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pathologicalreid · 2 months ago

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extraordinary measures | s.r.

in which your life hangs in the balance after a brutal attack, and Spencer has to hold himself together for the sake of you and your baby

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: fetal abduction, potentially inaccurate medical information, entirely from spencer's pov, very violent crime, mom!reader, hospitals, medication, spencer lashes out at jj, rossi's son. word count: 4.41k a/n: the people said dad!spencer angst and i delivered. also! trying something new with formatting my posts. i pay for canva pro and need to get my money's worth.

The hospital staff had moved them into a conference room, giving the BAU more space to spread out – and so Spencer’s pacing wouldn’t disturb the other people in the waiting room. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Not to us. Not to me. Not to her.

The statistics on fetal abduction were alarming. Before today, there had only been thirteen cases since Spencer had joined the BAU. Today alone, there had been two.

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said, followed by two knocks on the door, “I’m so sorry, but have you had the chance to fill out some of the forms that we gave you?”

Answering for him, Penelope grabbed the clipboard off of the table and passed it to the nurse, “The insurance card is on the top,” she informed the nurse. Nervously, the blonde looked between the medical professional and Spencer, “Is there any update?”

The nurse cringed slightly, “I don’t have one. I’ll see if they can send someone to talk to you.” She nodded assuredly before peeling out of the room.

“Can I get you anything?” Garcia asked helplessly. He had already been given tea, water, coffee, and a sandwich, but he didn’t want any of it.

Shaking his head numbly, Spencer dragged his hands down his face as he replayed the events of this morning in his head.

He wasn’t even supposed to be working, you were due any day now, but Emily had called him with the case and gave him the choice of working. He was supposed to go with you to the check-up, but you had encouraged him to go save a life.

The woman who had been found this morning had her abdomen crudely cut open and her baby was born via a botched cesarean section, but her baby was too premature and didn’t make it. They were both found in an alley near the hospital by a garbage man. Then, while he and Luke were at the medical examiner’s office, his phone started to ring.

You had been discovered, bleeding out, outside of your obstetrician’s office, and if you hadn’t been so close to a building full of doctors, you probably wouldn’t have made it as far as surgery right now. The fact that you had been brought to surgery should have been enough to give him hope, but he hasn’t been raised to be hopeful, he was raised to be pragmatic. The reality of the situation was that in cases of fetal abduction, the mothers rarely made it out the other side.

He was left with Garcia to keep him company, she stayed as a watchdog, mainly looking through traffic footage on her laptop as she made sure Spencer didn’t go entirely off the rails. “You’re going to burn a hole in the floor,” she said offhandedly, begging Spencer to just sit down for a moment.

With a huff, he took a seat next to Penelope, leaning his head back on the taupe drywall, “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“We’re going to wait, we are not going to catastrophize, and we will listen to any and all updates that the doctors give us,” she said determinedly, nodding her head as she did so. “We only know what we know and assuming the worst will just lead to feeling worse.”

Closing his eyes, he agreed, listening to the bustle of the hospital from inside the secluded, makeshift waiting space. He wished he knew more about your status when you came in, there were the crime scene photos – which Penelope was under strict orders not to show him – and a quick mention from a resident about blood loss, but nothing else.

“Dr. Reid?” A new voice said, snapping him out of his stupor as he rose to his feet, staring at the doctor who came in with his scrub cap on, “I’m afraid there isn’t much news. Things are still touch and go. They’re hopeful that they can get the bleeding under control, once they do that, we’ll know more. I’ll come out and let you know, alright?”

With the doctor leaving, Garcia reopened her laptop, “You see? We can’t assume the worst because we just don’t know enough yet.”

“Garcia,” he interrupted, hopeful for just a moment of silence to digest the new information – if you could even call it that.

Nodding succinctly, she returned to her work, “Right, okay.”

With the arrival of JJ, Penelope left to check in at the office, and since a profiler was bound to know more information, he asked JJ for an update. His baby had to be almost three hours old now, and he knew nothing about them.

He was left disappointed, there was no information on the UnSub or the baby, “What’s the point of it anyway?”

“Everyone is working on it, Spence. No one is going to rest until this case is closed,” JJ tried to reassure him.

Spencer wasn’t sure he was ever truly going to rest again, “Where is someone supposed to go with a newborn baby? The umbilical cord has to be still attached.” Statistically, women were more likely to commit cesarean abductions, and they usually did so after the loss of their own child or because they told someone they were pregnant and needed to produce a baby. “No one can tell me anything about my child, JJ, don’t you understand that? Can’t you try to understand how that feels?”

Bracing herself, JJ nodded, “You’re angry, I get it, you-“

“No, you don’t. My wife is bleeding out in surgery, and I have no fucking clue where our baby is. I have never met them. I don’t know if I have a son or a daughter or if they’re alive and you have the nerve to tell me that you ‘get it’?” He peered over at the blonde profiler. You should’ve been the first person to hold your baby, and instead, you might never live to find out what happened to you.

She was silent for a moment, “You’re right. I- I can’t even begin to process what you’re feeling right now, but all we can do is keep working on the case.”

Dropping his head in his hands, Spencer shook his head, “Then go work on the case,” he insisted, “I don’t… I need to be alone right now.”

Just as the four-hour mark approached, the glass door opened again, and David Rossi walked in.

“Are you here to lecture me?” Spencer asked, his voice raspy from crying in the solitude of the room, he wondered if JJ had told everyone how he lashed out at her.

Crossing one leg over the other, Rossi answered, “Nope,” he said, popping the last syllable. “I’m just here to sit and wait, same as you, kid.”

Nodding, Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes as a protection against the fluorescent lights of the hospital, “How did you manage?”

There were some things – life events – that were left unspoken in the BAU. Traumas that people didn’t want uncovered, horrors that the team didn’t need to relive, but Spencer needed answers, and this was the only way he could think to get them. “Manage what?”

“Losing your son,” he answered, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he kept his eyes closed, wondering if he too would lose a child. Birth and death within the same day.

Clearing his throat, Rossi took a moment before responding, and Spencer wasn’t sure if he was appalled at the question or if he simply wasn’t sure how to respond, “Well, I’m not sure I ever really did. Not for a long time, at least,” he admitted.

Digesting the information, Spencer shifted in his seat, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Everyone just keeps telling me to wait, but…” he chuckled to himself, “Y/N always jokes that if patience is the companion of wisdom, then I have to be the exception.”

He had always been told to wait. Wait for his turn. Wait for the perfect person to show up. He had waited, and he had gotten you, but all of that waiting had led him here. In this beige room where he had signed papers asking doctors to use extraordinary measures to try and save your life.

“Dr. Reid?” One of the doctors from earlier called his name, knocking on the glass door. Instinctively, Spencer stood up, wiping his hands on his pants and looking at the doctor expectantly, “Oh, please,” the doctor said, “Take a seat.”

Hesitantly, Spencer lowered himself back down into the hospital chair, he couldn’t help but feel like that was a bad sign.

“All things considered, your wife is very, very lucky,” the doctor informed him, “She’s not fully out of the woods yet, but they’re setting her up in recovery right now. I’m just waiting on a message from my colleague, and then I’ll be able to bring you up to see her.”

A flurry of questions flew through his mind at once, “What are you still concerned about?” He asked, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees.

Nodding, the doctor continued, “Y/N lost a lot of blood in the attack. When you factor in the trauma of having a baby and a four-hour surgery, there’s a lot of healing that has to happen, and right now she doesn’t have the strength for it.” His phone chimed, and Spencer jolted, trying not to get his hopes up if it wasn’t about you, “Come with me,” the doctor said.

Rossi offered to let the rest of the team know and Spencer rambled off a random confirmation as he followed the doctor through the doorway, feeling like he was floating. As they walked through the hospital, Spencer grew more and more anxious.

Your hand was cold. In fact, your hand was so cold that Spencer asked the doctor to turn the volume on your vital monitor up so that he could have the constant reassurance that you were alive.

Blood was being transfused still, he had already forgotten the doctor’s estimate on just how much blood you had lost, but if he had the urge to read through your medical chart, he was sure he could find out. The only problem was, ever since the doctor left, he hadn’t been able to do anything except stare.

Every once in a while, he pinched your index finger, testing the capillary refill time out of his own morbid curiosity while blood was being returned to your body. Agents and officers stood outside of your hospital room in a steady rotation. The BAU wasn’t sure if your life was still in danger, but they weren’t willing to take any risks.

There were countless law enforcement personnel involved in this case now, if not directly investigating the case, they were at least contributing to the search. The Manassas Field Office, DC Metro, the Maryland Police – they were all out there looking. Out the window, he could see news reporters gathering out front to start their afternoon broadcasts.

It had been four hours. Four hours and there was still no word on the baby or the UnSub. The baby would need to eat soon, and Spencer found himself depending on the UnSub to have had the forethought to take care of the newborn.

Every couple of minutes, you would mumble something in your sleep, and he willed you to stay asleep. Selfishly, he wanted you to stay asleep until he knew the baby was safe – until he knew he could have something good to tell you.

Penelope was stationed right outside the door. She likely thought he hadn’t noticed her return, but the clicking of her keyboard gave her away.

Infrequently, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tried not to concern himself with it. Garcia had made contact with your mom, being sure to reach out to your family before any other news hit the airwaves.

He adjusted the way the nasal cannula rested on your face before bringing your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles and resting your cold fingers against his cheek, as if his face had the capacity to warm your whole body. Briefly, he wondered if the team would be willing to have a desk agent bring you a blanket from home.

The team would probably find a way to get him a helicopter if he requested it.

Flowers and cards flowed into your hospital room, arriving from people who knew you to people who had seen your story on the news. He had to look away when a small stuffed elephant was delivered by a nurse, knowing that the baby it belonged to was nowhere to be found.

Much to his surprise, he looked away from the stuffed animal just to find you looking back at him. The sorrow in your eyes a staggering reflection of that which could be found in his own. One glance at you and he knew that there was no need for him to break the news to you – you were well aware.

Spencer remained wholly silent as a slew of medical professionals filtered in and out of the room, a cacophony of directives and questions sent your way as tears filled your waterline. He captured your hand in both of his, holding your hand like it was a lifeline to everything he knew as the truth. He was here, you were here, and you were both alive. Tethered to you in the woven web of life, he refused to falter. Not now. Not when you needed him the most.

He answered the questions that you didn’t know the answers to and watched, tight-lipped, as your doctor kept you informed. Dr. Lasher was picking and choosing from your chart, telling you anything pertinent, and leaving out anything that she thought could wait for later.

Once the doctor had cleared through an extensive list of maladies, everyone let you have the room. “Darling,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to adjust the way your hospital gown rested on your shoulder, covering some of the exposed wires.

“There are no leads?” You asked tentatively, the pain in your voice exacerbated by the swelling caused by the breathing tube you’d had during surgery. Your eyes were glassy, and Spencer didn’t know if it was from sorrow or pain or fear. It was a question he was afraid to ask.

He shook his head, “Not yet, but everyone’s looking,” he fed you the same reassurances that had been given to him. The same reassurances that he hadn’t believed.

You moved your hands, laying your palms flat on the sterile white sheets and starting to push yourself up, only to be met with Spencer’s hands guiding you back down to the pillows. “I’ve gotta go,” you mumbled, “I wanna help. Spence, please let me help.” Fresh tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him in desperation.

The way your bottom lip quivered was what broke him, he tilted his head to the side, “You can help just fine from right here, okay?” He looked out into the hallway, wondering which member of the team was around for you to talk to. “I’ll be right back,” he told you, squeezing your hand before retreating to the hallway, never letting you out of his line of sight.

“Hey,” Penelope greeted, the compassion in her voice giving him pause, “How is she?”

Exhausted, terrified, in pain – all applicable at the moment. Spencer thought about answering for a moment before skipping Garcia’s question entirely, “Who’s around for a cognitive?”

You didn’t quite have the energy for a full interview, but you were so adamant about helping that he couldn’t refuse you, not today. “JJ’s one floor up, do you want me to call her for you?”

He thought about it for a moment, he hadn’t handled his last interaction with JJ with the most care, but you needed someone to talk to and it couldn’t be him. “Yeah,” he nodded, “Please.”

Spencer sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your hair as he tried to comfort you. In all of the time he’d known you, he’d never need you so defeated.

Not much came out during your cognitive with JJ, either there was a mental block in the way or you hadn’t seen much when you were attacked. Whichever one it was, Spencer was fighting himself internally on whether or not he should be thankful.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured, keeping his voice low as you fought off sleep. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he cooed, “You need to rest.”

You fought sleep with everything you had in you, which wasn’t much anymore. The cognitive interview had gone too long. Your nurse was the one who put her foot down and ended it, even when you wanted to keep going. “It’s not fair,” you cried, slow tears making their way down your cheeks.

Very slowly, Spencer could feel his heart breaking as your exhaustion and desolation worked together to make you as miserable as possible, “I know, lovey. I know,” he assured you as tears filled his eyes.

Glassy eyes looked up at him, “I just wanted to be a mom,” you whispered, your speech slurred with sleep.

Letting his own tears fall to the white sheets of your hospital bed, Spencer nodded, “You are a mom.”

He didn’t add anything. He didn’t have it in him to make a grandiose speech about how you would always be your baby’s mother, and, luckily, he didn’t need to. Your eyes finally fell shut, final tears falling from your face as Spencer found himself grateful that sleep finally took you.

Never leaving your side, Spencer pulled the chair back up next to you, resting his chin on your bed's armrest and watching you sleep. Very slowly, color was beginning to return to your face, yet you still looked so different from when he had left the house that morning.

