whines. He helps himself to searching through your purse, taking your pink Razr hostage. “Huh. Battery’s dead.” 

Suguru appears content. “What’d I tell you?” 

“If she’s blocked me before, the same could happen to you.” 

“I wouldn’t block Suguru.” 

“She wouldn't block me.” 

This time, it’s you and Suguru who speak concurrently. Satoru pouts, putting his hands up like he’s under attack (which he probably believes himself to be). You snatch your phone back without issue, unlike when he last stole it. He unblocked himself and dangled it above your head until you promised you wouldn’t do that again.

“And here I was, about to treat you both to pastries,” Satoru sighs, melodramatic as ever. 

“While we were waiting for you, I noticed creampuffs and macaroons on the menu; which would you recommend?” Suguru inquires, not bothering to acknowledge Satoru’s complaints. 

“That depends on what you want from the experience,” you mimic his decision. “Creampuffs tend to be one flavor, whereas macaroons come in multiple, so the variety’s nice. When I get a variety pack, I always end up disliking one of the flavors and wishing I’d just gotten my favorites instead.” 

Satoru sighs as loud as he can. “Right, right, I’m just a walking wallet. Let’s get going before someone else solicits [First].” 

“Eh?” You turn your head to face Satoru. “‘Solicits?’ As in…?” 

“Se—” 

Suguru slaps a hand over Satoru’s mouth. “What he means to say is that this isn’t the best area for a high school girl to linger.”

“W-Wait, hold on! I thought he was like a… er, how would you say that… sorcerer employer?” 

They both stare at you. 

“You do know what Kabukichō’s famous for, right?” Suguru tentatively asks. 

“Hm? ‘Kabuki’ is a type of traditional theater, isn’t it?” 

“...” 

“...” 

“Let’s just show her what we mean,” Satoru bends down, picking up two halves of the business card he split in half earlier. “It’ll be a good lesson. I’d rather not have to come fetch her in this place again— oh.” 

Suguru inspects what has the power to shut Gojo Satoru up. You watch as his eyes move back and forth, his face shifting while he does so. His lips narrow into a thin line when he pulls back. Curious, you stand on your tiptoes, hoping to catch a glimpse yourself. Thankfully, there’s yomigana above some of the kanji you don’t recognize. This eliminates any possibility of you misreading the card’s contents. 

‘Oh’ indeed, you think. That poor guy…

It’s a business card for the company that oversees AKB48. 

[lixiesfreckless]

mind games | p. js

➸ synopsis: a little playful banter and psychoanalysis never hurt anybody.

➸ starring: park jisung x reader

➸ word count: 1.3k

➸ general content: college au, house party shenanigans, kissing, sungie is exactly the smooth man I know he could be if he didn't get flustered every 0.2 secs-

➸ warnings: alcohol consumption

➸ rating: 15+

➸ author’s note: I've literally had this in the drafts for MONTHS sorry for keeping park jisung content from tumblr, that should be a crime punishable by firing squad-

♫ this fic has a soundtrack! it's empty cups by charlie puth put it on pUT IT ON

You don't know what's making you more drunk; the alcohol or the man in front of you.

You've been watching his dark hooded eyes gaze at you this whole conversation, something that should feel casual, but with no one else on the couch, feels more intimate than you would have expected. And try as you might, you can't ignore the deep timbre of his voice, almost reminding you of a siren in how you can barely focus on anything else. Even the loud music of the party seems to fade when your eyes naturally trace the sound to the curve of his mouth, occasionally curling on one side when he catches your eyes wandering lower.

Damn. You don't remember being this much of a lightweight.

“-but enough about my major,” he sighs, rubbing his finger absentmindedly along the trim of the couch, a gesture that definitely should not have your insides twisting into a coil. “I am becoming increasingly curious as to what yours might be.” The tilt of his lips gives away the mock sincerity he's using, a sarcastic stab to the dull nature of collegiate small talk. You fight the urge to grin, feeling like a silly teenage girl. It was only one shot of vodka, what the hell?

“Guess.” An unoriginal response, but he leans back and strokes an imaginary beard, looking to the ceiling as if he was consulting the gods of career choices.

After a moment, he snaps his fingers and points at you.

“Culinary arts?”

“Close. Psychology.”

He bursts out laughing at your blatant lie, and you don't think you've ever heard a sound more disarming.

There is no way it was just vodka in your red solo cup.

“Have you been psychoanalyzing me?” He says with a glint in his eyes as he narrows them.

“I can't help it,” you laugh.

“Tell me.” His voice was so clear despite it being barely above a whisper.

“You just want to know how you're perceived by a stranger, don't you?”

His jaw drops open in awe. “You really are a psych major, huh?” You nod your head and let a laugh slip out again.

“So what have you gathered about me then?” He leans closer again, quieting his voice even more just in case anyone could hear him over the raging bass of the speakers.

“Well for one, you’re quiet,” you begin, and you wait for him to open his mouth(probably to argue that that’s obvious) to continue, “but it’s not because you’re shy. You’re reserved, probably choosing to keep to yourself in public situations because you don’t crave social interaction.”

His tongue pushes the inside of his cheek, fighting a smile, and you have to digest the butterflies in your stomach to keep going.

“And you’re observant, which is pretty common amongst introverted…?” you wait for him to confirm your guess with a nod, “Right. Introverted reserved guys that get caught people watching at parties.”

“I was not!” He argues, scrunching his nose in defiance.

“How’d you know what was in my cup then?”

“Oh that?” He nods his head over to the strawberry blonde that has the kitchen on lock, entertaining practically every girl within earshot of him. “Jaemin makes the same drink for every new girl he meets.”

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “A vodka cranberry?”

“With a splash of lime,” he adds, rolling his eyes. “He insists it elevates the drink.”

“Does he know it’s a house party?"

“Shh, he doesn’t need to know that.”

You’re both laughing, with heads so close that if it weren’t for the decibel levels of the party, you’d be sweating buckets at his proximity.

“You’re good though,” he says, sighing, and when he sees your confused stare he elaborates, “your psychoanalysis, I mean. That was pretty spot on.” You shake your head, waving him off with your free hand.

“That was nothing– I’d rather see you try,” you subtly challenge, raising your cup back to your lips.

“Oh yeah?”

You raise your eyebrows, as if you were daring him to try and figure you out.

He leans back from you, now gazing at you thoughtfully as he crosses his arms across his chest. Immediately you feel warm, clearly unprepared for having this much attention on you, let alone his. Your outfit was nothing unusual for a college party– just a short dress you felt confident in paired with a shrug that matched your sneakers –and you smirk to yourself knowing that the only piece of your personality he could derive from your clothes was well out of sight.

“I think you have a lot of secrets,” he says suddenly, meeting your eyes and leaning in close again. There was a lilt to his voice; was he teasing?

“Doesn’t everyone?” You ask, attempting to get him to elaborate.

“No, you’re probably a vault now that I think about it,” he chuckles, eyes wandering down to your neck as he eyes the locket necklace hanging just above your collarbones. “And assuming you want to go into a career where you help people, you’re always giving advice and listening to others, but don’t bother bothering others with your problems.”

He hit the nail on the head so hard you’re practically drooling.

“Who are you, seriously,” you laugh, feeling ridiculously exposed.

“Park Jisung, creative writing,” he says, swirling his hands and giving a mock bow, and you playfully slap his hand away. “How’s your back?”

“Sorry?”

“Your back. You know, doesn’t it hurt from carrying the weight of your friends’ trauma?”

When was the last time you laughed this much? “Not nearly as much as writer’s block.”

He scoffs, holding a hand against his hoodie and leaning back as if you’ve delivered a fatal blow. Which you probably did, to his ego. “So she plays dirty. I should have seen that coming.”

“Careful, I know how to weaponize words.”

“Well that makes two of us,” he muses, leaning close enough so his voice is clear again. “I’m also good at telling people what they wanna hear.”

“Is that so?” You bend down and leave your solo cup on the floor, no longer interested in its contents. “What do you think I wanna hear then?”

He pauses, probably weighing the risk of voicing his next thought.

“Mmmm…something like how from the moment I saw you at the bar, I knew I couldn’t leave this party without your number,” he says, fighting a smirk as he lifts a hand to his face to hide his bashful expression.

“Oh really,” you laugh, mentally thanking the low light in the room for hiding the blush coloring your cheeks. He wasn’t wrong though, you won’t let him leave without your digits in his phone.

Your gaze flickers down to his pouty lips, hoping he’ll pick up what you’re putting down. ”Anything else?”

“I think…” he says slowly, leaning in just enough so his intentions are clear as day, “you want me to say that I wanna try that vodka cranberry.”

“With lime,” you add, eyelids dropping as his face inches closer to yours. “The lime is essential.”

“Right. Can’t forget that.”

He smiles right when his lips touch yours, and the action has your skin nearly bursting into flames before he finally commits to the kiss.

Pillowy and soft, his kiss is slow and sensual against your lips, and immediately you feel so dizzy that you brace a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself, which unintentionally pulls him closer. The second kiss is deeper as a result, and the buzz in your fingertips is not from the alcohol, you’re sure.

Pulling away with a smile on his lips, Jisung watches your reaction carefully, and you hope that you don't look half as flustered as you feel with his face still close to yours.

“Riddle me this, psych major,” he says, eyes flickering around your face, “can you tell me what I’m thinking right now?”

You don’t even have to think twice; following his gaze was enough of an indication.

Somehow, you find it in yourself to giggle amongst the tension. “You want to get out of here?”

“Well,” he grins, tilting his head towards the door and offering a hand to you, “since you’re asking…”

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

[overlysour]

＃VARIOUS GENSHIN CHARACTERS♡ — THEM WHEN THEY’RE JEALOUS

VARIOUS GENSHIN MEN & WOMEN X READER ♡

Wanderer

He can’t help but want to savour your touches and smiles for himself but he knows he can’t keep you to himself.

You made an effort to interact with him, even with his big ego and judgemental comments. So why would you cheat on him?? What would you even get from that?

Also, his newly received anemo vision represented his freedom, so why would he take yours?

He would still be annoyed, probably rolling his eyes, glaring and overall being grumpy if he’s jealous, he’s not just gonna act like nothing is happening!

Might make a scene out of it… overall pretty petty even if you don’t get what you did wrong.

Probably ends up yelling at the person he’s jealous of after telling you someone needed help (did he throw an arrow at some stupid guy that stalks your neighbour? Yes! Was it just because he needed to distract you? Yes! (also partly because the neighbour wouldn’t shut up about how they have an admirer to you and he wanted attention)).

Aether

It really depends on the situation but he won’t act on what he deems to be unreasonable jealously. He thinks it’s unfair to act in that way when he’s been flirted with by many in front of you, though you still try not to react.

If he thinks it’s reasonable then he will act, just briefly though.

Would probably ask for help with a commission, muttering a sorry and making sure to give you a loving hug.

Understands the feeling of loosing someone very well so he’d want to still make it slightly obvious that you’re his and he’s yours.

Rosaria

Would likely threaten anyone making you uncomfortable in anyway.

If she’s just feeling jealous due to you speaking with someone closely then she absolutely won’t make a scene, though most likely asking who they were and what their relationship is with you.

Might make an excuse to walk off with you..

Overall chill but quick to threaten or drag you off.

Dottore

Doesn’t really come out of his lab much unless going to other nations for fatui missions so he wouldn’t really get the chance to watch you converse with others.

Though If he does get jealous then he’d be slightly colder to you then usual.

Petty as heck (much like many other characters but way more in a ‘I’m-gonna-kill-whoever-that-was’ type of way).

