#physics exam today was criminal

[yeokii]

One more day for My exams.....I'm Tweaking..........

[mypoisonedvine]

𝖇𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖙𝖘 | professor!jonathan crane x batgirl!reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 | it can be difficult, living a double life: spending your days as a scholarship student at gotham university, and your nights as batgirl, the legendary heroine, fighting alongside batman and robin. though it proves to take a toll on you mentally and physically, flunked term papers and missed lectures will be the least of your problems when you encounter the scarecrow somewhere in the shadowy alleyways of gotham...

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 7k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 | NONCON SMUT (18+ only; violent/rough sex, use of fear toxin, degradation, semi-public sex/exhibitionism, bondage), professor/student dynamic (therefore implied age gap), some angst and depiction of ptsd/aftermath, reader is dating robin/tim drake

“And so,” Professor Crane continued, looking towards the class from the board, chalk in hand, "this triggers the fear response, and all that comes with it.  You're probably familiar with the symptoms of fear: heart rate increase, cold sweat, overall heightened arousal."

A few giggles could be heard at that, and he rolled his eyes.

"Not that sort of arousal, necessarily," he frowned.

Everyone else just brushed off the childish humor of the moment, but you narrowed your eyes, getting a sense that the word necessarily was doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence.

He returned to his lecture, drawing lines in chalk over his crude diagram of the human brain, explaining how each area of the brain contributed to fear and the fight-or-flight response.  As he spoke, you re-read the handout he’d given today— and you chewed on your lip absent-mindedly as you reviewed the bibliography.

"Dr. Crane?" you raised your hand, interrupting his lecture mid-sentence.  "I had a question about some of the studies you reference here."

"Yes?" he returned, turning to face you with a slightly confused expression.

"Well you cite a paper out of Berkeley from 2002, to support the conclusion that exposure therapy is the best response to aggressive phobias— however, if you actually read the paper—"

"I read the paper, Miss," he interrupted sternly.

"Then, if you actually understood the paper," you continued, a few students gasping and laughing softly at your insubordination, "then you would see that the conclusions indicate the perceived decrease in fear response comes at the expense of long-term stability.  Don't you think that negates any positive implications?"

The silence in the room was tense: everyone was waiting for how he would respond to your critique.  Instead, he just smiled at you slightly.  "I think you may have more context for how research is conducted, and reevaluate your conclusions, when you get a chance to organize your own research— in about a decade."

"Actually, Professor, I'll be leading my own experiment this quarter," you corrected, just as he was about to turn away from you and keep lecturing.  "I'm the recipient of the Wayne Enterprises Collegiate Scholarship— which pays for my education here and also comes with a fifty thousand dollar research grant."

“Ah,” he said, bitterness dripping from his tone as he set his hands on the desk and leaned forward a bit.  “May I ask what topic you hope to explore with your research?”

“Crime,” you explained, “and criminal behavior.”

“Hm,” he nodded, frowning slightly in an impressed sort of way, taking his weight off the desk.  “And it doesn’t bother you that you’re here studying psychology?”

You lowered your brow, confused by his question.  “I’m sorry?”

“Criminology is a subfield of sociology, which is related to but distinct from psychology,” he explained.

“Would you recommend that I switch majors, Doctor?” you asked simply.

“Well, it’s no secret that you’ve set the curve on our last two exams,” Dr. Crane smiled, tilting his head slightly.  “So, no— I think I’d rather keep you here.”

You straightened up slightly, taken aback by his wording.

“Plus, while you’re still in my department,” he continued, “I have a better chance of talking some sense into you.”

With that, he returned to teaching, and you noticed how the other students were watching you before you sighed and tried to listen to the rest of class.

~

You caught up with him on a long stretch of hallway, just as he stepped up to his office door.  “Professor!” you got his attention, and he turned to you with a slightly smug look as he held his hands together.

“Ah, yes,” he greeted, “I see you’re here to apologize for how you spoke to me in class today?”

You knew he didn’t actually expect that, he knew better after having you under him for the last two quarters— um, so to speak.  “Just as soon as you do,” you offered with a smirk in return, shifting your weight on your hip.

That was what moved your button-down slightly, and his eyes drifted down to your neck— when they did, confusion and concern suddenly painted his expression. “My,” he gasped a little, pulling on the collar of your shirt with one finger to expose a healing scrape on your chest; his fingertip brushed over your skin and the golden chain of your necklace, and you jumped away slightly.  “How’d you get that?”

“It’s nothing—” you blurted out, blinking quickly, “I tripped, on campus, actually.”

“That wonky step up to the Commons?” he assumed.  “I’ve filed two complaints about that loose brick…”

“Yes,” you agreed quickly, smiling.  “Yeah, I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I didn’t catch myself well while holding my books—”

“Hm,” he nodded back, “that’s a shame.  A girl as smart as you, forgetting the Commons building doesn’t have brick steps— or steps at all, in fact.”

You swallowed thickly, glancing away. 

“You sure were eager for an explanation, though,” he smiled.  “How’d you really get such a nasty scrape?  It does look like concrete, but I’m guessing it didn’t happen on campus—”

“It’s no matter,” you assured.

“It wasn’t that boyfriend of yours, was it?” he pressed.  “Mr. Drake, as I recall?”

“Wha— no!” you gasped.

“He’s not your boyfriend?”

“Well, he is,” you explained, “but he didn’t—”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Crane offered, lowering his voice slightly.  

“Of course,” you sighed, “but there’s nothing to tell.  Things are fine with Tim, I promise.” 

“He shared your interest in criminal studies, didn’t he?” Professor Crane recalled.  “Clearly, he didn’t share your scholarly aptitude, though, seeing as he’s dropped out.”

“H-he was smart enough,” you justified, “he left because of stress.”

“Ah,” the Professor nodded, “and he doesn’t take that stress out on you at all?”

“C’mon, Professor, Tim’s a good person,” you promised.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Crane replied, “but it’s the ones that act the kindest that have the most to hide, isn’t it?”

You knew there was another meaning to that statement, but there were so many possibilities that you couldn’t settle on one.

“You understand that if I suspect anything, I’m required to alert our student wellness services,” he reminded you.  “They’ll have a counselor reach out to you—”

“Listen, Dr. Crane— I didn’t come here to speak to you about my personal life,” you reminded him, “I wanted to ask you about my performance in the class so far, in your opinion.”

He paused before sighing in relent.  “I’m a little concerned, actually,” he admitted, “about your most recent paper.”

He pulled it from the folder under his arm and handed it back to you— covered in red ink.  You blinked at him, biting your lip in confusion.  “I thought these wouldn’t be returned until—”

“I worked on yours first,” he explained quickly, even though that explanation only brought more questions than answers.  “It’s still very strong, but it’s not what I expect from you at this point.  It feels rushed.”

Rushed— yeah, I remember this one.  I wrote it all the night it was due because I spent the three days before recovering from that fight with Falcone’s thugs at the docks—

“I’ll let you rewrite it,” he offered, “if you can get it back to me before I return the rest of your classmates’ work.”

You laughed a little, looking at the paper in front of you, and Crane knitted his brows together.  “You know, Professor, sometimes I can’t tell if I’m your favorite student, or your most hated.”

He smiled a little, glancing down briefly at the floor in a sort of self-effacing way.  “I don’t have favorites,” he assured, unconvincingly.  “You’re not my best student, or my worst— you’re an entirely different kind of student.  You’re nothing like those other… juvenile, moronic co-eds looking in the exact wrong place for an easy A.”

Your eyes widened a little, seeing the way he let a little irritation— disdain, really— paint his tone.  He snarled a bit as he spoke, his nostrils flaring; like he was holding it back, how much resentment he really had for your classmates.  

As quickly as it came, he seemed to shake it off, and then he smiled again… but it was tight, and forced, you could see that just as easily.  “You challenge me,” he finished quickly.  “I appreciate that as much as I detest it.”

You smiled back, somewhat genuinely despite the icky feeling that suddenly wiggled in your stomach.  “I suppose I feel the same way,” you admitted.

He opened his mouth, hesitating slightly, before tilting his head the other way and starting over.  “Could you come into my office for a minute?” he asked suddenly, a strange glimmer in his eyes behind the thin silver glasses.  “I’d like to show you my latest work— I think you’ll find it quite intriguing…”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a ring of keys and started to unlock his office door, and you didn’t feel too excellent about it.

Just then, a group of students walked by, and you heard them talking amongst each other as one looked at a text message on her phone.  “Oh my god,” one said as she explained to those around her, “my friend’s at the bank right now— she said someone’s holding up the place…”

“What?” another student asked, and you tilted your head a bit to hear them better.

“Yeah, the one on Main and 57th?  The police aren’t there yet— she said they have guns…” 

Your heart started to race.  Sounds like a job for Batgirl.

Crane was in his own world, though, about to open the door.  “Maybe I can even convince you to change some of your conclusions about the study of fear,” he posited.

You stepped back, motivated to leave just as much by a strange suspicion of Professor Crane as the opportunity to stop the nearby bank robbery.  “I-I have to go,” you said, before you’d thought of a good excuse— and that hadn’t gone well for you last time, but hopefully he wasn’t going to quiz you on campus architecture again to trip you up.

He looked confused, a little sad even, as he turned to you again.  “This won’t take long,” he promised, “I’d just like to show you—”

“Sorry,” you blurted out as you kept backing up, “I gotta… you know, um… buy tampons.”

Hoping something that awkward would get him to stop asking questions, you turned on your heel and darted off down the hall, looking for the best way off campus and to a secluded spot where you could pull your Batgirl get-up out of the false compartment in your bag and get to work.

~

“I don’t like you going out there alone,” Bruce said flatly, not looking up from his hands clasped in his lap.

“Wow, really?” you rolled your eyes, feigning surprise.  “News to me.”

“You’re too young, and it’s dangerous,” he continued anyway.

“Doing all the greatest hits tonight, huh?” you smirked.  “Next you’ll say you need to keep up your identity better, study hard so no one suspects you and then finish it off with don’t touch the Batmobile.”

He sighed and shook his head.  “You can touch it, you just can’t drive it.”

“Right,” you agreed flatly, sighing as you adjusted in your spot on the couch.  You’d taken up shop here in the Wayne Manor private library: something about your interaction with Professor Crane yesterday made you want to study off-campus for the afternoon…

You knew Bruce had a point about working alone— you didn’t really want to be alone, you were certainly safer when you had Batman by your side.  The problem was that you were too safe… Bruce protected you so well that he hindered you; you’d accused him of wanting you to just stay behind and patch him up after fights rather than actually helping.  He denied it, obviously, but actions speak louder than words— and there was such a difference in the way he treated you and Robin was obvious.

In fact, that itself had driven a wedge between you and your boyfriend— one of many reasons Bruce had implored you both not to get involved in that way, but it was sort of unavoidable.  You can only do such high intensity, high pressure work alongside someone for so long before the tension is too much to bear… 

Then again, that very tension that made your relationship with Tim threatened to break it, and you knew that— you felt that, even now, as he looked at you with a sympathetic sort of stare.  You cleared your throat and focused on your book again.

“Please don’t go out without us again,” Tim asked— softer, sweeter, lacking that father-figure-sternness Bruce was always trying to muster.

“I think the people in that bank are pretty happy that I did,” you replied with a snarky smile.

“We were on our way—” Bruce began.

“It was a one man job!” you insisted.

“There were seven men on that heist team— and two more parked outside,” Bruce explained, getting more frustrated as this discussion continued.  “It doesn’t matter.  We work as a team.”

“Except when you go out alone,” you reminded him.

“I’ve been doing this longer,” he explained, standing up, “I’ve been doing it better, and I’ve been doing it on my own since you were still in high school.”

“Then why did you take me in?” you returned sharply, knitting your brows together in confusion and frustration.  “Why did you train me, why did you bring me here and tell me the truth?”

“Because I saw your potential,” he answered as he began to walk away, “not because you’re ready to save the whole fucking world by yourself.”

You shook your head in frustration— almost disbelief, except of course he would do this— as Bruce shut the door behind him.  Conversation didn’t go his way, he just left— that was normal.  Ironic, for a man who interrogated criminals on the street almost daily.

“He’s right,” Tim informed you after a pregnant pause, and you glared at him.

“Would you excuse me?  I have to study,” you explained sharply as you motioned to the textbooks and notepads laid out on the table, as you’d had them before you were interrupted by these two, “because apparently the best thing Batgirl can do is not be Batgirl.”

“Hey,” Tim sighed, “he doesn’t mean it like that… he just wants you to keep focusing on your studies, that’s all.”

“I just think it’s funny—” you began.

“I bet it’s not gonna be very funny,” Tim noticed with a frown.

“— that Bruce thinks it’s so important that I keep my grades up so nobody knows what I’m doing at night— so nobody knows that I’m not getting any goddamn sleep— but you got to drop out and that apparently wasn’t going to make anybody suspicious?” you noticed.  “You know, I had a professor ask me about you today— wondering what was up with you leaving so suddenly.  Why is nobody worried about that?”

“We worry about you because we care about you,” he explained.

You tossed your books aside, standing up to face Tim properly.  “That’s bullshit,” you spat.

“You think I don’t care about you, seriously?” he asked.

“I know you care about me, but you don’t respect me,” you explained, “neither of you do.  You two go off and do what you want, you’d rather me be your nurse than actually be out there— when you know damn well that you need me!”

“I need you,” Tim promised, “in so many ways.  That’s why I can’t let anything happen to you—”

“Well, things need to happen to me sometimes!  Isn’t that what life is, things happening to you?!” you laughed exasperatedly.  “I mean, shit, why do I go to school at all?  Why don’t you guys just lock me at the top of Wayne Tower and I’ll never ever leave and you can just climb up my hair when you wanna come visit!”

“Christ,” Tim groaned, “you are so fucking ridiculous sometimes— what are you trying to prove?  Why do you need to be out there every night beating up bad guys, whether Bruce tells you to or not?”

Instead of answering that, you simply accused: “He obviously likes you better than me.”

“Is that really what this is about?  You want Bruce to like you?!” Tim scoffed.  “Are you that shallow?”

“I want him to trust me!” you clarified.  “I want him to understand what I’m capable of!”

“You know what you’re capable of,” he replied, grabbing your shoulders.  “I know.  Is that not enough?”

You let out a long breath, looking down at the floor.

“I love you,” Tim sighed— but it didn’t sound very sweet when he said it like that, it sounded sad.

“I love you too,” you replied instinctively, but it felt oddly hollow leaving your lips.

“Please,” he breathed as he pressed his forehead to yours, “please stay safe.  You’re stronger than me, you can take a lot more than I can.”

You were about to ask him what he meant by that, since you both knew he was physically stronger and more resilient than you, walking away from fights that could’ve put you in a stretcher.  But before you could ask, he spoke again.

“My heart can only take so much.”

But that only proved your point, though you didn’t tell him out loud: that what him and Bruce wanted you to do had nothing to do with your strength, and everything to do with their weakness.

~

In your defense, you took the night off.

But the next night, you had to get out there— Bruce and Tim told you to stay behind so Batman and Robin could go save the day, and you?  You were holding down the fort, keeping the couch warm.  What a fucking waste; there was more evil in this city than two men could purge— there was more for you to do.  As tempting as it was to meet them at the rendezvous location they’d figured out and try to help clear out the gangsters there buying an illegal weapons shipment, you knew that would just lead to the same fight again.  This time, the plan was to go out, kick some criminal ass, come back, and leave Bruce none the wiser.

You scanned police radios patiently, waiting for just the right thing— small enough to fix on your own, big enough to matter.  You wished, sometimes, that you had less to choose from…

Units respond, units respond — 10-79 reported at West Main and 88th.

Bomb threat.  That felt manageable, and you were pretty handy with defusal in case that threat had any credibility.  You turned off the radio and stood up, looking down over the city from your vantage point on a highrise fire escape.  It was beautiful, in its grimy Gotham way: a light rainfall coated everything in a fuzzy static like old film; it made the concrete reflect the neon lights a little clearer, the whole skyline sort of slick and steamy.  

Running and jumping to the next roof, you made a path to your destination and navigated the city unseen, like any good Bat-person would.

You were nearly there when you stopped on a roof above an abandoned manufacturing plant— well, that’s the thing, it wasn’t as abandoned as you thought.  There was a glass sunroof, and even though it was dark and rainy, the light inside brought your attention to a group of men inside.  Not to profile or anything, but 4 bald guys with guns standing around is usually a good sign that someone’s up to no good…

Trying to get a better look at what was going on inside, you carefully lifted one of the glass panels and slipped inside, sneaking around the metal scaffolding as the sound of the rain was muffled and replaced with distance, echoing voices.

You crouched in the rafters, watching with narrowed eyes as the group of men faced against a figure you couldn’t make out with the shadows and pillars in the way.

“So, are we good for this deal, or what?” the leader of the group asked.

A modulated, deeper voice answered: “This is half of what we agreed.”

“My team had some… road bumps, trying to bring this to you,” the man explained, stepping forward slightly.  “We lost some of the compound.  This is what we’re offering, take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it,” the shadowy figure agreed.  “How much for what’s left?”

“The same price we discussed.”

“For half the amount?  How does that work?”

“It’s a flat rate,” the smuggler— that’s what he must have been, right?— explained with a smug smirk.  “In fact, I should charge you more— call it hazard pay, for what my men had to go through to get this here.”

“I see,” the deeper voice replied.  “How about this: I kill all of you, and take it.”

Your eyes widened; isn’t this guy alone?  He’s sure got some balls…

The group of men paused before beginning to laugh.  “You?” the leader repeated.  “This skinny guy in the suit is gonna kill all of us?”

“I can do worse than that— I’ll make you beg for me to kill you.”

Feeling the tension of this discussion reach its breaking point, you realized you needed to intervene now: leaning over to make sure you had the right spot under you, you took the grappling hook off of your belt and pointed it down.

Firing it with a metallic whooshing sort of sound, the device grabbed one of the men and yanked him up into the shadows of the ceiling with you.  Everyone on the ground looked up in shock and fear, pointing their guns aimlessly into the darkness.  Before he could even really react to what had just occurred, you dropped the man back down— onto one of his friends, of course, which incapacitated them both but saved him from a much worse fate than if he’d landed on that concrete warehouse floor.

“What the fuck?” the leader of the group yelled as he tried to fire indiscriminately up at you— but you were already running along the steel beam, following one of the men as he tried to make a dash for the exit.

A blast from your long-distance taser gun brought him to the ground instantly, and as the last one left searched for the source of your attacks, you jumped down to the ground just behind him, landing in a crouched position.  As soon as he’d turned around to face you, you’d grabbed a loose metal pipe from nearby and hit him over the head with an oddly-satisfying bong noise.

You knew the other man was still somewhere in the dark nearby, and you called out for him: “Whoever you are, stop hiding in the shadows: that’s kinda my thing,” you informed him.

He stepped forward in the cool, gray light: a man in a torn and tattered suit, with a burlap mask that had massive stitches like scars.  Batman had just warned you about this guy, what was his name again?

"My," he purred with pleasant shock, his voice clearly deepened electronically by something in that sack on his head.  "If it isn't Batgirl.  Nice outfit, very… shiny."

"Yours looks pretty rough," you noticed.

He shrugged.  "It does the job."

You smiled back, remembering finally who you were dealing with.  "Not with me.  I'm not scared of you, Scarecrow."

"You will be," he promised.

You swung first, a roundhouse kick right at his head, but he ducked and came back up at you— he tried to grab you but you slipped away.

Instead of going after you again, he ran— grabbed one of the suitcases off of the palette nearby, whatever this ‘shipment’ was, and bolted for the door into the alleyway.  You almost laughed, impressed that he thought he could outrun you, but then again this was the guy who threatened to kill four armed men straight to their face.

You chased him right out the door, but as you dashed into the alley behind the manufacturing plant— the one that faced the northern street— you learned a moment too late that he hadn’t run at all, but was waiting for you there.

He sprayed something in your face, and you coughed as a cloud of vapor filled your lungs.  You assumed it was pepper spray at first, but it didn't burn— actually, it smelled a little sweet, sort of herbal.  But the effects were almost instantaneous, the pounding in your chest and the sinking feeling in your gut, the world spinning around you.

The fear response: heart rate increase, cold sweat, overall heightened arousal.

Instantly you felt old memories rushing in— awful, horrifying ones, and even worse than you remembered them.  For a moment, there was fear with no real object, just the feeling… until he grabbed your face and forced you to look at him, at the wicked mask that seemed impossibly close— that seemed like it could swallow you whole.  You screamed, trying to turn away or shut your eyes or something, but nothing assuaged the terror.

"Please," you sobbed.  "Make it stop!  Please!"

“Nothing can stop it now,” his voice returned— even rougher and darker than before, the deep bass of it making you shiver.  “This is who you are.  Give in to the fear.”

If nothing else, he had a point that fighting it wasn’t proving very useful— but giving in meant letting the world collapse in on you, letting the darkness pull you back… the darkness you’d fought so hard to make into an ally was becoming your enemy again.  

He grabbed your mask and tugged it away; even overwhelmed with primal terror, enough logic remained for you to reach up and try to cover your face.

But he simply grabbed your hands and shoved them away.  You heard a laugh behind that horrible mask, just before he suddenly took it off.

The toxin changed his face, too— his smile was wider and his teeth sharper, his eyes totally black— and you couldn't recognize him at first.  Only when he addressed you by name did you finally put it together; "Professor Crane?" you realized with a horrified gasp.

"I imagine you haven't finished rewriting that paper yet?"

"Oh god," you sobbed, "you— you're— how can you do this?"

You struggled against him again, but he held you back effortlessly.  “I said I liked you because you’re a challenge,” he remembered with a laugh.  “But out here, you’re no challenge at all.  Just a stupid little girl in a mask.”

He slapped you hard across the face, making you stumble even more as you lost your balance, colliding with the damp black asphalt.

He descended onto you, turning you on your back when you tried to hide your face in your arm as an escape from the terrifying visions.  “I’ve been waiting for a chance to put you in your place,” he admitted with a growl as he started to pull your armored clothes off of you roughly.  “You act a little too fearless for my liking… good to know it’s all an act.”

You cried, shaking and flailing beneath him, but you couldn’t actually put up a fight like this— the darkness throbbed around you, shadows reaching out to pull you into their abyss.  “Please,” you begged again, “no!  Stop, please!”