Unsure how long it had been, Spencer shot up straight when Penelope came rushing to the doorway, placing a finger to his lips, he nodded toward your sleeping form. Even so, the technical analyst waved him over.

Carefully, he slipped his hand out of yours and walked around your bed to Penelope, “What is it?”

Tears filled the blonde’s eyes as she looked up at him, she put both of her hands on his upper arms and cried, “They found your baby. It- they’re pulling up to the ambulance bay right now.”

Spencer’s lips parted in shock, having fully prepared himself for the day to end in undeniable heartbreak. “Are- is the baby okay?”

Penelope nodded, “They’re going up to the NICU right now to get checked out but apparently the EMTs said the baby looks completely unharmed.”

Turning to look at you, still asleep on the bed, Spencer gave Penelope a quick embrace before returning to your bedside, “Sweetheart,” he whispered, trying to wake you up from sleep that you still needed. “Honey,” he said, gently cupping your cheek with his hands as your eyes fluttered open.

You hummed groggily, squinting up at him under the fluorescence of the hospital.

“The baby’s here,” he murmured to you, making sure you didn’t jump up at his words. “They’re headed up to the NICU for a quick check, and-“

“Go,” you cut him off, your eyes wide and full of tears. “Please go hold them, Spence,” you cried, voice rough with sleep.

His shoulders slouched forward slightly, looking between you and Penelope in the doorway, “I’ll stay here,” Penelope offered immediately. “You go, I’ll stay.”

You nodded up at him, closing your eyes as he bent forward to press a kiss to your hairline. “I love you,” you breathed, placing a hand on your chest as if it would slow your racing heart.

“I love you too,” he responded before stepping out of the hospital room, following the directions that Penelope had given him in order to get up to the NICU.

Adrenaline made his stomach churn as he approached the NICU, wondering what he’d say to the people there until someone recognized him as The Dad. He still had to scrub his hands, but they let him through until he saw the bassinet. Even more, he saw the tiny baby kicking its legs inside of the acrylic container.

Emily stood by on high alert, ready to pounce on anyone who even looked at the baby funny, and Spencer just couldn’t stop staring. “Come here,” one of the NICU nurses said to him, obviously having been brought up to speed on the situation. With a smile on her face, she told him, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” he breathed, walking right up to the side of the bassinet.

The nurse nodded and adjusted the hat on her head, just slightly too big for the newborn’s head, “If you want, we can get you set up in a chair here, and you can give her a bottle.”

“Please,” he responded, earning another smile from the nurse, who had him take the crying baby in his arms before handing him the prepared bottle.

It broke his heart to watch how quickly she took to the bottle; he still wasn’t sure if she had eaten anything until this. He knew the nipple wouldn’t let her take in too much at a time, but in his subconscious, he was still worried about it being too much for her.

He rocked gently, “Hi, honey,” he cooed down at her.

“She’s a good eater,” the nurse observes, writing something down on a piece of paper. “We’ll keep an eye on her for just a little while, but we know how badly she needs to get down to her mama.”

Setting the now empty bottle down, Spencer looked up at the nurse, “Is she okay?”

The nurse nodded at his concern, “She’s on the small size, but she’s full term. Of course, not everything is going to be noticeable right away, but we did a full newborn exam on her and all of the tests say she’s a perfectly healthy baby.” She looked on as Spencer gently cupped the baby’s head, “Does she have a name?”

You and Spencer had made a deal, he would pick a boy’s name, and you would pick a girl’s name. Smiling softly, he murmured her name to her for the first time, “Genevieve,” he answered. A big name for such a small baby, maybe, but it was the name you had chosen.

He started making his way back down to you, feeling like he was floating through the taupe hallways of the hospital before he finally made it back to your room. Penelope excused herself when he emerged in the hallway.

“Spence,” you whispered, looking up at him with hope in your eyes for the first time since you had woken up after surgery.

Smiling at you, he sat on the edge of your bed, “Five pounds and fifteen ounces. Seventeen and a half inches long. Perfectly healthy.” He glanced behind him as he heard the wheels of the bassinet coming toward your room, turning back to watch your reaction as you saw your baby for the first time.

He was glad for his eidetic memory, he’d never want to forget the way your face lit up with recognition, “Oh, a girl.”

With the baby settled on your chest, there was nothing better for the two of you to do than watch her sleep. Every once in a while, she’d coo or squawk and immediately capture your every attention all over again. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked you. The blood transfusions had been completed, leaving you on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics, fluids, and lots of pain medication – two of which prevented you from breastfeeding. Although, because of her size and traumatic birth, the NICU doctor suggested that some formula would help her grow properly.

You hummed contentedly, “Tired. I hurt just about everywhere,” you admitted, not taking your eyes off of your newborn. “I’m so… just grateful,” you whispered, “Is that odd?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I know exactly what you mean.” For as terrible and horrifying as the entire ordeal was, it could’ve been much worse. He almost lost both of his girls in one day.

“Does the team want to meet her?” You asked, worried about entertaining guests with the baby.

Spencer chuckled softly, keeping his index finger pointed within Genevieve’s reach, testing her palmar reflex, “I’m sure they do, but we’ll wait and see how you feel tomorrow and revisit. Okay?”

Your head bobbed in confirmation, watching as your daughter very slowly woke up, “Hi, Vie,” you greeted her quietly, gently rubbing her back with your fingertips. You didn’t have the strength to fully hold her, but she was more than happy to just lay on you, “Sweet, sleepy girl.”

“Do you want me to take her, and you can get some sleep?” Spencer offered, noticing the way you were trying to hide a yawn from him. “We aren’t going anywhere, we’ll stay right here in this chair,” he reassured you based on the apprehensive look you were giving him.

Slowly, you nodded, helping as best you could and pouting in sympathy when Genevieve – Vie – cried out at the sensation of being moved from her warm spot on her mother’s chest to the warm spot in her father’s arms. Thankfully, the newborn calmed down just as soon as Spencer settled her in his arms, “Don’t go,” you whispered, letting your eyes fall shut as you allowed sleep to wash over you.

He hummed, “We won’t,” he muttered in response.

Sleep took you with little resistance, leaving him with Genevieve in the silence of the hospital room – save for all of the machines that you were still hooked up to.

She wouldn’t be up for much longer herself – newborns spent most of their day sleeping – so Spencer took his opportunity to watch her eyes wander around the hospital room. “You can go back to sleep too, little love. I’ll watch over the both of you,” he spoke to her in a reverent tone and adjusted the hat on her head. “I’ll keep you safe, Vie. No harm will come to you, not as long as I’m your dad.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid dilf agenda #written by margot

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ssahotchnerr · 8 months ago

Note

jealous!Aaron would be super interesting in a situation where the reader has a meeting with an agent that has vibes similar to him and Kate Joyner (Whoever the reader meets kinda resembles and ex or maybe even Aaron himself and they're oddly friendly 🤭)

the one

OMG cw; bau!reader, jealous!aaron, aaron's petty (and a bit insecure), established relationship (and a healthy one at that <333), vague allusions to sex, fluff wc; 1.8k

"your team will be stationed here." the chief of police led you, aaron and jj into one of the conference rooms, complete with a large table, vast seating and numerous bulletin boards. "our head detective will be in to assist you shortly."

"thank you." once he had exited, aaron exhaled a breath - more so a let's get this show on the road, "alright, let's get settled."

jj began unpacking the evidence from the boxes collected so far, as aaron and yourself hung up photos; crime scene as well as images of the victims so far.

as promised, the door soon opened, allowing the noise of the precinct to drift in. it ended as abruptly as it had started, the door clicking shut.

"mornin', i'm detective parker." you heard from behind you, the name and voice strangely familiar, causing you to slow. "it's real nice of y'all to come all this way to help us out."

jj introduced herself, and then aaron, but no introduction was needed on your end; you turned and your eyes connected with the voice, both of you recognizing each other instantly.

"no way!" you grinned, moving forward and bypassing a handshake for a hug. he reciprocated your energy, exclaiming your name as he embraced you just as tightly.

aaron immediately stiffened, and jj was equally taken aback, studying the man. the first noticeable thing, the resemblance. the dark hair, dark eyes, tall frame...

while aaron began to seethe, and jj took the initiative to vocalize what they both were wondering - she had also noted the vein beginning to bulge in his neck. "the two of you know each other?"

"we worked together back in the tuscon field office." you explained, turning back to parker with a smile. "that was what, three, four years ago?"

"has it been? doesn't feel like it." he released a hearty laugh. "look at you, you haven't changed a bit. you look good, and i mean real good."

a swarm of jealous heat filled aaron's body, and only grew as you and parker began chattering away like lifelong best friends.

eager to draw it to a close, he cleared his throat, loudly. it regained both your attention, and cut your small reunion short.

"huh, a bau profiler," parker said as he sobered down, his smile lingering as he gazed at you. "who would've thought."

jj inserted herself into the conversation again, intrigued yet perplexed. "so the two of you were close, then."

aaron refrained - with a large amount of effort - from physically rolling his eyes. clearly. he opened a file, solely to maintain his composure.

"oh, absolutely," parker answered for the both of you, while also throwing an arm around your shoulder. "there was one time we-"

"fascinating." aaron deadpanned as he interrupted, closing the file in hand, rather aggressively as it produced a quaint slap. his eyes rose and studied the agent's arm placement for a few, obvious seconds, his lips drawing into a tight line before continuing. "need i remind you we currently have three victims and a killer who is unraveling as we speak. it's in our best interest to work diligently and remain focused."

parker nodded, his cheeks producing a faint blush at the injunction.

"the recent victim's family still requires an interview. you can start there."

"the two of us can go," parker said, gesturing to yourself, "it's quite a drive away, could give us the opportunity to catch up."

"that won't be necessary, jj can accompany you." aaron stated firmly, not even looking at him, nose buried in his file again.

an amused yet disdained expression formed on jj's face, nodding slowly in confirmation. "that i can."

parker opened his mouth, probably to protest, but aaron had already turned his back. he surrendered and headed out, jj following.

"aaron." you transferred your weight onto your hand as you leaned on the edge of the table, raising an eyebrow.

"what?" he looked at you. despite his query, his eyes were a telltale - he knew what he was doing.

you arched your eyebrow more, giving him a look.

he sighed, shutting the file. "i didn't like the way he was looking at you."

"he wasn't-"

aaron gave you a pointed look this time, prompting your words to trail off. he tore his eyes away from you again, allowing his next inquiry to exit his mouth more easily, "so, were the two of you...?"

"oh, no." you began to shake your head, but halfway, you hesitated. "well... almost."

his lips fell into an uneasy line, a pained expression painted on his face as his gaze shot back to yours. "almost?"

"we went on a few dates, kissed and..." you released a breath, choosing to keep the summary short, but the brooding envy in aaron's eyes deepened. "but nothing ever came from it. we were better off as friends."

after a moment though, you added, on the quieter side, "and besides, i transferred before anything really solidified."

the lines in aaron's face only grew, biting down briefly on his bottom lip.

"but it's in the past." you quickly reassured, bringing your hands to his cheeks for a moment to relieve the tension. "i won't deny that we were close, but you know how partnerships work. i depended on him, him on me, and the majority of our time was spent together. it caused a lot of emotions, all of which, are gone. i haven't even spoken to him since, seriously."

aaron wanted to counter, does parker know that? but from the earnest expression on your face, and loving look in your eyes, he withheld from doing so.

the bitterness on his face still didn't falter, but "okay. that's fine."

you still weren't convinced. "are you sure?"

"yeah. you're allowed to have a history, but that doesn't mean i need to be optimistic about working with him." he said as he exhaled a breath. he meant it, fully secure and confident in your relationship. he simply detested the idea of another yearning for you, especially one you had a past with, and one who looked quite like him - a potential competitive force.

you were his.

"of course," you nodded, with full understanding. "if the roles were reversed, i know i'd feel the same."

"and as long as he doesn't try anything..."

you laughed, your fingers playing with and then smoothing out the lapels of his suit jacket - positioning them in perfect place just as they belonged. "he won't. trust me, he's not like that."

aaron nodded, his eyes softening as he gazed down at you. if it weren't for the current setting, he would've brought his lips to yours.

"i have you." you offered him a loving, genuine smile, the affirmation to his just-previous thought calming his heart rate further. "i have everything i could ever want."

despite aaron being a bit (very) high-strung, and keeping a close eye on parker, he kept his word - he remained civil. naturally, he still was passive aggressive, short, and didn't dare smile while interacting with him.

the team noticed the 'chemistry' too. you knew they were whispering about it; they had gazed questionably between the two of you upon their arrival at the precinct, and through the substance of the case - the naturalness, the easy meshing, bouncing ideas off each other. but you had worked with parker for years - you knew how he worked, and likewise. it was like riding a bike, old habits resurfacing.

they also noticed the familiar characteristics to aaron (morgan of course teased you about it, you simply waved him off). and even penelope all the way back home asked about it, "so this guy, what's the story there?"

but despite the at-times, annoying attention - the case proceeded and resolved easily. within a few days, it was time to return home.

as the team settled other matters - exit reports, paperwork, etc. - you found yourself with parker, packing up and clearing out the conference room.

the two of you were alone for the first time all week, and you could sense it in the silence - a pending question. it was a matter of time before it was brought to focus.

"what do you think would've happened, if we would've given it a shot?"

you froze, facing him. "what?"

"you and i." his eyes searched yours, creating a sense of deja-vu. it was familiar, having spent so much time with him and once it had sent shivers throughout your body. but as strong as they seemingly once were - it wasn't like with aaron. it didn't leave you feeling lightheaded and giddy and as if you could simply burst at the seams.

when you remained silent, he continued.