If you were his lover then he’d think high of you, meaning he’d think of stuff like ‘that measly brat doesn’t deserve someone like [Name]’

Wouldn’t make contact with the cause of his jealously, instead gaining small details about them just in case.

Quickly pulls you off, glaring at the probably already scared person.

Acts normal once away, might be the tiniest bit more affectionate.

Xiao

Understanding yet one to quickly go take out anger on any unsuspecting enemies he can find at that moment.

If it’s someone he trusts then he wouldn’t go let his anger out, instead opting to give you more affection then usual.

He doesn’t want to loose you, since he’s lost so many people over the years.

Though it wouldn’t to be death, he wonders if it’d make him feel worse knowing that he’d lost you to emotions.

Overprotective but watches from afar I guess??

Albedo

He’s well aware of human emotions but I think he’d be a little confused at first, like why was he jealous so easily? Also how is he feeling such intense feelings?

Treats it as an experiment on himself, though still making sure he’s keeping any more-than-friendly remarks off anyones tongues (he’d like to hope that you wouldn’t do that but he’s prepared to be a barrier between you two anyways)

Trusts you but won’t hesitate to send a cheeky smile at the person as he plants a kiss on your hand and you become increasingly flustered.

Ayaka

Absolutely makes no scene, she’d just feel a bit self-conscious.

If you give her lots of love then she’ll easily forget about it (though it may linger in her mind for a while no matter what).

Kind and collective, openly stating her worries with you if given encouragement or if you’re worried about her.

Venti

Honestly quite chill depending on what’s happening.

Though no matter the situation, he’ll butt in your conversation by kissing you and hugging your waist with an innocent smile.

Can be intimidating but would only ever act that way when no others can see him act like that, therefore nobody would believe the person and he’d be known as a cheerful and carefree bard!

Childe

Absolute child about it (pun not intended 😗).

He will hang onto your waist whilst he hugs your back as he glares at his source of jealously.

Acts like nothing happened afterwards, dragging you wherever suits him that he thinks you’d like.

Won’t really think about it again, only feeling the need to protect you from harm or people with the wrong intentions.

Diluc

Calm as long as it’s not much of a big deal, extremely understanding and not afraid to let people know that you two belong to each other only and any objections will be ignored.

If it’s a bigger deal then that, then he’ll keep his calm facade and act relatively normal and understanding but with a small loss of patience.

Worst case scenario, he’ll threaten them without a smile in sight.

Won’t pay much mind to what happened, only focused on perhaps kissing you on the cheek or hand a bit more.

Zhongli

A man that is genuinely not that easy to make jealous, seemingly always calm and knowledgeable.

If in a situation that he becomes jealous, he’ll kindly ask to speak with you and then express his feelings.

Would easily sort out any misunderstandings between you two.

To be continued. I will take requests on what characters people want included!

[slyvester101]

Imagine Tucker getting fangs after giving birth to Junior.

They say in show that both species they are delegating are more comfortable with them since they are “in-between” which makes sense for Junior since he’s a half human hybrid, but Tucker is just a guy who gave birth to him (which while connects him to the Sangheili, doesn’t really make him an “in-between” in my book).

It would make a lot more sense and be really fucking interesting if giving birth to Junior physically altered his body in other ways than just what happens to one’s body after giving birth.

For example, a headcanon (it may be canon but I have no fucking idea) I see a lot for Tucker is that being the Chosen One gave Tucker epic glowing tattoos/his birthing scars from having Junior look like Sangheili tattoos or glow blue or something. Which is a headcanon I love and will forever associate with Tucker.

Back to my original point, I think Tucker should become a bit more… uncanny after giving birth to Junior. He gets stronger and more agile, His canines get longer and sharper, his reflexes are quicker and his instincts hone in on danger faster, maybe his vocal box changes so he can speak Sangheili better. Whatever the case, it becomes increasingly more obvious that he’s no longer completely human, just like Junior isn’t completely Sangheili.

And then you can have situations where Tucker takes off his armor and scares the shit outta people.

Like imagine Church shitting himself when Tucker smiles one day and all he sees are his new sharp fangs or Wash sneaking double glances and constantly trying to get Tucker to smile to check that yeah. Those aren’t normal teeth.

Imagine the people of Chorus having a healthy fear of the kinda terrifying and slightly unsettling look of Lavernius Tucker.

Imagine everyone being so used to Tucker’s less than normal physique that they forget how scary he can look to newcomers.

Idk, I just think it’d be fun.

[kateysummers99]

Do you think the WWBM Interacial movement has now got to a critical point where momentum has starting to challenge even the majority of White Women now as far as there choices for relationship ? May we as White Males even lose this group of females to African Men more then we keep ourselves ?

The short answer is definitely yes.

Because of my own personal experiences and also just looking at major social trends, it's pretty obvious that IR relationships (in general, but specifically white girls and black guys) are much more common now than they were 10, 30, and 30 years ago. 

I think there are lots of reasons for this and I’m obviously not an expert (I work in finance, not cultural psychology), but lets just look at the obvious trends:

Girls today are more empowered in general, and especially regarding sexuality and romance. I mention this a lot on this blog, there are less things hold girls back than there used to be. Movies and TV and culture in general are so much more accepting that people can love who they want to love, and that applies especially to society being more accepting of girls expressing their sexuality. I grew up in a time when dating black guys was an obvious but implied no-no, and it's just not the same today. (Note this is NOT true everywhere. Sadly there are racists and homophobes still, but they will probably be holdouts until they die.)

Black men are idolized for their physicality and masculinity by society more and more every day. Sports, music, advertising media, movies, social media and TV shows - you name it, black guys are constantly the icon of masculinity, status and power. This is really true for their masculinity, where we regularly fetishize the sexual prowess of black men in every day culture with phrases like “once you go black you never go back.” 

Porn is free and everywhere. Also something that wasn’t the case when I was growing up, but now you just pick up any cell phone and in a few seconds be privately and anonymously staring at an amazing black man and his huge black cock (or whatever your fantasy is).

Also in the last few years, social justice and institutional racism has become a hot topic, I think a lot of women recognize that the same old white male patriarchy that has been suppressing women since the beginning of time has also been responsible for suppressing Black people. This puts white women and black men on the same side on a pretty deep level, where they see each other in the same existential struggle for happiness against the common enemy that is old white guys.

Another interesting thing that I've read reports about is more and more young white guys who are essentially "staying single" forever, sometimes due to porn addiction. They make a sexual connection with porn that is easy and judgment free, which is the opposite of the real-world dating situation where they deal with complex social dynamics and competition (including trying to compete against more masculine black men who are constantly in movies and music).

So if that's a growing tend... then young women find themselves more free in choosing partners, society idolizing black guys, exposed to IR sex and porn, and more culturally aligned with black guys… and young white guys basically removing themselves from the dating pool.

As for me personally, I have always thought think black guy / white girl couples are the most beautiful -- there's a special passion and primal attraction that goes deep down that you just don't see with other couples.

So yes, I think black guy and white girl couples are definitely more and more popular. I don’t think we’ll ever get to a point where all white men are unwanted forever (sorry white boys who message me, desperate to live in such a world), but I do think increasingly empowered girls and wider acceptance of female sexuality will naturally trend to more black guys and white girls together - which is all beautiful to me :)

[loveharlow]

SEVEN [SEASON 2] - 005 (PART 1)

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[7.3k] Early morning arrests and break ups, one member of the pogues goes rogue and gets into a world of trouble.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of death, forced drug use, abduction, mentions of physical violence, mention of non-con/sexual assault, disorientation

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ Good doesn't come without bad :/ I'M SORRY also THIS CHAPTER IS SM BETTER W THE SONG TRUST ME

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

“BETWEEN YESTERDAY AFTERNOON AND EARLY THIS MORNING, OUR KILDARE COUNTY POLICE DEPARTMENT CARRIED OUT SEVERAL ARRESTS IN THE MURDER CASES OF SUSAN PETERKIN, GAVIN BARNSTEAD, BIG JOHN ROUTLEDGE, AND OWEN CARTER.” Shoupe’s voice traveled from the small speaker of your phone. You were watching the local news — you, JJ, John B, Pope, and Kiara all sitting out on the pier behind The Chateau. It was still early, the sun just settling in the sky, providing a comforting warmth over the five of you.

JJ was laid outstretched on on the boat, head buried in his arms while Pope stood with his hands in his pockets. Kiara was kicking her feet, sitting on the wood of the dock as you and JB stood side by side, eyes glued to the phone screen as Shoupe continued giving his statement. “...The individuals in custody are our department pathologist Mark Daniels, officer Shane Graves, local attorney Rebecca Reyes, and Rafe Cameron.” Shoupe explained, swallowing harshly. “Unfortunately, our prime suspect, Ward Cameron was the victim of an explosion late yesterday afternoon. The other trials will take place in the following weeks, more updates are to come. Thank you for your time.” And then he was walking away from the podium swiftly, head down as chatter erupted and cameras flashed, the program cutting back to it’s anchor.

You sighed, powering off the phone and sliding it into your back pocket. 

“...He deserved it, right?” JJ asked, lifting his head from his arms and squinting his eyes from the harsh sun.

“Of course he deserved it.” Pope added, sitting down on the boat.”I’ve just...never seen anyone blow themselves up like that.”

“Cross that one off the bucket list.” The blonde shrugged, laying his head back down.

“Dude.” Pope said sternly, shooting JJ a look of warning as Kiara rounded the dock and sat herself next to John B who’d taken a seat inside.

Planting a gentle hand on his back, she spoke to him softly. “Are you okay?”

John B fiddled with his fingers in his lap, biting his lip. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

POPE WALKED IN JUST AS YOU’D SLIPPED YOUR OTHER SHOE ON AND STOOD FROM THE SOFA, the boy stopping in his tracks.

“Where are you going?” He asked casually, resuming his slow steps plopping himself down on the sofa.

“Hopefully to get my dog back.” You said, patting your pockets to make sure you had everything. With the announcement of Rafe's arrest, you figured it was as good a time as any.

“...And you were just going to leave without telling anyone?” He asked, sitting up straighter, becoming increasingly more concerned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t think JJ would agree with it either-”

“What does he have to do with anything?” You cut him off, your eyebrows set into a straight line.

“C’mon,” Pope sassed, standing from the couch. “It’s literally so obvious. It’s been obvious.” He said cooly. “Like, everyone knew he liked you before but now it’s clear you two have something going on. And you know how he is. He cares about you. A lot. You don’t wanna make him worry, do you?”

You wanted to tell him so badly. You felt like he needed to know why JJ wasn’t a priority right now. But you knew doing it would break Pope’s heart. Pope was in love with Kiara. And he deserved to know the truth, but you telling him out of spite wasn’t the best way to go through it.

“...Look, Pope.” You sighed, letting your shoulders fall. “Me and JJ aren’t on the best terms right now and I don’t want to be around him and I definitely don’t want his help. I know what I’m doing.” You assured, looking the boy in his eyes. “Okay? I’ll be fine, I promise.”

He seemed to sway on his feet, fighting with what to do in his head. “At least let me come with you. You can’t go alone-”

You immediately shook your head, putting your hands in front of you. “No, no. I don’t want you anywhere near Barry or Rafe without at least an army behind you.”

“But what about you?”

“...I’ve dealt with them before.” You affirmed, tensing your jaw.

Pope sighed in defeat, running a hand down his face. “Well, Rafe’s in jail but I doubt he’ll be in there long before he’s bailed out so you should be up against just Barry.” He pondered, turning to you and squinting his eyes. “...Fine. But if I call or text and I don’t get an answer, I’m telling JJ and everyone else. Deal?” He held out his hand.