You weren’t even sure yourself if you were talking to him or to the hallucinated, anthropomorphized energy in the dark, but neither stopped.  He struggled at times to get your clothes off, they weren’t exactly designed to come off quickly but you shuddered violently from the cool night air when your chest was exposed.  You heard a deep growl from him, and you whimpered loudly as his hands ran over your skin.  “What are you so scared of?” he asked, sounding amused— but in your mind, those hands were claws that could shred you to pieces at any moment, and you breathed so fast that your chest just spasmed and quaked.  “I think you’ve been needing this for a while…”

He roughly turned you onto your stomach, face down against the street, and started to tug down your pants.  You were too scared to even beg him to stop, to try to bargain or reason with him— you just shuddered and cried, hiding your face and hoping for relief from the dread.

He smacked you on your bare ass, once it was exposed, and chuckled to himself at your whine in response.  The next thing you heard was the sound of a belt opening, a zipper unzipped…

Was it the toxin that made you afraid he would rip you in half, when he pressed his erection against your thigh?  Or was that just common sense?

You grimaced when you heard him spit into his hand, but it fell into a whining cry as he pushed his tip against your opening.  With your pants only down to your knees, you couldn’t even spread your legs at all, making you feel even more like there was no chance he could fit.  The sick, anxious fear felt a little different now— maybe not as strong, but mostly just something new… something deeper and subtler and heavier.  It wasn’t visions of monsters or memories of suffering, it was just this inevitable violation and the sureness that you were completely helpless.

He pushed his hips forward sharply, making you scream out and instantly reach back to try to grab his hips and push them away.  He ignored it and kept going forward with a low groan.  “Mm, you can take it,” he promised gruffly.  “Fucking take it.”

You cried as he put a hand on your shoulders, keeping you pressed down painfully into the ground, as he slid the rest of the way in.

It stung, it stretched you in an awful way and went far too deep… but you were wet, you could feel it.  Overall heightened arousal… not that sort of arousal, necessarily.  He obviously noticed as well, growling a bit.  “You like this, hm?” he accused.

“N-no,” you managed to slur, but it was hard to even breathe with his weight pressing you down.  You pushed back harder against his thighs through his undone trousers, but he growled and grab your hand to pin it down above your head.  He brought the other up beside it, and quickly pulled his belt out from the loops to tie around your wrists.  “Professor,” you pleaded under your breath, feeling your warm tears mix with the cold rain on the ground.

But he was already inside you, it was too late for that— and with your hands conveniently out of the way, he breathed heavy as he started to pull back and shove back in.

There was no build-up after that, he just fucked you as hard and fast as he wanted with no regard for how you cried and struggled under him.  He grabbed your hair and forced your head back awkwardly as you sobbed.

“Say my name,” he ordered, apparently irritated by the title of ‘Professor’ — but you didn’t know for sure if he wanted to be addressed as Jonathan or Scarecrow, and you feared the consequences if you chose incorrectly.  

Still, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “J-Jonathan,” you spat out hoarsely, and he grinned happily before dropping you back onto the ground.  You struggled against the belt around your wrists— not actually expecting to get out of it, and not having any plan if you did, just mainly out of instinct.  All it did was dig the sharp edge of the leather into your skin, making you cry harder.

It rocked you back and forth on the ground, those rough thrusts— the friction inside you was hot and fast, and each time he slammed all the way in, you heard the clapping of skin on skin and felt his tip ram against the deepest places inside you.  You didn’t even realize it was possible to be bruised inside like that, but you knew you would be by the end of this.

He didn’t slow down, really, but he changed his rhythm slightly and found an angle to go even just a bit deeper into you, until you whined pathetically with every pump into you.  It seemed like the toxin was wearing off, in that you weren’t seeing things anymore, but there was still obviously a sick feeling in your stomach, and an unreliable beating in your chest, and a deep throbbing in your ears.

“You’re getting even wetter,” he noticed with a low chuckle, and you whimpered as you hoped not to have to acknowledge that.  “Fucking soaking me— poor girl, I don’t think you can help it…”

At least it made this hurt a little less, but no amount of wetness could prevent him from holding your hips painfully tight and fucking you so forcefully it seemed hateful.  You whined loudly with every movement, fingers curling into shaky fists even when it was useless with his belt restraining you.

When you turned your face to the side, you saw figures at the other end of the alley— not hallucinations, nothing scary, just passersby on the street— and you reached out for them instinctively as hope flooded your chest.  Blinking the tears from your eyes, you could see them clearer: a man and woman, older, well-dressed.  “P-please,” you croaked out in a broken voice, “please, help me— call the police—”

They heard you, and they turned and looked at you, only to grimace and turn away; the man pulled his date closer, shuffling her away with him as they kept walking.  You whimpered pathetically, and Crane laughed above you.  “That’s Gotham for you,” he mused.  “No one wants to get involved.  These are the people Batgirl wants to save?”

They weren’t the only ones who saw, either; later, a small crowd of young men in bandanas and baggy pants passed by— some of them looked young enough to still be in high school.  You prayed to anything that would listen that they would move along without noticing, but one of them saw and pointed at you two with a scoffing laugh.  Feeling as if you could throw up, you shut your eyes tight and heard the chorus of jeers as they realized what they were seeing.  They laughed and hollered; what the fuck, dude! and ohh shit and hey, she’s pretty hot declared in juvenile voices between raunchy chuckles.  You saw flashes of light when you blinked your eyes— were they taking pictures of this with their phones?  You wondered if Jonathan would be forced to stop them, if he was concerned about evidence, but he didn’t react at all… he didn’t even slow down.

Once they’d gotten an eyeful and the sight had lost its shock, they wandered away— you could still hear their voices echoing around the buildings for a moment until it all faded in with the ambient sounds of the city: sirens, horns, footsteps, and that perpetual Gotham drizzle.

“I can feel it,” he whispered to you suddenly, “it keeps squeezing me.  Such a needy fucking cunt.”

You didn’t know if the ‘cunt’ was referring to your anatomy or to you as a person, and either option made your throat a little dry— but dryness was the least of your problems between your legs, in fact you were pretty sure you were dripping now, you could feel how slippery and sticky you’d become.  Your thighs were coated, it was even running down over your swelling and neglected clit.

He lowered himself a bit, resting his arms beside your head and breathing close to your ear.  He even brushed some of your hair out of the way with his hand, wanting to get a better look at your face, and you shut your eyes.

Increasingly loud groans and sighs above you made you realize what was about to happen, just as much as the throbbing feeling inside you.

“F-fuck,” he let out in a scratchy voice.  “Fuck!”

You whimpered yourself just as you heard him choke out a sort of high-pitched, shaky moan, and his thrusts went from erratic and desperate to slower and uneven.  He twitched inside you, and you felt the flood of heat in impossible contrast to the cold ground under you.

“God…” he groaned, his hand on your shoulder tightening and digging a little too deep into your skin.  Then he laughed a little as he finally came to a stop— breathless, light, almost making him sound impressed.  With you or himself, it’s hard to say; it sounded like a laugh of relief.

A lump formed in your throat as you considered what you were supposed to do now— he’d just come inside you, raw, and it made your stomach sink (but it made your walls clench unexpectedly, too).  As he carefully pulled out, you whimpered at the way it reawakened the sting of his first entrance— especially when he first pushed inside.  He sighed heavily when he finally got himself out of you completely, and then his hands— hot, a little clammy, and strong— came into view to free your aching wrists from his belt.  

He stood up over you, and you heard him readjust his trousers before zipping them up and putting back on his belt.  “Was it good for you?” he asked with a quiet, but smug, chuckle.

Bringing your hands nearer to press against the ground, you tried to lift yourself up on shaking arms.  When your torso was only a few inches off the pavement, Jonathan put his polished shoe on your back between your shoulder blades and pushed you back down.  You whimpered as he looked down at you, tilting his head while he admired your helpless form.

“Stay down,” he ordered.

Finally taking his foot off of you, he picked his mask up from the ground, sighing as he shook some of the raindrops off of it and put it back on.

“Well,” he began with a sigh, his voice modulated by the sack over his head again, “I’ll see you in class.  I look forward to seeing what you do with that paper.”

You didn’t watch him leave; you just heard the warehouse door shut again.  Your eyes were looking blankly forward, blinking away stinging tears, looking at the way the neon lights of the buildings across the street reflected in the puddles on the ground.

~

You jolted, much more than necessary, when someone knocked on the bathroom door; it made the water in your bath ripple, though the fluffy white surface of the bubbles was hardly disturbed.  “Can I come in?” you heard Bruce’s voice.

“Yeah,” you answered, but he stopped when he opened the door.

“You’re not decent,” he noticed, turning away.

“There’s bubbles everywhere, you can’t see anything,” you sighed, and he stepped the rest of the way in.  A pause that both of you pretended wasn’t awkward occurred.

“Tim told me that you came back roughed up,” he said eventually.

You said nothing.

“I told you not to—” he began.

“I know.” 

He sighed; you kept staring forward at the white tile wall in front of you.  "What happened?" he asked simply.

“I know Tim told you already— two guys, probably Falcone’s— they went at me in a tunnel by the Southside,” you explained with a sigh.  “I was just following a stolen van, I didn’t know who took it— I would’ve called you if I knew.  I just wanted something I could handle on my own.”

You knew the story didn’t add up; Falcone’s men would’ve probably given you a black eye, maybe a broken nose, and bruises on your stomach from kicks and punches.  Instead what you had were concrete scrapes on your cheek, fingerprint-sized bruises on your hips and thighs, and thin abrasions all around your wrists.  Not to mention the jitters and auditory hallucinations from working Crane’s toxin out of your system— his voice, still in your ear: just a stupid little girl in a mask.  You’d stopped looking over your shoulder by now, but your heart still raced every time.

You knew the story didn’t add up, but you knew it didn’t matter, because Bruce was going to buy it.  He wasn’t ready to imagine the truth yet.  This time, when you heard Crane’s voice, it wasn’t a hallucination but a memory: you sure were eager for an explanation.

Bruce nodded and began to walk out of the bathroom.  “Alright,” he said.  “Rest up.”

You scoffed to yourself as he left quietly— for a detective, he still had a few blindspots.  Surely, we all do.

Left alone in the bathroom again, you were surrounded by silence once more.  In silence, it was easier to hear his voice in your ear.  Just a stupid little girl in a mask.

The shrill sound of your cell phone startled you, and you awkwardly leaned out of the tub just far enough to grab it off of the pile of towels you'd left it on.

"Hello?" you answered, irritation obvious in your tone.

“Hello, ma’am, this is Tracy from the Gotham University Student Wellness Center,” the sweet, lilting voice came from the other end of the line.  “We recently received notice of concern that you may be experiencing domestic violence.  We’d love for you to come into our office to discuss this and receive complementary counseling, when’s a good time that we could—?”

You hung up and tossed the phone away, sinking down into the water.

[kukies-capabilities]

I posted 131 times in 2022

That's 13 more posts than 2021!

82 posts created (63%)

49 posts reblogged (37%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@gatheryepens

@nietxsche

@spelledslots

@elysianania

@autistudyblr

I tagged 85 of my posts in 2022

Only 35% of my posts had no tags

#study blog - 77 posts

#studyblr - 77 posts

#sixth form - 76 posts

#a levels - 75 posts

#study space - 75 posts

#studywithme - 72 posts

#a level physics - 70 posts

#a level maths - 54 posts

#year 12 - 52 posts

#a level further maths - 50 posts

Longest Tag: 104 characters

#i’ll probably lose but i don’t know what to do with myself and this seems like the best option right now

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

On Thursday I woke up with a migraine and made myself go to school cause there was a show I didn’t want to miss and I had both of my maths teachers that day. I did this with the plan on not going in on Friday. Come Friday I still feel horrible, my skin feels sensitive, my eyes hurt when I move them. I’m suffering. I eventuality take a covid test and it comeback positive.

I wrote off my original symptoms as a combination of me over working myself and stress. This so my first time testing positive since the start of the pandemic. I’m not as invincible as I though. 😪

Day 24: What's your favourite beverage?

Nigerian Fanta. It’s sold in a glass bottle and it so much better than what the one that they sell herein the UK.

Day 25: What does your ideal breakfast look like?

A breakfast wrap/sandwich that contains eggs and sausage (beef of course)

Fruit and yogurt parfait on the side

Day 26: What's the cosiest place in your mind right now?

My bedroom. Just me, my bed and Aristotle and Dante

And the public library I go to. Me and all those books.

26 notes - Posted February 26, 2022

#4

I think I am starting to enjoy revising/studying (would enjoy it much more if my maths exam wasn’t so close but you win some you lose some). I think have a routine that works for me for now.

Ramadan is less than 20 days away and I need to come up with some sort of timetable to ensure I get enough sleep, and can still revise. I wish I was the type of person wi could fall asleep where ever quickly. If I was I wouldn’t Bebe bother changing my routine much. I would just take naps everywhere.

15th March: How do you deal with academic/work stress? Do you have a coping system/mechanism?

I feel like I’m in a constant state of panic so at this point I don’t get affected much.

However every once in a while I do stress more than usual so much so that my appetite is usually affected. In those scenarios I make sure to write down everything I need to do and spread it out over a period of time.

I have learnt that when I have a lot of something to do, that me trying to do it all in one day doesn’t work for me. I get bored and ended up working img slowly. Or I get stressed by how much I have left to do, and end up freezing.

29 notes - Posted March 15, 2022

#3

First week back at school done. It was tiring, and I took today (Sunday) to complete relax and do no work. I know this is gonna be my last peaceful/stress-less day for a while so I savoured it.

I started listening to a true crime podcast called “female criminals” and a history podcast called “history’s b side” both are quite interesting. Would recommend both of them.

I went to my first bookclub meeting. I joined the club a couple months back but never I never went to the meetings cause didn’t have time to read the books. But I managed to this month and it was fun talking to other about books.

Quantum fact: The uncertainty principle tells us that the more we know about one property of a wave the less we know about another. Pairs include Wavelength and location as well as energy and time. For example, the easier it is to pinpoint the location of a wave, the harder it is to find its wavelength.

See the full post

31 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

#2

I went exploring over the weekend!!!!

Saturday 19th March

I went to the Future Robots: Material Futures X DeepMind exhibition in London with a friend. It was cool and interesting. My favourite part was the synesthesia translator

We then went to a cafe in bookstore and worked for a bit. I felt so ✨aesthetic✨

Sunday 20th March

Went to the British library with my friend. It was so huge but a nice change of scenery

Took my younger sister with me and I don’t think I’ll be doing that again. Her being there made it more stressful and harder for me to concentrate as I had to ensure that she was safe

51 notes - Posted March 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Day 1: What’s your favourite podcast?

The Magnus archives. Such a good podcast. I have season 5 left and then it’s over 🥲

I did just finish “Fearie” today and that is definitely a good one

85 notes - Posted February 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[thedetectiveofinaba]

Verse drabbles: twin AU, part 1/?

Title: Enforced Ankle Care

Word count: 536

Verse: Twin AU w/ @chibitantei (Naoto & Kazuki)

I was supposed to write a drabble for an icon thing but whoops, ig I wanted to write more for these gremlins. Here you go Liz uwu (the icon thing will appear today bc I am on a roll for Naoto toniiight)

“…I still cannot believe you just thought you’d be fine after you sprained your ankle.” The marginally older twin wasn’t fussing over the other in theory, in her eyes it was closer to making sure Kazuki wasn’t a dumbass and trying to walk right after the immediate pain on the ankle incident had faded away.

A reminder tor the future: never chase a criminal in a grassy path where there can be holes in the way and where you can trip if you can avoid that from happening. She sighed out of frustration and huffed on how at least the criminal was caught because they hadn’t assumed the other to throw them with a rock and cause them to trip. It had been really cathartic to see the bruise caused from him falling and arresting him right after from using physical force to an officer and suspicions of criminal actions.

Considering the current circumstances she’d probably get the question on her condition sooner or later, so she might just bite the bullet and ask a question neither of them wanted to really get.

“…Kazuki, are you sure you’re not needing more care on your leg? Basic First Aids is inevitable, but more than the fundamentals are likely to occur.”

“I’m positive on that. It isn’t that bad.” Naoto would’ve asked more on if it was wise to compare an ankle sprain to a worse injury like a bone fracture she had personally dealt with earlier that year but was interrupted by an officer from whichever PD had requested for the Shirogane-trademarked help. She didn’t even bother to remember that detail since in 24 hours they both would be back at the manor, trying to figure out how they’d micromanage a case while getting straight A’s from middle school exams.

“Hey, Shirogane – is everything OK there? The chase you had sounded and looked nasty.”

“We’re both fine. My brother merely needs an ice package for his leg and a possible health check-up if he thinks it is needed.” She looked at Kazuki and got the assumed answer of how it wasn’t a deadly injury.

“If you say so. Can you help him get to the station so the nurse at hand can check the ankle sprain you got? She can take a look at it while you’re double checking if we got all details right”. Naoto nodded and mused to Kazuki how those were the orders.

“Let’s get to it, Kazuki-san. Sooner we’re agreeing to their excessive documenting on events, the better chances are on us catching next train to Numazu Station.” With a resting bitch face, the other Shirogane leaned on the other’s shoulder and tried to limp towards the nearby building as quickly as possible. Naoto did her best to ignore the reluctance of her twin and how they both needed to play the part of professional male detective prodigies until this case was over.

Though, for now the biggest strike to both of their ego was that if not for the “cheap” tactics that guy would’ve gotten away and Kazuki would most likely complain how the ankle would be in the way of playing billiards to unwind from work against Yakushiji or her twin.

[nish-23]

Unlocking the Gateway to Civil Services: Understanding the Qualifications for IAS Exams

Are you dreaming of a career in the prestigious Indian Administrative Service (IAS)? If so, you're not alone. Every year, thousands of ambitious individuals set their sights on this esteemed position, eager to make a difference in society and contribute to the nation's development. However, achieving this goal requires dedication, hard work, and a thorough understanding of the qualifications necessary to navigate the challenging IAS examination.

Qualifications for IAS Exams: The Path to Success

The Indian Administrative Service (IAS) examination is conducted by the Union Public Service Commission (UPSC) and consists of three stages: the Preliminary Examination, the Main Examination, and the Personality Test/Interview.

Educational Qualifications: To be eligible for the IAS exam, candidates must hold a Bachelor's degree from a recognized university. There are no specific subject requirements, which means individuals from diverse academic backgrounds can pursue their IAS aspirations.

Age Limit: The age limit for candidates applying for the IAS exam varies depending on their category. Generally, candidates must be between 21 and 32 years old as of August 1st of the examination year. However, certain relaxations apply to candidates belonging to reserved categories.

Nationality: Candidates must be Indian citizens, or subjects of Nepal or Bhutan, or persons of Indian origin who have migrated from Pakistan, Burma, Sri Lanka, East African countries of Kenya, Uganda, the United Republic of Tanzania, Zambia, Malawi, Zaire, Ethiopia, or Vietnam with the intention of permanently settling in India.

Number of Attempts: The number of attempts permitted for the IAS exam varies based on the candidate's category. General category candidates can attempt the exam a maximum of six times, while OBC and SC/ST candidates have relaxed attempts.

Physical Fitness: Candidates must be physically fit and meet the physical standards set by the UPSC.

Character Requirements: Candidates must possess good moral character and must not have been involved in any criminal activities.

PM IAS Academy, Coimbatore

Embarking on the journey to become an IAS officer requires not only determination but also proper guidance and expert mentorship. That's where PM IAS Academy in Coimbatore comes into play.

Located in the heart of Coimbatore, PM IAS Academy is renowned for its comprehensive IAS coaching program, designed to empower aspirants with the knowledge, skills, and strategies needed to ace the UPSC examination. With a team of experienced faculty members, personalized attention, and a results-driven approach, PM IAS Academy has been instrumental in shaping the careers of countless successful IAS officers.

If you're ready to take the first step towards realizing your dream of becoming an IAS officer, look no further than PM IAS Academy in Coimbatore. Visit our website or contact us today to learn more about our coaching programs and kickstart your journey towards a fulfilling career in the civil services. Remember, the path to success begins with the right guidance, and PM IAS Academy is here to guide you every step of the way.

[tseitlinlawfirmpc]

From Green Card to Citizenship: Your Essential Immigration Lawyer Timeline

New York City, a mosaic of cultures and ambitions, welcomes countless individuals yearning for a life under the stars and stripes. Securing a green card is often the first step, but the journey to full-fledged citizenship can feel like a labyrinthine trek through legalese and bureaucracy. Fear not, intrepid dreamers! With the right map and a trusted guide, this path becomes a clear and attainable one. Here, we break down the essential timeline for green card holders aiming for citizenship, highlighting where an experienced immigration lawyer "near me" can act as your compass.

Year 1-3: Planting the Seeds of Citizenship

Residency Requirements: Ensure you've physically resided in the United States for at least 30 months (five years for marriage-based green cards) out of the past five years. Missing even a few days can be critical, so consult an immigration lawyer early on to avoid potential pitfalls.

Tax Compliance: Show proof of timely and accurate federal, state, and local tax filings. An immigration lawyer can help navigate tax complexities and ensure compliance.

Good Moral Character: Uphold a clean criminal record and demonstrate good moral character. An immigration lawyer can advise on any potential concerns in this area.

Year 3-5: Nurturing the Green Card

Naturalization Application: File Form N-400, Application for Naturalization, at least three months before your eligibility date. An immigration lawyer can assist with completing the application accurately and avoiding delays.

English Language Proficiency: Demonstrate English language comprehension and speaking ability through an approved test or interview. An immigration lawyer can recommend resources and guide you through preparation.

Civic Knowledge Exam: Test your understanding of U.S. history and government. Practice resources and legal guidance from an immigration lawyer can significantly boost your confidence and chances of success.

Year 5: Harvesting the Fruits of Citizenship

Citizenship Interview: Be prepared to answer questions about your application, background, and understanding of U.S. civics. An immigration lawyer can conduct mock interviews and ensure you're fully prepared for this crucial step.

Oath of Allegiance: If your application is approved, you'll swear an oath of allegiance to the United States, officially becoming a citizen. This is a momentous occasion, and an immigration lawyer can be there to guide you through the process and answer any questions you may have.

Remember, this timeline is a general guide, and individual circumstances may necessitate adjustments. That's where having a dedicated immigration lawyer "near me" becomes invaluable. At Tseitlin Law Firm P.C., we offer comprehensive legal counsel throughout your citizenship journey, from navigating residency requirements to preparing for the citizenship interview. We're available Monday-Friday, 9 AM to 5 PM, to answer your questions, address concerns, and empower you to take confident strides towards becoming a full-fledged citizen.