"we were good together." he stated, insistently. "you can't deny it. good partners, a great team."

"yeah... we were," you agreed, fiddling with some papers as you thought. "but in the field. romantically, no. we couldn't see eye to eye on anything non-work related, don't you remember how much we bickered?"

"that was good for one thing, at least."

you ignored that, firm and conclusive in your answer. "we wouldn't have lasted."

"and he's in the picture now." he chuckled as he crossed his arms, a tinge of irritation present.

"yeah, he is." you hardened your voice - he knew it as your tell to quit it. "like i told you the night before i left. i couldn't stay. there was more for me out there. and after joining the bau, i now know it was in more ways than one. i love the work, although it's tremendously difficult and gruesome at times. i love the family it's given me. and most importantly, i love aaron."

parker nodded silently, rather disappointedly, but understanding nonetheless.

"i love him. he's the one, i'm positively certain he is."

he sighed as shoulders dropped, his words melancholy but supportive. "well, he's good for you. if anything about him being attached to your hip, or giving me the subtle death glare constantly the past few days, has something to say for it."

you laughed gently. "profiling the profilers?"

"oh c'mon, the way he looks at you? anyone can tell."

on the jet, you weaved down the aisle, past the team finding their seats, getting comfortable for the ride home. when you reached aaron, you wrapped your arms around his middle.

aaron's lips tipped upwards in a smile, his arms mirroring yours. "what's this for?"

you only tightened your grip, mumbling into his chest. he could hear your smile in your voice. "just 'cause you're mine."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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leth-writes · 3 months ago

Text

cocoa

Summary: You've been dating Tim for a while, and it's time to meet his family.

Yandere Tim x reader and yandere platonic batfam x reader

Warnings: While my blog is 18+, this piece doesn't contain any explicit material. Normal yandere warnings apply.

It all started when you met Tim Drake for the first time. You were a lowly worker at the Wayne’s company, just a simple personal assistant, but for the first time ever you’d been asked to go directly to the highest floor and deliver some paperwork to Tim directly. He looked different in real life, paler and sicker looking than you’d expected, with bright luminous eyes that seemed to never blink, staring directly into your soul like he knew every secret. He seemed only half-conscious, nodding off where he sat behind his massive desk, though he seemed to snap to attention when you brushed your fingers along his accidentally when handing over the folder. He seemed to focus entirely on your hands, completely zoning in on them, as you stood there awkwardly. Finally, you cleared your throat and turned to leave. He didn’t try to stop you, though he did seem upset judging by the glimpse you caught of him through the glass of the door.

From that moment on, it seemed your entire job was to give Tim paperwork, to the point that all other duties completely dried up. Whenever you weren’t able to give him anything, he started requesting you stay in the room, just in case. So, you started spending hours on end just reading in his office. The two of you gradually grew closer, and you discovered he had a dry sort of sarcastic wit that you hadn’t ever heard about. You began to discover the man behind the intimidating silhouette painted by the media, learning he was kinda dorky and enjoyed photographing nightlife. He even showed you some of his photos, which were of course stunning; he seemed to see Gotham in a way you never had, pulling out its gloomy beauty where most would only see the smog and the crime. Tim seemed to appreciate your almost naive perspective, enjoying the kindhearted way you reminded him of the good in humanity. When he got too cynical, you were able to convince him to give others the benefit of the doubt. It was almost cute, he thought, the way you never seemed to truly understand the kinds of personalities making up most of Gotham’s business scene.

You even served as his very own assistant when he broke a leg in a hiking incident, which apparently happened during a family camping trip. You hadn’t even known he could hike, though you assumed he wasn’t very good. Still, he spent ages just showing you pictures of the wildlife he’d seen, knowing you loved his photos. The tedious task of painstakingly searching his photo archives for pictures of cute animals was worth it, just to see your smile.

Still, you could tell Tim tended to make others uncomfortable. You could understand, he did have a way of staring right into you, but it seeemd to just be something he did. You weren’t aware, of course, of the fact that Tim only ever turned that soft gaze toward you, preferring to glare at anyone that so much as approached the two of you. Your naive disposition did have its uses, after all, as it prevented you from getting suspicious… There was a reason why no one would approach you at work, and why all of your bosses seemed nervous around you, and why you got sudden pay increases. You just thought you were a good worker, completely oblivious to everything else going on.

If Tim thought threatening off any love interests was easy, bugging your apartment was even easier. He was able to simply slip in through an unlocked window as Red Robin and place cameras all over, giving him 24-7 footage of your living room and kitchen. he avoided both the bathroom and bedroom; he didn’t want to be too creepy, after all, even if Jason did seem to want the bedroom to be bugged, in case someone else was able to slip in. You weren’t the best at securing your apartment, and he worried about your safety, okay? As a result of his anxiety, Jason began patrolling more and more around your house, not that you’d ever notice; they’d have to teach you to start looking up at the rooftops more, after they fully brought you into the family, of course.

Using the information he gained from the cameras, Tim was only able to get even closer to you. He was able to research your interests, your opinions, your hobbies… He was able to learn anything he couldn’t get from hacking your laptop and phone. It was different, hearing your little rants at the tv screen as you watched your favorite show; reading your search history just didn’t give him enough information.

Finally, with the help of Cass of course, he was able to ask you out, after ironing out the perfect plan. He took you out to the movies and then dinner, finally ending up at your apartment, watching your favorite movie while cuddling on your couch. It was there you first kissed.

Dating your boss was definitely an adjustment, but honestly the two of you were so close it didn’t seem to change anything. The best part for Tim was finally being able to touch you, to hold your hand, to gently cup your cheek and plant a kiss on your lips… To be able to hold you in the way he’d always dreamed.

Yet, he found himself inundated with requests at the mansion and through the groupchat, as every family member clamoured to get to spend time with you. He started spotting Dick and Jason and even Cass in shoddy disguises while on dates, and he knew it was time to introduce you to them. So, he invited you for dinner.

When you first walked in, you were greeted with Alfred, the stoic butler Tim had always described. He seemed nicer in person, none of the dry wit you’d ben prepared to face, and he took your coat gently and with grace.

Next, you were introduced to Tim’s quiet sister Cass, who wrapped you in a big hug and patted you on the back. She was nice, if hard to read, and seemed to love touching you; she kept gently patting your back, even throughout the night, as if she couldn’t bare to go another moment without keeping close to you.

Then you met Jason, who was busy cooking in the kitchen, Dick sitting on the counter and sneaking carrots when Jason’s back was turned. The two were incredibly kind, though intimidating, as you knew their opinions mattered a lot to Tim. Dick picked you up in a big sweeping hug, seemingly even more touchy than his sister.

Jason was quiet, weirdly so according to Tim, and spent a lot of the night just… staring at you. Maybe he felt uncomfortable being around you? You could imagine having a sibling introduce their partner would be awkward, and you knew the Waynes had had their fair share of terrible romances. later on, when you voiced your worries to Tim, he waved them away; Jason was just trying not to freak you out, he insisted, sure that his older brother would never be able to hate you.

The final brother you met was Damian, who was curled up on the couch with a cat in his lap and two dogs at his feet. He was a quiet child, a seemingly permanent glare on his face only softening slightly when it landed on you. The only way you knew he didn’t hate you was the fact that he let you pet his cat, who was apparently named after the butler.

You only met Tim’s elusive father at dinner. He was kind, if a little ditzy, and quite welcoming. All in all, the family was polite, and you felt truly welcomed for the first time in your life. It was like you’d known them for years, you seemed to just… click!

Of course, looking back, you could see how they knew you so well.

It had happened out of the blue. You’d been drinking some hot chocolate after winding down with the family, watching a cute cartoon on their large tv, and the next thing you knew was that you were waking up in a dark room. Tim was sitting next to you in the bed, laptop illuminating his pale face, highlighting the dark eyebags.

“Oh good, you’re up!” he said, setting his laptop aside and turning the bedside lamp on. You sat up, confused, rubbing at your throbbing head. You felt like you hadn’t drank water in three days. When you asked what had happened, he only smiled.

“It’s alright, don’t worry, we can talk about that later.”

Now feeling slightly uncomfortable, you stood up. Tim shifted slightly, following you and placing himself between you and the door. “Hey, let’s just sit back down, okay? I don’t want you to be too stressed, the dose was a little higher than I expected…”

Dose? When you questioned him, he laughed sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his head. His eyes blinked back at you, seemingly innocent despite your terror.

“Well, we needed time to get you all set up, and we couldn’t have you fighting when we sent in your resignation…” He said, smiling gently.

Shit. Shit! He’d fucking kidnapped you!

You went to dodge around him, but he moved faster than you were able to even anticipate, grabbing you around the waist and hoisting you into the air.

He plopped you back onto the bed, quickly pinning you down. “Hey, calm down!” He said, voice even, as though he wasn’t currently fighting to keep your hands from smacking at his face.

“I promise it’s okay, we won’t hurt you!”

Then, the door slammed open, and in walked Jason. His combat boots thunked against the shiny wooden floor, and he seemed nonplussed. “why aren’t you stopping them?” He questioned, leaning against the wall next to the bed. He pulled out his phone and quickly sent a text, fingers flying across the keys. He ignored your calls for help.

“I’m trying!” Tim huffed, finally able to get your hands under control, quickly tying them with thick, velvety rope.

“Do you need help getting them downstairs?” Jason sighed, tucking the phone away.

“Nah, I got it,” Tim said, standing up and heaving you up and over his shoulder. With that, Tim and Jason made their way downstairs, you tossed over Tim’s shoulder and struggling all the way. It fewlt particularly humiliating, the way that your struggles weren’t even acknowledged, much less viewed as a threat.

Finally, you were brought into the living room and plopped down, Tim and Jason quickly sitting down on either side of you. Jason quickly picked up your legs and slung them across his lap, keeping you from wiggling away.

Bruce sat down on the other side of the room, sinking into the green armchair. The other siblings scattered across the room, all staring at you with a similar gleam in their eyes.

“So, let’s go over some ground rules.” Bruce said, beginning the next phase of your life.

#yandere batman #yandere batfam #yandere platonic batfam #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere cassandra cain #yandere jason todd #lethwrites

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unteriors · 1 month ago

Note

Since you're Australian, why are so many of the posts from the US? Did you start with Australia and then move onto other countries once you'd felt like you exhausted it? Or is the US particularly interesting for your purposes?

A big part of the reason is the enormous difference in scale. Australia has about 25 million people, versus 300 or so million in the US. Each of the 50 states has at least one or two major cities, most have many more than that. In addition to the volume of real estate imagery produced by this market, there are a few things about the US in this context which draw me in from an Australian perspective. One is how real estate listings weirdly embody how much more visually apparent the harmful economic forces of the past 50 years are in American society than they are here or elsewhere. Australia's welfare state was developed roughly during the same time as in the US, and has similarly been cut back since the 1970s. But it was always much weaker in the US than in Australia or Western Europe, and correspondingly the effects of its deterioration - along with other economic trends - have been much more visible than they are here. The way this is played out in terms of localised funding for public services means that many American cities have pockets (of varying sizes) where poverty and other forms of systemic oppression are concentrated and left open to the elements. The sort of stuff Jacob Holdt documented in his photos in the 70s, or that you see in a lot crime films and thrillers with location shooting. Gentrification and other forces since then have pushed these pockets into other areas and made some places seem less grim, but from what I've heard it seems like it would be hard for the average person in the US to ignore that these large, systemic problems exist. Conversely, in Australia, this kind of intense poverty has been pushed into the margins of society during the same time period - to remote communities (where people suffer from chronic diseases that have been eradicated in most other wealthy countries), country towns with shrinking economies, or to the fringes of larger cities (where people sleep in their cars in parking lots, or multiple families form sharehouses to afford $400-500+ pw rents). Though as things have gotten worse, particularly since COVID, it's getting harder to ignore. But still there's a substantial part of the population here who have grown up in ignorance of any of the larger, percolating structural problems in Australian society, and who proactively retain that ignorance into adulthood.

I think you can see these different perspectives play in out in real estate listings. In most American states, even in most of the towns I've looked at, you can see a broad spectrum of living conditions (and commercial interpretations of ideal living conditions) - from burnt out trailers, to overpriced renovated shitty older houses with cheap grey vinyl flooring and white walls, to clearly lived-in time capsules to McMansions to actual mansions. Some photographs are clearly shot by owners, others by real estate agents with a great variety of care and attention to detail (from elaborate staging to crime scenes). Rightly or wrongly, I feel like I get a broader, more honest (or at least more direct) feel for the housing crisis. It's a more honest horror film.

Australian listings, I think in part due to concentrations in corporate power in the real estate industry (similar to other monopolies that have formed in our economy), tend to more heavily adhere to the visual language of advertising and are more heavily regulated by agencies. The problems still exist, the housing market here is among the worst in the world and little effort is being made to address the underlying structural issues, but you can see the lack of will to acknowledge these issues in the level of gloss that's applied. You can look at a listing of an older house in Western Australia, for instance, and know for a fact that it's riddled with asbestos and probably has several other structural issues, but most likely enough time and effort will have been spent on staging and lighting and maybe surface-level renovations that it will seem otherwise fine. Lots of turds that have been polished successfully enough that you need insider knowledge to properly identify them as dogshit. Incidentally, I spent part of my childhood in a house built in the 1960s that had asbestos in the walls and ceiling.