The amount of care Pope had for your safety was sweet. So sweet it put a small, sheepish smile on your face. Connecting your hand with his, you shook it. “Deal.”

YOU SLOWED IN YOUR STEPS SOME FEET AWAY FROM THE SECLUDED TRAILER, wanting to minimize the chances of Barry seeing or hearing you before you even got to the door. The closer you got, the worse it smelled. You’d almost forgotten how the stench of weed and bonfire smoke stung your nostrils. Or how the overgrown grass scratched at your exposed legs, irritating the skin.

Your eyes immediately spotted a singular, metallic dog bowl — the inside smeared with what looked like canned meat. You felt sorrow and relief all at once. On the bright side, at least Marley was here. Or here at some point.

“Lookin’ for that mutt?” A familiar raspy voice sounded out. You whipped your head to the side to find Barry standing the doorway of his trailer. He startled you for a moment but the fear quickly diminished. After all, Barry rarely ever left the comfort of his trailer. He was dressed in a dirty wifebeater and shorts, his signature smirk plastered on his face.

“Where is she?” You asked, a hard expression on your face.

He simply drew his lips into a thin line, his eyebrows raising as he shrugged carelessly. “I ain’t got a damn clue.” He chuckled, shifting his weight against the frame and licking his lips. “Why don’t you ask Country Club?”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. “He’s in a cell. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. Not alone, anyway.” You explained. “What, you don’t watch the news or something? Figured you’d keep tabs on your partner in crime.”

Barry just stood there smiling. Smiling weirdly. It made your stomach turn. You were never scared of Barry but he never failed to give you the creeps. “Trust me, I keep tabs.” He chuckled, strutting down the small staircase that led up to the door of his trailer. “You shoulda kept your ass away from here, Snoozie.” He told you, waving a finger in your direction, a mischievous expression on his face.

“...What is that supposed to mean?” You asked, pinching your eyebrows together.

“It means…whatever happens now is on you.” He smiled when suddenly, you felt two hands wrap around you and pull you into a body. One arm was on your neck, right under your chin as the other held your torso against the assailants. You could hear breathing in your ear — somewhere between heaving and chuckling as your body froze before trying to fight the person off to no avail.

“Hey, calm down,” You knew that voice.

It was the voice of someone who wasn’t supposed to be here.

“...Get off of me.” You warned, but it came out as more of a weak whisper.

You didn’t think you were afraid of Rafe anymore. But the feeling of his hands on your body, the force he was using to hold you in place, his warm breath against your neck — it all made you feel disgusting.

It made you feel like you were in the back of his truck all over again.

“Yeahhh…I can’t do that.” He laughed, walking you closer to Barry, his grip never loosening. “We’ll let you and your annoying ass dog go but, see, you walked into our domain? Alright, so…that means, we get to have our fun with you, first.” He whispered into your ear.

You watched helplessly as Barry pulled a plastic bag filled with a white, powdery substance from his pocket — scooping a decent amount onto the tip of his pinky before walking closer to you. "This for you and your friends stealin' my fuckin' money."

You began to dry heave, frantically shaking your head from side to side as he lifted the drugs to your nose. You jerked and jumped in Rafe’s hold, trying to do anything to get him to either let you go and disable Barry from drugging you.

“Hold her head still, Rafe.”

“Alright…” The Cameron boy groaned, carefully maneuvering the arm on your neck so that he quickly grasp your jaw, the strong hold causing an immediate ache as he held your head in place. 

“There we go…” Barry drawled on, shoving his pinky so far up your nose that it hurt, triggering you to cough vehemently but ultimately sniff the substance. “Aight, she should be out soon. Take her inside, my neighbors are nosy as shit...”

Rafe released your jaw as you coughed. Your whole chest hurt and your nostrils stung and tingled, the sensation traveling from the bridge of your nose and to your brain — the feeling somewhere in between a migraine and a brain freeze. When your coughing died down, your head began to feel light. As light as a feather on your shoulders. 

Their voices became inaudible in your ears, fading in and out. You tried to fight Rafe once more but you couldn’t feel your arms, or your legs for that matter.

The last thing you remember before the trees turned to blobs was Rafe carrying your body inside the trailer.

WHEN YOU OPENED YOUR EYES AGAIN, you didn’t know how much time had gone by. Minutes, hours…

Everything felt so heavy. Your eyelids were half close as that was as high as you could hold them. Your head rolled on your shoulders, gently swaying from side to side because holding it straight didn’t seem to be in your list of capabilities at the moment. Your lips felt permanently parted, not enough muscle strength to push them together and keep them there.

Looking around slowly, everything had a trail behind it. Everytime you turned, the object in your vision would leave behind a trail, like smeared paint. You didn't even know where you were, in all honesty. The kitchen? You looked up, letting your eyes settle before you realized what you were looking at — your hands. They were tied to a pole. A rack, of sorts.

You couldn’t even feel it. You tugged and tugged, at least you thought you were. But it didn’t look like your hands were moving.

“You awake now?” A voice echoed in your ears. You lowered your gaze to a find a figure in front of you.

Rafe, you concluded once your vision settled. 

You swallowed and you could feel that, a little bit too much. It felt like you were swallowing rocks. What did Barry give you? “...Can you untie me?” You spoke.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe said, his voice sounding weird in your ears. He crouched down in front of you, his eyes boring into yours. He looked so much scarier. “...What was that? You’re mumbling, sunshine.”

You swallowed again, the action causing you to blink harshly - the smear of colors hurting you vision when you opened your eyes again. “...Can you untie me?” You mumbled once more, but you didn’t know you were mumbling. In your ears, you could hear your voice so clear. It was so loud and it echoed, like yelling down an empty hall — every sounded bounced off the walls.

Rafe just stared at you. It looked like he was thinking before he shrugged lightly, shifting closer to you and reaching above your head where your hands were bound. “You’re too weak to go anywhere anyway…can’t do anything…might as well.”

You felt your arms float to the floor as Rafe held the rope in his hands, examining it before tossing it to the side. His gaze returned to you, analyzing your face as if he’d never seen it before. His blue scanned over you in your entirety, drinking you in with his eyes. It felt like he was staring straight into your soul, taking every part of it for himself. He was your focal point, everything else behind him fading into a mess of colors. 

Even in your altered state of consciousness, your body still found the strength to flinch when his hand reached out to touch your face, his fingers leaving a fiery trail in their wake. “...You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispered, his voice sounding ghostly in your ears. “I just want you to let me love you. And you won’t…” His words made you ill. So ill that you were sure that your stomach audibly turned. “I never…meant to hurt you. But you just made it so hard.”

You could see the tears welling in his eyes and the redness blooming on his nose. He was…crying. Or trying not to. You couldn’t clearly tell. “And then you told everyone that I..raped you.” He choked out, threading his fingers through your hair as you tried to move away from his touch, the sound of his digits scraping against your roots making your body recoil. “We both wanted it. You were just too ashamed to admit it. You thought it was wrong, that we were wrong. You were fighting me, I'll admit…but you wanted it.”

You shook your head, bile rising in your throat. “...Didn’t.” You choked out, throwing your head back against the wall. “I didn’t…want it.” You breathed. “And I…don’t…love you.” You struggled to form fluent sentences, your words slurring in on each other even with the long pauses in between nearly each word. “You and your family…took everything f-...from me.” Talking was as hard as hiking up the steepest hill in the world. “I just want my dog back. Can’t you j-...just give her to me?”

“Jesus- forget the fucking dog!” Rafe screamed, kicking a nearby object. You couldn’t see what it was. His hands gripped his hair at the roots, the boy pacing back and forth in front of you before crouching down in front of you once more, closer this time. “This is about us — me and you. I am in love with you. So, why is it…that you can’t love me back? You led me on. You made me like this-”

“No, I didn’t.” You cried, head thrown back as you looked up at the ceiling, tears running from your eyes, the droplets tickling your cheeks. “You made…me like this.” You said tearfully, a cough following the statement. “I was fifteen. I didn’t know…any better. But you did.” You wailed, lowering your head to look at him, although your head still swayed. “And when I did…know better, you didn’t w-want to let me go. And it doesn’t even matter…” You almost laughed through your tears. “Because your dad…ruined my life months before we even met.”

Rafe was quick to wrap his hand around your neck after that, squeezing harshly. He edged his face closer to yours, the tips of his hair tickling your forehead as stars invaded your vision, or what remained of it. “My dad? Did what he had to do. Alright? He’s not a monster.”

“...Neither was mine.” You croaked out. Rafe looked between your eyes with an expression you couldn’t place. Sadness? Anger? Whatever it was, he felt enough of it to release his grip, you taking the biggest gulp of air possible, your hair falling in front of your face as you held it down weakly.

He stood up from his crouching position in front of you. You heard him pace around once more as you caught your breath, each intake feeling like you were breathing in the coldest air ever, before you cried out in pain, the sound hurting your ears. Rafe had grabbed a fistful of your hair, using it to pull you up, but you could barely stand so the angry boy used his other hand to grip your upper arm for support. Using the hold he had on you, he drug your limp frame into the small living area, throwing you onto Barry’s tattered sofa.

…Where was Barry?

You landed on your side, rolling over onto your back. The whole room was spinning again, the quickness of his actions not allowing your brain to catch up with the swift movements. “I try to do the right thing and no one ever cares. My dad and Sarah, even Rose…they blame me for everything.” He ranted and rambled, his hands balled into fists by his sides as he looked down at you. “I thought you were different.” He said through labored breaths. Him standing above you, face red and furious, you would've sworn he was the devil himself. “But you’re just as bad as the rest of them. But I can change that…” He nodded, climbing on top of you, straddling your motionless body.

All you could do was look at him through the strands of hair that cloud your vision. You let out a ‘hmph’ as he let his weight rest on your thighs. “I can’t change their minds. I can’t fix them.” He said, his hands trailing the hem of your bottoms before unbuttoning them. “...But I can fix you.” He breathed, his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he nodded to himself. “I can make you love me.”

Before you knew it, the sound of him dragging the zipper of your fly rang out in your ears - the familiar situation triggering a series of images to flash in your mind. Images of the first time. You felt the puddles of hot tears leaving your eyes as your throat ached to say something. “Please, stop…” You cried, throwing your head side to side as your weak hands tried to push his away. “Please, don’t do this again.” You stuttered, your nimble fingers clawing at his knuckles as he struggled to drag your bottoms down your legs.

You felt like God himself came down from Heaven when a harsh light filled the trailer, the door of the mobile home opening as Barry entered, taking in the scene in front of him. You quickly registered that it was actually moonlight blinding you so viciously, the brightness fading behind Barry’s figure to reveal the eerie darkness outside.

How long had you been here?

“Aye, what the fuck? Rafe!” Barry said disgusted, slamming the door shut behind him. “Get the fuck off her, man. Don’t do that shit in my crib.” He told him, throwing a hand out in his direction. Rafe sighed, getting off of you and aggressively dragging your pants back up your legs, but he didn’t bother to button them back. You laid on the couch, sobbing silently. You didn’t know if it was out of fear or relief. “That’s why yo ass put me on paw patrol? So you could fuck the doped up girl in my damn house?”

Rafe made a face of annoyance, rolling his eyes at the drug dealer’s words. “Did you do it?”

“Uh, yeah, I did it, dumbass.” Barry said, voice full of attitude. “I just let her go in the backyard, it sounded like they were all inside. I saw one of the dudes come out and take her inside before I dipped.” He explained, grabbing a half-drunken beer from his cluttered coffee table. “Why you have me take the dog back if she still here? Y’know they gon come lookin’ for her eventually…” He threw out, the rim of the beer bottle touching his lips before he took a big sip.