Don't let apprehension dim your American dream. Let Tseitlin Law Firm P.C. be your trusted partner in navigating the green card-to-citizenship path. Contact us today and take the first step towards claiming your rightful place under the American sky.

[careeralley]

Breaking into Law Enforcement: Your Step-by-Step Guide

If you're interested in pursuing a career in law enforcement or armed security detail, there are several steps you'll need to take to be considered for a position. First, you'll need to meet the basic qualifications, which typically include being a U.S. citizen, having a valid driver's license, and having a clean criminal record. You'll then need to pass a series of tests, which may include a physical fitness test, a written exam, and a background check. Some positions may also require additional training, such as firearms training or defensive tactics training. The good news is that there are many training programs available to help prepare men and women for a career in law enforcement or armed security. These programs may be offered by local police departments, community colleges, or specialized training centers. They may cover a wide range of topics, including criminal justice, communication skills, and physical fitness. By completing one of these programs, you'll be better equipped to pass the required tests and stand out as a qualified candidate for a position in this challenging and rewarding field. Basic Steps - Meet basic qualifications such as being a U.S. citizen and having a clean criminal record. - Pass a series of tests which may include physical fitness, written exam, and background check. - Consider additional training, such as firearms or defensive tactics. - Attend a police academy or law enforcement school. - Choose a specific career path within the industry, such as local police, state trooper, or federal agent. - Commit to public service and a desire to protect and serve the community. How to Become a Police Officer: A 21st Century Guide to Getting Hired In Law Enforcement $13.95 This book is a fresh, 21st century look at today's law enforcement hiring process. It gives the reader an idea of what to expect through all phases of the selection process and why the agency is doing what it is doing. Buy on Amazon We earn a commission if you click this link and make a purchase at no additional cost to you. 04/12/2023 02:13 pm GMT Preparing for Law Enforcement Training and Education One of the initial steps towards a career in law enforcement is attending a police academy or law enforcement school, which is specifically designed for this line of work. The law enforcement industry offers a variety of career options, including local police officers, state troopers, armed security personnel, border security agents, national security officers, transit and port authority police, homeland security police, park rangers, county sheriffs, government building police and security officers, federal police, immigration officers, customs officers, embassy police, parole officers, corrections officers, college police, and the FBI. One crucial step in preparing for law enforcement is getting physically fit. This is a fundamental aspect of law enforcement training and work. For individuals who are out of shape, engaging in physical training can help them prepare for the demanding nature of these jobs. Those who are not physically fit will have a much lower chance of being accepted for active police work. Ready to make a difference in your community? Our step-by-step guide to breaking into law enforcement has got you covered! Learn how to ace the tests, choose your career path, and succeed in this rewarding field. #lawenforcement #careergoals #publicserviceClick To Tweet In addition, it's essential to be physically prepared and accustomed to wearing the appropriate attire for law enforcement and armed security work to ensure agility. Knowing how to handle tactical gear and weaponry, coupled with good physical health, is critical for this type of work and takes years to develop. This includes knowing how to physically maneuver in standard law enforcement clothing, which is necessary for the more intense rigors of specialized police and law enforcement work. Finding the best tactical boots is also crucial for optimal performance during law enforcement training. TACTICAL RESEARCH TR Men's Khyber TR960 Hot Weather Lightweight Tactical Boot, Black - 4.5 W $147.99 $137.99 Textile and Leather Synthetic sole Shaft measures approximately 8" from arch Buy from Amazon We earn a commission if you click this link and make a purchase at no additional cost to you. 12/03/2022 12:33 am GMT Picking a Law Enforcement Program For students seeking a career in law enforcement, it's crucial to pursue education tailored to this field. Typically, completing police academy or college training is required to become a law enforcement official. Several colleges offer law enforcement training degrees, including top universities like George Washington University, George Mason University, and Florida State University, with Bachelor's programs available. Ohio University and Purdue offer both Associate and Bachelor's degrees in law enforcement and are among the top ten institutions for this program. Some U.S. colleges also offer law enforcement degrees online. After selecting a school or training program for law enforcement, it's advisable to participate in career and technical student organizations. These groups provide valuable information about career prospects in law enforcement, and students can network with peers and professionals in their field of study. LinkedIn Learning LinkedIn Learning provides over 10,000 business, technology, creative skills, and development courses. Enhance Your Skills We earn a commission if you click this link and make a purchase at no additional cost to you. Student organizations provide an excellent platform for students to develop their career, leadership, and personal skills in a practical setting with their peers. A prime example is Skills USA, which focuses on law enforcement students and offers group projects, events, competitions, and networking opportunities at the local, regional, and national levels. These programs provide real-world experiences, allowing students to acquire practical skills and establish connections in the industry, which will ultimately help them excel in their future careers. The desire to join law enforcement may develop for some at a young age, while others may consider it after working in other careers. Regardless of age, various career opportunities are available for those interested in law enforcement. As a starting point, students should consider taking CTE (Career Technical Education) classes to pursue a law enforcement career. Once this is done, signing up for a college-based program is the best choice. The length of time it takes to get the right degree depends on the level of law enforcement work the person chooses. Students should have a baseline idea of the field of law enforcement they wish to enter before they sign up for degree programs. While there are many colleges that offer law enforcement training, not all of them offer all types of degrees. In some cases, such as immigration and border patrol, there are specific institutions designed for these careers. The same is true for park rangers and other federal police programs. The FBI has its own training programs once students have a bachelor’s degree in law enforcement with at least a 3.0 GPA. Applicants must also have either 3 years of work-related experience or a master’s degree and two years of related experience in law enforcement, criminal justice, political science or computer science. FBI applicants must be between 23 and 37 years of age unless a special waiver is granted. Students who have the ability to speak several languages are given a greater priority for acceptance. FBI Careers, 3rd Ed: The Ultimate Guide to Landing a Job as One of America's Finest $9.99 This book is a definitive guide to the organization's rigorous selection process reveals what it takes to succeed in landing a job as a special agent as well as professional support personnel. Buy on Amazon Buy on Walmart.com We earn a commission if you click this link and make a purchase at no additional cost to you. 04/12/2023 02:17 pm GMT Additional Resources So You Want to Be a Cop So You Want to Be a Cop by Alley Evola - This book is a practical guide to help people who are interested in becoming police officers. It covers everything from choosing the right agency to applying for the job and preparing for the academy. So You Want to Be a Cop: What Everyone Should Know Before Entering a Law Enforcement Career $26.50 Many children, from the time they are old enough to be attracted to a siren and flashing lights, dream their whole lives of becoming a police officer. As a retired police officer, herself, Alley Evola looks at the daily ins and outs of the job of a police officer.  Buy on Amazon Buy on Walmart.com We earn a commission if you click this link and make a purchase at no additional cost to you. 04/12/2023 02:03 pm GMT How to Become a Police Officer How to Become a Police Officer by Det. Albert K Ashcroft - This book provides you with the information you need to understand the process. If you understand the process, you can understand the culture. How to Become a Police Officer: A 21st Century Guide to Getting Hired In Law Enforcement $13.95 This book is a fresh, 21st century look at today's law enforcement hiring process. It gives the reader an idea of what to expect through all phases of the selection process and why the agency is doing what it is doing. Buy on Amazon We earn a commission if you click this link and make a purchase at no additional cost to you. 04/12/2023 02:13 pm GMT FBI Careers FBI Careers, 3rd Ed: The Ultimate Guide to Landing a Job as One of America's Finest - by Thomas H. Ackerman - This book is a definitive guide to the organization's rigorous selection process reveals what it takes to succeed in landing a job as special agent as well as professional support personnel. FBI Careers, 3rd Ed: The Ultimate Guide to Landing a Job as One of America's Finest $9.99 This book is a definitive guide to the organization's rigorous selection process reveals what it takes to succeed in landing a job as a special agent as well as professional support personnel. Buy on Amazon Buy on Walmart.com We earn a commission if you click this link and make a purchase at no additional cost to you. 04/12/2023 02:17 pm GMT Careers in Law Enforcement Careers in Law Enforcement - by Coy H. Johnston - Includes three main sections: planning a realistic path, selecting an appropriate career path in law enforcement, and preparing for the hiring process. Careers in Law Enforcement $21.99 Careers in Law Enforcement is a valuable resource for students considering a career in the criminal justice field, specifically in policing. Buy on Amazon Buy on Walmart.com We earn a commission if you click this link and make a purchase at no additional cost to you. 04/12/2023 02:23 pm GMT Read the full article

[skiller0dani]

Sinful | Spencer Reid

M A S T E R L I S T Criminal Minds Masterlist

smut | sub!spencer x bau!reader requests info summary | when spencer decides to let the witness flirt with him, you decide to have some fun of your own with derek. it becomes obvious that it's a mistake.

this was sitting in my drafts unedited!! I'm still trying to finish up Amortentia part 2 & the Ethan AU. They'll be up I promise, until then.. enjoy Sub!Spencer! This is my first real stab at a dom reader so I hope I did okay. I've read fics about face slapping as a kink and I just wanna let you guys know that I am not comfortable writing that so I probably never will include that.

Also I hate saliva so I probably wont write about spitting either. Sorry lololol

thanks @imagining-in-the-margins for the inspiration! (was totally inspired by "messy lessons" if you guys haven't read it...you should!)

At first you doubted he knew what he was even doing.

At first.

Maybe he wasn't trying to get in her pants, and maybe he wasn't trying to lead her on. But he was still letting her shamelessly flirt with him. You'd been with the FBI for years and made the silly mistake of assuming that working in the same department as your boyfriend would make things easier on you. Being able to see him everyday is a definite plus, seeing him in danger every time you're in the field is definitely not a plus. Watching a busty blonde witness flirt with him is certainly not a plus, especially when he lets her throw herself into his chest. Supposedly "distraught" but you see the cheeky smile peeking at the corner of her lips.

You see the thing about Spencer that nobody except for you knows, is that deep down he's a very naughty boy. The little mischievous glint in his eyes when his eyes meet yours from across the interrogation room proved that. You were professional however, so you were forced to stand by and watch him comfort her. Bitch.

"C-Could you get me some water?" Her voice was shaky, you still didn't buy it.

"Sure, Doctor-"

"Agent Y/L/N if you wouldn't mind?" Spencer's much more dominating voice cut through yours. Your eyebrows flew up as you shared a millisecond stare down with him. You could see the playful look in his eyes, flashed by the brattiest smile you'd ever seen grace his lips. Your lips stretched in a tight smile before you nodded and turned out of the room.

When JJ joined you near the kitchenette she opened her mouth to say something, but once she'd noticed you white knuckle gripping the faucet handle she changed her mind. She continued with whatever she was doing, not looking at you. It was a tense few minutes until she turned out of the room. While everyone in the BAU knew you and Spencer were together, it was easy for them to forget seeing as you never acted as a couple at work. For obvious reasons. Only in moments of danger, like when Spencer's helicopter went down and there were panicked tears streaming down your cheeks did they remember that you were in fact, together.

Apparently your usually good boy seems to have forgotten who he belongs to as well. The sight you returned to left tendrils of anger licking at the pit of your stomach.

"Oh really, that is so cool! I'll bet you're so strong!" The witness had perked up considerably since you'd left the room. Her hand reached up to curl at his bicep, and he didn't stop her. What a brat. Spencer sat next to her rather than across from her at the table, presumably to console her. Spencer beamed at her praise, an action you did not miss.

"Yeah, actually FBI agents are required to pass a variety of physical exams to insure they're physically healthy enough to chase down an unsub if need be-"

"Here's your water." Your voice was tense and you had to resist the urge to "accidentally" spill the water on her as you set the glass down. You didn't meet Spencer's eye as he stood to follow you out of the room. You could see the naughty façade fading as soon as he'd left the room.

"Y/N?" His voice was soft and his big brown eyes wide when you turned to glance at him. Your heart melted at the sight of those sad puppy dog eyes but you're not going to give in when baby boy broke so many rules.

"Shush." Is all you say, your voice sharp. You're not going to hide the fact that you're mad at him. And you're going to stay mad at him, no matter how cute he is.

"Yes ma'am." Spencer mumbles as he follows you towards the room Hotch is waiting in with the whiteboard. You try your hardest to focus on whatever Hotch is saying but all you can think about is that stupid witness pressing her chest up against Spencer, and the fact that he was practically bathing in the attention she gave him. You hated the fact that Spencer was getting exactly what he wants, he lives for your punishments. In a way, punishing him was also rewarding him but it was rewarding for you too.

After vaguely remembering Hotch asking for Spencer, you watched him scramble forward. You don't miss the fact that he nearly stops to ask for your permission to do so, you have him trained so well. A smile quirks at the corner of your mouth and you almost feel like forgiving him until Hotch speaks again.

"Reid, I want you to take Allison Calloway home..." he lists off where the rest of you will go but at that point you're no longer listening. You hear Hotch pair your name with Derek, which sparks a wicked idea in your head. He's having Spencer take the witness home? Is the world punishing you? You see Spencer steal one nervous glance at you before rushing to get Allison. You tongue your cheek before reluctantly following Derek out of the precinct.

//

You and Derek were apparently instructed by Hotch to go investigate the second crime scene, where a young man with his hands missing was found earlier this morning. You peek at Derek out of the corner of your eye, Derek is one of your close friends and he knows more than he should about yours and Spencer's...extracurricular activities. He seems to be in a good mood today, and he's unlikely to think anything of it. He'll definitely tell Spencer about it, which is sort of what you're hoping for. While this is hardly the place for you to "come on" to Derek, you're willing to do it. Spencer needs a taste of his own medicine.

"Odd, that the unsub removes the hands but repositions the watch around the victims ankle." Derek muses, his hand coming up to scratch at the stubble on his chin. Luckily the officers sent to patrol the crime scene are nowhere nearby. You circle Derek, trying to formulate the perfect sentence in your mind. It can't be too much, but definitely enough for him to inform Spencer. Derek is used to more lewd phrases coming from yours and Penelope's mouth, so surprising him enough to tattle to your boyfriend will be a challenge.

It can't be anything that would hurt Spencer however.

Derek views Spencer as his little brother and would never hurt him, and you wouldn't want to hurt Spencer either this is all in good filthy fun. It has to be a little risky, but not so risky that Derek would prefer keeping it from Spencer to protect him. If its too much Derek will approach you directly about it which would be humiliating and would entirely miss the point. This is a very delicate operation.

"Oh Derek, have you been working out?" You decide to take the easy route, adding a dash of sultry to your tone.

"Occasionally." Derek doesn't turn his head towards you, you haven't quite captured his attention yet.

"Firm is a good look on you." You tease, you'll need to ease him into it because he's going to have the wind knocked out of him when you finally lay it on him.

"Easy girly, you're venturing into dangerous territory." You hear the lilt to his tone letting you know that he's joking. You need to push it further.

"No I'm serious," you need to tread very carefully. You don't want to ruin a friendship you still want to keep, "it's a really good look on you."

Derek turns to you then, an eyebrow raised as he watches you trail your eyes down his body. While Derek isn't a bad looking guy, he doesn't even come close to comparing to your beautiful boy. Spencer is easily the cutest and sexiest man you've ever had the privilege of standing in the same room with.

"What's with you?" He asks, keeping the smile on his face so he doesn't alert you that he's concerned. You're on the right track but if you leave it here Derek will let it go. You need to drop that mini bomb on him, just a little more. You trail a finger down his shoulder, towards his bicep.

"Nothing, just admiring the view. The big, strong, sexy, view. What I wouldn't give to have you in bed Derek Morgan." There's the bomb. Your words have an immediate effect over him. The half-lidded sultry look in your eyes is enough for him to raise his eyebrows in surprise. Usually he can tell if you're joking but now he really can't tell. He's speechless, which doesn't happen to Derek Morgan very often.

"Y/N..."

"Call me if you wanna take me up on my offer." You send a wink at him before turning to head towards the black SUV. That should be enough for him to tattle.

//

When you return to the precinct, you watch with pleased eyes as Derek immediately pulls Spencer into a side room. Derek briefly glances at you, and you send him a smile but do not receive on in return. You don't think anything of it, Derek will get over it eventually with an explanation. You watch carefully as Derek begins to speak and an unreadable expression crosses onto Spencer's face, you expect he's just absorbing what Derek is telling him. Any minute now that look will cross onto his face, those dark eyes that warn you that you've officially annoyed him.

Derek keeps speaking, you can see his lips moving. What are they talking about? It shouldn't be taking this long. You're too far away to really make out their faces, so you subtly sneak closer when Spencer's eyes flash to meet yours and you gasp. There is no anger on his face, no playful annoyance, instead you see pain. Hurt. Betrayal. Derek tries to reach out to grab Spencer but the door to that side room opens and Spencer comes rushing out of it. Not bothering a side glance at you as he makes his hasty exit.

"I was only kidding." You explain quickly as Derek emerges. He doesn't look amused.

"It was too far Y/N. He's crushed." Derek snaps, brushing past you. Immediately you turn and exit the precinct, quickly finding Spencer tucked away in a secluded corner. He's sitting against the building, his head tucked into his knees and the absolute worst part is the fact that he's softly crying. You kneel in front of him in an instant, although you're not sure what to even say.

"Oh baby boy, I was only kidding. I didn't mean it, I said it because you flirted with that blonde witness!" You explain in a hurry, trying to reach out to take him in your arms. Spencer resists, instead lifting his head to look at you. His eyes are glossy and red rimmed, "kidding?"

"Yes precious, I was kidding."

"But Derek is more...attractive then I am." Spencer whimpers softly. You reach forward to firmly grasp Spencer's chin, ensuring he looks at you.

"Spencer Walter Reid you look at me," You order, and hesitantly Spencer lifts his watery eyes to meet yours. "There is not a single person who is more attractive then you are, you are flawless."

"But deep down you want Derek-"

"I was kidding Spencer. I only want you, my good boy." You purr, and you see a shiver run down his spine. You lean forward to press your lips to his before your thumbs come up to swipe away your tears.

"I'm not a good boy, I don't deserve it." Spencer whimpers once you help him stand up. Even though you're looking up at him, it's still very clear that you're the one in charge. "I flirted with Allison."

"You're right, you haven't been very good have you? I'm sure you'll make it up to me in the hotel room." You smile pressing a kiss to his flushed cheek. He nods immediately, it warms your heart.

"I love you." Spencer whispers after he catches your hand as you're about to open the door. You press a kiss to his palm, "I love you precious."

//

You could feel the nerves rolling off of him when you opened the door to your shared hotel room. The door shut with a soft click as you kicked off your shoes. Spencer remained at the hotel room door curled in on himself and wringing his hands together. You have to hide the smile as you shed your jacket from your shoulders, beginning to reach for your jeans when you pause. You take a seat on the bed, watching Spencer eye you carefully from his spot by the door.

"Come here." There isn't a question in your tone, it's more of an order. An order Spencer hastily obeys as he scrambles to stand before you.

"Undress me." You instruct, and Spencer kneels immediately to grab at the hem of your shirt. He carefully lifts the fabric off your body and tosses it aside before reaching around your body to unclip your bra. "No touching baby boy, you were naughty remember?" You snapped, and you saw him turn his head down in shame before turning his attention towards your pants. He unbuttons your jeans and helps pull them down your legs. Spencer's breath gets caught in his throat when his eyes land on your clothed pussy.

"Like what you see precious? Maybe if you were a good boy and didn't let that woman run her hands all over you, maybe I'd let you touch." You purr watching the disdain in his eyes when he realizes what his punishment is going to be.

"Tell me the truth baby boy, did you let her touch you in the car?"

He nods, but that's not good enough for you. You reach down to roughly palm him through his slacks.

"I said did you let her touch you?" You punctuate every word with a gentle squeeze around his cock. Finally, Spencer seems to find his voice.

"Y-Yes!"

"Where? Show me where she marked what's mine." You hiss, not even attempting to disguise your frustration. Spencer lifts one hand to his chest and trails it down his stomach, dangerously close to the hem of his pants before thankfully he stops.

"You let her touch you, this close to your cock?" You snap, tearing your hand away from him.

"I-I'm sorry!" He stammers, his eyes wide and his hands resting on the tops of his thighs. Boy does he look pretty on his knees before you. Not pretty enough for mercy however. There's a pleading look in his eyes, and a desperation. A desperation to please you.

"Make it up to me." You snap and as soon as the words leave your lips, Spencer's fingers are curling around the waistband of your underwear and tearing them off your body.

"Y-Yes ma'am." You lean back on your elbows as Spencer lowers his head between your legs, his eyes flickering to yours briefly. With a nod of your head, Spencer is delving between your legs with the enthusiasm of sex deprived teenager. Your head tosses back immediately as you feel his tongue licking thick stripes over your entrance. He continues to lap at you, his tongue teasing your entrance before he returns to his heavy licking. You moan softly, your fingers digging into his curls and pulling his head closer.

"Just like that, you're being such a good boy." You praise through breathy moans, and Spencer can feel his chest swell with pride. He loves being your good boy. But he isn't your baby boy all the time, sometimes, with a bit of coaxing, he becomes daddy. Spencer reaches up to prod a finger at your entrance before he's sinking in knuckle deep, his mouth curling around your clit. Spencer pumps on finger, to stretch you a little before slowly working a second finger into your suffocatingly tight heat.

"Yes Spencer, don't stop." You beg, feeling yourself climbing closer to reaching the peak, especially when his tongue flicks expertly against your clit while his fingers pump steadily into you. "Oh God, my good boy-" You praise again, and this time Spencer moans against you. Your toes curl as the vibrations send a course of pleasure through you, you've got to make him do that again.

"Do you like being my good boy Spencer? My good, obedient boy. So eager to please me, to make me feel good. And you do, you make me feel so good because you're such a good, good, boy." Your heavy praise causes Spencer to release a low groan, and the feeling is enough to launch you over the edge. Spencer keeps pumping is fingers into you, his tongue swirling soft circles over your clit to help you through your orgasm. Once your body has stopped jerking, you finally pull him off you.

"I forgive you precious, but unfortunately I still have to punish you." You inform him as you pull him back up to his feet. You hear him whine as you push his chest to lay him back against the bed.

"Do you have to?"

"Are you talking back to me baby boy?"