I'm still interested in images from Australian listings (and other sources) though, I just look for other things that are interesting. Anything that runs contrary to the artificially positive, limited world view that advertising promotes. Even if its a poorly-lit time capsule that is directly aesthetically opposite to the ideal of house-beauty at the moment, or an obviously run-down house that has had every realtor photography trick in the playbook thrown at it until it becomes deeply uncanny. And it's always interesting to see what other people find interesting; I genuinely think the housing crisis underwrites every other political issue we have to contend with, its tendrils extend in many different directions, and I think this also means imagery like this can reach people in a diversity of ways. Aesthetically, nostalgically, inspiring fear and self-loathing and horror. All good sources of inspiration for creativity.

#anon feedback #Australia #enormous self-indulgent essay answers #that don't really address the point

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bobbeshwar · 9 days ago

Text

sorry i just wanted to hear you s(cream)!

☆ summary: ghostface is in town and it’s either fuck or flee… we all know what you chose…

★ warnings: ghostface!sukuna, fem-reader, reader is a serial killer fanatic, sort of same setting as scream 1(so early 2000s), smutt, dark themes, mask kink, chase play, weapon usage(knife), ghostface hates to see reader coming, a little bit of cuting, dirty talking, degradation, a little bit of voyeurism, sukuna is super mean(but like duh), oral, rough sex, dumbification, choking, spanking, suffocation, hair pulling, squirting. come eating/swallowing, etc.

☆ word count: 3.4k~

★ a/n: boomshakalaka yes gawwwwddd

also thank you to the loml @alainatranquility for the idea☺️

The grainy image of the masked killer flickering on your tiny television set should have frightened you. Should have had you double-locking your doors and crawling under your covers, praying to wake up safely.

“We advise everyone to stay indoors...” The reporter's voice droned on, your gaze locked on that blurry photo. A ghastly white mask open in a scream, blood spattered on the knife clutched in the killer’s hand. You could feel your thighs clenching, breath hitching as you shuffled on your living room couch.

This was a real life serial killer in your town. A murderer who killed people for sport. Not a person in a documentary or character in a scary movie. If he’d ever met you he would probably gut you like a fish and have no mercy doing it.

You held your breath at the thought: those gloved hands, one roughly grasping your throat and the other driving his knife repeatedly into your side. Fuck, you were wet.

You’d been following the masked killer for weeks. Waiting with bated breath for another news report to air out about his latest victim. Lamenting with your friends about the serial killer invading your town knowing you clutched your sheets and came nightly to the thought of him invading you.

You tried to find him multiple times, rushed to crime scenes in the wake of his murders hoping to catch a glimpse, get a glance at the man absolutely ruining the equilibrium of your small suburban town.

But he was always gone without a trace. Nowhere to be found. The news gave updates on each new kill added to his list, but couldn’t figure out where he was, who he was. This ghost face—what the news began calling him—was like something out of a movie, a fantasy.

And so you planned to do the next best thing: use yourself as bait.

Ghostface killed mostly at night, so it was 1am when you found yourself trekking through the woods, awaiting your could-be killer.

A distant howl had you gasping as you whipped your head towards the sound, the only source of light the full moon hanging distantly in the sky. Twigs snapped beneath your boot-covered feet as you shuffled through the seemingly endless forest, feeling a little stupid for standing in the woods, waiting for a serial killer to come find you. At this point, you’d instead be dead from an animal attack.

But this is what attracted the killer, you thought.

You tried to seem open, inviting, like you were some dumb girl, walking foolishly in the woods at night. Maybe you should have brought your ex, they’d put up a good front, and lord knows they were itching to see you again. You wouldn’t mind if Ghostface took them out.

But no, this was better. There’d be no witnesses to your shame. No eyes as you lived out your darkest desire.

You hear a twig snap behind you and you turn quickly towards the sound, heart thumping in your chest as your eyes roam across the patchy forest, silent despite the noises. You move ahead, your thighs slick and face hot as you hold your coat a little tighter, fear coursing through your body and setting it practically aflame.

A rustle sounds and you jump, turning once again towards the source of the sound, just a bunny in the bushes. You heave a sigh of relief turning forwards to continue walking—

Your breath is stolen by the killer standing before you. How could he even be that quiet?? He was so…

Big. Enormous is the only way to describe him. Huge broad shoulders covered by black robes, so tall he could probably grab the highest branch of the nearest tree with ease. Towering over you, he seemed more monster than man. Or maybe that was the signature ghost mask covering his face and the gleaming knife in his big gloved hand.

He was everything and more than what you imagined him to be. You crumpled to the ground as your legs give way and you try to look scared, to will away the smile threatening to consume your face and your eyes already clouding with lust.

Ghostface approaches you, each step making your body tremble with need as he towers over you. You somehow twist your face into a terrified expression, taking in those big thighs straining the confines of his robes and the shadow cast over your face as he stares down at you and tilts his head.

Fuck, you think you came. “P-Please don’t kill me.” You whisper, and Ghostface says nothing. Not surprising.

But what is surprising is his gloved hand grabbing a tight hold of your hair and yanking you towards him.

Pain flares in your scalp and you hold back a moan, but a whimper still escapes from your lips. Maybe you sounded pained(you probably didn’t).

He leans down, masked covered face inches away from yours and you can’t even hear him breathing. His left hand clutching you like a rag doll by your hair and his right holding his knife. Which he brings to your neck, the sharp end nearly pressing into the skin just below your chin.

You were practically trickling into the grass at this point. “Please, please…” you softly beg, and he pushes the blade into your skin, you let out a squeak from the contact, pain and pleasure dueling within you as you feel the blood dripping from your neck. But no, he couldn’t kill you just yet.

You break free of his hold. Somehow. Darting off quickly away from him on your trembling legs. The cut he made in your skin wasn’t deep, you wouldn’t bleed out or anything. But if you hadn’t run the fun would have been over, he would have driven that knife into your neck and watched you choke to death on your own blood.

And why did that thought make you more horny??

You stop to take a breath, propping yourself up against a nearby tree, chest heaving and skin sticky with sweat. You chuck off your jacket, goosebumps immediately rising on your flesh as you stand in nothing but a practically see through tank top and a pair of leggings. Perhaps he’d get a load of your tits transparent against the cheap fabric of your shirt, and want to brutally fuck you.

The thought almost has you slipping your hand beneath your leggings and finishing against that tree. But you needed to keep running. You jog for a few more minutes, then break into a full blown run when you catch a glimpse of a shadow in the distance.

You’re no athlete, so it only takes a few more minutes before you’re toppling to the ground, heaving in breaths. He’d find you for sure.

Crunch, crunch, the sound of footsteps, walking calmly in your direction. You tried to stand, propping yourself up against the nearest tree but you were spent. It’d only been what, fifteen minutes and your legs weren’t fucking working. Shit.

Still you manage to crawl, hoping to keep up the fun as long as you could. His footsteps are getting louder and louder, till your vision is obscured by the shadow of his massive body and he leans down to grab you and throw you into the nearest tree.

You let out a groan from the pain blooming in your back, but the sensation is driving you mad with need. He was so rough with you, no regards for your life. Treating you like a mere object.

His hand comes up to your throat before you can even think another sinful thought, and your thighs feel damp. You barely manage a whimper, his hand pinning you against the wall by your neck.

He’s trying to kill you, you remind yourself. Maybe don’t think about how close his big body is to yours and how you can hear the sound of his breathing. You wondered what he looked like under the mask, if he was as elated as you were right now.

You’re struggling to breathe, remember? Oh right, your eyes roll back as your breath is stolen from you and your face almost purples. If you weren’t currently suffering from asphyxiation, you’d realize your feet were well off the ground and you were being dangled against the tree.

“Pl…ease,” you gasp, grabbing at his hand. But his hold was like fucking steel, “don’t…kill me..u..se me.” His grip loosens for the slightest second and you take advantage of it, breaking free and tumbling to the ground. You inhale mouthfuls of air as you grab at your bruised throat.

The jig was up it seemed, so you did not hesitate as you latched onto him, pressing your face into his crotch and glancing up at him with as innocent of an expression as you could muster, “Please? I can be really good.”

He immediately shoves you off, your back smacking once again into the tree. You groan again, guess he was immune to your charm.

“Fucking freak.” You almost miss it as you rub at your stinging lower back. But it’s unmissable, the sound of his voice. Deep, possibly made deeper by the confines of the mask and so fucking perfect.

And he used it to call you a freak.

You can’t take it anymore, you prop yourself up against the tree, slipping a hand into your leggings and rubbing yourself through your already soaked panties. Moaning loudly as you looked up at him.

You stuffed three fingers into your sopping pussy, and he watched. Body language slightly open, as if considering if you were even worth the fuck.

“Please, please fuck me. U-Use me.” You moaned, absolutely ruining your leggings. “You can kill me after, fuck—I need you.” Your body arched into your own touch, head falling back against the hard bark as you practically rode your fingers, thumbing at your clit and whining as your orgasm practically took you—

But you didn’t get the chance, because he was grabbing you by your hair once again, roughly bringing your face into the huge visible bulge hiding beneath his robes. You looked up at him and he down at you, before he gestured with the knife in his right hand for you to get to work.

You quickly pawed at his robes and excitedly undid his pants. Hands trembling as you set that monster free. Fuck, he was huge, bigger than anything you’d ever seen. Would this even fit in you?? Long, thick and covered in veins, there was a black tattooed band around the base that somehow made him hotter. You wondered where else he had tattoos.

Your eyes were practically heart shaped as you gave a few shallow licks to his flushed tip, shuddering at the addicting taste of his precome on your tongue. Each stripe of your tongue along his cock had you moaning, slipping your hand between your legs to rub at your clit as you took him into your mouth.

His hand was still dusted in your hair and he was still looking down at you, watching you drool all over his cock. He applied pressure to his hold, forcefully shoving his length down your throat. You didn’t even have a moment to protest as your eyes rolled back and you struggled to breathe. He was fucking his cock into your drooling mouth like you were some sort of sex doll. Sliding in and out of your mouth like you were just another fleshlight.

You could feel your mouth swelling from the friction, hear the sounds of your gagging on his fat cock, feel the tears rolling down your cheek as you nearly suffocated, your hands digging into him as you simultaneously wished for the torture to end and wanted it to last forever.

It did end, both thankfully and unthanfully as he emptied into your mouth, fucking a few more shallow thrusts into your face before he indelicately let you go.

You coughed immediately, struggling to breath as his cum trickled from your lips. His hand didn’t leave you as he brought it down to your chin, keeping it closed. He was silent of course, but you could feel the threat radiating off of him as he looked down at you: he wanted you to swallow all of it, despite the fact that you were struggling to breathe.

You gleefully obliged, feeling his warm his come sliding down your throat. He propped your mouth open with his gloved thumb and you stuck your tongue out, showing him you’d done as told.

“Have I been good?” You pondered, with the ghost of a smirk, you brought your hand to your mouth swiping your finger across your bottom lip before sucking it into your mouth.

And to your surprise he had a response, “You fucking slut.” Your pussy clenched almost immediately, a moan making its way past your lips. Once again, he grabbed you by your throat, dragging you off the ground and pinning you to the tree.

He brought his knife to the front of your lose tank top, dragging it through the fabric till it tore and your chest was exposed. You could feel the cool of the blade against your inner thigh as he pushed your legs apart, tearing apart your leggings.

With no warning—of course no warning—he stuffed his cock into you. You could barely choke out the words, “you’re too big!” around his hand on your throat, before he’d pushed himself all the way in with a slight grunt.

The stretch was unbearable, even stuffing three fingers into your pussy prior was practically useless. Still, the pain of his fat cock digging in you set pleasure shooting through your body, had you tightening around him as you ground into him and he bottomed out inside you.

“There’s always freaks like you.” You heard him grunt as he pulled you down on his cock, “fucking whores that want to be filled.” You managed a strangled moan as he thrusted into you. “Is that right?”

You didn’t respond, not like you could when he was strangling you and giving you the best cock you’ve had at the same time.

“I asked a fucking question.” You heard him say and felt his grip loosen. You could moan freely now as his cock bullied into that spot that had you gasping.

“Yes! Yes, I’m a f-fucking whore!” You slurred, dizzy with the perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

“Oh shut up, slut.” He pulled his cock out of you, letting you fall to the ground like you were no more than an object.

You couldn’t even be surprised, too cock drunk to do anything more than paw at him on your knees, “Please, I’ll be a good whore for you, I’ll let you fill me up—”

He chuckled, a low perfect sound. This time you couldn’t hide the whimper that resounded at the back of your throat in response. “Let me?” His gloved hands fisted his cock in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable, but he still spurted ropes of come that landed directly onto your face and chest. He pulled you towards him, shoving his fingers into your mouth so hard you nearly gag, “I’m gonna do whatever I fucking want to you, because you’re my kill. Mine to use before I end your useless life.”

“Yes, yes, ’m sorry—” you gargled around his lips.

“Did I say you can fucking talk?” You quickly and frantically shook your head. “Get up and turn around.”

You obliged quickly, standing on your shaky feet, nude as you could really feel the cold night air against your naked skin, goosebumps pebbled your trembling flesh, your chest heaving and nipples hard. You turned around, facing bark, shivering through the cold of the night as you awaited his orders.

His hands grasped your ass and you gasped, “This is what you wanted, huh?” His fingers made their way through the holes in your leggings before effortlessly ripping them and your panties off. “Some sick fantasy that your whorish mind conjured up.” His hand was around your neck again, pushing your face into the tree until you couldn’t speak, then prying your legs apart to stuff his cock into you again.

The different angle forced a moan from your throat, fuck, you could feel him practically in your stomach. If you pressed your lower stomach you felt there would be a bulge there, an imprint of his cock buried into you with no care for how deep it could actually go.