“Just had to leave a little hint behind.” Rafe told Barry, sitting on the couch next to your feet as you turned to your side, groaning. He made a line out of the loose coke on the coffee table before quickly snorting it. A large exhale leaving his lungs as he let it pass through him. “It’s fun to fuck with ‘em, dude.”

“I ain’t with these games and shit.” Barry complained, walking to the back of his trailer. You were still laid out on the couch, sobbing silently. “If they come by here and fuck up my shit, it’s comin’ outta your pocket, Country Club.” He said. “And give her another hit!” He called from the back. “All that cryin’ and shit is givin’ me a headache. Damn…”

Rafe rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath before searching around the table before picking up the plastic bag Barry had before. You figured whatever they were putting you out with wasn’t cocaine. And that’s what scared you the most when Rafe snatched you up and shoved another pinky-full up your nose, letting your drowsy frame fall back into the plushness of the sofa.

“JJ…BACK IN THE VAN!” What sounded like John B’s voice filled your ears. Your eyes cracked open little by little, your vision much more clear and less distorted than the last time you recall waking up. So many voices were speaking at once. Your eyes wandered, trying to find out who was talking to who. It was then you realized the entire world was sideways and you were inside of The Twinkie.

Your head was slightly more elevated than the rest of your body, causing you to turn and peer above you where you found Sarah’s wide eyes staring down at you, finally registering the feeling on her fingers running through your hair. Her eyes were slightly red and glossed over as she peered down at you.

You felt more conscious this time around — no paint smears, no muffled voices, and you felt like you had more control over your body. You were cold, so cold. Probably shivering.

Looking over, you found that the door of the van was open. You could see a group of people crowded in on each other. When your vision focused, you realized it your four other friends and they were surrounding Rafe and Barry.

“What is wrong with you?!” That was Kie’s voice. And you knew her well enough to hear the anger in voice. “What the hell do you want, huh? You should be in jail, you sick motherfucker!”  It wasn’t long before the guys pushed her to the back of the circle, the girl yelling at Rafe through the blockade they’d formed in front of her.

“You Kooks think you can do whatever the fuck you want!” JJ shouted, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it before. It was almost unrecognizable. “You wanna end up like your father? ‘Cause we can make it happen!-”

“The fuck’d you just say to me, you little shit?” Rafe countered, stepping closer to JJ as John B and Pope stepped closer to him.

“You heard me, bitch.” JJ spat, the small accent he had showing itself as he pushed his way through his two friends to stand toe-to-toe with Rafe.

“All y’all needa get the fuck off my property.” Barry added, standing beside Rafe, but his words went ignored.

“If you wanna do this, we can do it. ‘Cause I’ve been waiting to get my fuckin’ hands on you.” JJ warned. “You like to drug girls? Rape them? Hit them? Hit me. Hit me, you pussy-” Just then, Rafe clocked JJ in his jaw, the force and sound of the assault causing you to flinch in Sarah’s lap as John B and Pope caught their friend, Kie gasping behind them. You tried to sit up as you watched JJ’s head whip to the side, but Sarah was quick to force your weak frame back down.

You looked up at her with wide, glassy eyes. “Rafe’s gonna hurt him.” You said weakly, sounding like a scared child.

The blonde girl simply shook her head side to side. “I don’t think so.” She smiled weakly before looking back out at the brawl unfolding outside of the vehicle. “Not this time.”

Your own eyes refocused on the two guys just as JJ recovered from the blow, wasting no time in lunging at Rafe and sending the boy to the ground, allowing himself to deliver blow after blow. You couldn’t tell if he was landing them, you could only see one arm go up after the other, his fists coming down in a vicious frenzy. 

Kiara was calling JJ’s name as Barry shook his head and backed up,n John B and Pope watching with their hands up. “Y’all gon’ have the cops pokin’ around here...” Barry said angrily, eyes on John B and Pope who stood by helplessly, shocked. “Get this shit under control, I don’t need them people on my radar!” The drug dealer urged, the commotion sure to disturb any nearby trailer owners.

John B and Pope looked at each other before John B peered back at you, an expression of sadness in his eyes.

Oh. You forgot…he didn’t know. 

So, it wasn’t long before that sadness turned to anger as he turned back to Barry. “...We’ll leave when he’s done.” John B spat, referring to the two boys brawling in the grass before walking away and rounding the vehicle to get in the driver’s seat, Pope and Kie following and climbing into the back of the van quickly. Without those three blocking your field of view, you could clearly see the two boys now.

Rafe had managed to pick himself up but surprisingly, JJ still had the upper hand. But it was still a brutal brawl between the two, one not staying on top for long before being pinned by the other. Every few seconds, you could spot droplets of blood flying. It was an odd thing — on one hand, seeing Rafe get his ass handed to him almost put a dizzy smile on your face, but on the other hand, you knew he’d never stop coming after JJ now. Any chance he got...

Especially since now he probably got the hint that JJ had some sort of feelings for you. JJ didn’t come after him like a concerned friend, JJ lunged at him like a enraged boyfriend. JJ attacked him like someone who was in love with you. And after what Rafe said in the trailer, or at least what you remember of it, these two would be butting heads over a lot more than financial status.

When the blaring of sirens hit your ears, you perked up, as well as everyone else. But Rafe and JJ were too enthralled with trying to kill each other that they must not have heard anything. 

The pogues began calling JJ’s name, trying to draw him out of his rage-induced assault to get back in the van. After a few moments, he finally registered their voices and the sound of the sirens. He forcefully pulled himself away from Rafe as the boy laid on the grass, heaving. JJ delivered one last glare to the boy on the ground, the blonde’s chest going up and down heavily as he turned and threw himself into the van.

“And don’t come ‘round here no more, you hear me?!” Barry’s voice traveled before Pope slammed the door shut, John B speeding off.

Your eyes were trained on JJ’s breathing figure — he had a small trail of blood going from his bottom lip to his chin, dirt on his shirt and in his hair, and his eyebrows were set into a permanent frown. You managed to meet his eyes for a second and he looked upset. 

Upset with you?

KIARA AND SARAH HELPED YOU INSIDE THE CHATEAU AS THE GUYS HELD THE DOORS OPEN. What you didn’t expect was for Marley to come charging at you the second you stepped foot in the house. The girls let you go gently, allowing you to crouch down on your knees and embrace your dog.

She smelled like wet dirt and you could feel the outline of her ribcage as you rubbed her sides. Tears gathered in your eyes as you and Marley comforted each other. Your voice was still weak and scratchy as you spoke softly to the animal. If anything, after today, you should be grateful she was still alive.

“Hey,” John B spoke up, your eyes going to him. “We can hose her down in the backyard while you wash off.”

You drew your lips into a thin line, nodding your head in his direction as you stood up on shaky legs, Kie and Sarah putting a hand each on your back. He and Pope led Marley outside, JJ lagging behind. “JJ.” You called out. The blonde simply looked at you over his shoulder, chewing the inside of his lip before making his way outside with the other two guys.

Your shoulders fell at his cold demeanor. You guessed he was upset with you.

“It’s okay…” Sarah reassured, her hand rubbing your back as you frowned into the distance. “He just needs a second.” She told you, turning you in the direction of the bathroom, helping you walk alongside Kie who hadn't said much. “C’mon. We’ll help you get yourself together…”

WHEN YOU CAME OUT OF THE BATHROOM, the house was empty. The only living things inside being a sleeping Marley and you. She looked a lot cleaner, aside from the food remnants around her mouth. You smiled smally to yourself, admiring the animal for a moments before walking over to her, crouching down and placing a light kiss on the top of her head. She was so deep asleep that she didn’t stir, even a little.

You almost passed out a handful of times in the shower, the steam only contributing to the lightheadedness you felt but easing the neverending ache in your arms and legs. But you felt better — less disoriented. Less…gross.

You were dressed in one of JJ’s few sweatshirts and a pair of pajama shorts. All the time the two of you’d spent living together meant some of your clothes were still mixed in with one another’s. Your hair was slightly damp, the strands pulled back into a low bun to keep it out of your face. 

Even though you felt more sober, you still felt like you were walking outside of your body and it was making you a bit nauseous. You spotted a bottle of aspirin on the kitchen counter, snatching it up and swallowing two pills.

Just then, you heard voices outside — low and faint, but there. You peered out of the small window in the kitchen , spotting John B and Pope laid out on the HMS Pogue. Everyone must’ve gone outside, you thought to yourself.

You slipped out the backdoor, bare feet on the grass as you walked in the direction of the two guys.

“What’re you two talking about?” Your voice was still off and scratchy but you were grateful that you could hear yourself talking. The two males turned to you, making out your figure in the dark of night as you squeezed into between them on the boat.

“How’re you feeling?” Pope was the first to ask, genuine concern swimming in his eyes.

You sent him a small smile. “Better.” You nodded. “...And I’m sorry. For putting you in a weird position, before I left. I shouldn’t have done that-”

“You don’t have to apologize.” He shook his head, patting your shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You mumbled a ‘thanks’ to the boy, patting the hand on your shoulder as he slid it off as you turned to John B who was already looking at you. You knew him the best out of all your friends. That’s why you could tell he was going from upset with you to sad all at once.

“Just say it.” You sighed, giving him the floor.

“...Why didn’t you tell me?”  He asked, squinting his eyes. “You’re like my sister. And not to sound weird but I love you, dude. I would’ve killed Rafe-”

“That’s why.” You cut him off, a pitiful frown on your face. “I didn’t need you doing anything stupid in my defense. And you were still torn up over your dad. We both were.”

He just huffed, turning away from you and shaking his head side to side as he crossed his arms. “...You still should’ve told me.”

“I know.” You nodded, sighing and sliding down to lay fully down next to your two friends. “Where is everyone?”

“Well, Kiara is out front doing…whatever. JJ has been pacing in the Surf Shack for like an hour, and Sarah...left.” He hesitated at the end of his statement, eyeing John B who just sighed deeply. You looked between them both, eyes stopping on John B.

“What happened?” You asked.

“We, uh…we broke up.”

“What?” You asked, shocked. “Why?”

“...She wasn’t the biggest fan of how I react to Ward blowing himself up.” He explained, shifting in his spot. “She said I looked glad. And I didn’t want to lie to her and say I wasn’t. Because I was.”

“I mean, I get it.” You threw out, looking up at the stars in the sky. “He killed your dad. He killed a lot of people…I think it’s okay to be glad he’s dead. But I also get her side. He was her dad. But she can’t expect you to feel the same.”

“Exactly what I said.” Pope chipped in. “How sad can you expect someone to be when their father’s murderer dies and they get to see it?”

“I don’t think it was that, though.” John B spoke up, his brows pinched. “She said that out of all people, she thought that I’d understand what it’s like to lose a dad. And I do and I feel like a dick for not comforting her in that moment and giving Topper the opportunity to swoop in but…I feel like she didn’t even give me a chance to be there for her.”

“...Love is five minutes of pleasure for a lifetime of pain.” Pope said sadly, you and John B turning to him silently with wide eyes. The boy turned to the both of you, the same expression plastered on his face.

“Okay…” John B groaned, sitting up from his position and leaning on his arm.. “You and Kie, talk to me. What’s goin’ on?”

“Well…” Pope said, sitting up as well as you just looked up at the two guys. “She wants to be just friends.”

John B and you sighed simultaneously. “Whooo, death blow.” JB said to him. “Sorry, man.”