"N-No!" He squeaks instantly, his cheeks painted red. You stand over him, laying beneath you and you can't fight the soft moan that escapes your lips upon seeing him. His hair is disheveled from you raking your fingers through his, his brown eyes are wide and innocent as he looks up at you, and his cheeks are dusted such a beautiful shade of pink.

"Take off your clothes precious, I want to see all of you." You instruct, and you love the shy look on his face as he reaches up to remove his shirt. You let your eyes shamelessly roam his body as he slowly exposes more skin to you. Despite having been together for a few years now, Spencer is still incredibly insecure. Deep down he's worried you'll grow tired of him. Worried that you'll seek out other men despite being with him. Spencer is worried he's not enough to keep you interested. Which is wildly untrue, it's already been over 3 years and if anything you become more interested as time goes on.

"So beautiful baby boy, your body is a work of art." You breathe under your breath. Spencer blushes even deeper then he was before as he nervously fidgets underneath. You swing your legs on either side of his waist, your palms on the bed next to his head. "Your punishment, precious boy," your hands drift to his that are resting on your hips, "is that you can't touch me." You finish, moving his hands to the bed.

Spencer's eyes widen as his head drops back. A whine escapes his lips, but like a good boy, he grasps tightly at the sheets. You reach between your bodies to grasp his cock, pressing the head against your entrance before you teasingly lower onto him. Spencer's eyes squeeze shut at the feeling of your velvety walls around him- it's almost too much for the poor boy. It doesn't help that it's been a few weeks since you two last had sex, meaning you're tighter then you normally are. In fact you're so tight that Spencer can't even breathe properly while he's stretching you open.

"Oh baby boy, you feel absolutely wonderful. Your cock stretches me open so good." You purr, your hands landing on his chest for leverage so you can bounce on him faster. Spencer whimpers softly, the feeling is overwhelming, you can tell he's struggling to contain himself. Your hair drifts down your back when you throw your head back, his cock hitting places deep inside you.

"Getting close," You moan and Spencer knows that's his cue to reach down and begin rubbing circles over your clit. As soon as his thumb makes contact you're moaning loudly, your free hand digging into his hair to hold onto tightly. "Yes Spencer, yes." The phrase becomes a chant you repeat in your head over and over again. Spencer continues to rub you, desperate to help you find your release. When you slam down on him again, his cock hits the place deep inside you that makes your toes curl. You cum instantaneously, your body nearly falling top of Spencer's from the sheer force of it. Spencer's arms come up to steady you, offering shallow thrusts into you to chase his own release.

"Y/N...c-can I?" His voice is wrought, and you smile weakly.

"Yes precious, you can cum." As soon as you give him permission, he's cumming in hot gushes into you, his face buried in your neck. You run your hand down his back as his heart rate slows back to normal, and Spencer's arms stay curled around your waist.

"Spence?"

"Hm?" You can hear the lazy drawl in his voice that lets you know he's getting very sleepy.

"Don't ever break my rules again, or your punishment will be much worse."

"Yes ma'am." You press a kiss to his lips before pulling off him, and curling yourself into his side.

[crazycookiecrumbles]

Stressed

A/N: Ha ha I’m stressed and torn.

Pairings: Shang-Chi x Reader

Warnings: none, really. stress, swearing, talks of poor mental heal

TLDR: IDK Wtf I’m doing with my life/career so instead of actually doing my job I’m drabbling and trying to make sense of it.

Shangqi sighed and leaned against the door. Five minutes had already passed and he knew you were in there, he just knew that you were being stubborn. He offered a kind, yet very awkward smile to your neighbor across the hall, who stared at him as though he was a criminal even though he had seen her at least a dozen times before.

With a deep breath, he knocked on the door once again, “Come on, (Y/N). I know you’re home. I can hear the TikToks on your phone.”

Pouting, you glanced at the door and debated if you wanted to physically see anyone today. 

“I got you that really, really, really soft bread you like.”

God damn him.

He stood outside waiting to hear anything from you as he tried to remember what this bread was called. He groaned and smacked his own forehead as the horribly simple name finally occurred to him, “Pan sobao…and some coffee.”

He heard the locks turning from your door and smirked as he stood tall. Staring at your eyes that were peeking from the door, he watched your eyes scan over him and land on the bag and two coffees in his hand.

“Is that from—“

“Yup.”

“They’re not open yet.”

He shrugged, “I went early. Caught one of the bakers heading in late. Might’ve name-dropped you since you go in all the time, and they let me in to get what they had. It’s fresh. You really, really go there a lot, ya know? They seriously know every order you make based on time of day. I’m almost concerned, but mostly impressed.”

“…Their pernil tastes like my grandmother’s,” you muttered and unlocked the door and ushered him in. “That was sweet of you. Thank you.”

“Oh, I know. I’m adorable,” he looked around the apartment and saw water bottles everywhere, clothing everywhere, and a pile on the coffee table that told him the sofa had been your home for the last three days. “You’re not doing well.”

“I’m totally fine,” You muttered as you sat on the sofa. You took the bread from his bag and ripped it in half. Giving him half and muttering that there was butter in the refrigerator, you bit into the bread loaf and chased it with coffee. “I’m not in a crisis at all.”

“See, you say that, but the last week you’ve been home working and speaking in TikToks or memes.”

“I always do that.”

“Right, but it was missing your mushy comments like how cute I am and you said ‘eh’ every time I hit on you with cheesy lines,” he cleared a spot on the sofa next to you, hoping that the crunching sound beneath him was not food that was going to stain. “What’s up?”

“You know how I work a lot?” You sighed.

“Day and night, yup.”

You nodded, “So the courts are desperate and opening up for reporters to apply and stuff, you know? So I could finally have benefits and paid vacations and shit and an actual salary and not have a panic attack every time a bill comes in.”

Shangqi’s eyes lit up, “That’s amazing! That’s what you’ve been waiting for. Babe, apply. You’ll crush it.”

“And it’s totally what I spent way too much money in school for,” You added. “And I hate it because I work all the time.”

“Well, freelance is different from court, right?”

“Right, and I have no experience in court. So I don’t know if I’ll hate it. But what if I do hate it, like, a ton? Like, I am just more miserable again? But I know someone at this other company who can send me an internal link, and I can apply for something that has benefits too, and can be mindless enough that I can have a life and not be stressed and enjoy life after work and not be home 24/7 working and being totally decrepit because I have sense of boundaries or work-life balance with freelance. But that’s not guaranteed, but court basically totally is because of the shortage. Unless I fail the entrance exam in which case WOW I’ll uh, not be good.”

He cringed, “What do you want to do?”

You kicked your legs in the air and threw yourself halfway over the arm rest of the sofa so your head was inches from the floor, “I want to write dumb shit. Books, stories. And have time to do it. And be happy doing that. But I can’t do that now because I’m so drained and tired from writing all day then editing all night for really, really annoying attorneys and trash witnesses. And if I quit this job then it’s like I wasted thousands of dollars to master something that, like, no one can do and I’m a quitter. But if I don’t, I’ll probably need to be institutionalized.”

He cringed, “You have to do what’s healthier for you. People change careers all the time. You’re young, ya know? And you really shouldn’t be this miserable and full of dread all the time.”

You laughed, “Probably. I can apply to my friend’s place, and then…court is my backup in case I am trapped in this career and I can never leave and I just fuck my mental health for 6 months to a year and hope for the best.”

Shangqi cringed and rubbed your back in slow circles, “Whatever you decide, I’m here for you. You can always come do valet with me and Katy while you decide.”

“I will crash a car so fast on accident.”

“Okay, maybe not.”

“Thanks for offering,” You sighed and went back to sitting like a normal person, curling up in his side. “Thanks for seeing me.”

“You needed a break.”

“I’m behind on transcripts,” You laughed nervously. “I can’t afford breaks.”

“Well,” He shrugged a shoulder. “You’re taking one for the next hour or two. Deal with it, dweeb.”

You scoffed, “Fucking…dork.”

He grinned and kissed your cheek, “Your dork, though. Come on. We’ve got bread. We’ve got coffee, your neighbor thinks I’m a criminal, what more do we need?”

At that moment, the children upstairs started jumping and screaming, rattling your entire apartment. Shangqi cringed and slowly turned to look at you to see you muttering that you were going to burn the entire building down.

“You know, maybe you should consider arson as a career path.”

[un2-verse]

BILLY — Kim Taehyung (1)

》 News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right? 《

pairings: john kramer!taehyung x female reader

warnings: dark themes, angst, yandere, murder, torture, self harm, suicide, stalking etc.... (will add more when i know lol) although it is rather innocent in the first couple chapters(?) so idk it could be slow burn but i guess we’ll find out as i write it >< ,, it’s my version of saw if saw was a fucked up love story lol. Please don’t read if any of the topics mentioned trigger you!! 18+

this fic is exactly that, fiction!!!! the au does not represent the characters mentioned irl......

synopsis: you end up lost on the other side of town, where you cross paths with a handsome stranger, kim taehyung, only.... are you a stranger to him?

[a/n: daffodils represent; love me, sympathy, desire and affection returned...]

word count: 3k

series masterlist

part two

——————————————————————————

Hiding behind a mask was something you were accustomed to. Your friend group and family were clueless to the torment you endured from simply existing. You were confident your masking had convinced the world you were happy with yourself. Unbeknown to you, one other person saw straight through your façade.

You wanted to end your life.

He needed you to cherish your life.

Nothing looked familiar. The café you frequented was nowhere to be found. Your usual hangout was most definitely not on the side of town you found yourself in. You felt anxiety slowly curl its way around your body, you were frigid. You tried and tried but couldn’t find it in yourself to run.

You lived in the more friendly part of town (so to speak) – where houses were colourful, gardens pristine, warm-hearted neighbours who would treat you like family and white picket fences are what surrounded you. That was your norm, sure, you weren’t exactly loaded but you weren’t exactly poor either. It was a healthy balance in the middle. That’s not to say you hadn’t lived or seen this side of town before.

Your Mother and Father had grown up on this side of the fence. Two young people brought up in the rougher, more unfortunate areas. Your Mother was tough; she looked like a naïve, weak girl, albeit that was not the case. She was strong willed, used to life on the streets and doing anything she could to get money to make sure there was at least some food on the table. While your Mum was the leader, your Dad was more of a sheep. He was easily influenced and was dragged into the wrong crowd (had his fair share with drugs and street racing). That was their life for a few years till they crossed paths and your Mum helped your Dad get back on the right track.

They didn’t tell you much about their childhood and adolescence but they told you enough to make you appreciate what you have and to always work hard for it. To stick with the right people, be wise and conscious of your decisions. Be kind to those around you.

Your family owned a garage; your Dad was the head mechanic. This was the sole reason you were here. You knew it wouldn’t be simple when you agreed to go to this side of town to get a few bits for your Father’s shop. However, you didn’t expect it to be this difficult. How could you be so stupid? Why didn’t you just ask Hoseok and Yoongi to come with you like your father told you to? Or at least tell them where you were… yet you decided today of all days to be stubborn and venture on yourself, knowing full well how unsafe the area was. There were rundown businesses on either side of the road, beggars at every doorstep; drug dealings happening in broad daylight, no one even trying to hide it.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, you took it out and sighed a breath of relief once you’d read the texts.

14:37— From Papa: U ok munchkin ??? Did u get the stuff ?

14:39— From Papa: its ok if u didnt. Yoongs rang said hes got majority this morning lol so be safe n get home soon . Love u

14:40— To Papa: ohhh ok pops, i couldn’t find the shop anyway lol i’ll head back soon, love u too x

*LOW BATTERY*

“Fuck, trust me to forget to charge the bastard.” You rolled your eyes as you stuffed the phone back in your pocket.

Muffled shouting was heard around you. People ran across the street, bumping into you as they ran past. You gathered yourself and moved further down the path. “Great!” you exasperated, “honestly I’m so fucking stupid! Yoongi’s gonna kill me for this, I knew, I knew I should’ve told him I was coming over here but no,” your head was hung low as you dragged your feet across the pavement, “maybe I could tell Hobi, he wouldn’t be as angry right? I’m sure he’ll come,“ A sudden scream ripped you out of your chuntering. You whipped your head to the right, you could make out some figures bustling about in front of you, a group of men were quite clearly fighting… your anxiety struck you and you held your breath as you saw a man pull a knife from the waistband of his sweatpants. All thoughts and common sense seemed to leave all at once. Statue like, feet stuck to the ground. You watched on as the group rushed towards the brown haired man, you scanned his figure: tall, broad, confident… he exuded an intimidating aura even when you were this far away from him.

How could someone be so sure of themselves? It was one against five, surely the loner had no chance?

The glistening of the knife brought you back to your senses. Fucking hell. How do you always end up in these situations when you’re alone? Why me? Why? Good Lord, I need to run. Just as you were about to leave, the group who were arguing charged past you; one gripped his side as another supported his weight. Holy fuck, did he stab him? you stood frozen, yet again, your mind raced a mile a minute. Panic bubbled in your chest.

“You okay there Doll?” His voice was deep, velvet-like. It flowed so smoothly you doubted it was real, it was so soothing like it had wrapped itself around you, embracing your body. You heard his footsteps before he planted himself beside you. His shoulder reached the top of your head, his hand brushed yours. Swallowing your nerves you dared a glance up. He was fucking breath-taking, like a fallen angel. The stranger shot you a small smile that you would’ve easily missed had you not been staring at his features… a blush crept up your neck as you nodded. His smile slowly twisted into a smirk.

Cute, Taehyung thought to himself. Couldn’t help but adore the way you slightly trembled under his gaze, the way your hands gripped and twisted your sweater paws. Almost like a puppy. He cleared his throat and reached his hand to yours, “Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Taehyung.” you took his hand into yours, apprehensively you greeted him, “I’m Y/N.”

“Ah, Y/N. I haven’t seen you round here before, you new or something?” Taehyung cocked his head to the side, his eyes seemed to stare right through you.

“Uhm, I don’t live here. I live over the other part of Town… I was just grabbing some stuff for my Dad but, my phones about to die. I have no idea where I am or how to get home, I’m sorry, I promise I didn’t see anything!” a deep chuckle cut you off, Taehyung smiled and beckoned you to follow him.

“Come on Y/N, you’re not suited for this side of Town, I’ll walk you back. A pretty little thing like you, you’re easy prey to these guys.” your feet fell into a cautious pace behind him, he glanced over his shoulder, “hurry up Buttercup, I don’t bite.” Taehyung flashed a boxy grin in your direction, which caused you to speed up ever so slightly.

You were unsure how you felt about letting a complete stranger walk you home, Yoongi would definitely kill you for this. Especially with the recent news of some serial killer named ‘Jigsaw’, Yoongi and Hoseok had been very stern and their usual, overprotective selves when the news had broken out. “It’s on every headline Y/Nie! No more leaving the house on yourself, you need to go anywhere you ring either of us. Got it? Don’t talk to anyone you don’t know either. There’s some dodgy fucks about recently.” Although, you loved them dearly, sometimes their protectiveness was a...little overbearing. You already felt suffocated from your parents (you didn’t need it from your best friends as well). They were happy and believed you to be too; but that was exhausting, faking happiness. You had a constant façade, acted like a happy normal teenager with a happy family; when that was far from the truth.

Drowning. That’s how you’d explain the way you felt. Breathing was difficult and brought you more pain than it was worth. Growing up was tedious, you had grown differently to your peers which only brought ridicule and embarrassment for you. You had struggled with your speech (sometimes you still do), you often stuttered, mispronounced words, the list was endless. That was one of the first reasons you were a castaway. As you grew, the ridicule worsened. Verbal abuse turned physical from your classmates. They made you feel like you were a waste of space. The names they called you, you soon started to believe them. Ugly. Weird. Freak. Stupid. They took root in your brain, slowly they grew and grew till your head was overgrown with twisted, rotten weeds.

Eventually, you sought comfort in blood. You didn’t care that it hurt you; you were almost happy to feel pain. Like you deserved to.

By age 14, you had started to skip school. Only ever there for exams and a couple of art classes you had with Jeongguk. He was what you would’ve called a best friend, he supported you and was by your side till you left school. He went away to college and like always with school friends, you drifted apart. Nevertheless, he still texts you now and then to check in.

Although you were (once) close with Jeongguk. He never knew of your inner demons, the same with Yoongi and Hoseok. You didn’t want to feel like a burden and worry your friends when they had shit to worry about themselves.

Why devastate flowers that flourish beautifully with weeds that manage to twist their way around every crack?

You had walked for a few minutes now, having chatted absentmindedly about anything and everything. The roads still didn’t look familiar to you and you just wished they did, you didn’t want to be away from your home any longer, your feet were starting to ache, your phone was on 10% battery and it was fucking cold. You just wanted to be back in bed tucked up watching Lady and the Tramp or 101 Dalmatians for the millionth time. You felt safe and content when you indulged in your comfort films. Far away from the real world and wrapped up in the false reality. They easily distracted you and that's when you truly felt at peace. Your mind was always too busy thinking about how cute it was when Tramp calls Lady, Pidge or how in love Pongo and Perdy were.

Majority of the time you fantasised about having a love similar, but then again, why would you wanna make yourself vulnerable like that? Is the risk of being hurt (more than you are now) any good? Of course it’s not. Fuck that, life isn’t nothing like those shitty romance films or novels… It’s real and painful.

As you and Taehyung rounded the corner, a little cafe caught your eye, a dainty blue and pink building. Fairy Lights strung up around the windows, you could see a handful of people inside, busy sipping their drinks and chatting away to one another. ‘Aroma Mocha’ hung above the doors. It looked so cute and simple. Your previous thoughts left your mind as quick as they had come. You wanted to go inside, it had an enticing atmosphere.

Taehyung hadn’t realised you’d stopped walking until he couldn’t hear the soft thud of your footsteps behind him, he turned as he called out to you, your eyes still fixed on the cafe. He chuckled to himself, “Fucking adorable, like a kid at christmas,” he walked back over to you. “Hey Doll, you wanna go in?” He felt his heart quicken when you looked at him with those pretty eyes, “We’ve plenty of time to get you back before it’s dark angel.” You answered him with a nod as you turned your head from Taehyung to look back at the alluring little cafe.

Not a second had passed before Taehyung grabbed your hand and pulled you across the road to the entrance; you ignored the warmth of his hand as it intertwined with yours; you ignored the way your tummy erupted with butterflies. Taehyung had stopped to hold the door for you, you murmured a small, “thank you,” looking up at him, the heat that crept up your cheeks making your face resemble that of a doll’s he thought to himself. Once he ushered you fully inside, he placed his hand to rest on the curve of your waist as he guided you to the back corner of the room, where a quaint table for two was unoccupied, a little pot of Daffodils sat atop. How fitting...

Taehyung was quick to pull the chair out for you to take a seat, you pulled it in as you sat down and sent a shy smile his way, “I’m sorry, I know we just met Taehyung but this place is so fucking precious! I hope I’m not bothering you, if I am we can just carry on walking or, I could ring a Taxi? Is this weird? Oh god, I can’t believe--”, Taehyung threw his head back as he laughed, a sound that seemed to wrap its way around your soul, twisting around your heart in the nicest of ways, it was almost like a killer to the weeds taking over your body. A temporary release. You felt like you could really breathe in those short seconds of his laughter.

“Angel, if you were bothering me, I’d have kept on walking. That, or I would’ve called you a Taxi myself, it’s no problem honestly.” You ducked your head as he sent a wink your way, fuck sake Y/N get it together! Why are you acting like a fucking schoolgirl?

“Well I uh, appreciate it so, yeah thank you?” You don’t know what to do, you’re here with the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid your eyes on… yet you have no clue if what you saw was real, did Taehyung stab someone? Could someone have had the knife who wasn’t Taehyung? Was he even the person you saw in that altercation? Did you imagine everything that had gone off?

Before you had chance to overthink it, a light bubbly voice greeted your ears, “Hi! Welcome to Aroma Mocha, I’m Jimin and I’ll be your server today. Is there anything I can get you?” Jimin held his gaze on you as he flashed you a friendly smile, Taehyung turned around at the sound of his best friend, “Oh, Tae! I wasn’t expecting to see you today, what are you doing here? And who’s this pretty little lady?”

“This is Y/Nie, she was in the neighbourhood so we thought we’d nip in for something to drink before I take her back to hers.” you sent a warm smile to Jimin which he gladly returned, “I’ll have my usual and can you get Y/Nie a Strawberry Iced Tea? Thanks man.”

Once Jimin had disappeared to make your drinks, you shot your eyes to Taehyung, “Uhm, how’d you know I like Strawberry Iced Tea?” Taehyung didn’t even look in your direction as he scrolled through his phone, eyes glued to the screen. A minute passed by and he’d still not acknowledged your question so you let it slide, it wasn’t that big of a deal right? Your mind drifted. Your fingers rested atop of your lap, hidden from the sight of onlookers, picking around your nails as anxiety flooded your body. You felt like you were about to suffocate. You shouldn’t be talking to anyone, you shouldn’t let anyone close. You were only going to fuck everything up in a heartbeat. It’s only natural. Self deprecating thoughts devoured and made their way through your veins, poisoning yourself further; your whole body felt as though it was alight.

Jimin brought you your drinks, placed them carefully in front of the pair of you as you both said your thanks.

The click of Taehyung’s phone being locked and the clearing of his throat brought you back to your senses. “The drink I ordered for you is popular here so, I assumed you’d like to try it. You wanna talk about what’s bothering you?” your eyes shot up to meet his, your head tilted a little to the left as your tongue wet your lip, so puppy like...

You stared incredulously, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Taehyung.” You leant forward slightly as you wrapped your lips around the straw and took a sip.

Taehyung saw the way you sucked your drink up through your straw, his eyes darkened. Thankful to have worn sweatpants that day, he shifted himself discreetly, “I’m not stupid Angel, I know what you’re doing under the table. I’m here, so talk to me. I’ll listen to whatever you gotta say.”

You stuttered as you wracked your brain for something to say, “I-I only met you like forty minutes ago, I don’t even tell my friends what’s wrong. Not that there is, everything’s fine.”

You met me just short of an hour ago, he thought to himself, “You don’t have to lie to me Y/Nie…” he grabbed your hands that were laid near the cup of your Iced Tea. His thumb rubbing circles onto the back of your hand. You looked small and fragile, like the Daffodils on the table; one little pluck and you’d be ruined. He wouldn’t admit it to you just yet but, Taehyung fucking loved how delicate you seemed as you sat across from him.