“Fuck, I hate freaks like you.” He grunted into your ear, hand tightening around your neck, as you weakly whimpered, “Everywhere I turn I run into worthless sluts like you.”

If you weren’t struggling to breath and getting fucked like an animal you would have gave a snide response. Of course he had women trailing after him, you weren’t the only freak out there with a mask kink. It was a little annoying that your pussy wasn’t the only one he used and abused.

But fuck, you couldn’t think about that now, his fingers found its way back into your mouth again as he fucked you, your eyes rolling back and lips sucking sloppily at them. There was this delicious sound of skin clashing as his hips roughly met yours each time he pushed his dick inside you and you wondered if there was anyone watching, if someone found themselves in the woods and could see you getting used like a slut by the town killer.

“So fucking tight.” He ground out, “It’s a shame. I should keep you as my fucktoy, just come in all your holes whenever I need it.” You moaned louder at the suggestion, pressing back against his thrusts, “but killing you will be so much more pleasant.”

“Mmn-ffuck, y-yes, yes, please use me.” You couldn’t help the words leaving your lips as your skin scraped against the bark, sensitive nipples stimulated with each thrust and his fingers still in your mouth, pulling you apart.

“Oh shut it.” He punctuates his words with a slap on your ass and you nearly bite his fingers.

“Sorry, s-sorry, ‘m sorry.” You fight a smile around his fingers as he lays another slap at your ass. “So good, so goodd.” You slur and another follows it, your ass stinging. “‘M sorry—I c-can’t.” You absolutely can.

“You’re doing it on purpose aren’t you?” He grabs your stinging cheek and squeezes, “There’s nothing you’re not into is there, you fucking slut?”

You can’t answer because you’re about to come, your thighs quiver, pussy clenching around his cock as you fuck yourself back on it, rutting into it again and again until you come on him with a barely there whine. He follows you soon after, emptying his balls into you until the warm cum spills out of you and drips down your thighs.

He slips his hand between them, gloved fingers pushing the come back inside as you whine from the overstimulation. “Keep it inside, you wanted it, right? Now it’s gonna be the last thing you fucking feel.”

He’s left you once again, and you’re on the ground, naked and spent. Stuffed full of come and trembling.

You never heard him drop the knife, nor did you hear him pick it up. But it was in his grasp as he loomed over you, mask still on his face, still setting your pussy aflame.

“P-Please, not yet!” You begged, latching yourself to his thigh as you rutted yourself against him. He scoffed as he watched you, your plump lips wobbly, eyes wet and pleading up at him cloudy with lust. “I can do it again, stuff me full, please.” You begged, grinding your soaked pussy against his leg until you came, squirting your juices all over him and the ground below.

“What a fucking animal.” He scoffed, kneeling down to you, “It almost makes me feel bad for wanting to kill you.” He murmured, fingers almost delicately clutching your sweat and come soaked face, thumbing at your numb lips. At this point you were practically seeing two.

“Maybe I’ll keep you.”, he cocked his head, before reaching for his face and pulling off his mask. You’re so delirious you can barely acknowledge it, can barely take it the handsome edges of his face, the tattoos perfectly scrawled across his skin and his red eyes staring almost endearingly down at you. There’s a slight smirk on his pink lips and you’re blinking into unconsciousness before hearing his last words.

“You’re my kill after all.”

#ball’s works✪#sukuna x reader #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

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hyomaslut · 1 year ago

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──★ ˙🍒 ̟ !! SAY THAT YOU MISS ME. 18+!

☆⌒(ゝ。∂).ᐟ ʙʟʟᴋ ʙᴏʏs ɢᴏɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴇx

✿ ─ characters: bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, rin itoshi ✿ ─ cw: somewhat angst, nsfw, smut, gn!reader, afab!reader, no pronouns, aged-up!characters(21+), established relationships??, exes to lovers, kissing, groping, dirty talk, semi-public sex, lots of jealousy, alcohol use, posessiveness, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, toxic behaviors/dynamics, use of foul language, suggestive themes, proofread?? ✿ ─ notes: they are straight up drabbles. i wrote hyoma's first and i was like, omg this is way too long. fuck it, hope i can get the others close to this word count. and then they were longer. im so sorry i promise next time i wont be so long winded.

BACHIRA MEGURU is unsettled by the silence that lingers in your absence...

he honestly doesn’t know what to do with himself. the heavy loneliness he feels in a bed far too big for just one person is almost enough to push him to call you, staring at your contact for at least an hour. you were best friends. partners in crime. a power couple. how could things be over? he misses your voice more than anything else, all the time in his day usually spent deep in conversation with you now feeling empty.

he could tell that he reached a real pathetic stage of heartbroken when he started listening to old voicemails from you at night, but couldn’t find it in himself to care as he smiles at your laugh and tears up at your i love you’s. that turns into scrolling through photos he has of you, and then that has his mind drifting to the hidden album he has dedicated to you, full of the numerous risqué shots you’ve sent him over the course of your relationship. meguru doesn’t dwell on the moral dilemma of keeping the pictures, they were his after all. either gifted to him or taken by him, so he feels he has some sort of right to them. when he scrolls to a particular video from his point of view of your pretty mouth wrapped around his tip, his hand almost immediately moves to palm his crotch. he tugs down his boxers to stroke himself to the scene of you deepthroating his cock, the sweet sound of your moans and sputters through his phone speaker making both his dick and his heart ache for you.

after some time spent desperately trying to create a cheap imitation of the pleasure you make him feel, bachira grows frustrated. it’s really unfair now that he thinks about it. how could you indulge him in all his deepest fantasies and give him the wildest hottest fucks of his life only to leave him high and dry in the end? finally giving up on cumming, covered in a thin layer of sweat, he opens his phone again in some lust fueled bravery, texting you hey can we talk?

in your apartment, you were dedicating your evening to trying not to think about all the ways you missed your ex, knowing that the first few weeks of a break up were the hardest. you stand up from the couch, breaking out of your thoughts and hoping to just distract yourself for the time being. picking up your cell was extremely counter productive in that regard, your heart jumping at a text from megs ‹𝟹. he wants to talk. seeing that the text was sent half an hour ago, you jump to reply yeah sure. when? you don’t even think before accepting, the chance to bask in his attention one more time is too tempting when missing him this much. the contact picture you set for him pops up, indicating an incoming call.

you take a breath in the tense silence, offering a somewhat unsure, “hello?” his end of the call comes to life all of a sudden, finally connecting through his current shoddy service. he sounds slightly out of breath and you hear a faint ding in the background. the grainy noises let you know that he probably wasn’t in the quiet privacy of his home as he usually would be at this time. “meguru? is now a bad time to talk?”

“no! now's a good time,” he reassures, “i’m in the elevator up to your place.”

“you’re what?”

there’s some more shuffling from him and quick footsteps that echo both from the call and the hallway outside your apartment. “open up.”

there’s apprehension floating somewhere in your mind, but the big part of you that was very much not over him moves your feet towards the door, unlocking it. as soon as the physical barrier between you and him is gone, there is a completely different tone that settles and you almost sense it before it happens when he pushes forward to crash his lips onto yours. he didn’t exactly have a plan showing up, but seeing you, there was only one thing his body wanted to do. your back collides with the wall of your entryway, one of his hands already on the back of your head to cushion the blow, his other arm coiled around your waist to press you flush against him. unaware of it, the two of you share the same thought. this is 1000 times better than being alone tonight.

“meguru.” you call out trying to gently push against his chest to create some room between you. trying to be the rational one and state the obvious facts. you broke up with him. he shouldn’t be here. it’ll just cause more heartache for the both of you. but tingles run up his back when you say his name that way, breathless as he steals all the air from you. fuels his need to hold onto you tighter and not let you go this time around. eventually you manage to get your hand over his mouth to stop him from kissing you before your resolve really breaks and you let this go too far. “megu we shouldn’t. this is hard enough as it is-”

he pries your fingers away, and just when you think he is going to say something, convince you, justify himself, he dips his head down to capture your lips again, gently sucking on the bottom one to draw out a gasp so he can shove his tongue in. greedy hands grab at your thighs, lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist so he can shamelessly rut his hips against yours. he makes it hard to think straight, pulling away after a moment to stare into your eyes, giving you that signature wild look that causes your knees to go weak. “tell me you don’t want me.”

“huh?”

“look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want me.” he watches you expectantly, his impatience showing when he begins softly rocking into you. “cause we both know nobody else can make you cum like i can. let me make you feel good.”

you don’t find the strength to turn down his offer, not when you’re already panting at the affection he’s given you and soaking from the rhythmic press of his hard cock against you. bachira relishes the relief and arousal that floods through him when you wrap your arms around his neck to drag him into another sloppy kiss, and you feel his grin grow against your lips. the competitor in him recognizes a challenge, his heart pounding in perverse excitement. he has one chance to prove to you just how much you need him. lucky for you, that’s the kind of risk your ex gets off on.

CHIGIRI HYOMA is unreasonably bitter...

you and him are a perfect match, and the thought of you ever replacing him makes him sick. the egoist in him can’t stand the idea of someone stealing his role in your life. someone else taking you out, having your attention, putting their hands on you. deep down some rational part of him knows that he doesn’t stake any claim over you anymore, but the sinking pit in his stomach does nothing to alleviate the gut instinct that you’re his.

it eats at him. chigiri feels childish stalking your social media or casually asking mutual friends about you. he doesn’t want to seem affected, but he just can’t help but give into his curiosity. this same ‘curiosity’ is what leads him to hanging out in the bars he knows you frequent, either with friends or without. he hardly admits to himself that he’s hoping to run into you, but when it actually does happen, hyoma doesn’t hesitate to approach. he’s unsure if it’s the irresistible pull of being within arms reach of you again, or the selfish intuition to make his move on you before anyone else has the chance.

it seems innocent enough. he’s as charismatic and lighthearted as ever, offering to catch up, buy you a drink or two. chemistry you’ve always shared slowly surfaces through conversation. there was no denying that he had his charms, ones that hit all your soft spots just like the first time he won you over. so when he ‘accidentally’ bumps into you on your way out of the bathroom, and wraps his arms around you so you don’t fall over from tipsy imbalance, you barely even question it. being in his embrace is familiar and there is a glance shared between you with a certain spark to it that it’s only natural he leans down to kiss you. hyoma is nothing if not an opportunist, smoothly steering you back into the small bar bathroom, his lips and tongue never leaving you.

he’s panting into your mouth between hungry kisses, hands already tugging at your clothing. his teeth find your neck, sucking and biting warm bruises in his wake, eager to mark every inch of skin he can latch onto. before you get the chance to playfully tease him about crawling back to you, your body is twisted around and bent forward over the sink. your eyes dart to the mirror in front of you, meeting his smug grin as he yanks your pants and underwear down your thighs.

hyoma reaches his hand around to dip between your folds, deft fingers rubbing languid circles into your clit the way he knows you like. if it werent for the cocktails you would be embarrassed by the way you immediately melt into his touch, whimpers readily escaping you. “you’re already whining like that and i’ve barely even touched you, this pussy must’ve really missed me, huh?”

pleasure shoots up your core, arching your back at the feeling, pressing your ass into the bulge straining against his jeans. a moan bubbles up in his throat, but he’s quick to close his mouth, muffling the sound to a soft grunt, not willing to indulge you in the reactions you always seek to draw out of him. his hips push forward to grind into yours, the hard outline of his cock enough to remind you of what more you could be having instead of this PG13 dry humping session. you try to catch his gaze in the mirror, but it never leaves the place where you connect, giving you only soft thrusts while his fingers are unrelenting against your clit. “hyoma.” you manage to get out between heavy breaths. pink eyes finally travel up to meet yours. “please give it to me.”

and on a normal day, your ex-boyfriend would’ve dragged out the foreplay and teased you until you’re near tears and begging him for more, but something about the way you ask feels like a confession. that you wanted him just as desperately as he had been craving you. it sparks a fire up chigiri’s spine, wasting no time shoving the tight denim down to release himself. soon enough the tip of his pretty dick is squished against your entrance. his jaw is clenched from the restraint it takes not to immediately bury himself balls deep, grabbing your waist to keep steady.

any doubts that he had about still pining after you are gone, because the first tight clench of your cunt around his tip confirms what he’s always wholeheartedly believed. you were fucking made for him.

“god fuck,” he mutters breathily, biting down onto his bottom lip as he watches your hole swallow his entire length. his hips wind back, not getting far before the grip your walls have on him forces him to slowly sink back in. “anyone else fill you up this good, angel? get you this wet?” he asks, one of his hands grabbing hold of your hair to make you properly face him in the reflection again, wearing a cocky smirk that makes your stomach do flips.

a pout forms on your lips at his leisurely thrusts, far from enough to satisfy you, especially when you’ve seen firsthand the speed and effort he is depriving you of. “i don’t know, im getting a bit bored here princess,” you mock, despite the way you’re barely able to contain your noises as is.

without warning his pace becomes the staple unrelenting and overwhelming one you fantasize about while futilely trying to get off on your own. hyoma lets go of your hair in favor of clamping down over your mouth, loud moans already beginning to spill out around his fingers. the sight of the typically cool-headed prince losing his nonchalance, fucking you with pure ego and a savage glimmer in his eyes isn’t something you’ll easily forget. “this what you wanted? only satisfied when i fuck you stupid, right?"