“It’s not like I can say I didn’t see it coming. After what happened in Charleston…” Pope was explaining before he cut himself off, his wide eyes darting to you as he pressed his lips shut. But John B’s curiosity was peaked, and so was yours.

“What happened in Charleston?” The brunette boy asked, looking between the two of you. 

Pope’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. You cocked an eyebrow, sitting up on your own elbow now. “So you did see it?”

Now he was the one looking confused, using his finger to point at you. “You saw it? I thought you were inside-”

“I was but I had just walked out when I saw them.”

“So, we both saw it?”

“Helloooo.” John B butted in, the two of you looking at him. “Third party is still here. Saw what?”

“The kiss.” You and Pope said at the same time, looking at him.

“Kiss? What kiss? Who kissed?” He asked, genuinely baffled.

“Kie and JJ.” The both of you said in sync again.

John B’s jaw dropped as he stuttered to find words. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding JJ?” He settled on his question, eyes on you.

“Yes…” You said squinting your eyes. “What would you know about that, though?” You asked, wondering when JB got the inside scoop on you and JJ’s newfound relationship.

“I mean, everyone could see he had a thing for you. For a looong time. Well, everyone but you…”

“Thank you.” Pope butted in, throwing his hands up in surrender when you shot him a glare. “I’m just saying, I wasn’t the only one who saw it.”

“And he kind of told me everything that happened while me and Sarah were gone.” John B smirked as you groaned. “But we’re getting off topic…” He waved his hands, dismissing the previous statements.

“Right.” Pope refocused. “I never said anything about the kiss to her or him. I just kind of hoped it was a spur of the moment thing and that it would just remain as that — a kiss. But then, she friendzoned me. And now I can’t help but think that she likes JJ. And I don’t know if JJ likes her, no offense Y/N...”

“He told me he doesn’t.” You butted in. “The day we got that call about what happened to your pops, we had an argument about it. He said that Kie initiated the kiss and it didn’t mean anything. To him, at least. I don’t know how much of it I believe but," You cut yourself off, shrugging. "And I can’t speak for Kiara…”

“Okay, here’s some not-so-friendly advice for the both of you from good ole Dr. Routledge,” John B piped up, a bright smile on his face. “You,” He pointed a Pope. “focus on your yourself and your books and…grades and shit. Forget about Kie, there’s plenty of fish in the sea. And you, Pope, are one handsome young man and I guarantee there is some girl out there willing to jump your bones and not kiss one of your best friends. And, you, little missy,” His attention turned to you. “If JJ says he doesn’t have feelings for her and the kiss didn’t mean anything, I’d believe him. He loves you and I don’t think he would do anything to purposefully screw up his chance with you. And please, for the love of God, be nice and talk to him. Hearing him whine about you not talking to him is going to drive me off a cliff.”

The three of you laughed before you turned to Pope, a light smile on your face. “So, you really just weren’t going to tell me?” You asked in faux-offense.

Pope faked shock, a hand on his chest. “Uh, me? I didn’t even know you and JJ had something going then. If anything, you should’ve been the one to tell me.”

“I didn’t want to upset you!” You laughed and groaned all at once.

“Yeah, yeah…” He waved you off lightheartedly. “Alright, next time we see something that would…affect the other person, we have to tell. Deal?” He asked, holding out his pinky.

“Ohhh, okay. We’ll be each others witnesses. I like this two person witness protection program.” You smiled, connecting your pinky with Pope’s. “Deal.”

YOU WERE IN THE GUEST ROOM WHEN THE DOOR CREAKED OPEN, a stream of light illuminating the dimly lit space — the only source of light being a bedside lamp. You thought everyone had gone to sleep.

Turning at the sound of the door, you found JJ closing the entryway behind him before he turned to you. You could hardly see his features, not enough light to see his face clearly. Neither of you said anything as he walked slowly towards you, walking around the bed. 

He stopped in front of you, just inches between the both of you. Nothing was to be heard except your breathing and the cicadas outside.

“...What’s wrong with you?” He asked. His voice sounded strained, like he’d been crying. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You nodded, accepting his frustration towards you. Swallowing, you attempted to reply.  “...I didn’t think-”

“Yeah, you didn’t think.” JJ cut you off. “You left without telling anyone. You went there alone. Why would you do that?”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there-”

“Anything could’ve happened to you. Anything.” JJ reprimanded, shifting closer to you subconsciously. “Do you know what is was like to hear, from Pope, that’d you left to go to Barry’s trailer hours ago? That you hadn’t answered any of his calls or texts that you said you’d answer? To ride all the way there with my heart beating out of my damn chest just to rush in and find you passed out on the couch with the your pants unbuttoned, confirming every single fear-”

“Nothing happened-”

“But something could have!” He lost himself, looking around as if someone heard as he licked his lips, one tear rolling down his cheek. “He tried to, clearly, and something could have.” He sighed, letting himself sit on the edge of the guest room bed, his head in his hands. “...You didn’t even know who I was when we woke you up the first time to put you in the van. You didn’t recognize any of us. You were completely out of it. I've never seen anyone like that...” He told you. You don’t recall waking up more than twice. Voices and colors here and there but…not much. “I know…that you think I took your trust and feelings and ran with them. But you can’t do things like that.” He said firmly, lifting his head to look at you. “I’m not blaming you. I just want you to understand that even if you’re mad at me or whoever, you can’t just abandon ship. Especially, not like that.”

He told you, reaching his hands out to grab your waist and pull you closer as you sniffled. You felt almost completely sober as you stood between his legs, the aspirin you took earlier taking effect.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his teary blue eyes boring into yours as he looked up at you. You bit your lip from the inside of your mouth as you nodded. “Okay…good.” He sighed, letting his head fall in relief before looking at you again. “I know the last few days have been…hard. Especially today. And I’m sorry that I put you in a place where you couldn’t even trust me as a friend anymore. But I don’t know how else to tell you or show you that I love you. And today just made me realize how badly I need you and how far I’m willing to go for you.” He said softly. “...There were so many reasons I didn’t tell you about the kiss. For one, it didn’t mean anything to me. Also the fact that I didn’t want to cause drama between you and Kie. But none of that matters because there was only one reason that I should’ve told you — because you deserved to know and because I promised I would. So, I am really sorry.” 

You'd never heard JJ be this vulnerable and open. Or be so vulnerable and open this easily. It didn't seem practiced or rehearsed. It was like he was really letting his heart speak for him and right all his wrongs.

After what happened today, holding a grudge wasn't as appealing. Because you didn't know what could happen tomorrow.

“...I believe you. And I forgive you.” You said, eyes locked on his. “And I’m sorry, too. If I had told you guys where I was going then maybe-”

“Don’t even go there.” He stopped you, shaking his head. “Rafe is insane. What he and that fucking loser, Barry, did wasn’t your fault. You shouldn’t have gone there alone, sure, but what happened wasn’t your fault.”

You just sent him a half-hearted smile. You know he meant it but you still felt at least partially to blame. You licked your lips and took a deep breath before speaking, your hands rubbing up and down the blonde’s exposed arms. “JJ…” You spoke, more like whispered.

Something in the way you looked at him changed. Something in the way you felt for him changed. “...I want you.” You felt the boy tense in your arms, lifting his head up more to look you directly in the eyes. “I don’t need any more time. I know what I want and I know how I feel. I love you. And I want you.”

“...Are you sure? Because you just went through something really terrible tonight-”

“I’m sure.” You interrupted him. “If I keep waiting until nothing bad happens to be with you, then we’ll never be together. This is our lives now. And even if we didn’t have all this death and drama around us, I would still love you.” You reassured, trailing your hands up to his shoulders as his soothed themselves up and down your waist. “You said you were all mine. So, now I’m all yours, if you want me…”

He had a look on his face that you couldn’t decipher. His eyes looked at each of yours and then landed on your lips, seeming to trace them before pulling you down into him and colliding his lips with yours. A small noise of surprise leaving your lips before you melted into the exchange. Your hands slid around the nape of his neck as his trailed the length of your thighs, helping you onto his lap.

His fingers pressed into your skin, passionately dragging his prints into your skin as your nails scraped at the skin of his scalp and shoulders. The kiss wasn’t like the ones before. Those were soft and gentle, testing the waters. This kiss was hungry and prolonged — feverish. So starved of each other that it probably would’ve had the potential to lead to something else if the day had gone differently.

But knowing JJ, after what happened tonight, any kind of sex was off the table. Ad you weren't sure when you'd be ready to go that far. But this was good enough. More than good enough. There wasn’t a single part of either of you that wasn’t touching. You couldn’t help but sigh when his warm hand went up under your shirt, his fingers clawing at your back as he pressed you endlessly closer against him. 

You were confused when he pulled back — lips swollen and red as his hair stuck up in one-hundred different directions. He was breathing heavy when he spoke. “Sorry, sorry…” He said through labored breaths. “Just to be clear, you are my girlfriend, right-”

You couldn’t help but laugh and roll your eyes. “Yes, JJ, I’m your girlfriend.” You smiled. “I’m completely yours.” You sighed, eyeing his lips like an animal before connecting your lips with his once more, the both of you falling back into the mattress.

next chapter>

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[strawberryblondebutch]

If you are a visibly disenfranchised person in America (by race, gender, sexuality, physical ability, or any other definition) and are worried about violence carried out in the name of sycophants, I would strongly recommend arming yourselves.

Brass knuckles are not illegal at the federal level, although many states have their own laws. They work in two directions: the brass rings increase the injury you do onto someone else, while the palm grip redistributes the kickback so that you're less likely to break your own fingers. Kevlar gauntlets, like the ones I wear for motorcycling, help with the latter more than the former.

Switchblades are becoming increasingly legal on the state level thanks in large part to an EMT lobby -- carrying a collapsible blade is helpful when your job involves cutting people out of their seatbelts in vehicle collisions. They come in two types: side-loading and out-the-front. OTF is triggered faster in an emergency.

In both cases, remember that most things are only illegal if you get caught. The issue comes in states where the sale of brass knuckles or switchblades are illegal, which makes them harder to acquire. If you can find a way to send a care package via a reputable courier, you should have no problem transporting across state lines. (My OTF blade came to PA nestled between a pair of sneakers.)

Handguns are easy to purchase in just about any state. Check your state laws to see whether you need a permit and/or to register your firearm to conduct a sale, but unless you're a convicted felon, the process is fairly straightforward. Always hold a handgun with both hands and practice at the range until you're confident in your aim and your stance.

Long guns are not going to be particularly useful on the street. You're unlikely to get the distance from your target to maintain your accuracy. They're more useful for standing your ground on your own property.

Bows are my favorite weapon to handle, but I would not recommend them for protection. It takes years of practice to fire them accurately, and you need space both to draw back the string to your ear and to fire at a distance. Arrows need a certain amount of momentum behind them, snap shots don't really work. Entry-level bows are cheaper than entry-level guns and that's the only edge I will give them.

General advice:

Put spikes anywhere you don't want people grabbing. Wrists and shoulders are the most obvious places. Punks don't just wear them for decoration!

Slip-resistant boots help you hold your ground in a tussle, and most come with an additional benefit like a steel toe or impact-resistant material.

When aiming with brass knuckles or bare fists, aim for the nose and the cheekbone. Both break easily and cause a shockwave of immediate pain that will make your attacker retreat.

Aim for center mass when possible with any type of puncturing weapon. It's the biggest target with the most important organs.

If you are put in a headlock, the thigh has both sensitive nerves and the femoral artery, and it's probably the most available target to you.

Strangling someone might seem like the nicer option, but it's the most dangerous for you. You need at least 10 seconds to strangle to the point of unconsciousness, during which your hands are both occupied and you can't defend yourself as well. Always go for an immediate, painful injury that will disrupt your attacker's attention.