How easy it would be to take your life away. How easy it’d be to pull those weeds up that are poisoning you, torturing you every single day. He shook his head, as he cleared those thoughts. No, only Y/N can make that decision. I’m just going to help her choose.

Live or Die.

You visibly winced, “You don’t know me. Think whatever the fuck you want about me, it doesn’t matter.” your eyes flashed hurt as you went back to picking your skin. You knew it, this whole encounter was too good to be true. A complete stranger (well acquaintance technically) had just presumed shit about you, the fact he was right is what hurt more. You didn’t want anyone to know how you were feeling. Or how you were dealing with it.

You couldn’t exactly tell him to piss off, you still needed his help home and so you tried to distract yourself from the unsettling gaze that watched your every move. You let out a breath as Taehyung went back to his phone. Your eyes drifted as you picked up the local Newspaper, your eyes skimmed over the headline, ‘Jigsaw Traps Continue’. Taehyung noticed you staring at the front page, and chuckled, “you scared of Jigsaw Angel?”

You shook your head, why would you be scared of some nutjob who’s targeted criminals and drug dealers? You’re a nobody. “Of some psychopathic puppet?” if anyone did anything to you that would threaten your life, it would be you. Taehyung just laughed in return as you skipped the article and skim-read the other pointless stories.

You were fucking clueless as to who he was while he knew every little thing about you. He had watched you for months… His precious little Y/Nie… Oh how silly you were, taking your life for granted.

You hated yourself that much, you were willingly marking yourself up. Tainting your skin… oh your skin, how fucking beautiful and soft it looked, even with all the scars it still looked perfect… Taehyung wanted nothing more than to whisk you away and lock you inside with him. Forever. He didn’t want anyone touching what was his.

He knew you wore a mask when in public, too afraid to show your real self. Little did you know, he wore a mask himself...only he wore it to better other people.

He had a plan.

And you’d soon find out.

Let the games begin.

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 20/?

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: Y/N - your name

***IMPORTANT*** The Criminal Psychology majors will be taking a temporary hiatus as I’m getting my second dose of the vaccine today<3 I don’t know when I’ll be coming back because I don’t want to burn myself out on this series just to give content while I’m gone, yknow

Warnings: Swearing, Forgetfulness, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

They danced and sung the night away at the Gala. It ended at around 2:00am and everyone went back to the Wayne Manor. 

Somehow it came out that they should play Uno of all things. Uno is known for being the “Friendship Ruiner” or the “Relationship Ruiner” of the world. So, of course, they played it. Why wouldn't they?

Y/N dealt the cards. She was not quick about it. At all. She really struggled to deal the cards to the entire group, but she still tried. It was the thought that counted. Or at least she thought it did.

But no one seemed to mind she was a little slower with her cards-dealing. Which was different to the up-beat, face-paced life all of them lead. One would have expected that they would want a crazy fast dealer, but no one cared.

They played well into the night, with Jason ending up tapping-out and laying in Y/N’s lap. She played with his hair and leaned down to show him the good cards she got, at least until he fell asleep. She spent the time bonding with his family. 

They had always liked her. From the first time they all met her, they knew she was going to be something real. They were even impressed that Jason and her hadn’t fought yet. They were both hot-headed when they wanted to be, so when it was obvious that they put the relationship ahead of their own prides, it was something else.

They knew of the first time they had one of these moments. Y/N was at a dance competition, but Jason had to dip because of “Family Issues”, she was upset. Of course, she wanted him there and it looked like they were going to get into a huge spat about it. But, when she won that competition, she got up there and she said,

“This one is for my family, my friends, the extension of my family,” she paused, “And my boyfriend, Jason.” She smiled, “He isn’t here right now because of family issues, but he told me to follow my dreams, and here I am,” she said while raising her medal slightly, “This one was for you, baby.”

And that’s when his family knew that pride was stupid to them. Relationships are growing, changing together. And while they both stayed hot-headed, they changed that slight detail in themselves to be better partners. It was admirable.

Y/N ended up winning the last game. Half of the Waynes were sleeping, either at the coffee table where they were playing or in their rooms. She glanced over to the clock, 6:00am. She knew her parents were getting up soon, so she texted her mom,

Hey mum! So do you still want Jay and I to come over for the barbeque? 

And she nudged him a little. Everyone else had left the room, so she was trying to wake him up. So they could go to his room. He groaned.

“Baby, do you want to sleep in your bed?” she whisper-asked him, leaning down to his ear and stroking his hair. He groaned and got up, started walking to his room. She followed suit. He was on his bed and passed out before she even got up there.

She laughed and walked over to him, fumbling with his suit jacket. He mumbled something about taking him on a date first, and she laughed again.

“C’mon, work with me here, you’re going to be uncomfortable if you sleep in your suit, my love.”

He groaned and took off his jacket before unbuttoning his shirt, while she got his belt undone.

“God, take me on a date first,” he mumbled.

“Shh,” she said, placing a finger over his lips, “Just go to bed, Jay.”

He sloppily kissed her neck before she cupped his face and used her position to straddle him to the bed. She kissed his forehead before getting off of him and going through his clothes. She needed something, a shirt, pants, anything she could wear.

She fumbled with getting her own dress and gloves off, ending up throwing the dress over his desk chair, hoping it would minimize wrinkling. She undid her corset and threw it on his desk. Her heels were sitting at his desk chair. The gloves on his desk.

She crawled into bed with him, being the big spoon, burying her face behind his neck. She pulled out her phone to look at her texts. One from Artemis,

Hey, dude. That dress, oh my God?

She laughed into Jason’s shoulder and sent back,  I know. I know. I know. I killed it. You can’t say I didn’t.

You’re literally so right because again, oh my God. You did NOT need to wipe the floor with the rest of the guests. I mean, Selina was there and you were on her level.

That’s impressive. Selina is stunning. But I’d argue I was just below every Wayne lady.

Well, eventually you’ll be a Wayne lady.

C’mon. It’s been 6 months. 

You say that like the thought hasn’t crossed your mind at least once.

Yeah, but I don’t talk to anyone about it. 

You should start talking about it. Most people think about their weddings.

Okay, anyway. Why are you up so early?

I was studying most of the night with Wally.

Ah, “Studying”. Nice.

I wish! No, we were actually studying. Not like you and Jay at your little Gala. Actually had to study.

I have to study too, but exams are like next week.

Wish I could relate. Mine are today. 

And you didn’t sleep? Dude.

Shh, you’re not my mom.

She laughed and fell asleep cuddling Jason. Her phone was opened, so it died. 

----------------------------------

Jason woke up first. Looking at the time, it was 12:00pm. Y/N was sleeping behind him, still loosely holding him. He smiled. He hoped that the night before had fixed some of the issues between them. Well, he hoped there was no issues.

He didn’t want work to be more stressful than it already was. But, they were having issues. He thought it was because of finals, but he feared there was more to it. Maybe it was the fact that he’s famous. Maybe it was the fact that she couldn’t handle the fame. He hoped it wasn’t anything to do with the fame.

But the comment about the people with daggers at her throat obviously wasn't about anyone else. It was the press. He knew she had issues with the press. He always would. She always would.  He wouldn’t blame her if she walked away from him because of the press. Break up or a break, she was allowed to give up because of the press. He hoped she didn’t. He hoped she never would. He didn’t want to jinx them, but he really, really, hoped that this wouldn’t end in flames.

He looked at her. He remembered the first moment he knew he loved her. They were having dinner at this hole-in-the-wall restaurant that he had seen on patrol one night. She was scarfing down the food, and he wiped away the mess on her face with his thumb. He knew then. He knew in that moment that that was it. She was it. 

He was whipped and he knew it. But every time his siblings or dad brought it up, he mentioned current or past relationships they had. The only people who weren’t whipped in the Wayne household were the women.

Or maybe the all were, they were just good at hiding it. He turned around and cuddled her back He stroked her hair. He ran his fingers through her hair. 

She did it to him a lot. Physical affection was something that he was used to at this point. He still didn’t know how to feel about it, but he had ended up letting Dick hug him more often. He didn’t say it was because of her, because she didn’t outright run up to him expecting hugs, she was okay with hand holding and small touches of affection. It wasn’t because of her that he started letting people in.

But he did think she was a turning point for him. For his affection. His love style. She gave a damn about him and made it clear. It wasn’t like love he was used to, but it also opened his mind to people trying to love him.

She shifted around a bit. She ended up turning her back to Jason so he became the big spoon, and he buried his face in her hair. She groaned and tugged at the blanket on his bed, pulling it onto the two of them. He helped her get it on them. She groaned again.

“You up?” he whispered.

“No... I’m in deep sleep,” she said with a slur to her speech.

“My mistake, really.”

“It is.”

He pulled her closer, “Can you wake up?”

“No.”

“That’s sad. I wanted to talk.”

“You can talk.”

“Okay so,” he said, “I realised something. Some people would say you’re changing me, that I’m becoming someone else because of you,” he paused, “I’d have to disagree. You’re not doing anything.”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re just inspiring me to do better. You influence me. You don’t intentionally go in and change me, I change because I love you.”

“That’s nice honey.”

“You could pretend you’re interested in what I have to say, my love.”

“I’m tired, Jay.”

“I danced you to Hell, I guess.”

She groaned, “I guess I can’t go back to bed, now,” she flexed her wrist, “You’ve interrupted my sleep.”

He cuddled in closer to her, “I am not sorry.”

“Of course you’re not, why would you be?” she said while she turned to face him, “You just want to see me.”

“Damn, you got me.”

She yawned, “We need to study eventually.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“I just did.”

“School’s annoying. It’s on every last never but also none of them. It’s stressful but I also met you from it. It’s something I excel at but also causes me pain.”

“I know, babe. I know,” she said as she searched for her phone, finding it, dead and under her leg. “Fuck, killed my phone.”

“Where did you even have that all night?”

“Dress has pockets. But I didn’t bring my charger,” she sighed. “I had texted my mum too.”

“Texted your mom about what?”

“She wants us to go to a family barbeque after exams.”

“That’s so suburban of your family.”

“Yet they live in a massive city. I guess you'll see my family? you like them, don't you?” she asked. 

He had met her family in January of that year. He got along with her mom and dad, in spite of the language barrier between him and her dad. There was difficulty understanding each other, but they got along in their love for rock music. It warmed Y/N’s heart.

Her mom liked him just because he made her happy. They didn’t really need to get along, but they did. They both cooked, and her mom had dragged him into helping her when Y/N was watching figure skating with her dad. Apparently they hit it off.

“I have literally no idea,” he said.

“How do you not know?”

“Your sister has something off about her.”

“You know, that’s fair. I don’t blame you for that one.”

“Yeah, have you noticed she’s very... obsessed with vigilantes?”

“And you thought I was obsessed,” she joked, “Yeah, she takes it a little too far. The whole, “I want to marry a vigilante to infiltrate and kill them” thing was obviously a joke, but I feel like there was some truth to it. That scares me.”

“Thank God I’m not the only one.”

“If you don’t like her, don’t worry about it. i don’t care if you like her.  We’ve had  a difficult relationship all or lives. If you can be civil, it’s a win.”

“Did you have an ex openly hate your sister?”

“Yep. And he’s an ex for a reason.”

“That’s fair. I would hate it if someone openly hated one of my siblings.”

“Unless it’s Dami.”

“Unless it’s Dami, that’s very true.”

“Still don’t know what you have against that kid, he’s very sweet.”

“That’s what he wants you to think.”

“Well, then its working.”

“What a master manipulator,” he laughed. “It’s the principle of the matter, Y/N.”

“It’s the principle of the matter, Y/N,” she mocked.

“Okay listen,” he laughed, “It is. He’s a menace.”

“But you love him.”

“It’s unfortunate. He's my brother, but he is also whatever. I don’t know. He’s amazing, he’s a genius, but who knows. Maybe one day we won’t fight all the time.”

“Imaging hoping you don’t fight with your sibling.”

“Family issues, amirite?”

She groaned and got over him, “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Fuck, I don’t know. Just need to get up, to be fair.”

“Coffee?”

“Eh, probably not.”

“That’s new.”

“You betcha. I don’t feel the affects of caffeine withdrawal yet.” She looked at her dress, it was wrinkled. Which was whatever. She knew it was going to happen. She went searching for all her stuff and put it on his desk. It was spread all out over his room, she didn’t know how it happened.

“How did your shit end up everywhere?” he asked.

“Probably the same way that all your shit ended up everywhere? I have no idea.”

“What, did we fuck?”

“No!” she laughed, “Do you not remember?”

“Days are blurring together, so.”

“Well that’s not... normal?”

[fandom-imagines]

Thank you

Fandom: Death Note

Pairing: L X Reader

Warnings: Emotional and physical abuse.

Words: 3k

A/N: I’m in a death note phase again. I wrote this instead of doing my essay oops.

Being the girlfriend of a worldwide, secret detective was hard.

Relationships were hard enough as it is but having to make sure both the partners names were kept hidden made it even harder. Then there’s the constant travelling that takes place along with many other things.

Basically, the relationship between L Lawliet and Y/N Y/S/N was a complicated one. Don’t get me wrong, they were both madly in love with the other, but that didn’t make it any less hard.

“Y/N!” A high-pitched voice sounded from behind the aforementioned couple.

That’s Misa, Y/N’s best friend and often co-worker. The two met at a photoshoot where they became fast friends, the pair being able to work together due to their celebrity status.

“Hi, Misa.” A soft smile crawled onto the Y/H/C-haired girls’ lips.

She usually loved seeing Misa, but today all she wanted was to go back to her house and chill, maybe with Lawliet, maybe not. Who knows? Not her.

“Hi, Ryuzaki.” Misa greeted her best friends’ boyfriend, albeit unknowingly, before grasping her small hand around Y/N’s arm. “Bye, Ryuzaki!” Were her final words as she dragged Y/N away, unaware that she was desperately mouthing “sorry” towards her boyfriend.

~

“Light won’t even take me on a date, Y/N/N!” Misa whined, still talking about her ‘boyfriend’, “Isn’t that so unfair?”

“Very.” Y/N mumbled, turning the page on her magazine which lay in front of her.

She was currently lying across Misa’s bed, the pink sheets creasing beneath her. The girl’s legs were crossed in the air, the entire weight of her body being placed solely on her stomach. The magazine she was reading was something she had bought on the way back to Misa’s, hoping to share opinions on outfits or gossip about latest celebrities, something that the pair had done since they met.

“Are you even listening, Y/N/N?” The blonde continued to whine upon realizing that her friend was no longer listening to her boy drama.

“Sorry, just deep in thought.” Y/N’s words weren’t necessarily a lie, she was deep in thought just not about something she wished to share.

Misa didn’t know about Lawliet and Y/N’s relationship, nobody did. That was how they liked it. No one could intervene, no drama or anything of the sort.  Just the two of them, happy, together.

Oh how she longed to be with him right now. The two of them together, even if they were just sitting in HQ together whilst working on the Kira case that they had been working on for months now. That was how they had met: the Kira case.

Y/N knew of his involvement, her father worked as a detective, similar to Lights. That was how she joined the investigation despite being a student. Both her father and close friend, Light, recommended her.

However, that friendship was slowly fading as she found out more and more evidence that made her suspect Light of being Kira. She’s smart, very smart, that’s why she got along with both geniuses. She fit in well with the two. But the more she investigated the case, the more she realized that Light could possibly be behind the mass murders that were causing terror across the world, especially Japan.

“Ooh! What about? Is it a boy?” Misa was now sat up on the ground, arms wrapped tightly around the yellow pillow that she was previously sitting on. Her loose blonde locks fell down her back as well as over the pillow. She looked absolutely beautiful.

How did Light not love her back?

“Shut up.” The other girl huffed, tossing a pillow from Misa’s bed into the face of the owner, giggling as Misa fell backwards onto the soft carpet before bursting into a fit of giggles herself.

“You have to tell me!” The words left Misa’s lips between giggles as she recomposed herself.

“No!”

“Yes~”

The two argued back and forth for around five minutes before giving up, and bursting into a giggle fit once again, something that was common between the pair.

“So, you like someone?” Misa wiggled her eyebrows in amusement at the fact that her best friend was finally interested in someone other than fictional characters. “Tell me everything.”

Without revealing who it was, Y/N began to tell her about her ‘crush’, despite said crush actually being her boyfriend of a few months now. Ensuring that no significant details were released which could identify the man, she told her everything. Blushing was something new to her, but neither Misa nor Y/N complained. It was a refreshing change for them both.

“Wow,” The model let out a breath she wasn’t aware that she was holding once Y/N had poured her heart out, slightly at least. “I never knew you were capable of such feelings, Y/N/N!”

“Stop teasing me~” Y/N’s hands covered her blushing face, words becoming muffled behind the skin. “This is embarrassing enough as it is,” a groan left her lips as she continued her sentence. “Besides, I doubt he even likes me back.” The final words were mumbled, self-doubt settling in as she realized that her boyfriend might not actually love her.

Logically, Y/N knew that L wouldn’t use her, or at least she hopes, and that he genuinely did value her and her opinion. He enjoyed her company and didn’t find her annoying. He really did love her, despite not having admitted it.

“Sure he does! You’re great, Y/N/N.” Misa grinned at her best friend, unknowingly providing her with a source of comfort.

“Thanks, Misa.” A sigh left the other girls lips, a sinking feeling of doubt looming over her. “I should probably get home, it’s getting late. Goodnight, Misa.”

“Goodnight, Y/N!”

~

Instead of heading home Y/N decided to take a late-night stroll.

The dark sky was littered with bright stars, a nice change from the usual plain nights sky in Japan. It gave an almost comforting feel to the stroller, reminding her of her childhood when she would stay up late to stare up at the midnight sky with a genuine belief that it was the world watching over her, much like the moon which was ‘following’ her everywhere she went to make sure she was safe.

It was childish, yes, but she was a child so what do you expect?

The Y/H/C-haired girl observed her breath as she exhaled. It was cold which wasn’t a huge surprise considering that it was nearing December now; winter time. Despite being extremely cold, she decided that it wasn’t time to head home just yet. Her mind wasn’t entirely clear and it wasn’t exactly in her best interest to go home with an overthinking mind, so he continued her walk.

The sound of her shoes hitting the ground was one of the only things she could hear other than the occasional passing car or truck. The streetlights lit up her view, being the only thing that did so and Y/N internally thanked whoever put them up considering she wouldn’t be able to use the torch on her phone as it had died long ago. The odd passing-by car provided her with some light also, although it wasn’t much.

It wasn’t until around 1am when she finally decided she should head home.

~

The house was deadly silent as she entered, but the lights were still alight, leaving the daughter of the local baker and detective confused.

“Mum?” The girls voice was slightly quiet in case she was asleep whilst still being loud enough for anyone seated downstairs to hear.

“Where have you been?!” Her mothers voice was incredibly loud, making Y/N cringe and wince. “I’ve been worried sick! How could you make your mom worry like this?”

Ah, there comes the guilt tripping. Y/N’s thoughts were awfully loud, and she cursed herself internally.

“Sorry, mom.” A frown had made its way onto her lips as she apologized.

Sure, she probably should have warned her that she was going for a walk, but there was no need to guilt trip her.

“You should be. Now go to your room!”

She simply ran upstairs.

~

The bags under Y/Ns’ eyes almost matched Ryuzaki’s the following day.

She hadn’t gotten any sleep that night as she replayed every bad moment with her mother sine childhood and believe me, there was a lot of them.

Her mother hadn’t been the best parent to say the least. She was never physically abusive, but the mental scars from her words and actions had taken a toll on her daughter throughout the years.

“Are you okay?” Lights words were full of concern upon noticing the girls tired composure. The way she stood further proved that she was exhausted considering how she was slumped over. Hands shaking also, Light was genuinely concerned, despite his status as Kira, something he knew that she suspected. “You look terrible, no offence.”

“I’m fine.” Her words were quiet, almost silent, too wrapped up in her own thoughts to give a completely response but she figured those words would suffice and he would hopefully leave her alone.

Whilst concerned, Light knew not to push things when someone didn’t want to talk, so he didn’t push it further, favouring to ask if she was going to the HQ later which she was.

“Ryuzaki isn’t in today,” Lights words caught her attention, finally pulling her from her trance, “he’s working on the investigation.”

“Oh,” while her response was short, the criminal still cheered internally, glad that he had stopped her worrying, even if it was for a split second.

~

For the entire day she was completely ‘out of it’, unable to concentrate or even form a coherent sentence and she mentally kicked herself at her so-called failure. However she was slightly grateful that there was no exam today, knowing she would have most definitely failed. She probably wouldn’t have been able to write more than three words.

Y/N’s walk to HQ was lonely as she desperately craved some human contact.

She really needed a hug.

As though in a trance, the girl scanned herself into HQ and headed towards the main room where she knew everyone would be.

“Hi, Y/N,” Matsuda’s cheerful greeting caught Ryuzaki’s attention. Well, more like the name of the person he was greeting.

Nobody could have known however, unaware of the short-lived glance he had spared towards her. This short glance told him a lot: she hadn’t slept, she was deep in thought and she felt… crap.

This worried the detective immensely. He really did care for the girl; a lot more than he would admit. Not that he didn’t want to, he just didn’t know how she would react and didn’t want to risk facing rejection.

It would hurt.

“Hi.” The response she gave Matsuda was blunt, emotionless which L wasn’t happy to hear.

She never used that tone. She was usually cheerful. It must be bad.

“You guys can go for a break. You’ve been here most of today and it’s not nearing 5pm.” L’s words matched his girlfriends tone as usual, uncaring about the relief his words had just provided the others on the case. “Except you.” His gaze was now fixated on his love, making her internally curse at herself for being so obvious about her low mood.

The raven-haired detective waited for everyone to leave, stare unmoving as he observed Y/N’s every move and she walked towards the chair opposite him.

“What is it?” Y/N’s gaze was cast towards the ground, not wanting L to see her like this. “I’m sorry.” Her words were quick, worried that he was going to say something that would simply upset her more. “I-I didn’t mean too.”

L’s cold hand gently grasped her chin, lifting her face so that they could look at each other and he cringed slightly as he saw the tear threatening to fall from her eyes.

Okay, he is now really worried.

“What’s wrong?” His words were quiet but still laced with genuine concern, along with his eyes. “You can tell me.”

“It’s nothing, really.” The words stumbled from her lips, only worrying him more. “C-can I just go today? Please.”

L simply nodded, watching as she dashed from the HQ and out of his sight.