ITOSHI RIN is not a fan of losing you, but loves getting you back...

rin doesn’t fall in love easily. he doesn’t know exactly how you managed it, but you barged into his life unannounced and dragged love out of him with your unrelenting company and killer smile. and rin was no willing victim either, figuratively kicking and screaming the whole way with his many cold moments and guarded emotions. in the end you won, with him wrapped helplessly around your finger. while rin would prefer to deny you any power over him, there’s a fire that burns in his chest for you that demands he give you everything he has. and he does.

but his love proves to be too much and not enough. too much in the ways of his possessive tendencies and clinginess and toxic defensiveness. and not enough in the way that it doesn’t keep you around. not that he blames you for it, although he does get the occasional bitter thought that you should’ve known to leave him alone from the start. deep down he knows he doesn’t really mean it, preferring even this pitiful longing you leave him with to the dark cloud that was his life before you. and it’s what he fears of returning to if you ever manage to fully pull away from him one day.

the first time you break up, rin admittedly doesn’t deal with it well. after endless calls and texts and showing up at your place with flowers and vulnerability, you take him back, only to return to the same arguments when his jealousy issues get out of hand. he wished he could say the second or third time went differently. fourth time around, however, rin gains some semblance of dignity and decides to keep his distance. maybe it was time to give moving on the good old college try. what other option did he have? as in love with you as he was, he couldn’t force you to stay and wasn’t well equipped to do the soul searching necessary to rid himself of all the behaviors that bothered you. maybe this was a lesson he needed to grow into the type of guy you could see yourself with. at least he intended to take that route, until you showed up at his house a few days later begging for him to forgive you for ever thinking you could live without him. he doesn’t even feel embarrassment over how easily he caves. it can’t be his fault when that night you swore you’d always belong to him while screaming his name. that same night he resolved that no matter what happened, you were it for him, and until you told him without a shadow of a doubt that you no longer loved him, he would return to you every time.

it started this viscous cycle of an on and off again relationship, fueled by passion and possession from both parties. one that rin never planned on ending as long as it was the only way he got to call you his, feeling a deep sense of comfort in the fact that you were weak for him too. that’s why he’s unsurprised hearing a knock on his door at 11PM. a new record considering it only been a day since the huge fight that caused your latest break up, not that rin was keeping count.

he has to stop himself from running to the door, because if he was honest he was thinking of grabbing his keys and heading to you minutes earlier. it doesn’t take more than a, “i’m so sorry baby,” to have him scooping you up into his arms on instinct. the familiar security of your legs wrapped around his hips, hands grabbing at your ass as he carries you to his bed, makes up for the self-loathing mess he becomes in the aftermath of every separation.

none of that other stuff matters when he gets to have you under him like this, already whining in anticipation as he peels away your bottom layers. rin can’t resist leaning in for a quick kiss to your clit before looking up at you from between your legs. a finger ghosts along your slit causing you to squirm and lean up towards the touch before one of his strong hands pushes you firmly to the bed, resting just under your navel. fortunately for you, rin is terrible at denying you the things he knows you want. especially when he’s practically drooling for you, letting the excess spit dribble out of his mouth and onto your cunt. you feel him lick long stripes from your entrance to your clit before wrapping his lips around it.

rin eats you as if it were his first meal in days. being apart from you always seemed a whole lot longer when he has to fear if you really mean it this time when you say you wanna stop seeing him. so he allows himself to be greedy, laves at your slick ravenously with a loud groan and humping his hips against the mattress to relieve his cock that’s already leaking in his boxers. your hands bury themselves in his hair, throwing your head back in pleasure as he bites down into your thigh, leaving an imprint of his teeth. “god you taste so good. you’re fucking criminal for trying to keep this perfect pussy from me.”

his free hand wanders to your core, two fingers easily slipping inside from a mix of your juices and his drool, curling to just the right spot. he sucks your clit into his mouth, your sweet moans fill the air and he has to stop his thrusts to keep himself from cumming in his pants at the sound, pulling away from you with a lewd pop. “‘ts mine,” he grunts out, “you’re fucking mine, and no one can make you feel like this but me. say it.”

“only you rin! ‘m yours!” you choke out, bucking against the pressure he puts on your stomach. satisfied with your response, he dives back in, fingers pumping into you with steady rhythm and using his tongue to lap up everything that leaks out. his intense gaze stays trained on yours with a newfound determination to make you feel so good, you’re ruined for anyone else but him.

“all mine.”

◑.◑ its honestly tempting to write a whole fic for rin…

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ghostfacesvalentine · 17 days ago

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HALLOWEEN DAY 26: It’s a Halloween party right? - Multi!Muse x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader

Warning: Mentions of basically bullying, cursing, killing, a little graphic but nothing crazy.

Type: Blurb

Request: N/A

Word count: N/A

Prompt: Tiny blurbs of what I think the muses would act when you’re at a Halloween party with them and someone makes fun of your costume!

Notes: Why did anyone stop wearing costumes I hate this new era were in. Grow up. Wear a costume.

Jason Voorhees: Immediately killing. No doubts about that, I take Jason to be a somewhat naive character but he absolutely knows what it’s like to have someone laugh at you. Whether it’s a crude joke or a twisted sense of humor, he can put two and two together, so the party definitely goes from zero to a hundred. I don’t think he would give the other a second to correct themselves or analyze the situation, instead it’s immediate kill, ask questions later. If you ran away crying, it’s overkill and Jason would never give parties a second chance, sorry.

Michael Myers: I think if he understood it, it may take him a while, they have to be obnoxious about it. If they’re laughing and throwing stuff at you, immediately Michael springs into action. There’s so many people who dress like him anyway, there are doubts that he’s even the real thing but some the smarter of the bunch know better than to join in and make a run for it before they get caught in the crosshairs. When everyone is pinned to the walls with kitchen knives and whatever he can find, then the place gets set ablaze, it’s not like he wanted to be there in the first place.

Tiffany Valentine: Picks up on it before you do and when she does she’s coming up with the most embarrassing way to be found dead. She’s trying to be a better person, she really is but why are they laughing at you? Maybe she can give everyone else who gets their hands on the crime scene photos something to laugh about. I don’t think she would give them a second to apologize or make up for it, she’s already had their death made up in her mind. They really fucked with the wrong person.

Billy Loomis: Laughs louder but with empty eyes, these group of kids just signed their death sentence. If you’re sobbing, the more tears you shed, the more blood they will. If you’re only uncomfortable, they’re still dying, maybe not as gory but he’s still taking his time. He gets away with it too, with the help of Stu. “Come on, Stu’s parties are way better than this” he’d kiss your forehead, not caring if there’s glitter sprinkled all over him.

Stu Macher: Kind of grinning, looking at both you and whoever the hell is trying to insult your costume. “Well I think it’s really cool.” He’d say, acting nothing but stupid with a big grin. I think he would have less restraint than Billy though, he’d start getting the strays one by one, coming around acting completely clueless as to what was happening. He’s a little smug with how well he covers up what’s real blood and what’s part of the decorations. Be careful pissing off Stu, you would’ve thought people would know that by now.

Leatherface: Poor baby he would be so confused at first, the groups of people would have to literally be laughing and you’d have to have a visceral reaction to their mean words. As soon as he puts two and two together, its head empty only wants to see their guts across the room. He’s especially violent because he knows what it’s like to be made fun of by his family and by the victims. It’s not a good feeling and he would do anything to make it go away when it came to you.

Patrick Bateman: There would be light chuckles, all the way up until he notices that they’re talking about you. A pressed smile would make itself present across his face, sniffing his drink before setting it down. Swiping his tongue across his perfect front teeth, mouth closed and sticking a fist in his pocket. You insisted to dress up for the silly Halloween party, he was hesitant about allowing you, but you did look stunning in designer clothes as a tacky costume. Patrick would absolutely pull a Stu and lead the others away from the pack, one by one around the building before unleashing the most amount of rage. Spitting and yelling, blood of his victims splattered across his delightful face. “Not the fucking face you fucking fuck.” He’d groan out wiping as much as he could off with his sleeve and trying to slick back his hair as much as possible before moving to the next person.

Harley Quinn: “Whatddaya mean by that?” There would be no hesitation for Harley to have the group try to correct themselves, depending on their reactions would directly affect if and how’d they die. If they would show no remorse, Harleys face would turn into a wide smile, staring blankly at them before shrugging her shoulders then shooting them point blank in the face, one by one. If there was some kind of remorse, Harley would be judge, jury and executioner about it. “Sorry about the blood on yer costume cupcake, maybe Ivy has somethin’ for that! If not her, then maybe kitty Kat.” Nobody makes fun of her baby, if they did, then she’d make sure they wouldn’t laugh about anything ever again.

Poison Ivy: With a raised eyebrow, Pamela would know exactly whether or not how they meant it and if she didn’t, they’re wrong, it’s exactly how Pamela viewed it. You were so excited to wear a costume, Ivy even helped you get it together, you were absolutely over the moon and now, some people who thought they were too good to dress up for Halloween were laughing in front of you both. Similar to Harley, she is judge, jury and executioner. While her methods would be a little more sophisticated, they still inflict the most amount of pain. She always carried something for moments like this, where one’s blood would turn against them, making them feel like there’s venom slowly invading their veins. Maybe a prick, maybe some powder, maybe a kiss, who really would see it coming. Either way, nobody laughs at her baby.

Billy Hargrove: Would stop what he’s doing immediately to look at whoever or whatever group was laughing at you, there would be a moment of silence offered to them to get themselves together. Not many chose to laugh or keep up the act and those who did would get a real beating full of pent up rage. So what if you wanted to wear a costume, so what if you were the only one. That was the point of it no? A halloween party? These people were going to be damn near unconscious by the time he’s done with them.

Steve Harrington: All fun and games until you’re crying. “You guys take it too far!” If you ran out of the room, Steve is chasing after you immediately to console you. You’re drunk, he’s drunk, you’re both a mess but you’re crying and as a great boyfriend, he’s trying to console you. “This party’s lame anyway, let’s get out of here” he’d kiss your forehead, if you’re still pouting he’s more than happy to sit down with you. “I think you’re the prettiest fairy in the whole world. And other worlds too.” He’d wipe the tears off your face, getting a warm towel to help. “Come on. You’re so beautiful, you look amazing, everyone’s costume is a jackass I guess. But I thought we were supposed to be something different for Halloween” he’d roll his eyes, still drunkenly trying to clean you up. He’s such a catch.

Steve Rogers: Concerned eyebrows active. “Hey what did you just say” suddenly no one wants to repeat themselves and if you know anything about captain America is that he absolutely hates bullies. “It’s a Halloween party no?” Suddenly he’s heated, facing the group completely while you make yourself small behind him. Everyone’s on edge enough to try to break it up. He wasn’t surprised they’d be backtracking, but he still doesn’t accept that behavior. “Apologize” “Steve- no it’s okay.” “No. It’s not okay. Apologize” even if they did, god forbid he caught them alone while you weren’t there. “He must’ve felt left out and added some fake blood to his face to fit in.”

Bucky Barnes: Similar to Steve, he’s going to stand up for you, especially when he can tell if it really got to you. All he thinks about was about how excited you were pulling your costume together and now you were crying or about to start crying and hugging yourself wanting more than anything to go home. Bucky has a way shorter temper than Steve though and he doesn’t care if it’s in front of anyone, they’re going to apologize to you without him having to ask. After sorting that out, he’s babying you after all of this.

Loki Laufeyson: Immediately killing them, even if he’s trying to reform his ways, he still can’t stand the thought of someone else’s words humiliating you. If he doesn’t have the patience to outwit them, he’s absolutely going to kill them. You’re his baby and he will always stand up for you, he’s just a little rusty around his methods. “If you ask me, you’re the most beautiful most elegant vampiress in the universes and I’ve been to many” Loki has such a way to always make you feel like the most beautiful and important creature, if it wasn’t his words, you had a hard time believing anyone else. He worships you more than anyone on this list so it’s hard to let anyone make you feel inferior.

Cloud Strife: He doesn’t get it for a moment, not until you’re upset. When he realizes you’re upset, he follows you out. He’s not the best at comforting but when he sees you upset, he’s all over you. “You look beautiful.” He admires you, after all it’s only Clouds picky opinion that you care about. He rather spend the holiday with you instead, he’s not really much of a party guy. Cloud would absolutely wipe your tears, sit in the grass with you, walk around the town all while complimenting your costume every chance he got.

Sebastian Michaelis: Maybe not immediately killing them, but absolutely torturing them, all with a smile. If there are appearances to be made, he waits until he can find them alone. He understood every crude remark, every joke, even when they thought they could get away with it with sly comments. “You appear to be the most stunning character here Lady Y/N.” That’s enough to make you blush, after all he only has eyes for you. He encouraged you to dress up, he wasn’t lying when he said you looked gorgeous. For anyone to have the nerve to make fun of you, it would be a death wish.

Spencer Reid: He would absolutely outwit them, nobody can really keep up with his charm. He didn’t really acknowledge the joke at first, until it hit him. Both of you would be dressed up and he’s more than ready to stand up for you especially. Spencer vents to you all the time about people who think they’re too good to dress up in a costume for a Halloween party. He doesn’t need to get physical with them, but let’s say if they really crossed a line then he’ll pull some strings at the BAU.

Bruce Wayne: So what if you were the only one wearing a costume, similar to Spencer, he can absolutely outwit them. Everyone wants to please Bruce and it only takes him staring at the ones who are laughing with a straight face. The elites around him would want his validation so bad that they would also stop laughing immediately. “I don’t get it. Who are you again? New money?” Hit them where it hurts. “The dress is Hermes, fortunately they had it expedited last minute. We had a few options to sort through. Looks like a dream nevertheless.” But it was never the dress that made you look godly, it was Bruce’s love.