Any protection - body armor or weaponry - is better than no protection. My motorcycle armor was designed to keep me from breaking every bone in my body in a crash, but the way it redistributes bludgeoning force also helps against baseball bats and batons.

Most people are not as prepared to receive physical violence as they are to dole it out.

[pedroscurls]

second chances | pt. 3

Character(s): Marcus Pike x fem!Reader Summary: You and Marcus continue to get to know each other, but the feelings you both have for each other are becoming increasingly difficult to keep it at bay. Word count: 2.1k A/N: All the fluff, y'all!!! The next chapter will get a bit more deeper between these two, so stay tuned! (and also I just want to say that gif of Marcus - Pedro literally stares straight at the camera for a very brief second🫣)   Warning: None.  SERIES MASTERLIST - ultimate masterlist

It’s been a month since you moved in and you and Marcus have developed a morning routine. It helps that you both like to be up early and there have been a few times where he’d come over early enough to eat breakfast with you. You realize that you haven’t yet been inside of his apartment. Whenever you spend time with him, it’s always at your place and while you don’t mind, there is a bit of mystery to him that piques your curiosity. 

He’s sweet. 

He’s kind. 

He’s thoughtful.

He’s handsome. 

But every time you’re with him, you can tell he’s holding a part of himself back, like he has this guard up that makes it so difficult for you to get through. He only shows you part of himself that he wants you to see, but you don’t push him. You don’t ask for more than what he’s willing to share because you’ve been in his position before. 

You’ve had your heart broken before. And it certainly isn’t the greatest feeling knowing that someone you loved didn’t choose you. Marcus doesn’t have to say the words for you to know that that’s why he’s holding himself back. There’s a longing in his deep brown eyes whenever he spaces out, but you never address it. Instead, you focus on just being there for him – with him – because while his guard is up, you’re open and vulnerable. You hope that it shows him just how comfortable and safe you feel around him. 

—

It’s Friday night and Marcus finally gets home at around midnight. He’s exhausted and feeling burnt out. His workdays always start out great because he gets to see you. The routine you both established gets him excited every time he wakes up and he’s always eager to see what kind of outfit you’d be wearing for your class. You’re colorful, expressive, and he can just imagine how fun and engaging you must be while at work. 

Marcus could hear you talk about how much you love your job and your kids for hours. Your passion for teaching is so clearly obvious when you talk about it because he always notices the way your eyes light up, how big your smile gets, and it’s infectious. He can’t help but always smile whenever he’s around you. 

You’re also very different from Lisbon. When he lies awake at night, finding it hard to fall asleep, he compares you to her. He knows he shouldn’t, knows that even thinking about Lisbon always leads to more negative feelings, but he can’t help himself. Marcus had thought that his relationship and his feelings for Lisbon were real and after being married and divorced, he thought she was it. 

He should have known better. 

But when he thinks about Lisbon, you follow soon after. Sometimes at work, he will catch himself thinking about you just because Lisbon crossed his mind. Marcus isn’t sure what to make of it, but he knows that nothing could happen. Getting hurt again is a serious possibility if he were to take a chance with you and he isn’t sure that’s something he wants to risk. 

Marcus gets off the elevator just in time to see you setting a foil-covered plate on his doorstep. You’re wearing a black and red plaid hoodie that’s so large it covers most of your frame. He smiles to himself and then clears his throat quietly, seeing you stand upright and turn around to face him. 

“You know what time it is?” Marcus asks.

“It’s not a school night,” you point out. “I was just dropping off some food in case you didn’t eat dinner.” 

He walks towards you and leans down to grab the plate. “What’d you make?” 

“Lasagna. You will need to warm it up though. I made it when I got home from work.” You reply, looking up at him. “I just remember you telling me this morning that you were going to be home late and since I know you don’t usually cook when you have late nights, I just figured–” you bite your lower lip and realize that you’re talking too much. Again. But when you look up at Marcus, he’s still smiling in your direction. 

“You wanna join me?” 

“It’s a little over midnight,” you say. 

Marcus chuckles. “Thought you said it wasn’t a school night.”

“It isn’t.” you blush. 

“Well then, if you don’t have any other neighbors to drop dinner off to, I’d really like some company.” he teases with a wink.

“Hey!” you say with a quiet laugh. “You’re the only one. I promise.” 

Marcus smiles at that and then unlocks his door. He steps inside and holds the door open for you, watching you step inside. He knows his apartment is clean, but he had been avoiding inviting you to his apartment because of how bleak it was. His apartment is just a place for him to get some rest and eat; it certainly wasn’t a home. At least not in the way your apartment feels whenever he’s there. 

He turns the lights on and leads you to the kitchen. You trail behind him, looking around his apartment and biting your lower lip. It’s like you’re getting a glimpse into his life, a glimpse into what he doesn’t really show you. His walls are bare except for the paintings that you assume came with the place because it doesn’t really seem like it’s his style. His place is much bigger than yours, you notice. The only thing that does seem like he decorated or put thought into it is the bookcase that’s against the wall of his living room. You don’t get much time to veer off and see the variety of books he has displayed because the sound of him opening up a wine bottle catches your attention. 

“How was your week?” Marcus asks, pouring two glasses of white wine and then unwrapping his plate of food to put into the microwave. 

“Fun like always,” you grin. “But I’m ready for the weekend.”

“You have any plans?” 

“Well, I am planning on going to Ikea or doing some shopping for the apartment.” You respond, lifting the glass of wine to your lips. “What about you? How was your week?”

“Busy. Tiring,” Marcus says. He doesn’t know what else there is to say about his job; it pays well, but he certainly doesn’t love it as much as you love teaching. “But I’ve got the weekend off, so it isn’t a school night for me either.” 

Before you could even think about what you’re saying, you quickly blurt out, “Do you wanna come with me to Ikea?” Shaking your head to yourself, you bite your lower lip. “Sorry. I’m sure you have plans–”

Marcus turns to face you, having removed his leather jacket and now in his light grey t-shirt and dark jeans. “I’d love to.” 

Your eyes light up with hope, with excitement and it makes Marcus smile. “Really?” 

Marcus nods and takes the plate of food out of the microwave once it beeps that it’s done. He sets it down on the counter and leans against it, waiting for his food to cool down. “Yes, really. Besides, maybe you can give me some pointers about how to decorate my place. As you can tell, it’s very… bare.” 

You can’t even hear what he’s saying because you’re staring so deep into his brown eyes that you feel like you could just lean in to kiss him, to wrap your arms around him, to just be in his arms. You want to be closer. You want to know what it’s like to have his lips on you, to feel his hands roam your body, to feel–

“You okay?” he asks, interrupting your thoughts. 

“Sorry, yeah. I’m just excited.” 

Marcus chuckles. “By the way, this needs to be addressed.” He then points to what you’re wearing. “What are you wearing? It literally covers all of you.” 

You grin. “It’s called a blanket hoodie and it’s very comfy.” 

Marcus looks at you from top to bottom, not bothering to hide the fact that he was obviously checking you out. When his eyes settle on your face, though, he notices the way your lower lip is between your lips and there’s a slight pink hue to your cheeks. You’re not looking into his eyes anymore and he gently reaches out and taps the back of your hand. 

“It’s cute,” he says softly. “It suits you.”

You blush even further and look down at his hand as he pulls away. It’s an innocent touch, but it lingers and you find that you want him to touch you even more. Your mind drifts to very inappropriate thoughts as Marcus continues to eat. 

“Yeah right,” you finally respond. 

Marcus chuckles. “It is. Makes me want to get one. You think it’d look cute on me?” he teased, trying to lighten the mood and alleviate the tension that fills the air. 

You smile to yourself and shrug a shoulder. “Hm, I don’t know. I think it takes a certain type of person to pull this off.” 

He lets out another quiet laugh and shakes his head, finishing the rest of the food you packed for him. He leans against the counter and tilts his head. He had a particularly rough day at work, but you’re making it better. Marcus knows it’s late, knows that you both should be heading to bed, but he doesn’t want you to leave just yet. 

“You might be right,” he sighs heavily. “You don’t want me to out-do you.” 

You feign a gasp and gently smack his arm, letting out a quiet giggle. It fills Marcus’s heart and he can’t stop staring at you. Your smile makes his heart flutter and the sound of your laughter filtering his home is something he wants to hear more of. It’s like you belong here. With him. 

And as he’s looking at you, Marcus finds that his resolve is slowly slipping. 

Because he wants so badly to reach out to you and pull you into his arms. 

He wants so badly to feel your lips. 

He wants so badly to just be wanted, to just be chosen, and you always look at him like no one else in the world matters. 

“Maybe we can match,” you tease. “See who truly looks better in it.” 

“It’s gonna be you,” Marcus blurts out. There’s a slight blush on his cheeks and his ears feel hot when you’re looking up at him. 

“Are you flirting with me, Special Agent Marcus Pike?” you tease. 

Marcus chuckles quietly and clears his throat. “You’re telling me that you don’t think you’re good looking?”

You shrug. “I think I’m okay.” 

Marcus scoffs. “You’re beautiful,” he says honestly. “And if I’m overstepping–”

“Thank you,” you interrupt him. His compliment makes the butterflies in your tummy flutter even more and you bite the inside of your cheek as you stare up at him. You’ve had compliments before, but coming from Marcus gives you a different sensation than what you’ve felt before. “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome,” you wink.

Marcus smirks to himself and downs the rest of his glass of wine. “So, is this what happens when it’s past midnight and we share a bottle of wine?” 

“What? We be honest with each other?” you laugh quietly. “We’re both just stating the obvious.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “We’re just two good looking people,” Marcus winks. 

“Exactly,” you laugh quietly. You finish your glass of wine and look at the time. You really should get to bed, especially if you both plan on spending the day together. 

“Call it a night?” Marcus asks. 

You nod. “I think so. We should both probably try and get some sleep before we head to the store later.”

“Good idea. Thank you for the dinner.” 

“Thank you for inviting me in,” you tell him. 

Marcus leads you towards the front door and before he can open it, he’s caught off guard when you wrap your arms around him in a loose embrace. He stiffens for a moment before allowing his arms to wrap around you and he realizes just how much he enjoys feeling your body against his. 

“Good night, Marcus,” you say softly. “I’ll see you later today.” 

Marcus nods and gently squeezes you before he pulls away. “Good night. Looking forward to later.” 

You step out of his apartment and walk towards your own. You look over at him and smile, seeing him lean against his doorframe. 

“Just making sure you get home safe,” Marcus calls out. 

Your stomach does flips at that and you want so badly to just run up to him, to be back in his arms. “What a gentleman,” you tease, opening your front door. 

Marcus chuckles and nods in your direction. “Good night, angel.” The pet name slips and he turns around to walk back into his apartment before you could say anything about it. 

You walk into your apartment and shut the door behind you. Letting out a contented sigh, you realize that your feelings for Marcus are only getting stronger.

—

prev. - next.

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taglist: @nabiiturner | @aquanatalie

—

[isaacsapphire]

Ok, so people who’s approach to race is “My race should be privileged, favored, and given power and funding” are very explicable; they want that for themselves and their families and maybe even sincerely for members of their race they don’t know personally. Self-interest and love for one’s family and tribe is understandable. Might be a problem for others, but their motives aren’t occulted.