~

“Why do you keep disappearing?” Y/N’s mothers voice was the first thing she heard as she walked through the door.

“Please, leave me alone.” Y/N begged, simply wishing to be alone.

She made an attempt to dash upstairs, only to be stopped by her mothers tight grip around her wrist as she spun her around to face her. A hash slap hit the younger girls face with such a force that they both knew would leave a mark the following day.

“Y-Y/N…” Upon realisation of what she had just done, her tight grip around her daughters wrist loosened, hand dropping to her side.

“Never talk to me again.” YN’s words were quiet yet laced with venom before she finally dashed up to her room, one goal in mind:

Leave.

Her movements were quick as she packed her bag, tears leaking from her eyes in both pain and sadness,

Within minutes her bag was packed, tossed over her shoulder before she ran downstairs.

“Please don’t leave.” Her mother’s plead fell on deaf ears, the only response coming from the closing of the door as she watched her daughter leave, neither of them knowing if she would ever return.

~

It was cold. Very cold and Y/N cursed herself for not bringing a jacket, being in a skirt and t-shirt which was the same outfit she had worn to school today.

Shivering, she began her long walk towards HQ, something she knew would take a long time.

~

“What happened to you?” Detective Yagami’s voice was filled with panic upon seeing the tear stains on her cheeks as well as the bright red bruising hand-mark.

Lawliet payed no attention  to his remark, simply assuming that Matsuda had had a clumsy accident yet again.

“Please, can I just sit down?” Was what captured his attention, the soft and exhausted voice being one he recognised immediately.

“O-of course.” Soichiro’s words were rushed as he signalled towards the seat he had previously occupied which Y/N gratefully took.

L spun on his chair to look at the girl, breath hitching as he took in her appearance.

He caught her gaze and she had looked up after hearing the spinning of the chair and she thanked whatever gods there were that it was simply the three of them.

“Detective Yagami would you mind if we have a moment?” L’s stare was unmoving as Yagami nodded, leaving the room.

“R-Ryu…” Her voice sounded broken, eyes filled with pain and he soon noticed the bag on the ground, quickly coming to the conclusion that something had happened at home, presumably with her mother, and she had ran away.

L quickly climbed onto his feet, opening his arms which Y/N gladly ran into, breaking down into sobs. His hand placed itself on her hair, burying itself into her hair as her face buried into his chest. L was uncaring as her tears soaked through his white tee; he only cared that she was okay. They stood like that for a long time, L providing comfort she didn’t know she needed.

“Come on,” L broke the silence as his girlfriend calmed down, her breath evening out, “lets get you to a room.” He offered her a hand as she pulled away, one she took with extreme gratitude, appreciating that it must have been hard for him to give her any affection.

Their hands never parted as they climbed the stairs of the HQ, heading towards Y/N’s new room. Ryuzaki had thrown her bag over his shoulder, the heavy weight of the bag not affecting him one bit.

The room was empty, and it was clear nobody was staying there.

The noise of the bag dropping to the ground was loud, startling Y/N whilst Lawliet remained unaffected, having been the one that had caused the noise; not that it would have scared him anyway.

Y/N was led towards the made bed by the detective, sitting herself down as he wordlessly instructed before taking a seat beside her.

“I’m sorry for being such a bother.” She apologised, making L shake his head in disagreement.

“You could never be a bother, Y/N. Not to me.” His words were less monotone than usual, less devoid of feeling. There was a genuine tone coming from him. “Matsuda’s a bother, not you.” He spoke which made the shorter girl chuckle, something she felt she hadn’t done in ages, despite it having only been a day, #

“Thanks, Ryu. For everything.”

“It’s my pleasure.” His arm wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her closely towards him until her warmth was felt by him. “I-“ He paused as he began to speak, extremely aware of what he was about to say.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked, confused at his sudden silence.

“I love you.” His words were quiet, almost unheard had it not been for the fact that the room was deadly silent.

The pair fell into an awkward silence for a moment before L got up to leave, apologising as he did so.

“Wait,” Y/N’s hand wrapped around his own, “I love you too.”

A small smile made its way onto both of their lips, L walking back over to the girl until he was stood directly in front of her. She watched closely as he bent down, unsure of what he was about to do. The second his lips touched her forehead a huge blush flowed across her cheeks.

“R-Ryu…?” Her embarrassed voice sounded, the only response she earned from him being a small smile before he gave her a pat on the head, turning to leave.

“Thank you.” She called, making him stop in the doorway.

“Anytime, Y/N/N.” The use of the nickname only made her blush harder.

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

Correspondence, Chapter 02

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary:  An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: Vague mentions of PTSD, spoilers for the Foyet storyline/mentioned character death. Little angsty, maybe a little OOC since Reid and Hotch don’t actually have a boss/subordinate work relationship in this story and I’m adapting that whole-heartedly. But other than that, it’s just grown men acting like dorks and Reid attempting to give parenting advice. Set in season 6, self beta’d.

Word Count: 4535

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link 

--

Chapter 02

--

May 2010

-

Hotch does, indeed, take Dr. Reid up on his offer.

They work on a few more cases together, over the course of six to eight weeks, and each time Dr. Reid proves to be an invaluable asset. His knowledge is unsurpassed, extensive, and astounds Hotch every time he opens a correspondence email from the esteemed professor. 

Have you ever thought about being an FBI agent? He teases one night, when they’d been sending theories back and forth in emails that had become less and less formal. Dr. Reid still sent dissertation-length assessments of the cases when they landed in his niche (which was often), but their replies had turned to a messaging template instead of the business-like format Hotch is used to writing all day every day. Quick, rapid-fire messages replacing the professional grade layout that felt so impersonal, with titles and headers and enough filler to give him chronic headaches.

This was much better. Informal as it was.

I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t pass the physical exams, but thanks for the compliment. Another life, maybe. Dr. Reid answers, and Hotch finds himself smiling and huffing a laugh behind closed lips, the kind that stays caught up in his chest. He’s not sure how much older the professor is, for all he knew he could be bordering on retirement, but it was an amusing thought nonetheless.

 I would get them waved, or curve the scores. I have that kind of pull around here. Never would he speak with his agents or anyone at the Quantico office like this, and it had taken weeks and dozens of emails to get to this point. But the freedom of it was nice, enchanting, like a little taste of his life outside of the office. Just confined to the response box of his email. Despite what everyone (ie: Morgan, Prentiss, Garcia) said about him, he did have a sense of humor. He just also had a sense of propriety, and he was their boss. He wasn’t going to make light with them in the place where they catch murderers.

Don’t tempt me. I have tenure. But Virginia gets so cold, I’d freeze to death half the year. 

Didn’t you attend MIT? What did you do during winter?

Froze to death. Pay attention.

Hotch outright laughs, and then snaps his mouth shut and looks out the open blinds of his office. Everyone has gone home, for the most part, but he doesn’t need JJ or someone else hearing him and coming to check on him. He hasn’t been getting much work done since Dr. Reid started replying to his emails that evening, and the little half smirk on his face is something he doesn’t think he can school as he rereads their conversation over and over. 

Apologies. Next I’m sure you’ll tell me how you had to walk to class uphill both ways in the snow.

No, I took the bus. And Froze. To. Death. I live in sweaters, and I’m from Las Vegas, I’m not meant for the cold. 

Las Vegas? Really?

Born and raised. My mother still lives there. 

Hotch’s eyebrows raise at that, apparently he’s not so old that his mother is still around. His own parents are gone, have been for years, but that’s under different circumstances and really not a situation he likes to reflect on.

Must be nice, only being a few hours from home. Do you go back often?

As little as possible. I should really visit my mother more, but that’s hard for reasons I won’t get into. I do write her, though. A letter every day, although not much happens around here for her to get invested in.

As in a real letter? Not an email, or a phone call?

She doesn’t do well with phone calls, or computers. Letters are more personal, anyway, and she likes being able to have the paper in her hands in my own handwriting. It’s the least I can do, not going home unless I absolutely have to. 

This is the most the man has ever spoken about himself, in a personal manner instead of an academic one, and Hotch isn’t quite sure how to take the evolution. It feels like a shift in their dynamic, an opening that could lead to a deeper level of friendship and -- it’s been a while since he’s had that. Allowed himself to have that. After Foyet, and even before when Haley started pushing for divorce and Hotch responded by isolating himself as much as he could to keep his work unaffected, he’d had trust issues. Hotch is man enough to admit that. 

But speaking with an old professor on the other side of the country might just be the stepping stone he needs. Who knows, maybe they’d even get the chance to meet one day.

I just grimaced at my own triteness. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you such a maudlin review of my life story.

No, that’s okay. I don’t talk much about myself, so I wasn’t sure how to respond. Work and home are kept very separate for me. It’s an unhealthy coping mechanism, I know, but it works as best as it can.

In your line of work, I can only imagine. You do what you have to. 

Hotch pauses in their conversation, looks at the clock and the stack of paperwork he still hasn’t finished -- too busy lost in his talk with Dr. Reid -- and feels an itching in the back of his mind he wants so desperately to scratch at. To give into. Lists of things he knows he should talk about, but doesn’t trust anyone enough to do so. Hotch really isn’t sure he can even trust Dr. Reid with them.

At least, not yet.

Thank you. And thank you for entertaining me, as well. 

Anytime.

--

It’s not a month later that Hotch is sitting at his desk, after hours, once again. Head in his hands and his phone still warm, overworked from the hour-long phone call he’d just endured with his ex-sister-in-law, Jessica. 

Jack was being bullied in school. She’d had to attend the parent-teacher conference about it instead of him, because he’d been on a case in Florida for over two weeks. Which really just highlighted to Jack’s teacher what his home life is like and she expressed her worry. Adamantly. Jessica was in agreement, and she once again wanted to have the conversation on if Hotch returning to work at the BAU had been the right choice after Haley was killed. He’d taken his sabbatical for 30 days, passed his psych evals -- which didn’t mean much, he helped write the qualification questions -- and Jack was doing well with his therapist and in school.

Or so he’d thought. Until today. 

That ‘conversation’ turned into an argument, because Hotch gets defensive when someone questions his choices in regards to his family, and as much as he knows that she is right -- he feels awful about how it devolved. Jessica has gone above and beyond in taking care of Jack, to allow Hotch to return to work, and she is the last person that deserves the brunt of his frustration. He only has himself to blame, and he doesn’t know what to do. Who to turn to. Who might have answers for him, if there even was a correct answer for his situation. 

The Foyet case is classified. His assigned therapist is so easily played he hasn’t returned to her in months. 

Hotch just wants someone who won’t see through him, even when he pushes back.

He wants to talk to someone who he doesn’t want to push back against.

Who he trusts.

Dr. Reid, I need help with something no one seems to have an answer for, but it’s of a personal matter and not a professional one. Would you mind lending me your services?

Hotch sends the email before he can take it back. It’s late in Virginia, but Dr. Reid is four hours behind him in California and there’s a high chance he might still be in his office. He seems to keep longer hours, for an old professor. 

He won’t admit it to himself, but he feels a tightness in his chest as he awaits an answer. All the paperwork from the Florida case is completed, there’s nothing keeping him there at the office any longer. But it’s too late to go pick up Jack from Jessica’s, and he doesn’t think he would be welcome to come sleep on her couch like he often does on nights like this. When he wants to be there when Jack wakes up, and tonight he longs to do just that. But he isn’t sure he can even look Jessica in the eye right now.

So he sits there, and watches his computer screen, and feels himself distance from the ache in his bones. Knowing if Dr. Reid doesn’t answer him, he would have to spend however long it would take to compartmentalize his apprehension, once again, and go home to his empty house and not think about how he is failing in raising his son. In being a good father. 

The soft ping of his inbox is his single solace in the storm of his thoughts.

Agent Hotchner, You know I’m always happy to help, in any way -- personal or professional -- if I can. What is it you need an answer to?

That tightness releases, but it also gives way to the worry building up in his chest. An overwhelming, crushing amount of it that he didn’t realize was climbing higher and higher the longer he’d been left alone with his thoughts. Drowning in trepidation. Everything he doesn’t want to have pressing on his mind when they are hunting down serial killers, working with criminals that would see it as a weakness and exploit it without batting an eye. 

But this time, Hotch knows this is becoming something he shouldn’t try to hide away. 

Child psychology. Trauma, in particular, and the effects on children after the fact. 

It’s enough to describe what he needs answered, without telling too much of what happened. It’s still hard for Hotch to think about what happened, to fully realize what they had gone through. What had happened to Haley, what had happened to him. What Jack will have to grow up knowing nearly happened to him. What he almost witnessed.

(626)-595-0387 I have unlimited texting, and tend to stay up very late at night. Also, I have a feeling that you might want to keep this off government regulated emails. I’m not a practicing psychiatrist, mind you, but anything I can do to help you I will be more than happy to offer. 

Hotch is stunned. Whatever he expected, that wasn’t it. He’s near speechless, staring at the phone number with a Pasadena area code, and hesitates in moving their correspondence off of the email platform. A drastic change in dynamic and expectations, but… it would be nice, to be able to message the professor whenever he wanted. The ease of access an alluring thought. 

Another soft ping in his inbox has him looking up from where he’d been glancing at his cell phone in contemplation.

Also, it goes without saying, but everything we talk about in our conversations would still be confidential. I have no one to tell them to, anyway. 

Hotch huffs out a sound that could have been a laugh, and he’s surprised he even can manage that. But he’s barely thinking about it before he’s picking up his cell phone and typing in the number Dr. Reid had given him. []6/3, 22:46[] This is Agent Hotchner.

He sends it, pauses in thought, then keeps typing.

[]6/3, 22:47[] You can call me Hotch, since this is outside work. Agent Hotchner just reminds me I’m abusing bureau resources for personal gain.

The whole interaction is causing this clawing, hot feeling in his chest that might be nervousness in risking the change in their work relationship, or residual guilt from the fight with Jessica about Jack, or just… the fear that Dr. Reid will tell him he is fucking this up and he should never have returned to the FBI at all. Because there are days, like today, where Hotch really starts to think that might be the case.

[]6/3, 22:49[] I figured as much. No one else actually messages me after 6pm except you and some of my more zealous students. 

[]6/3, 22:51[] And although I don’t think you’re abusing anything; in that same vein, you can call me Spencer. This is just two friends having a chat, nothing more. 

Hotch appreciates the gesture, finds himself almost smiling about it -- but then he remembers what he has to relay to ask what he wants to ask the other man. And he isn’t sure where to begin. 

So he just -- begins at the start. The case where Foyet fooled his whole team, posing as a victim, and managing to get away. Slipped through their fingers. Gotten away with murder and insider FBI information and more than he should have ever been able to access. Dr. Reid -- Spencer, please -- doesn’t say anything as he relates all of this, and Hotch commends his patience. Because from the start, this isn’t about child psychology at all. But it is certainly about trauma, and that becomes apparent when Hotch throws caution to the wind and describes what happened to him in his own apartment. Paraphrasing and dropping out intimate details, but explaining what happened is still brutal even stripped to its bare minimum. When Foyet had broken in, and blitzed him, and tortured him as he stabbed him nine times in the chest. Precise, practiced, indicative of letting him live with the knowledge of what that monster masquerading as a man could do. 

The details begin to bleed through the more he types. The more he remembers.

How he’d had to put his ex-wife and son into protective custody. How it hadn’t been enough. His late night obsessions all for naught. And finally, a brief -- or as brief as it can possibly be, for as brutal an event as it was -- summary of what happened when Foyet had found his family. How he had killed Haley, how they had stopped Foyet and Jack had been spared witnessing anything. Even the fight inside Hotch’s own house. He doesn’t… well, Hotch doesn’t plan on describing that and keeps it at bay. He barely remembers it. Blurs of fists and broken furniture and rooms he has memorized from years of memories flying by as they tore through his home like a hurricane. 

But he gives enough of a picture. Enough that, though he doesn’t say as much, Spencer probably knows Foyet didn’t make it out alive. Can guess it was by Hotch’s own hands. 

Which leads them to now -- to the part Hotch needed help with more than anything. His past and his trauma Hotch has a lot of practice dealing with, knows how to handle it alone. As he always has. But the part he doesn’t know how to handle?

He is raising his son on his own. His ex-sister-in-law, Jessica, has been a godsend and is helping with Jack so Hotch can be at work. His lifeblood. His identity. Everything he’s ever worked for. He almost left; Strauss had offered him an early retirement package that was too good to pass up, but he had in the end. Because being an FBI agent, catching the monsters that plague their world, that is what he does. And that’s what Jack knows him to do. 

It helps Jack, Hotch found, to know that his dad is out there catching men like the one that took away his mom. He probably would have taken the loss a lot worse, if Aaron had left the bureau. 

But he’s messing up. Hotch feels that in his bones. He’s gone so much, Jessica is taking on the role of parent instead of Aunt more and more, and Hotch does not want to turn into that father that shows up once in a blue moon and pretends he never left. He’s worried that what Jack’s teacher, and Jessica, had said is true and Jack’s home life isn’t going to be healthy for him. It’s going to make him suffer.

That what Jack has gone through, Hotch doesn’t know how to address correctly. 

It’s near a half hour later that he’s gotten the entire story out, and Hotch realizes that even though text is probably going to be easier to have a conversation like this… he probably could have written it in an email and saved them both some time. He apologizes at the error, because it’s late and his head isn’t quite screwed on straight whenever it comes to matters with his son, and he just… he’s at a loss. Doesn’t know what the right course of action is, or if there even is one outside of a professional’s opinion. 

Then Hotch waits for a reply.

It feels like hours, but in reality is only a couple of minutes. 

[]6/3, 23:22[] Hotch, the fact you are so worried about your son and how your actions have affected him through all of this, is all I really need to know about you being a good father. The consideration you are showing him is not something every parent can do, in the face of what happened to you and your family. You do not need to worry about that. You love your son, and that is the most important factor right now.

[]6/3, 23:25[] Secondly, I’m so sorry that this happened to you at all. You and your son sound like you have such a strong bond, and I know that’s what must have helped you through such a difficult time. It’s apparent that you love him very, very much. 

[]6/3, 23:29[] I don’t have a lot of friends that ask me the hard questions like this. Not that I don’t want them to, I just understand why, because I can recite statistics all day and give you textbook answers easily. Which I know you were hoping would give you a black and white response to your question. But in this there isn’t one, sadly. I know you are worried and I feel like you don’t need to be. And I don’t know how to express that in a way that won’t make you detest me. 

[]6/3, 23:32[] Your son just lost his mom, and you just lost your ex-wife, and there’s not going to be a straightforward path to healing. Everything you say you have done for him? It’s perfect, it’s exactly what you should be doing, and don’t stop. That’s all you can do and all you should focus on, in truth. Listen to what he tells you and watch for what he doesn’t, and hug him, because you are a great dad -- and this is coming from someone who did not have such an example. 

[]6/3, 23:33[] And I am very sorry about Haley, Hotch. I truly am. 

Hotch doesn’t even answer him for a good few minutes. It is a lot to process, to read through, and he does read through it more than once. But every single time he reads that final text, his eyes sting hotly and he has to blink back emotions he thought he had waded through plenty on his 30 days of leave. Apparently, not enough.

It’s so much, and yet he wants more. It’s not enough in the sense that he wishes Dr. Reid -- Spencer -- would keep talking to him. Keep telling him he’s doing a good job. That he hasn’t failed his son. 

That for once, he’s handling something right.

With a breath that feels like it shudders through his chest a little more roughly than it should, Hotch slowly types out a response that doesn’t even begin to feel anything close to adequate.

[]6/3, 23:41[] Thank you, Spencer. I could never detest you, in the slightest. Everyone keeps telling me I’m not screwing this up, but 

He pauses, not sure if he even believes what he’s about to type. 

At the last second, he switches tactics entirely. Feels a flood gate open. Just one, solitary floodgate in the vast Hoover Dam size wall he keeps up from the moment he shrugs into his suit jacket at home until he sheds it all away at the end of the night. In the confines of his home, with six physical locks on the door and two different digital security systems. With a weapon carefully concealed and childproofed in every room. With steel reinforced windows and no exit save for the front and back doors. A fire hazard, but a good precaution against anyone who would try to break in -- like Foyet had. 

[]6/3, 23:41[] ...I find it so hard to believe them. In some ways it’s hard to believe you, too, but that’s not personal. Your words have resonated more than anyone else’s, if that’s any consolation. Even more than the therapist they assigned after everything. 

[]6/3, 23:45[] My sister-in-law flat out told me I was failing my son, being away like I am, and his teacher believes his home environment isn’t healthy. He’s being bullied in school. I don’t know what to do.

Hotch types it all out and sends it. 

The reply is instantaneous.

[]6/3, 23:46[] Yes, you do. You know exactly what to do. 

And then there isn’t any further elaboration.

At first, Hotch is confused. He feels himself being pulled from that precipice of self-loathing and despair. Tugged by a string. The confusion forces him to look at Spencer’s response, nine words long, and decipher what they mean. 

Trusting his first instinct, once more.

[]6/3, 23:49[] I have to talk to Jack. 

[]6/3, 23:54[] You have heard all of this from everyone other than your son. He may be young, but he is going to know the answer better than his teacher or his aunt. Talk to him, before you start nailing yourself to a cross. You may find the answer to the situation a much easier fix than you are anticipating.

Hotch considers this, thinking about his son. Six-years-old now, first grade, smart as a tack, curious and kind. But so strong, a foundation that even he found himself clinging to sometimes, in the face of the storm of everything that had happened to them. Which is not healthy, and Hotch learned to not do that to him. To instead find solidarity in their relationship, withstanding the storm together. As they always have. 

[]6/3, 23:57[] He’s not one to let a bully have his way. He knows that’s not right. Maybe he has another strategy.

[]6/4, 00:01[] He’s young enough that trying to befriend his abuser would be a good tactic to counter the situation, does that seem like something he would do?

[]6/4, 00:02[] That sounds exactly like Jack. Hotch replies, with a smile finally easing on to his face -- and it feels lighter now. Easier to hold.

[]6/4, 00:04[] He sounds like a sweet kid.

[]6/4, 00:05[] He is. I’m very proud of him.

[]6/4, 00:07[] You really are a great dad, Hotch. I’m not just saying it to say it. 

That crushing, overwhelming feeling has ebbed to nearly nothing -- and with a sudden rush of vertigo it is replaced with gratitude for the old professor lending him his evening hours. It flashes warm and sudden and Hotch isn’t used to that, either. 