Jason Todd: Immediately getting violent “what the fuck did you just say” and you better hope he misheard them. It’s scary to see Jason get this worked up, but it was for you. Before you know it he’s got another guy hung up against the wall or dragged across the table by the collar of their shirt. He would comfort you afterwards, treating you to whatever you want. “You know you’re the prettiest baby at the party.” If anything they’re better off making fun of you instead of making crude comments about wanting to see what you look like under the costume, I think Jason would have to be locked up in Arkham after that if that were to happen. He’s still pulling strings with the batfam to teach them a lesson.

#billy loomis x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #stu macher x reader #michael myers x reader #patrick bateman x reader #jason voorhees x reader #leatherface x reader #harley quinn x reader #poison ivy x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve rodgers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #tiffany valentine x reader #billy hargrove x reader #stu matcher x reader #sebastian michaelis x reader #jason todd x reader #bruce wayne x reader #spencer reid x reader

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innerfare · 2 months ago

Text

Random Shanks Headcanons

Summary: A random collection of Shanks headcanons

CW: None // SFW

———

Has a fake arm that he uses for gags. Only he and Yasopp find it funny. Beckman once tossed the arm overboard after Shanks ‘lost’ the arm in a pot of Lucky Roux’s stew, only for Shanks to enter the mess hall the next morning with another attached to his body.

Can do magic tricks, especially good with coins and cards. A very skilled sleight of hand artist. Also not above using these tricks to cheat while playing cards. (Inspired by the coin game w/ Luffy flashback). Cheating is the only way he can beat Beckman, who’s by far the best player on the crew. But he doesn’t even cheat to win, he just likes the thrill of getting away with it; also enjoys the thrill of getting caught. There was a rabbit loose aboard the Red Force for a solid month after the captain tried to learn how to pull it out of a hat.

The best beer pong player in the New World, probably the entire world. Would challenge all of his enemies to a game of beer pong to settle their disputes if he thought they would respect the results of the game. Good at drinking games in general (has a little too much experience).

Is an infamous gossip. If a member of the crew wants word to get out about something, they just mention it to their captain.

Enjoys playing matchmaker. Always acts as a wingman for his crew when there’s a pretty bar maid. The only one he never tried to fix up with one of his crew mates was his darling Makino.

Are soap operas a thing in the One Piece universe? Because if so, he has a favorite that he never misses an episode of (fights hardest on Thursdays so he can be home in time to catch the latest episode of Search for One Piece, a pirate drama based loosely on Roger’s life. He particularly enjoys the harlequin character).

Loves meddling in any drama that comes up aboard the ship. Sometimes even starts drama just for entertainment, like the time he told Lucky Roux that he saw Limejuice sneaking steaks from the freezer, or when he robbed Beckman blind and left traces of a turkey leg at the scene of the crime.

Thinks childish pranks are the funniest thing in the world. Pranks prospective crew members to see how they respond; screens them based on whether they find his jokes funny. Beckman insists this is not the best way to do things but Shanks persists. But Shanks isn't just being childish. He's making sure everyone who joins his crew has a good nature as that is, in his opinion, the most important thing. If you can't trust your crew, you're dead in the water.

Was definitely posing when the government snapped the photo for his wanted poster but pretends it was completely candid. Has a habit of comparing his wanted poster to the posters of his enemies.

He also uses his wanted poster to fish for compliments, especially from his crew. “That’s a pretty good picture, isn’t it?” “I don’t look half bad in that, do I?” “The real reason the marines are hunting me- the sight of my wanted poster makes their wives swoon.”

Refers to himself as, “that handsome devil.”

Smells like body odor and weed, but in a Matthew McConaughey kind of way (that is to say, it works for him).

Animals and babies always like him. He insists the trick is to act uninterested.

He is genuinely good-natured, but he definitely uses his sense of humor to disguise how terrifying he truly is. Is a pro at lulling people into a false sense of security. Definitely slouches on purpose to seem less intimidating.

Secretly paid off Luffy's "treasure tab" at Makino's bar. Didn't do it just to be kind to the poor kid but actually because he believed Luffy when he said he'd pay it back in full and did it to annoy Luffy a decade or two down the line. (When Luffy finally goes back to pay Makino and she informs him Shanks already did, Luffy blows a gasket.)

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

#one piece #shanks #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #benn beckman #beckman #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #lime juice #lucky roux #yasopp #red hair pirates #red force #shanks headcanons #one piece headcanons

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genericpuff · 3 months ago

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Are there any characters from LO that you actually like/don’t mind

I have a lot more appreciation for Minthe now with all the hindsight that Hades and Persephone are often way worse than she is. She still had a lot of issues on her own end that she didn't deal with well, and while I would have liked to see her actually develop properly beyond her struggles both internal and with Hades, I think the best thing we could have asked for was Minthe being written out of the story the way she was. At least then Rachel couldn't continue to use her as a punching bag (she just tagged in Leuce for that, sigh)

Helios is great, zero issue with him. This scene is a lot funnier and more relatable to read in hindsight:

like ofc Helios is gonna rat on her, he's the fucking sun who's been around for thousands of years, why would he put any more of his limited freedom on the line for macaroni art LMAO (and yes, Rachel herself confirmed that Persephone made macaroni art cards for Helios, it's like... yeah okay it's cute but Persephone and Demeter still hid a crime from Zeus, the sentimental value of the birthday cards have no bearing on that LOL)

Thanatos is also in the camp of "characters I appreciate more in hindsight and wish got better character development". Adding in the 'twist' that he was Hades' adoptive son after we just spent nearly two seasons watching Hades treat him like just a lowly employee who didn't deserve his respect was certainly... a choice. And I don't think I should have to explain why it was a very very BAD one LOL

Hephaestus is also great, I know he's an extremely minor character whose only real role was to delete the blackmail photos from Apollo's phone but, like. look at him???

amazing. precious. sweet boy. and it has absolutely nothing to do with my absent older brother issues why would you say that- (｡•́︿•̀｡) that said, there are still flaws in his design (his prosthetics especially because he's constantly wearing running blades for every occasion which I feel like Rachel only chose because they "looked cool" and were "easier to draw" but like. his poor hips and back, that's gotta be uncomfortable 😭) but even just his face on its own is ironically one of the most unique character designs across the entire cast, not for any sort of outstanding or creative reasons, you just can't possibly mistake or color swap him with anyone else LMAO and though I can't feasibly give credit to Rachel for writing a neurodivergent character - because I have no clue if that was her intention here, afaik she's never really talked about it - I can wholly relate to him being the introverted computer guy who just wants to be left alone with his work and his airpods, like that's literally just me LOL

And of course nothing Rachel could ever do would make me hate Demeter, I think it's so ironic and tone deaf that Rachel claimed she "didn't get" why Demeter was so hated by the fans and didn't "agree" with the comparisons to Mother Gothel, but like... Rachel literally wrote her that way. And while she did "resolve" it, it wasn't with any actual empathy towards Demeter's own side of things, it was just bandaids on top of bandaids and then going "yep! She's all better now! That's character development!" Out of all the characters who deserved better, she was the one who deserved the most 😔💓

#ask me anything #ama #anon ask me anything #anon ama #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical

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cherrydoodle · 2 months ago

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Shuichi Saihara, Ultimate Writing Prodigy. Kaede Akamatsu, Ultimate Photographer.

A world-renowned mystery novelist, Shuichi wrote his first best seller when he was only ten years old. His next book, which pushed him into critical acclaim, was rumored to be so realistic in its crime that it reopened a real life cold case. His intricate prose, carefully crafted crime scenes, and tense investigations make his novels feel like a complex puzzle where every piece fits together perfectly. He insists that everything he writes is fictional, but what happens when he's forced to solve a real murder?

Obsessed with photography from a young age, Kaede held a camera long before she could even walk. While she's talented in all kinds of photography, her favorite kind is candid. She finds posed photos awkward, preferring to take pictures when the moment is right. This tendency to take pictures at random led her to be somewhat ostracized as a child, but she didn't mind. After all, making people smile is important to her, and she wants to preserve that happiness in her photos. No matter what, she wants to protect those smiles.

bonus: with kokichi

#danganronpa #ndrv3 #danganronpa killing harmony #danganronpa v3 #kaede akamatsu #akamatsu kaede #shuichi saihara #saihara shuichi #talentswap #ouma is there but not in the main image uhh #fuck it #ouma kokichi #kokichi ouma #gamer ouma au

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periwinkla · 6 months ago

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Phoenix's careful wording in 4-1

I noticed something about 4-1, Turnabout Trump. Phoenix uses very careful wording. He never outright lies, mostly misdirects. Like when he's asked if the locket is his, and he says the locket has his daughter's photo inside. But the most important misdirection here is about the forged card. He never shows it as actual evidence from the crime scene: if you look carefully at his words, he actually shows it as evidence of the reason why the killer would have taken the card. He's even meticulous about verb choices. In the ENG ver,, he even outright says the card is his. Everyone simply assumes. Also Apollo, unknowingly, doesn't present it as evidence from the crime scene, either. Anyway, here are some parts I found particularly incriminating. JP text beside ENG for comparison's sake. I'll only provide translation for the relevant parts (or the parts that differ between versions). But as you can see, the misdirection is there in the JP version as well. Disclaimer : I only studied Japanese for a little while. AA dialogue is pretty simple though. Also English isn't my native language either. Feel free to correct me on anything wrong here. Also note that I'm not trying to make the translations sound natural, I'm mostly trying to explain what the words are saying, sometimes I'll be more literal than others. Translation =/= localization. Translation notes and musings are in small text.

Judge いかがですかな？　弁護人。 Well, Mr. Justice? カードがスリ替えられて、持ち去られた“理由”‥‥ The question of why the killer would swap out a card has been raised. そのコンキョを提示できますか？ Can you point to a reason? Apollo (‥‥どうやら、　ここが“勝負どころ”だ！） (…It's now or never!) なぜ、カードはスリ替えられたのか‥‥。 Naze, kaado wa surikaerareta no ka... The defense would like to present evidence to the court… Naze, kaado wa surikaerareta no ka... Why the card was switched... 弁護側は、その“理由”を提示したいと思います。 Bengogawa wa, sono "riyuu" o teiji shitai to omoimasu. Evidence showing the reason why a card was swapped out! Bengogawa wa, sono "riyuu" o teiji shitai to omoimasu. The defense would like to present that "reason".

Judge これは‥‥まさか！ Could… this be…!? 現場から持ち去られた “５枚目のＡ”ですかッ！ Could this be the missing fifth ace!? Kristoph ば‥‥バカな！なぜ‥‥なぜ、キミが‥‥ In-Inconceivable! How could you… そんなものを持っているのだッ！ What are you doing with that card!? Apollo そ、それは‥‥その。（なんだ、このあわてようは‥‥） Um, well, that's the thing… (Why's Mr. Gavin so upset?) （アヤシイ女の子からもらった、　ただのアヤシイカードなのに） (Ayashii onna no ko kara moratta, tada no ayashii kaado na noni) (It's just a fishy card from some fishy girl…) (Ayashii onna no ko kara moratta, tada no ayashii kaado na noni) It's just a suspicious card given by a suspicious girl... Apollo doesn't even understand the weight of the card when he presents it. He's just doing what Phoenix is pointing him to. He thinks it's just a suspicious card, and he's only using it to provide a "reason". At first, I was confused by this, because he seemed convinced later on that the card was real. But it appears that at first, he was indeed suspicious of it. It's just as the trial goes on, he's manipulated to think the card is indeed real. Because he trusts Mr. Wright, which *seems* to say it's real. Phoenix そのカードはね。あの晩、事件の後‥‥ 《ボルハチ》で、ぼくが拾ったんだよ。 Sono kaado wa ne. Ano ban, jiken no ato... "Boruhachi" de, boku ga hirotta n da yo. Oh, that card? It's mine. That is, I picked it up at the Borscht Bowl Club that night after the murder had occurred. カードは商売道具だからね。 ‥‥ムスメにわたしておいたんだ。 Kaado wa shoubai dougu dakara ne. ...Musume ni watashite oita n da. I gave it to my daughter. Cards are her stock and trade, after all. In the ENG, 'It's mine' is actually an addition. Maybe to drive the point home more? The rest is the same though.

Phoenix じゃ、ハナシをつづけようか。 Ja, hanashi o tsuzukeyou ka. Allow me to elaborate. Ja, hanashi o tsuzukeyou ka. Well then, let's continue this discussion? (fun fact: hanashi can also be traslated as 'story', or even 'fable', you could say hanashi is the noun version of the verb hanasu (to talk, tell) so it's basically anything you 'talk' about) この“血痕”が原因だったとしたら、どうでしょう。 Kono "kekkan" ga gen'in datta to shitara, dou deshou. What if this trace of blood was the reason? Kono "kekkan" ga gen'in datta to shitara, dou deshou. (what) If this ''bloodstain'' was the cause... what do you think? The 'dou deshou' is usually also traslated as 'what do you think?' - it's used after you make a statement and you want to ask for the other person's opinion. But mostly it's a rethoric question. 'What about it?' would also fit. Also interesting how "bloodstain" is in quotation marks...