People who’s approach to race is, “My race is inferior/bad/evil and should be disfavored/genocided” are a lot more confusing. Like, either you are mentally ill and hate yourself, actually mixed race and hate the parent/side of the family you most resemble, a masochist (sexually or otherwise), or the step 3: profit is achieved by a hidden step 2. In some cases the step 2 is pretty obviously achieved by being the lapdog of some people of another race who are doing explicable pro-themselves actions and are supporting a few [insert appropriate race-traitor term here] of the race they are in conflict with to boost their own race.

But… it’s become increasingly required for people who appear White to formally decry their own race as a condition of being middle class/white collar (college and company required classes and trainings) and not interact with or engage professionally with foods/clothing/stories/etc associated with other races. This makes the step 3: profit extremely explicable: the profit is being white collar and middle class.

The obvious next question is how the heck that happened; why would a majority race…

Wait a second, that happened almost at the exact moment when “White ethnics/hyphenated Americans” stopped being part of the American political discourse. “The Italian-American vote” used to be a topic of discussion and political attention, and mean jokes about people of Slavic heritage used to be an entire genre of humor. Institutions like Yale went almost instantly from discriminating against Italians in hiring to making White students write essays about their crime of being born White.

Is part of the driving force for DEI sublimated elite resentment towards the White ethnics? “Ok you can be a starbellied sneech White but now that’s a bad thing, lols.” Considering how transparent the pairing of resentment and assignment of Whiteness is in relation to how DEI sees Indian and Asian tech workers, there could be something there.

[maaarine]

The Heteronormativity Theory of Low Sexual Desire in Women Partnered with Men

"Since the birth of the twins, Denise felt a great sense of loss after leaving her previously rewarding job, James’ work increased in duration to compensate for the shift in income, and Denise’s identity as a mother superseded any sense of herself as a partner or lover.

She lost desire for sex and for James completely and perceived his requests for sex as intrusive; they were yet another demand placed upon her following a full day of devoting herself to her two demanding children who slept no longer than 4-h intervals through the night, even now at 22 months old.

James withdrew from childcare and household chores and activities, in part due to exhaustion following his 14-h work days and in part to “punish” Denise for withholding sex from him.

She resented him for expecting that she would be the sole caretaker for their children, and lost attraction for him as he increasingly retreated to online gaming late at night after the twins were asleep.

(…)

And yet, as they went to leave the end of their first session with the therapist, James turned to the provider and asked, point-blank, whether she thought that “the female Viagra” could help solve their woes.

This case study is one example of the issues plaguing perceptions of low sexual desire in women partnered with men.

That is, while James and Denise’s situation seems an obvious example of contextually-determined low desire, James ascribed the problem to a biological dysfunction in Denise’s body.

The idea that low desire rests in the individual reflects an essentialist view of sexuality that has been advanced by the medical field for decades and cogently critiqued. As such, James’ reaction is not particularly surprising or uncommon.

(…)

But why have essentialist, medicalized views of sexuality come to monopolize how people understand low sexual desire?

One argument is neoliberal—that locating the problem of low desire in individuals’ bodies has high financial stakes.

Naming low desire as an individualized biological dysfunction creates a demand for biological (i.e., medical) solutions; thus, pharmaceutical companies stand to gain by selling a “treatment.”

(…)

It reflects what has become a suspiciously common pattern in women’s relationships with men more broadly, where a woman’s sexual desire disappears and/or becomes “too low” and then is deemed a dysfunction within the woman.

This pattern is suspicious because the numbers of women reporting low desire are so high that they might be modal, if not ordinary; and, they are certainly too high to reflect individual pathologies within individual women’s bodies.

It is also suspicious because many women who report low sexual desire describe considerably similar interpersonal problems with their men partners.

Thus, while low desire is likely not an individual problem within Denise’ body, the issues and inequities it results from are also likely not an individual problem within James or the interpersonal dynamics of James’ and Denise’s specific relationship.

Instead, we turn to a structural level explanation: gender norms, following other foundational work.

(…)

Desire is often situated as low because of its relative status to a partner’s level of desire.

Interestingly, however, this is not a gender-neutral process and the bound is often set with the man partner as reference point.

Accordingly, when a woman experiences lower desire than a man partner, her desire is often labeled low.

In the converse situation, however, men are still the referent: in the case of a man reporting lower desire than a woman partner, the woman’s desire is labeled too high (e.g., they are labeled insatiable or “sluts” in negative ways), rather than the man’s desire being labeled too low.

This highlights the gendered subjectivity inherent to conceptualizations of low desire, where low desire is most often seen as residing not just in bodies, but in women’s bodies relative to men’s desires.

(…)

In Prediction 2.1, heteronormativity’s inequitable casting of women into a caregiver-mother role to men partners contributes to the women’s lower desire.

While heteronormativity slots women into nurturant caregiving roles in general, this caregiving is also directed at men partners specifically.

Nurturance—warm, loving, and caring treatment—is a critical aspect of long-term and/or successful relationships, but one inequitably shared between women and men in relationships with each other.

Heteronormative asymmetries in caregiving can matter not only because they are inequitable, but because they translate into dependencies that contravene contemporary norms of relational interdependence.

Interdependent relationships involve a mutual ethic of care, with partners supporting each other simultaneously or sequentially, akin to a something like a mix of equals, friends, and sexual partners.

The gender inequities inherent to heteronormative framings of complementarity violate norms of relational interdependence, transforming expectations of a partner–partner relationship into something closer to one that is caregiver-dependent or mother–child.

Women end up doing many of the same things for their men partners as mothers do for their children, e.g., reminding them of chores, organizing social events (or playdates), buying clothes, ensuring there is food for snacks and meals and that these are made available.

Additionally, women often take on tasks for their husbands or other men partners that were originally performed by the men’s mothers, perhaps an implicitly-held leftover from more historical understandings of marriage.

(…)

In Prediction 3.1, the heteronormative push for women to focus on their appearance, especially during and in reference to sexual activity, contributes to their low desire.

Heteronormativity focuses on women’s sexual appearance over their pleasure, socializing women to be sexy rather than sexual.

It positions women as sexual objects for men partners, and women’s bodies as offerings gifted to men for sex as part of a relationship contract.

This can result in sexual objectification.

The internalization of this objectification—sexual self-objectification—means that women’s desire is often contingent upon whether they think they are desirable.

(…)

Penetrative intercourse is painted as the only version of “real sex” within heteronormativity, but women have a low likelihood of experiencing orgasm (a highly pleasurable experience) with penetrative intercourse.

Heteronormativity means that, though women may want to be sexual, even with men partners, they are often taught that they can’t be in the ways that are more likely to feel pleasurable for them.

This ongoing separation between experiences of desire and sexual pleasure may dampen desire because it is not reinforced or followed up by sexual activity that actually leads to sexual pleasure.

In Prediction 4.3, seeing sex as a duty to perform with men will contribute to lower desire in women.

Some women have sex they want, and some women have sex that their men partners want and that the women are open to.

But a number of women (and almost no men) have reported in a nationally representative survey that they engaged with sex because it was part of their job, a duty or obligation of being married, which is a heteronormative hallmark.

“Duty sex” is not very sexy, and people—including men—report losing sexual interest in this situation, as occurred in our case study above.

(…)

Moreover, that low desire is seen as a medical and health issue could make for a circular association between it and chronic stress.

Women come to know their desire as “too low” and report feeling like failures as women and partners, making for an iatrogenic source of chronic stress.

Locating the “problem” of low desire in women’s bodies and minds ultimately places the responsibility for it on women, arguably a form of gaslighting when the problem exists outside women and will not be fixed with individual effort.

This can exacerbate women’s stress, by placing yet another responsibility on their shoulders but one that is impossible: to fix their desire problem by fixing themselves, when they are not the problem."

[esteljune]

P showing affection headcanons {P x reader}

For P, displays of affection are not something familiar, canonical, or automatic, even if there is a clear emotional bond between you.

In general, at first there may be nothing really physical between you, but a lot of eye contact. At first only furtive glances that would become increasingly intense and obvious over time. For Pinocchio, observing you is something that makes him feel extremely close to you.

He may initially have difficulty touching you for fear of not being able to control his force and hurting you, especially with his Legion arm.

Over time, his displays of affection would begin to become more explicit and physical, but they would still be a bit unusual and instinctive gestures, such as, for example, kissing a lock of your hair while you are facing away just to feel its scent.

Resting his head on your shoulder like a sleepy child, or pressing his forehead against yours when you are within kissing distance.

For him, feeling your breath, the warmth of your skin, and the beating of your heart is already something extremely intimate, something that helps him to approach what is human in you.

So don't be surprised if he wants to feel your heart beating under his palm or at his ear. Not only is it fascinating for him, but it is also extremely soothing. He would like to have the same tangible proof of his emotions.

Expressions are not his strong point, so his face would always remain rather neutral even in the most tender moments, but the faster ticking in his chest is an unmistakable sign of the effect you have on him.

If he ever saw two lovers depicted somewhere, he would end up replicating with you what he saw, such as a kiss on the hand or an invitation to dance, but they would probably be sweetly awkward or out of context gestures.

A clear sign of interest in you would be his willingness to listen to you. P is generally a good listener, but in your case, he would do nothing but seek your company just to hear what you have to say or tell him. He might even ask you to sing for him or to read him some books.

He would always come back to you, at any cost, in any physical condition he would do anything to see you again.

Pinocchio is a silent type, but he would show his affection by calling your name or trying to communicate with you as much as possible through words. Especially by asking you questions.

By playing the piano for you. Feelings are something completely new to P, but through music he would definitely be able to convey much of his own emotion.

By trying in any way to alleviate your suffering, no matter how trivial it may be. Your pain and your tears cause him a disturbance that he cannot fully grasp, so his solution could be to physically remove you from a situation of danger or suffering.

In the same way, if there is something you want, that you miss from your life in Krat, he will do anything to get it or find it again. You'd better not tell him you love cats or you might find the Hotel invaded by stray cats he's brought back from his outings.

He would trust you blindly, so much so that he would entrust you with his heart.

[damned-punk]

A Small Confession (Katakuri x Reader)

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Content Warning: kissing, fluff

Content Description: gn!reader services Katakuri’s merienda and it develops into something more ♡

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It was approaching the time of day when you’d pick up an order of the most delectably crafted sweets and tea, inspect the order to ensure its accuracy, and then deliver it to its intended recipient. The action was clockwork, a process that had become a fixed part of your day. The responsibility had been placed upon you somewhat unexpectedly, especially considering your original position in Mama’s manor was to care for her youngest children. On one particularly busy afternoon, the usual server for those in higher command was absent and it was abundantly clear that the ever specific order of donuts to be served at a set time each day could not, under most circumstances, be disrupted.

It was intimidating at first, Katakuri wasn’t exactly a conversationalist and you couldn’t ignore the obvious dissonance in size between the two of you. Nevertheless, you always greeted him with kindness and let him know that you hoped he’d enjoy everything. This simple exchange of professional courtesy kept up for several weeks until you noticed that he began to linger just a little longer than necessary, slowly integrating topics of light conversation that surpassed boring details of the weather or news, chipping away at the most interesting components of your personality. At some point you’d began to replay your interactions with the scarved man in your head after each delivery, carefully examining each exchange of words in search of something more.

These increasingly drawn out interactions had allowed you to form a quiet friendship, still maintaining the same routine but with a much different scene following your usual delivery. Katakuri had begun inviting you to sit in on his merienda’s, ordering extras to offer you while he discussed the details of his day and asked about yours. No matter how hard you fended against it, a connection had formed between the two of you and there was little that could be done about the surmounting ripples of longing that had started to crest over your usually rational thoughts. You’d find yourself captivated by his unique features, attempting to remain aware of his insecurities but always looking away with a reddened face when he’d ultimately catch you.