[]6/4, 00:08[] I would never expect you to, but thank you.

Even he feels lame for thanking the man for saying such a thing.

[]6/4, 00:10[] You don’t need to thank me, I barely did anything.

[]6/4, 00:11[] But if you ever need to talk, about anything really, I’d be more than happy to do so. 

[]6/4, 00:13[] I promise I can be good at that. The listening part. Day or night, it really doesn’t matter. I’ll always be around.

Hotch pauses at the offer, and then types slow and hesitant.

[]6/4, 00:16[] What if I just want to check in on a friend?

[]6/4, 00:16[] I am also around for that. 

The answer is sudden, without hesitation, and Hotch feels a smile start to ease the muscles in his face. Soften the edges once more.

[]6/4, 00:18[] I wouldn’t mind someone to talk to after a long day. It’s been a while since I’ve had a…

He pauses again, not quite sure if he remembers how to do this without pressing in too fast. Committing to too much, not sure what he is able to give of himself. But he’s already shared more with Dr. Reid in two months than he has with David in the past two years. 

Hotch makes a decision, for himself, for the first time in a long time.

[]6/4, 00:18[] ...It’s been a while since I’ve had a friend outside of the bureau. 

[]6/4, 00:19[] Do I still count if I’m a consultant?

[]6/4, 00:19[] You absolutely count. 

His own message makes him smile, and there’s a beat between messages where he hopes he made the older man smile as well. 

[]6/4, 00:22[] I’m never short on topics of conversation, I warn you. So unless you want a lecture on quantum physics -- how do you feel about chess?

[]6/4, 00:24[] I’m getting the feeling you’ll wipe the floor with me.

[]6/4, 00:25[] Oh, without a doubt. But the desktop app also has a chat feature.

[]6/4, 00:26[] Look at you, all modern and with the times.

[]6/4, 00:28[] My home phone may be a rotary, but even I can’t scoff at the vast reach of online chess. 

[]6/4, 00:28[] So what say you?

Hotch pauses, one final time, and considers the night; the conversation, Spencer’s advice, the way talking about what had happened helped ease the weight of it more than he’d ever anticipated. Then he thinks of the source, of what started it all, and how -- once again -- Dr. Reid was right about a number of things. But one thing in particular. 

[]6/4, 00:32[] I’m going to take your advice and go to my son. But tomorrow night, after he’s in bed, I have many hours to myself.

[]6/4, 00:35[] By no coincidence whatsoever, my evenings are always free. Care to show off those FBI honed deduction skills? My best chess opponents have ironically been FBI agents.

[]6/4, 00:36[] Oh, I’m terrible. Trust me.

[]6/4, 00:37[] I promise I don’t care. Your company is worth however many short games we can endure. 

Hotch smiles, despite himself, and this time doesn’t try to hold it back.

[]6/4, 00:39[] Then, it’s a date.

-

(tbc...)

-

Tagged list: @spencehotchner @ssa-sarahsunshine @gothamapologist @reidology @marsjareau @dragon-snaps-fandom​ @emmyraebird @just-an-emo-rat​​​ @aaron-hotchner187 @dk18077 @more-heid-pls @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @merpancake

[atsukashii]

❝back again❞ // k. bakugou

SYNOPSIS: ➛ When pro hero ground zero destroys your shop trying to take down a villain, you don’t hesitate to curse him out. What you don’t expect though, is for him to come back again the next day. 

» CHARACTER PAIRING: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

» WORD COUNT: 5K cause I have no self control

» GENRE: pro-hero!katsuki, aged up characters

» WARNINGS: swearing of course, fluff, fluff, and oop surprise more fluff,

» PROMPT: lilac - “if you don’t kiss me right this second i swear”

« masterlist || ao3 »

Anonymous: can i get uuuuhh ‘lilas’ with pretty boy katsuki 🥺💕💕

a/n: hell yes you can! I went a bit overboard with this request but I hope you love it! Also i’m running off the non-canon idea that Katsuki’s hero name is Ground Zero here.

Pro Hero Ground-Zero is an asshole. He’s an attractive one, but an asshole nonetheless. The explosive blonde was the hero on patrol this morning, when a villain decided to attack some old lady in the middle of the street. Ground Zero fought the villain and left behind a crater in his wake. One you are currently staring at, steam almost coming out of your ears. Because that crater consisted of half of your flower shop.

Are you fucking kidding me? You hear the news reporters behind you, talking to their cameramen about what went down on this normally quiet street. 

“This morning, Pro Hero Ground Zero successfully defeated a villain known to police as ‘FrostBite’. The villain has been responsible for many civilian attacks recently, he’s been linked to a heist just three days ago, which saw the criminals get away with over fourteen thousand…” You tune out the reporter's voice as you step back into your shop, through the gaping hole that was once your front exterior wall. Great, this is so fucking what I needed right now, you think. 

This whole shit fest is the icing on an already bad cupcake. It started when a woman had come into the store just last week, complaining about your goods. Which caused such a ruckus that an inspector was called, only for him to find some bullshit excuse that had stopped you from selling coffee’s in your hybrid cafe/flower shop momentarily. Add on top of that the fact that you are currently in your final semester of university and you’re about to sit your final exams in literally three days.  The word stressed does not even come close to describing your inner turmoil right now.

“-and here he is now! Ground Zero! Can you give us any information about what happened today?” The reporter asks.

“A villain got what he fucking deserved, the end.” A deep voice says from behind you, and you just know it’s him. Clenching your fists, you resist the urge to turn around and scream at the man. What about what you deserved? You look around your store once more and stifle a whimper at all the damage; crumbling walls, plants scattered across the floor, pots shattered and your precious neon sign. Broken. You kneel down and pick up the now dull yellow neon light and feel your eyes begin to sting. This shop had been your dream since you were a little girl, and now it was torn apart by a villain.

“I do my job, and I do it well. Write that in your fucking paper.” The hero reiterates again. Pure fury floods your brain until you are seeing red. Spinning around, your eyes focus onto the battered hero and the flawless reporter, and suddenly, all you want to do is scream. Your mouth begins moving before your brain can follow and say it's a bad idea. 

“You do your job well?!” You hiss at them. Everyone’s attention moves from the asshole hero to you, your apron covered in dirt and rubble from when your front wall crumbled right in front of you, because a villain was physically thrown through it.

“You destroyed my store!” Ground Zero’s face flushes red in anger as he stares at you with his scarlet eyes. If you weren’t so mad, you could maybe appreciate how handsome he is, but currently you can see too much damage - expensive damage - to even think like that.

“That villain was a threat to society, he got what he deserved. You should be thanking me, you damn extra!”

“Thanking you? You left a DAMN HOLE IN MY FUCKING STORE!” You scream at Ground Zero. “And what about what I deserve? I don’t deserve to have to pay for all of these fucking damages that you caused!” The anger seeps out of you as you look at the small crowd around your store, gawking at you. You can’t imagine that this is a normal response for heroes to get from civilians. What a mess…

“Y/n!” A voice interrupts the crowd and you look to the right where someone is pushing through the mass of people slowly, to get into the store. The second your best friend & work colleague see’s the damage, she lets out a sad sigh and looks your way.

“Oh sweety…” you hold up your hand, making them stop from walking in. 

“There’s broken glass everywhere. Let me clean up first,” You whisper, suddenly ashamed of your outburst. Ground Zero had been doing a civil duty, and you’d just jumped on his case about the damage he caused? Good one y/n, real smooth. Turning your back on the hero and the crowd, you weave around smashed pots and dead plants, reaching behind the counter for the broom you keep there and begin to sweep up the mess. You can hear the group begin to disperse, but can’t get rid of the feeling that someone is watching you. Looking over your shoulder, your eyes lock onto the vermilion gaze of the upcoming hero, known for his brash attitude towards reporters. Your breath catches in your throat as his intense stare seems to look into you more deeply than anyone ever has. Like he’s analysing your very being and everything about you. You shift away from him, grabbing the plastic rubbish bags you leave next to the till for the frequent mishaps that happen in your store, and you get to cleaning.

What a mess.

❀ ❀ ❀

 For the past two nights since your shop was damaged, you’ve been crashing with your best friend who deemed it unsafe for you to stay at your apartment located above the partially destroyed store. You didn’t have the energy to argue against them at the time, so now as you walk down the main street towards your shop, you’re thinking about how strange it is that you need to travel to get to work. At least it's a sunny day, so surely this has to mean something good... You hope. 

But as you round the corner convenience store on your block, you stop in your tracks. In front of your pathetically boarded up store, stands a tall man in black jeans and a matching jumper, the hood pulled up over his head. Because that’s not suspicious at all. Unfortunately, he’s leaning up against your front door, so you’re going to have to at least ask him to move.

“Uh, excuse me?” His head whips towards you, and your gaze immediately locks onto the ash blonde hair that peeks out from under the hood, and the matching eyebrows partially hidden by his dark sunglasses. It’s him, Ground Zero. Here. At my store. You don’t have the drive like you did the other day to be mad, so instead you keep walking towards your store with a raised eyebrow aimed at the pro hero. 

“Shouldn’t you be patrolling somewhere Ground Zero?” You ask the man as you approach. He shifts away from the door, but doesn’t move far, allowing you to use your keys to unlock it. Not that locking the door would do anything to deter intruders considering there’s a fucking hole where the almost floor to ceiling windows once stood. 

“It’s my day off.” Now that you’re not overcome with rage towards the man, you can appreciate the deep tone to his voice. One so alluring it sends chills down your spine. Do not go there, seriously y/n. No, it doesn't matter that you’re not mad, he’s still an ass.

“Good for you.” You mutter, before stepping through the doorway. You had cleaned up a lot of the debris from the room over the past two days, but the council wouldn’t let you begin working on the wall until today, as they had to deem it still structurally sound before you went around doing things. Hopefully, if all went well, you would have the shop open again in less than two weeks. 

You notice that the further you walk into Daisy Chains, the hero follows. You place your bag on the till and round to face him, leaning your weight against the wooden counter.

“Are you here to mug me or something?” What use did a pro hero have to you? What use did he have coming here either?

“I’m a fucking hero dumbass, its literally my job to detain people who do that.” He growls, his vermilion gaze forming a scowl that really shouldn’t be attractive on him, but somehow is.

“Well how am I supposed to know? First, you damage my shop, then show up in all black, glaring at me and following me into an empty store?” You challenge, meeting his intense glare straight on. If he thinks he’s intimidating you like this, well he’s right. But, you’re not going to let him know that.

“I’m here to help.” His voice echoes throughout the dead quiet store. For a moment, all you can do is blink at the somewhat stranger. He lets out a growl at you that has you steeling your spine.

“You kick up such a fuss about your fucking store, then what? Don’t want help when it's handed to you?” Ground Zero barks at you, bringing you out of your stupor.

“I’m just surprised is all.” Your honesty makes him pause. “But if you’re serious, I’ll take the offer. It wouldn’t hurt to have another set of hands.” You’re not an idiot, you know you’ve got a lot of work to do in order to get the shop back up and running, and considering you’re not the only employee here and it's your livelihood, you need it up and running as soon as possible. 

“The contractor says it's going to take about two weeks.” You comment.

“Then we’ll do it in one. I’ve only got a few days off, so we need to get this done soon.” Ground Zero replies with a blank expression, before getting up off his spot of leaning against the wall. You can’t help but admire his determination, especially to fix something he may have helped cause. A lot of hero’s you know wouldn’t even have bothered to come back for this, it was just another ‘ casualty of the job’. But for some reason Ground Zero did, and you weren’t about to look the gift horse in the mouth. 

“If i’m going to have a stranger help me out for the next couple of days, don’t I have the right to know their name?” You ask, walking forward towards him. He straightens up at your approaching figure - as if going on the defensive, and you notice as you come to a stop that he’s quite a bit taller than you. His nose would touch your forehead if he bent forward, no wonder he wasn’t intimidated by me when you yelled at him the other day. 

“Y/n Y/l/n, proud owner of Daisy Chains.” Sticking out your hand, Ground Zero looks between your eyes and your hand for a moment before reaching forward and gripping it.

“Katsuki Bakugou, also known as Ground Zero.” He introduces, shaking your hand. You can’t help but notice how calloused it is compared to your own. Well he literally works with his hands due to that explosive quirk of his.

“Katsuki Bakugou…” You breathe, testing the words out on your tongue. You glare half-heartedly at Katsuki, “I still don’t like you.” You finish, pulling your hand away from the blonde. He huffs at you and scowls. 

“The feelings fucking mutual. Let’s get this shit done.” Katsuki orders, pushing up the sleeves of his hooded jumper and walks over to the boarded up wall, grabbing a hammer as he moves. He’s definitely determined, that's for sure. One however, can also describe Katsuki as elegant. You observe the way that he moves; every motion fluid with a sort of grace you wouldn’t have pinned with someone like him. He yanks of his hood as he begins to pull the nails out of the wooden beams. Strong too. Unfortunately, his sweater hides his defined biceps that you know are there due to seeing him the other day in his hero costume and you - nope, stop right there. Shaking your head to clear your wandering thoughts, you reach over to the tool kit your best friend brought over for you to borrow and follow Katsuki’s lead and begin ripping down the wood.

With two sets of hands, things get done much faster than you had originally thought it would. You had ripped out the hastily put up wood, and began to demolish the rest of the damaged structure like the contractors had marked out for you. Due to being too poor to afford builders, you had planned to do the whole thing yourself, so as much as you hated to admit it, Katsuki’s presence was actually a major help. Not like you’d tell him that anyways. By the time it was five thirty that evening, you had already begun to put up the interior wall structure. Katsuki somehow knew what the hell he was doing, and barely had to look at the tips the contractor wrote down for you. When you had questioned him, he’d just barked at you to mind your own dang business, and proceeded to pout like a child for the next hour. Some of your neighbours had brought some temporary fencing to put across the front of the store to try and stop people from getting in during the day - and you had thanked them profusely as they waved it off. Because you were only twenty one, the owners of the shops either side of you had taken you under their wings so to speak. The old lady who ran the bakery next door often ‘made too much’ bread and gave some to you, and you in response 'accidentally ordered too many of her favourite roses’ so they’d go to waste if she didn’t take them. And when they’d seen Katsuki, he’d just huffed and managed to find something to do on the opposite side of the store. He’s a strange one that Ground Zero. 

As the sky kept darkening, you look from the star speckled darkness slowly settling outside to your watch and decide to call it a day. Reaching over your head, you groan as your muscles pull tightly and ache from all the labour. 

“I think we should call it a day Katsuki.” You yawn, looking over to the blonde who has already started to pack up the tools. He glances at you when he’s done, and dusts his hands on his black jeans. 

“I’ll be here tomorrow at eight. Don’t be fucking late or I’ll break in the door to get in.” Katsuki promises, before pushing out said door. 

“I won’t pay for that damage!” You call after him, watching as his shoulders tense in annoyance at your words. Holding in your laugh, you observe as he pulls his hood over his head and stalks down the street, slipping into the shadows like he’s made of them. You let out a sigh and lean back against the counter, suddenly feeling much more optimistic about your store and its progress now that Katsuki’s helping.

He definitely is a strange one. 

For the next three days, your progress clicks like clockwork. Arriving at eight am and leaving at seven when it gets too dark and you’re both too tired to do much more, the store is slowly coming back together. Last night, you’d even ordered take out and actually had a civilised meal together. Sitting on the floor of Daisy Chains, you’d both eaten gyūdon, conversing in innocent small talk whilst you gaped at the hot sauce that Katsuki kept adding to his food. He had smirked at your expression, which then resulted in a two hour Q&A with pro hero Ground Zero. Where you learnt that he absolutely loves spicy food, likes mountain climbing of all things, and can actually cook - which you only learnt because he called the food bland and was offended when you sassed saying that he couldn’t do any better. Apparently, he can. It was a weird experience, getting to know Katsuki as someone other than Ground Zero, Pro Hero destined to be number one - his words of course. It was actually… Nice, talking to him. Your heart jumped around inside your chest like an overexcited child in those moments, just getting to know him and seeing his lips tick up ever so slightly for the first time at a joke you cracked. And you need your heart to stop. You have no reason to feel like this, if anything you should be mad. No, you think. He’s using his days off, things he’s mentioned that he rarely gets, to help you fix something that - yes, he caused damage to, but could have just left alone. 

You let out a sigh at your confused thoughts and dip the paintbrush back into the bucket on the floor. Your feelings towards the confident blonde are perplexing at best. Yet, as you look around the nearly completed store, and the painting you have left to do, you couldn’t help but want him there. Sure, you argue - a lot, but you also really enjoy his company. And no, it wasn’t because around midday every day, he’d shed his jumper and you’d be graced with toned muscles bulging out of his tank singlet. 

Except he had mentioned to you last night that he wasn't coming in today because he was back on patrol. It’s fine really, you have managed to get a lot done today anyways, as a lot of the heavy lifting had already been finished earlier this week. You had given the new wall a coat of primer after the window installation guys had come in and done their job on the brand spanking new windows that made your bank account cry. Having them back in and the wall officially closed in, you were also finally able to move back into your apartment upstairs and off your friends couch, which was a massive relief. 

Dipping your brush back into the paint, you look at the rest of the wall that has to be done. You had decided earlier that you may as well give the rest of the store a bit of a face lift whilst you were at it. Half of it was completed when you had to take a break before you gassed yourself with the paint fumes. Deciding to leave the back door open and turn on the fan, that usually is only made use of in the summertime to attempt to decontaminate the air, but the store still reeked of paint fumes. So you settled on keeping the front door open using a cinder block. It was working, gradually. 

Slowly, the sun set behind the skyscrapers and you are still painting. Letting out a yawn, you carefully paint around the edge of the window frame, trying not to either touch the tape you had previously put down or let any drip onto the paint cloth on the floor. You are so focused on the task that you don’t notice someone has walked into the store until they speak.

“You shouldn’t leave the front door open like that dumbass, some creeper is going to take that as an opportunity to come in.” You let out a terrified scream and the paintbrush flies out of your hand and onto the floor. Placing a hand to your chest to slow your thundering heart, you look to Katsuki who's standing in the middle of the store, arms crossed on his chest, his usual glare ever so intensely settled on you, and still dressed in his hero costume. Good gracious.

“I thought you had patrol?” you ask, not moving an inch. It feels like forever since you’ve seen him in his hero costume, and somehow it looks even better then it did the first time you saw him in it. But your opinion may be biased seeing as you’ve unfortunately found yourself thinking of the hero constantly recently. He’s grown on you, like an annoyingly attractive fungus you can’t seem to get rid of. 

“Just finished up. Thought I would come over here and see how slowly you’ve been going.” He smirks. You almost choke on your saliva as you look at his ticked up lips. Is he…  Teasing me right now? 

“Slow? I’ll have you know that i’m moving much faster today than I have with your help Mr Pro Hero.” You sass, picking up the brush and moving to continue on the wall.

“Obviously, that's why you're still going at this time.” You know he’s only trying to rile you up, but you can’t stop yourself from shooting him a playful glare over your shoulder at him But as you move, you find him no longer standing there. Katsuki’s fishing behind your front counter for something, and you’re about to ask what he’s looking for before he walks towards you, a paintbrush in hand. You blink at him as he stands next to you, dips the new brush in the paint and begins to pick up where you left off.

Your brain can’t seem to comprehend that he’s here, when he said he was super busy, in his hero costume, helping you paint. You’re unsure as to how long you’ve been standing there staring at him for, until Katsuki looks at you with a frown.

“You better not start fucking slacking now dumbass. I didn’t come here to do it all for you.” He says with a small smile and god what the hell is going on right now? Your cheeks suddenly feel hot and you don’t need to touch them or look in a mirror to know that you’re blushing. Hurriedly, you scramble for your thrown paintbrush, reaching down to the pastel blue liquid that almost looks white and begin to paint. 

The radio plays softly in the background, the only source of noise in the store, and you find yourself bopping your head with the music as you work. Suddenly, when your favourite song comes on, you make a mad scramble to the machine and turn it up loudly, ignoring Katsuki’s protests. Dancing as you walk back to the wall, he’s glaring at you but there's no anger in it. Somehow over the past few days, you’ve managed to finally crack the code that is Katsuki Bakugou, and understand the many meanings of his scowls, glares and unfriendly remarks. And now, as you’re singing along to the song and shuffling towards him with a dorkish grin, he’s one hundred percent amused at your antics. Katsuki doesn’t dance along, or even bop his head, but you can see him mouthing the words ever so slightly, and that's enough. As the last chorus hits, you scream the words out loud, which earns a loud bark of laughter from Katsuki. Mid verse, the climax of your performance, you stop to watch it happen. You know you’ve said things he’s found funny before, because his mouth shifts upwards ever so slightly, followed by him calling you an idiot and turning away. But seeing him laugh, a proper laugh that starts in the belly and spreads happiness through every pore of your body and into those around you, it was so attractive to you. The soft smile he sent you after too was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. For a man normally so harsh and with sharp as fuck features, the gentle look he gave you made your stomach somersault. 

The song was forgotten as you forced yourself to keep on painting until you finally finished. Looking at the clock behind the counter, you smother a yawn as you read the time. 11:16pm. 

Finally, it was all coming together. With only the radio making noise, you and Katsuki tidy up your tools once more and you walk him to the door. He raises an eyebrow as you lean up against the glass door. 

“I moved back upstairs today, so no more couch surfing for me.” You answer his silent question.

“That’s good, I was sick of having to walk you all the way back to your friends place.” Katsuki replies, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He was smart enough to bring a change of clothes with him tonight to change into once he’d dropped blue paint onto his costume and realised that it wasn’t the wisest idea to wear it. So now, he was back in his casual black getup, in the sweater that a part of you so wanted to steal.

“Hey, no one ever asked you to do that, thank you very much.” Scoffing at your words, Katsuki shifts his weight from one leg to another. 

“You’d have never made it there without me.” 

“Whatever makes you sleep at night Mr Pro Hero.” Standing in silence, you suddenly can’t bring yourself to look at him and instead look back inside the store. “Hopefully I’ll have this place open again in a few days,” You say out of nowhere, simply feeling the need to break the silence. 

“That’s good. I might have to come around and actually buy something.” Snapping your head back towards him, you flush from head to toe. Is he flirting with me? You asked yourself...surely not… Why would someone like him flirt with someone like me? But you can’t help but hope that he is.

“If you come around here for any other reason other than to buy something, I swear to god Katsuki.”