Phoenix 現場写真‥‥被害者の頭部をもう一度、よく見てください。 Take another look at the photo… and at the victim's head. 犯行の瞬間、帽子は床に落ちて、このとおり‥‥ At the moment of the crime, his hat fell to the floor… ひとすじの血が、後頭部に向かって流れています。 …and a trickle of blood ran from his forehead down the back of his head. この血が、一滴。カードに落ちた。 ‥‥そうは考えられないでしょうか。 Kono chi ga, hitoshizuku. Kaado ni ochita. ...Sou wa kangaerarenai deshou ka. Couldn't a drop of that blood have fallen on one of the cards? Kono chi ga, hitoshizuku. Kaado ni ochita. ...Sou wa kangaerarenai deshou ka. This blood, this drop. Fell on the card. ...Is that unthinkable? / ...Is that unimaginable? He's basically proposing a theory. Not said the card in Apollo's hand is actually the one. Apollo カードに、血が‥‥ Kaado ni, chi ga... I suppose… Kaado ni, chi ga... On the card, the blood (fell)... Apollo is following along with what he's saying. Phoenix ハンニンは、それをかくすためにカードを持ち去ったのです。 Hannin wa, sore o kakusu tame ni kaado o mochisatta no desu. The killer then took the card to hide the blood. Fun choice of words. 'no desu' = 'the explaination is that...' or, in this case: 'the explaination would be...' This is the more literal translation just to make it more obvious how he phrases it: The culprit, in order to hide that he took the card the explaination would be So in a way that it's actually comprehensible: The explaination would be that the culprit took the card in order to hide that (the blood).

Kristoph 成歩堂！　キミも一度は法廷に立ったオトコだ。 Wright! Regardless of how you wasted the last seven years, you used to be a lawyer! 証拠品を隠すことが、どれだけ大きな“罪”であるか‥‥ You know what a serious crime it is to conceal evidence! Phoenix そのギロンはあとだよ、先生。それよりも‥‥ Sono giron wa ato da yo, sensei. Sore yori mo... Oh, we can discuss the finer points of our legal system later… Found it funny how he calls him 'sensei' but in a way that is very mccking. 'Sensei' means someone who is masterful/very knowledgeable in something, in this context, law. He says 'Let's leave that discussion for later, sensei. More importantly...' これで、きみの疑問に答えるコトができたようだね。 Kore de, kimi no gimon ni kotaeru koto ga dekita you da ne. What's important now is that I've answered your question. Kore de, kimi no gimon ni kotaeru koto ga dekita you da ne. And with that, I was able to answer your question, wasn't I? Basically says the same thing, but uses 'dekiru' = 'to be able to' Kristoph な。なんのコトですか？ Wh-What are you talking about? Phoenix ハンニンがカードを持ち去った“理由”だよ。 Hannin ga kaado o mochisatta "riyuu" da yo. You wanted to know why the killer would have taken a card from the crime scene. Hannin ga kaado o mochisatta "riyuu" da yo. The "reason" the culprit took the card. カードに残った、１滴の血。 Kaado ni nokotta, hitoshizuku no chi. And now, I've told you. A drop of blood, it feel on the card. (That was why) 彼にとっては“致命的”だった。 ‥‥だから、持ち去った。 Kare ni totte wa "chimeiteki" datta. ...Dakara, mochisatta. That one drop of blood would have been decisive evidence, you see. Kare ni totte wa "chimeiteki" datta. ...Dakara, mochisatta. For him, that (the drop of blood) was 'fatal'. ...So, he took it.

Overall, the word choice in both JP and ENG is very careful, but in different ways since... obviously they're different languages with different idiosyncrasies. In conclusion....

Phoenix basically treated the card not as evidence from a crime scene, but more of an example, a recreation, a construction. Never said that was the actual card. Made people assume. Didn't correct them. So... he manipulated their thoughts. He's like 'oh, you want to know the reason? well, let's see, why would the killer take the card...? well maybe it had incriminating evidence on it - oh what kind of evidence? look at this card here - see this drop of blood? what if the blood fell from the victim's head on the card? so he had to take it - because it would have made it obvious the killer entered from the secret passage and how the murder actually happened' Something that breaks my heart immensly about all this is that Apollo is so adamant at the start of the trial that Mr. Wright would never lie... and he's furious and heartbroken that he basically manipulated him (and everyone else), instead. Phoenix literally couldn't lie anyway, because then Apollo would have known. If you think about it, it's kind of how Engarde was able to lie to Phoenix even though he had the magatama. He purposefully and meticulously manipulated people to think the evidence was real, without ever saying it. Putting the words in other people's mouths. (Also... at least to me, this seems a very prosecutor-like tactic. Perhaps even Von Karma-like.)

Why does he even tell Apollo that he forged it? (He didn't have to.) Because he felt guilty. Apollo asks how he can call himself an attorney and he tells him he, in fact, doesn't call himself one. Doesn't have the right to. Phoenix isn't a liar - he says so himself after the trial, he never lied - but he sure is a manipulator here. But he does feel guilty. He lets Apollo punch him. And he smiles. I think this shows how even when we believe that what we're doing is wrong, we might do it anyways. Out of desperation, anyone might cave and go against their own morals.

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #apollo justice #kristoph gavin #ace attorney apollo justice #musings #aa musings #aa localization

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reidmania · 4 months ago

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Could you do a Derek Morgan x reader fic where they are soulmates and the reader is a Detective on a case?

unprofessional | derek morgan

summary ; when derek meets the detective on a case, he can’t help but feel a draw towards her — its unprofessional.

warnings; detective!fem!reader! mentions murder and rape, normal cm stuff. flirty flirty.

an ; i kinda hated how this turned out bc it was just not right whatsoever and i feel like i completely flunked the request but i can def rewrite it if u want!!

Your hands bushed over the case files as you set them down on the table, you were engrossed in a conversation with a police officer. You had been called in to help with a case along side the FBI BAU — yet they weren’t here yet.

Or so you thought, although you stood corrected when there was a knock at the door of the conference room you were standing in, turning around at the sound you looked up.

“Hello, Im Agent Aaron Hotchner from the bau” The male introduced, stepping inside the room, you watched as their team found there way in, shaking hands with the officer each, besides one guy who you had learnt the name of — Spencer Reid.

“This is our detective on the case” The officer introduced you before you took over, telling them your name and last name as you went down the line shaking each of their hands, skipping over Spencer — instead opting for a little wave out of respect.

You breath caught in your throat as you looked at the guy standing next to him — to say he was stunning was an understatement. You instantly felt the urge to gush about how he looked like a work of art — but you opted for keeping in professional.

“Derek Morgan” He introduced as he held his hand out, you wasted no time placing your hand into his, it consumed all your focus for a moment as you focused on the every rough callous in his soft hands, you could feel the indent on his trigger finger as it rested against the palm of your hand.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You said, once you regained your focus enough — you were glad it was quick enough— before the hand shake got too long and slightly awkward.

He shot a toothy grin in your direction as you stepped back, leaning against the conference table as you looked over the team, but your eyes kept wandering back to Derek Morgan.

“The case?” Hotch asked, stepping forward, instantly his team followed his movement, making themselves comfortable in the room to which they’d be spending a lot of time in.

“Two murders, both female victims. They were raped before their murders and both killed in the same way, a slit throat” You partly cringed as the image flooded your mind before you could stop it.

“Any similarities between the two victims?” Spencer spoke up, the officer looked over at you, making you stand quietly as you took the floor.

You had been working closely with the crime scene over the last few days before the bau were called in. You had taken notice of everything, every detail, everything there was to notice — you’d notice it.

“Physically, no. Expect they both had evident birth marks, ones easy to be seen, on arms or shoulders — it may be nothing but that was the only physical similarity besides them both being seemingly attractive” You walked around the table over to the board to hang up a few photos, close ups of the birth marks.

“And we are sure this is the same unsub?” You smiled when Derek spoke — not in a way that questioned your abilities but more pure curiosity to how you had gotten to that answer:

You nodded “Yep” popping the P in the end of your sentence as you held up a few more photos, sticking them to the whiteboard. “He left the name note next to their bodies, signed it off with a signature.” You said.

Emily chewed at her lip as she looked over the photo. “It looks printed” She noticed, a few of the other members looked over the photo at her notice.

“Exactly — but not fake, it’s a real signature. We did some digging — Well I did.” You muttered before opening a different case, you wet your thumb as you flicked through pages of paper, before pulling out a couple different sheets, placing them on the table for the agents to look over.

“Three online purchases were made with that signature.. on the same illegal website” You muttered as you flicked through some more paper. “Where he brought a knife from — the same sort of knife found used for the girls deaths, pharmaceuticals but like heavy ones — id say the names but im sure i’d just screw it up” You muttered as you placed the receipt on the table.

“It looks like you got this all figured out girly, what do you need us for” Derek asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leant back in his chair. You smiled widely at his comment, it felt complementary.

“Well as great as I am” You played along, “Im no fbi profiler. I don’t know who we are looking for, I just wanted to make your job as easy as possible” You smiled.

Derek smiled back just as widely, “Got anything else for us pretty?” He asked.

“Morgan” Hotch’s tone was laced with warning.

You knew what it was; it was the stop flirting tone.

“It’s okay” You nodded to Hotch, “I do actually” You said, leaning back against the whiteboard against the wall as you looked back at Derek. “The crime scenes were very similar but not close — distance wise. They both were in public area’s on the side of the road and both victims weren’t found until early mornings, but had been dead for nearly ten hours previously” You explained.

“So he dropped them during the night?” Elle asked, you nodded. “Well I assume so” You shrugged.

“Anything else?” Hotch asked, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he looked over the pages you had placed on the table.

“Yes — grains of the same coffee brand were found on the girls shirts and in their hair. Theres only one coffee shop that sells those beans but that is nearly an hour away from where the victims were found.”

“So either we have a coffee enthusiast who drives an hour for a specific brand of coffee, or someone who lives closer to the shop.” Spencer said, frowning slightly as he tried to think about all the possibilities.

“Coffee enthusiasts? You aren’t the unsub are you?” Derek asked, nudging Spencer’s side slightly, making you smile as Spencer took offence.

“Ill leave you guys be” You smiled as you excused yourself from the room, leaving to do another sweep of the crime scenes just to see if there was anything you missed.

It wasn’t until two days later you were back, you were instantly met with the smell of fresh coffee as you walked into the conference room to find it empty, besides Derek Morgan sitting there.

“Hey pretty, how’d ya go” He asked, sipping the cup of coffee in his hands as he leant back in his chair. You chuckled at the nickname before taking a seat on the other side of the table.

“Yeah— nothing new, which I expected because I don’t miss things” You sighed dramatically, your tone was evidence of the cockiness being a joke.

Derek beamed back at you. “I believe you. You had me fooled, i was questioning why we came here.” He teased lightly.

“Oh but Im no profiler, just a detective” You said, as if it was such a comparison. He chuckled lightly, “They aren’t all that different, im sure you could’ve figured this one out on your own — I think you just wanted the bau to come out so you could see me.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

You genuinely chuckled, “Oh no!!- you caught me. Derek Morgan — my hero” You played into his teasing meeting your match, placing your hand against your chest speaking with dramatic admiration.

He just grinned, “Where is everyone?” You asked, looking around the room.

“Who knows” He shrugged, before shaking his head “Nah- They went out to interview the victims families.” He said once he actually processed your question.

You nodded your head opening the casefile to read over it again, it was a habit you adapted to early in your career. It was easy to miss little things, and it was your job not to miss them.

“You all good?”?” Derek asked, you looked up for a moment noticing his eyes boring into yours — you wondered if he ever looked away once you did, or if his gaze stayed on you, his forearms were resting against the conference table.

You nodded your head, eyebrows slightly furrowed. “Im all good.. Why? Do I not look all good” You asked, slightly worried maybe you came across upset or something — you weren’t. You were actually completely content

“No you look very good”

Your cheeks flushed at his compliment, making you shake your head, pulling away from his gaze as a smile tugged on the corner of your lips. “You’re a sweet talker.” You muttered.

He grinned widely as he leant back in his chair. “Yeah? Is it working?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Your stomach tugged slightly — you weren’t the type to get nervous nor intimidated yet you could feel your cheeks heating.

“Are you flirting with me, Agent Morgan?” You eyes flicked away from file, back up to meet his eyes, your eyes lingered on his own for a moment.

He shrugged, “Would that be unprofessional?” He asked, clocking his eyebrow as his head tilted to the side, you watched as his eyes trailed over his face.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I think we both knew the answer to that.” You reminded. Although you knew in the back of your mind, it was one case.

He hummed in reply but his eyes never left your face. “Okay.” He nodded, before sitting up a bit straighter, rubbing his hand gently over his lip before leaning forward against the table.

You smile, tilting your head the opposite direction that his was slightly tilted — there was something so enchanting about the way he looked at you, like there was something he couldn’t get out of his mind. — like he couldn’t get you out of his mind.

“Do we care that it’s unprofessional?” He asked, your eyes traveled slightly down his face as the question brought heat to your cheeks. Over the last couple of days there had been a lot of subtle and not so subtle flirting between the two of you, sometimes it wasn’t even intentional. you two just had such good banter.

“Do we?” You asked, not quite sure what to say. You didn’t entirely care, it was for one case that was almost completely solved anyways, but there was a look on your face that showed your evident doubt — it was unprofessional and there was an underlying amount of guilt that you buried, it was unprofessional and you carried yourself on being professional.

He seemed to notice, he didn’t push, or blame, instead he just smiled sweetly at you. “I think we might, just a little bit” He said. You appreciated the way he didn’t single you out.

You didn’t know what to say as you looked over his features, the way he grinned with such expression, the smile on his face matching his eyes.

“So..” He said, clapping his hands together. “To be completely professional.. How about once we finish this date I take you out.” He said, shrugging his shoulders as if it was nothing.

You smiled widely at his suggestion, respecting your boundaries while maintaining the banter and interest between you two — All while asking you out.

“I’d like that.”

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