“I’m beginning to think you like what you see.”, Katakuri remarked with a grin and cocked brow, flustering you far beyond the usual boundary.

“And what if I do?”, you played into his hand, a reality that he’d already confirmed as to not make a fool of himself.

“If that’s the case, we should spend more time together.”, he suggested openly, catching you off guard in the best way possible, “Not just like this anymore… I’d like to get to know you, (Y/N).”

“I’d like to get to know you too, Katakuri.”, you smiled up at him, heart pounding and mind swimming with the endless possibilities of what might flourish from his suggestion.

You did exactly that by learning what kind of music he listened to, what genre of movies he enjoyed, the savory foods that he occasionally craved, how his stern expression would soften so drastically behind closed doors, how much he adored his siblings, and how many of his outwardly expressed mannerisms were performative for the sake of the family. You wanted to lift that weight off his shoulders and allow him the space to be himself, free from Mama’s reign and the responsibilities dumped on him as the result of his position as a Sweet General.

There were many facets of Katakuri’s life that were tragic, the constant strain he was under changed the way you viewed the time spent during his merienda. It was an escape, a time and space that he could exist under no specific circumstances. He brought you into that space because you felt comfortable, it wasn’t a chore to interact with you and it gave you such a profound sense of gratitude to be able to witness the innermost parts of his world.

As time went on, things began to take a more intimate turn. He’d lift you to rest in his lap or nestle your smaller frame into the crook of his arm, bringing the two of you closer than you’d initially ever thought possible. It was strange, in a good way, being so close after observing him at a distance for so long. Topics of conversation took a deeper turn in tandem, now consisting of what each of you wanted for the future and how you hoped those things would occur.

“Do you want children?”, you asked him somewhat out of the blue.

“I don’t think so…”, he pondered the thought for a moment, “I don’t mind children, but I don’t think I want any of my own. It’s never been something I’ve envisioned for my life.”

“I see…”, you trailed off, looking away from his face and wrestling with the uncomfortable feeling that his answer left you with.

It wasn’t that you were unsatisfied with his answer, rather it was his overtly dismissive tone of the future. It almost felt like he wasn’t sure he’d even have a future to look forward to which was painfully ironic given his abilities with observation haki.

“Do you think anything really happens for a reason?”, Katakuri asked after several still moments.

“I think that some things do and others are a matter of circumstance. There are too many instances of coincidence for fate to not exist, but the presence of doubt leaves room for error.”, you answered his very loaded question, “Why do you ask?”

He remained silent, studying your face and flickering back and forth between your eyes before setting his gaze in the distance. You shifted your position to rest your back against his front, letting your eyes scan for whatever scene had caught his own. He seemed rather lost in thought, or perhaps he was trying to find the right words to say. You lifted his much larger hand into your own, mindlessly playing with his fingers as a way to let him know you were still engaged in the moment with him.

“I never imagined I’d meet someone like you.”, he stated softly, the deep tenor of his voice reverberating against your back, “I actually saw you making the delivery before the issue with the server’s had even happened and… well…”

“And well what?”, you pressed him, lifting your head upward to meet his gaze.

He was already looking down at you and his cheeks were several shades darker than usual. It was so comical to see him worked up like this, his expression and posture in stark contrast to his usual unwaveringly stoic self. He averted your gaze at the mixture of embarrassment and anxiety that had surmounted his initial security in the conversation.

“I liked what I saw.”, he answered simply, meeting your eyes with a sense of hope.

You couldn’t stop the toothy grin that spread across your face, a bit giggly from how small but sweet his confession had turned out to be. He rolled his eyes endearingly as you leant your head against him, your own cheeks now deepening to match his own. In retrospect, this had been a long time coming. He took your chin between his fingers, taking your breath and leaning down just before your lips. Your heart hammered in your chest, ears nearly ringing from the anticipation. He wanted to give you an out if this was something you were unsure of, the last thing he’d want is to make you feel trapped.

As your hand lifted to sit atop his wrist, he took the opportunity to kiss you. The two of you pulled away at the same time, resting forehead to forehead in a moment of comfortable silence. The certainty and assurance that had developed between the two of you was indescribable, everything about the two of you together felt natural and as though it had always been this way.

“I think I liked what I saw as well.”, you teased him, earning yourself a peck on the forehead, “I like you a lot, Katakuri.”

“I like you a lot too, (Y/N).”, he returned, pointy teeth on full display as he mirrored your affection.

The two of you were a slotted pair, meant to be together and fitting one another flawlessly, Katakuri was the perfect man for you.

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

When you hear "fintech," think "unlicensed bank"

Tomorrow (May 2) I’ll be in Portland at the Cedar Hills Powell’s with Andy Baio for my new novel, Red Team Blues.

In theory, patents are for novel, useful inventions that aren’t obvious “to a skilled practitioner of the art.” But as computers ate our society, grifters began to receive patents for “doing something we’ve done for centuries…with a computer.” “With a computer”: those three words had the power to cloud patent examiners’ minds.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/01/usury/#tech-exceptionalism

Patent trolls — who secure “with a computer” patents and then extract ransoms from people doing normal things on threat of a lawsuit — are an underappreciated form of “tech exceptionalism.” Normally, “tech exceptionalism” refers to bros who wave away things like privacy invasions by arguing that “with a computer” makes it all different.

These tech exceptionalists are the legit face of tech exceptionalism, the Forbes 30 Under 30 set. They’re grifters, but they’re celebrated grifters. There’s a whole bottom-feeding sludge of tech exceptionalists that don’t get the same kind of attention, like patent trolls.

Oh, and the fintech industry.

As Riley Quinn says, “when you hear ‘fintech,’ think: ‘unlicensed bank.’” The majority of fintech “innovation” consists of adding “with a computer” to highly regulated activities and declaring them to be unregulated (and, in the case of crypto, unregulatable).

There are a lot of heavily regulated financial activities, like dealing in securities (something the crypto industry is definitely doing and claims it isn’t). Most people don’t buy or sell securities regularly — indeed, most Americans own little or no stocks.

But you know what regulated financial activity a lot of Americans participate in?

Going into debt.

As wages stagnate and the price of housing, medical care, childcare, transportation and education soar, Americans fund their consumption with debt. Trillions of dollars’ worth of debt. Many of us are privileged to borrow money by walking into a bank and asking for a loan, but millions of Americans are denied that genteel experience.

Instead, working Americans increasingly rely on payday lenders and other usurers who charge sky-high interest rates, on top of penalties and fees, trapping borrowers in an endless cycle of indebtedness. This is an historical sign of a civilization in decline: productive workers require loans to engage in useful activities. Normally, the activity pans out — the crop comes in, say — and the debt is repaid.

But eventually, you’ll get a bad beat. The crop fails, the workshop burns down, a pandemic shuts down production. Instead of paying off your debt, you have to roll it over. Now, you’re in an even worse situation, and the next time you catch a bad break, you go further into debt. Over time, all production comes under the control of creditors.

The historical answer to this is jubilee: a regular wiping-away of all debt. While this was often dressed up in moral language, there was an absolutely practical rationale for it. Without jubilee, eventually, all the farmers stop growing food so that they can grow ornamental flowers for their creditors’ tables. Then, as starvation sets in, civilization collapses:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/08/jubilant/#construire-des-passerelles

As the debt historian Michael Hudson says, “Debts that can’t be paid, won’t be paid.” Without jubilee, indebtedness becomes a chronic and inescapable condition. As more and more creditors attach their claims to debtors’ assets, they have to compete with one another to terrorize the debtor into paying them off, first. One creditor might threaten to garnish your paycheck. Another, to repossess your car. Another, to evict you from your home. Another, to break your arm. Debts that can’t be paid, won’t be paid — but when you have a choice between a broken arm and stealing from your kid’s college fund or the cash-register, maybe the debt can be paid…a little. Of course, digital tools offer all kinds of exciting new tools for arm-breakers — immobilizing your car, say, or deleting the apps on your phone, starting with the ones you use most often:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

Under Trump, payday lenders romped through America. A lobbyist for the payday lenders became a top Trump lawyer:

https://theintercept.com/2017/11/27/white-house-memo-justifying-cfpb-takeover-was-written-by-payday-lender-attorney/

This lobbyist then oversaw Trump’s appointment of a Consumer Finance Protection Bureau boss who deregulated payday lenders, opening the door to triple digit interest rates:

https://www.latimes.com/business/lazarus/la-fi-lazarus-cfpb-payday-lenders-20180119-story.html

To justify this, the payday loan industry found corruptible academics and paid them to write papers defending payday loans as “inclusive.” These papers were secretly co-authored by payday loan industry lobbyists:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2019/02/25/how-payday-lending-industry-insider-tilted-academic-research-its-favor/

Of course, Trump doesn’t read academic papers, so the payday lenders also moved their annual conference to a Trump resort, writing the President a check for $1m:

https://www.propublica.org/article/trump-inc-podcast-payday-lenders-spent-1-million-at-a-trump-resort-and-cashed-in

Biden plugged many of the cracks that Trump created in the firewalls that guard against predatory lenders. Most significantly, he moved Rohit Chopra from the FTC to the CFPB, where, as director, he has overseen a determined effort to rein in the sector. As the CFPB re-establishes regulation, the fintech industry has moved in to add “with a computer” to many regulated activities and so declare them beyond regulation.

One fintech “innovation” is the creation of a “direct to consumer Earned Wage Access” product. Earned Wage Access is just a fancy term for a program some employers offer whereby workers can get paid ahead of payday for the hours they’ve already worked. The direct-to-consumer EWA offers loans without verifying that the borrower has money coming in. Companies like Earnin claim that their faux EWA services are free, but in practice, everyone who uses the service pays for the “Lightning Speed” upsell.

Of course they do. Earnin charges sky-high interest rates and twists borrowers’ arms into leaving a “tip” for the service (yes, they expect you to tip your loan-shark!). Anyone desperate enough to pay triple-digit interest rates and tip the service for originating their loan is desperate and needs to the money now:

https://prospect.org/power/05-01-2023-fintech-ewa-payday-loan-scam/

EWA annual interest rates sit around 300%. The average EWA borrower uses the service two or three times every month. EWA CEOs and lobbyists claim that they’re banking the unbanked — but the reality is that they’re acting as sticky-fingered brokers between banks and young, poor workers, marking up traditional bank services.

This fact is rarely mentioned when EWA companies lobby state legislatures seeking to be exempted from usury rules that are supposed to curb predatory lenders. In Vermont, Earnin wants an exemption from the state’s 18% interest rate cap — remember, the true APR for EWA loans is about 300%.

In Texas, payday lenders are classed as loan brokers, not loan originators and are thus able to avoid the state’s usury caps. EWAs are lobbying the Texas legislature for further exemptions from state money-transmitter and usury limit laws, principally on the strength of the “it’s different: we do it with a computer” logic.

But as Jarod Facundo writes for The American Prospect, quoting Monica Burks from the Center for Responsible Lending, a loan is a loan even if it’s with a computer: “The industry is trying to create a new definition for what a loan is in order to exempt themselves from existing consumer protection laws… When you offer someone a portion of money on the promise that they will repay it, and often that repayment will be accompanied with fees or charges or interest, that’s what a loan is.”

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Mountain View, Berkeley, Portland, Vancouver, Calgary, Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

[Image ID: A stately, columnated bank building, bedecked in garish payday lender signs.]

Image: Andre Carrotflower (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:30_North_%28former_Pontiac_Commercial_%26_Savings_Bank_Building%29,_Pontiac,_Michigan_-_entrance_and_Chief_Pontiac_relief_sculpture_-_20201213.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en