“Any other reason?” He challenges, taking a step closer. Your back is pressing into the glass door behind you as your eyes lock onto his scarlet ones. “What if I have a perfectly valid reason?” 

“Does it include breaking things?” You breathe, his face so close now that you can feel his exhale fan across your mouth. Oh my god.

“Not breaking, just stealing something.” He’s whispering, as if speaking too loudly would scare you away like a timid animal. Your heart is about to burst from your chest with anticipation. He’s going to kiss me, he's sooo going to kiss me. And you so want him to.

“You’re going to steal some plants Katsu? That's a bit lame. I thought you were some big shot.” His eyes flicker to life with something you can’t quite place. Teasingly, he looks down at your lips and you swear to god. 

“Hey,” he drawls, “don’t go judging me now y/n.” his hand comes up to your face and brushes a strand of your hair away from your eyes. “Do you give everyone else shit like this after they’ve done you a favour, sweetheart?” 

“Katsuki.” You all but groan, letting logic fly out the door and gripping the front of his sweater. “If you don’t kiss me right this second, I swear-” He doesn’t even let you finish the sentence before he’s cradling your jaw in his hands and crashing your lips together. The two of you collide with such force it knocks the air right from your lungs. Katsuki completely dominates the kiss, which has shocks running down your spine and into the tips of your toes every second it continues. He possesses your very being and you can’t do anything but hold onto him and return it with everything you have in you. Reluctantly, Katsuki pulls away from you, but continues to hold your face captive within his grasp. 

“I-uh…” your brain is no longer functioning and sits with the same potential of goo inside your skull. Smirking at your response, pride swirls inside Katsuki’s eyes.

“Got nothing to say now dumbass?” He jokes, releasing a cheek to brush hair out of your eyes again. You’re pretty sure there's paint in it.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” You manage to ask, deciding that you never want to do anything other than kiss him every day for the rest of your life. This time, Katsuki doesn’t laugh at you, or even smirk. His smug grin morphs into something so soft and rare that you doubt many have ever seen this look on him, and even fewer ever will.

“Only if you agree to go out with me.” Katsuki states. Of course he wouldn’t ask like a regular person. He’s Katsuki fucking Bakugou, pro hero and future number one if he gets his way. He doesn’t have time to beat around the bush.

“It’s almost midnight Katsu.” You point out, which makes him laugh.

“I didn’t mean right now dumbass.”

“Oh.” You feel yourself blush bright bright red, mortified you try to pull your head out of his hands purely out of embarrassment. But Katsuki quickly moves his hands from your face until he’s pulled you tightly against him, your chest flush against his torso, your head craned up to look at him. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” he utter’s before leaning in and kissing you again, this time softly and chastely, so different from the desperate kiss earlier. Suddenly, you’re so glad he exploded into your lift and ruined your shop that day. “You’re getting dinner with me tomorrow night.” He mumbles against your lips.

“Do I have a choice?” You ask, your fingers weaving through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. You feel him smile a feral grin against your lips and try to hold in a smile of your own.

“No.”

“Good, wouldn’t want it any other way Katsu.”

©️ 2021 all rights reserved to atsukashii, do not change, edit, translate, or repost any works on any platform.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s S2 R&S - Tempering (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from an R&S (淬炼) which has not been released in English servers!🍒

This R&S features S2 Gavin!

[ Chapter One ]

Eight-year old Tang Chao wrote in his homework: My aspiration is to be free and easy, and get to sleep after a full meal. 

The teacher failed him.

Eighteen-year old Tang Chao wasn’t able to be free and easy, nor get sleep after a full meal. This is because he was recommended for admission into the police academy.

Everyone knows that he’s a “specially enrolled student”. When he entered the academy, he didn’t even have to go through the “Demon Test”. He wasn’t treated harshly by the officers during training. The first semester consisted of some foundational stamina training and a few superficial criminal investigation classes. In the first month, Tang Chao barely passed in every course. Yet, he remains unusually carefree.

Tang Chao’s roommate feels indignant. “It’s only because your Evol is special. Otherwise, you’d have been expelled from the academy a long time ago with such grades.”

“That’s right, my Evol is special.” Tang Chao arches his brows. “If the academy were to expel me, they’ll experience a great loss.”

Detecting lies is essentially an Evol meant for criminal investigation. And it’s precisely because of this ability that he was recommended for admission into this first-rate police academy despite his average physique. 

“Hmph. Anyway, you only have a few more days of being carefree.” His roommate flips over on the iron bed, sticking out half his head from above. “I heard from the instructors that the first month after entering the academy merely counts as a warm up. Actual training will only begin next week. The higher-ups even sent a third year student to supervise us. Guess who our class got?”

“Who?”

His roommate pauses with each syllable. “Gav. In!”

“Who’s Gavin?”

His roommate almost falls down from the bed. “You don’t even know who Gavin is?”

“Why do I have to know him...” Tang Chao mutters. “Is this person very famous?”

“Famous! He’s so famous! He’s celebrated!”

The famous Senior Gavin had passed, with record-breaking marks, the admission exam, physical capabilities, shooting, Close Quarters Combat, simulated sand tables... His marks for various segments have never fallen below the top three places. In his second year, he was already heading out on missions with full-time Evol agents. Even before graduating, he was so popular that police departments from various districts were already falling over each other in their eagerness to snatch him up.

“...but I heard that mission was pretty tragic. It seems a comrade from the same squadron as him lost his life... Hey, are you listening to me?”

“I’m listening, I’m listening.” Despite Tang Chao’s perfunctory words, he has to admit that this Senior Gavin is indeed more of a special police officer than he is.

Or rather, Evol special police officers ought to be like Gavin. 

“I should caution you. Apparently, he’s exceptionally haughty, and you might as well be a grain of sand in his eyes.” His roommate pats the edge of the bed. “You should be a little more serious next week.”

Tang Chao laughs. “What can he do to me? I’m someone with a special privilege.”

His roommate clicks his tongue, not advising him further. “Seeing that you have such virtuous conduct, you can ask for help after meeting him.

-

[ Chapter Two ]

After assembling in the field on Monday morning, Tang Chao realises that a young man in his twenties is standing next to their class leader. The other party looks fierce, his back even straighter than the Chinese fir trees along the field. At a glance, it’s evident that there’s a world of difference between him and this batch of newly enrolled students.

“This is Student Gavin from the Seventh Squadron. This semester, he will be a provisional supervisor and instructor. In the training from now onwards, I want all of you to be more spirited and driven, and prohibited from embarrassing our class.” The class leader exclaims. “Do you hear me!”

“Yes!”

Amid the uniform responses from the formation, Gavin’s line of sight sweeps across this batch of new students. Everyone holds their breaths and keep silent, thinking that this senior would be giving them a lecture. In the end, the other party simply nods. “In that case, we’ll officially begin. As a warm up, run 10km.”

How many kilometres?

Everyone looks at each other, thinking they must have misheard.

Tang Chao raises his hand. “Reporting to the instructor - We typically run 5km in the mornings...”

Gavin turns a deaf ear to him. “Turn to the right, get ready --- Run.”

[Note] I recorded the audio for his command because why not

At this point, everyone realises that Gavin is truly like what the rumours said, and is not to be trifled with. All they can do is gulp in resentment, running in formation. Tang Chao deliberately lags at the very end, then walks towards Gavin, giving him a salute. “Reporting to the instructor.”

Gavin looks at him.

“I can’t run 10km.” Tang Chao is straightforward. “I have a special situation. The class leader and the others know about it. If I were to run 10km, I’ll really die...”

“Since you’re enrolled in the police academy, there’s no special situation.” Gavin responds. “As for whether or not you’ll die, we’ll talk about that after you’ve finished running.”

“...”

In the end, Tang Chao finishes running. Or rather, he finishes crawling.

The other students in class have already finished running and have headed off for breakfast. He’s the only one who resembles a ghost, drifting on the field. Occasionally, some classmates would pass by. He usually laughs and jokes around while they’re still running, so seeing him - who entered through the back door - finishing last leaves them gloating a little.

Gavin, on the other hand, doesn’t gloat. When Tang Chao staggers to the end point, he speaks with a blank expression. “You’re late by 20 minutes. Have your breakfast. The class will assemble after 20 minutes, and we’ll start with the next training. 

Initially, Tang Chao was already too tired to speak. After hearing this command, he can’t help but do so. “Brother... ah no, Instructor Gavin, even if you’re just showing your authority at the first encounter, it should be enough.”

Gavin furrows his brows.

“Just look at how cooperative I’ve been. Seeing how I've ended up, the others in class will definitely listen and obey you unquestioningly.” Tang Chao cracks his knuckles. “But my physical constitution is really like this. It isn’t my choice to rank at the bottom of the class. Could you just close an eye and let me off?”

Gavin looks at his unwillingness to change, and speaks plainly. “Since you’re so unwilling to undergo training, what are you doing here.”

Tang Chao shrugs. “There’s not much reason. Someone needs me to be here, undergo some simple training, go through the motions, then graduate as a matter of course, then help crack some cases and make a living.”

“What I'm asking is - why are you staying here.” Gavin’s voice turns stern. “If someone didn’t need it, you wouldn't be here? When you were running, I asked your class leader for the training results from your first month. Most of your marks hovered around the passing grade, and you had to re-take a few tests.”

Tang Chao releases an “mm” sound -- even though it’s very embarrassing to be told this in such a straightforward manner, the results are black and white, so he doesn’t hope to get anything higher.

Gavin continues. “From the numbers of your make-up examinations, you actually have quite a lot of potential.”

Tang Chao is left dumbfounded.

“Since you have potential, don’t waste it.” After Gavin finishes speaking, he leaves.

-

[ Chapter Three ]

Gavin’s demon-like training continues. On the second day, he adds weight training and 200 push-ups to the training regimen. At this point, it’s not just Tang Chao who can’t handle it - the other new students in the class can’t endure it midway through. On the third day, he adds an obstacle course and forty minutes of wrestling on top of the basic training.

“I think I understand now. Senior Gavin doesn’t want me to die. He wants everyone to die.” Tang Chao feebly concludes during wrestling training.

Finally, a week goes by. A simulation tactics manoeuvre is added to the training. This is a rare course in which Tang Chao can attain high marks. With an Evol which allows him to detect lies, he’s especially skilled in courses related to psychological warfare. He looks at the holographic sand table before him. Filled with inexplicable courage, he suddenly raises his hand. “Report.”

“What is it?” Gavin’s voice drifts over from the front.

"I wish to challenge Gavin to a round.” Tang Chao raises his voice.

At this moment, soft discussions fill the surroundings. Gavin arches his brows. Amid the discussions, he walks to the other side of the holographic sand table, not engaging in superfluous words. “Which one do you want to start?”

“Rescuing hostages in a factory. I’ll storm the fortification.”

“No problem.”

Tang Chao’s palms begin to sweat slightly, but he maintains the provocative smile on the corners of his lips. “Instructor, if I win, could I be exempted from the remaining training for today?”

Gavin pulls open the map. “We’ll talk about that after you’ve won.”

The holographic sand table simulation is an entirely new course introduced to students in recent years. The maps in the sand table, the personnel’s Evol abilities, the weather and weapons are entirely constructed by the system. Because this is meant to train a students’ adaptive and judgment skills, there’s no such thing as a party gaining an advantage over another through undergoing a similar experience.

Not even after ten minutes after the round begins, Tang Chao’s moves have already garnered him sixty more points than Gavin.

In the lead over Gavin for the first time, his heart finally feels slightly pleased. He can’t help but lift his eyes to cast Gavin a glance. However, the other party doesn’t look frantic at all. Gavin’s line of sight is focused on the sand table in front of him, fingers continuously moving and tapping. The originally three-way defense team is quickly split into nine teams, intercepting and attacking Tang Chao from all directions.

At this moment, students observing from the side burst into an uproar. Having to command nine groups at the same time - is he human?!

Tang Chao is also very shocked. But in the next second, he loses his ability to be shocked. The symbols on the map representing each other’s movements flicker continuously. Gradually, he can no longer keep up with Gavin’s movements - there is too much false information. The moment he calculates that one path can’t be taken, many more paths around him have already been blocked. 

An increasing number of regions struck with red crosses appear on the map. When he finally grabs the hostage, the six teams he originally had have been reduced to a small four-person group by Gavin.

Gavin shuts the holographic sand table. “Any thoughts?”

Tang Chao remains stubborn. “At least I successfully rescued the hostage...”

“You think that’s called a success?” Gavin laughs coldly. “Do you know why the highest marks are awarded based on the number of people left in the simulation? Because every red dot on the map represents the life of a comrade in real life.”

Tang Chao feels as though something is lodged in his throat.

“In an actual operation, the situations you have to face are even more dangerous, and even more complicated than in the sand table.” Gavin looks around at all of the students. “The criminal will not give you as much time and opportunities to make judgement calls. Every wrong decision could result in the death of a comrade.”

His gaze returns to Tang Chao, his tone becoming more severe. “Give it proper thought.”

Tang Chao lowers his head. “Yes.”

“But you were courageous in bringing up the challenge, and it’s worth encouraging.” Gavin curls his forefinger and taps the sand table. “5km, go.”

For the first time, Tang Chao wholeheartedly finishes the 5km run. He pounds his aching and sore legs, preparing to return to the dormitory. Suddenly, he sees his opponent from half an hour ago at a corner not afar off.

Gavin is standing underneath a tree, holding a photograph in his hand.

Gavin doesn’t notice Tang Chao. All of his focus is channelled onto that photograph. In this moment, he seems to have unloaded all his defences, becoming a Gavin different from his usual self. Those perpetually stern eyes have grown dim, bringing with them a twinge of fatigue. 

Tang Chao holds his breath, subconsciously squinting his eyes to identify the photograph. On it seems to be... a female? Could she be Instructor Gavin’s...

But why is there blood on the photograph?

Before he can let his imagination roam, someone suddenly pats him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Tang Chao, have you seen Instructor Gavin?” His roommate asks. “I need to look for him.”

Tang Chao turns slightly, blocking his roommate’s line of sight. He points in another direction. “Oh, I saw him. He walked towards the canteen.”

The lies of a person who can detect lies will never be discovered by someone else. His roommate doesn’t doubt him, and gives him another pat on the shoulder. “Thanks.”

After his roommate walks a distance away, he turns his head once again to look at Gavin, before leaving quietly.

He doesn’t know what that girl in the photograph means to Gavin, but his instincts told him that the tranquil image before him wasn’t one which someone should have disrupted.

-

[ Chapter Four ]

Amid torrential rain, one group continues training on the field of the police academy. The gloomy weather and gloomy atmosphere seem to make the weight on their shoulders much heavier than usual. But this time, no one complains, including Tang Chao.

--Because yesterday, another comrade in the police academy lost his life in a hostage rescue operation.

The pools of water beneath their feet are akin to pools of blood. The wooden piles on their shoulders seem to be alive and breathing, weighing down on them, and leaving them unable to catch their breath. Tang Chao grits his teeth. Even if he’s at the very end of the formation, he doesn’t give up on pressing forward.

“Late by four minutes.” Gavin clutches the watch at the end point as always. “There’s improvement.”

Only Tang Chao knows just how much effort he expended for the few words “there’s improvement”.

In this moment, he vaguely figure things out in his mind. Even though it’s very unclear, there’s a life goal in his heart which is more definite and firm than being “free and easy, and sleeping after a full meal”. Carefree days are definitely good. If he were to cast down the wooden piles and shout “I quit”, he can have them. But as long as he remains in the police academy for one more day, as long as the vow he made upon entering the academy still remains engraved in his heart, his future is destined to have no fate with being free and easy.

Tang Chao releases a muddy breath. He unloads the weight, laying directly on the field. “Instructor Gavin, how did you tell that I had potential back then?”

Gavin is silent for a while. “...actually, that was a lie.”

Tang Chao bursts out laughing.

Perhaps it was indeed a lie from Gavin. But he had followed through with this lie, and enabled Tang Chao to believe this lie too - he had never given up on Tang Chao, and Tang Chao had never given up on himself.

The rain continues pouring down. After laughing, Tang Chao’s voice mixes with the clear water. “Did you know? I suddenly had the ability to detect lies overnight.”

Gavin doesn’t say anything, and Tang Chao continues. “At first, I didn’t even know how to control my Evol. I was so confused, and the people around me were also very alarmed. Because those around me could no longer conceal anything. No matter what kind of masks they wore, I could remove them. Many people were afraid of talking to me. They didn’t even dare to come near to me. That period of time was... pretty depressing. It’s such an incredible ability.”

“Afterwards, I fumbled around and became clearer on how to use this ability. I more or less figured out how to live in such an environment.” Tang Chao points at his head. “The secret is in not caring.”

“It’s not that you really don’t care.” Gavin says.

“That’s right.” Tang Chao smiles wryly. “It’s just that after pretending not to care for such a long time, I’ve become confused too. Instructor Gavin, do you think I can still find the reason for staying here?”

Gavin ponders for a moment before responding. “I can’t imagine how it feels like to be surrounded by lies. But right now, you’re able to walk out from those days, and maintain an independent judgement. It shows that you’re actually much more tenacious than the average person.”

“I don’t think that I’m strong...”

“No one is born strong.”

Tang Chao wipes at the rainwater on his face. “Including yourself?”

“Including myself.” Gavin says solemnly. “I was at a loss before, but afterwards... I found a reason to persevere. I think it’s only a matter of time before you’ll also find a conviction belonging to yourself.”

When Gavin speaks, his intonation doesn’t fluctuate much. It’s as though he’s elaborating on an obvious fact. At this moment, Tang Chao doesn’t use his Evol, because he knows that these are Gavin’s genuine words.

There’s no need to use a lie detector to determine this.

The rain gradually lessens. Tang Chao observes the ash coloured sky for a very long time. His voice is very soft, as though he’s speaking to himself. “I can’t think of any high-sounding reasons. In that case, my goal is to become a person who can live up to this ability.”

Gavin laughs. With neither too much nor too little force, he kicks Tang Chao’s arm with his foot, then blows the assembly whistle in his hand. “All right. Get up and prepare for the next training.”

Tang Chao sits up. “Big Bro, you should at least give me a compliment!”

-

[ Chapter Five ]

Without realising it, the semester is drawing to a close, and Gavin’s task of being an assistant supervisor is ending soon. The class had originally planned to drag Gavin along to a small New Year’s Eve farewell party. In the end, Gavin was sent to participate in a special operation that day, so everyone just brought the farewell party forward, and wish Instructor Gavin a smooth and successful mission.

After the students have left the classroom, Gavin realises that Tang Chao is still standing at the doorway. “Why haven’t you left with the others?”

“I heard this mission is pretty dangerous.” Tang Chao suddenly speaks.

“Every mission is accompanied with danger.” Gavin says.

��Not that kind of danger...” Although Tang Chao isn’t a participant in this mission, he has heard about its contents. “The moment it isn’t handled properly, the dissent between civilians and Evolvers would be aggravated. If the time comes, I’m afraid it wouldn’t end with just a few clashes and bloodshed.”

Although he’s often careless and relaxed, it doesn’t mean that he’s stupid.

“I know.” Gavin nods. “Since you’ve already heard about some of its contents, your class should more or less know about it too - did they ask you to inquire about it?”

“Not really. I wanted to ask you about it myself.” Tang Chao hugs his elbows. “If... and I’m saying ‘if’. If this operation contradicts with the convictions you’ve always persevered in, what would you do?”

“There’s no need for such hypothesis.” Gavin looks at him. “I’ll just use my own eyes to look at it, use my own mind to make a judgement, and not doubt it before the operation even begins. If conviction can be so easily swayed, it means it isn’t yours. Instead, it’s what someone else has forcefully given to you.”

Gavin pauses, glancing at his own palm. Even if its development clashes with my convictions, I’ll use my own methods to handle it.”

When Tang Chao hears this, he’s left dumbfounded. Then, he immediately laughs. “Ah, this answer is truly in line with Instructor Gavin’s style.” He moves over and crinkles his eyes at Gavin. “No wonder the higher-ups purposely trained you to become a leader. With such words, who wouldn’t want to be Instructor Gavin’s subordinate?”

Gavin shakes his head. “I’m not interested in being a leader.”

“Why aren’t you interested in anything? You said you weren’t interested in the competition earlier either...” Tang Chao grins. “It looks to me that the only interest you have is the lady in that photograph, right? When will you introduce Sis-in-law to everyone- ack!”

He receives a blow from Gavin’s elbow.

Tang Chao covers his stomach and pouts, looking aggrieved. “If you don’t want to be a leader, what about being a captain? I heard that after I graduate, the Special Operations Team proposed by the higher-ups will be formed. When the time comes, I reckon there’ll be many interesting and strong comrades joining the team. You can be the boss.”

“Am I the one forming the Special Operations Team? Can I be the captain just because I want to?” Gavin glares at him. “Why not consider whether or not you can join it first.”

“I think if it’s you, I definitely can.” Tang Chao laughs, showing his teeth. “If Captain Gavin can do it, I definitely can do it too.”

A few days later, Gavin sets out. Students from the class send him into the vehicle at the entrance of the academy. Tang Chao gives him a salute and a smile. “Wishing Instructor Gavin an early New Year’s, and wishing you a safe and successful operation.”

Gavin nods, returning a salute to everyone. “I receive your good wishes. Happy New Year. In the future, we’ll definitely meet again.”

Everyone watches as the truck leaves their line of sight. For a very long time, nobody speaks. Finally, with a deep breath, the class leader asks. “Are we continuing with training?”

“Of course we are!”

[athenasbloodyspear]

The Viper: Chapter Three

(Sorry I had to repost because I’m a grandma that posted on the wrong blog the first time.)

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Find this fic on Ao3.

This fic is 18+ for violence and eventual sexual content. Please read at your own risk.

Master list

When Bucky awakes the next morning, he can feel the chaos outside his door from where he lays in bed. He almost turns over and tries to go back to sleep but then there’s someone pounding on his door.

“Buck. She’s here.”

He’s up in a flash.

He dresses as fast as physically possible and careens out of his room, nearly slamming into Steve’s chest in the process.

“What the fuck happened?” Bucky spits, already taking long strides toward the elevator at the center of the tower. “What floor?”

“Basement.” Steve mutters. Bucky whips his head to look at Steve.

“The fucking dungeon?” He snarls.

“She’s a criminal, Buck. Gut instinct of yours or no.”

He just whips forward again and keeps walking. “Who caught her?”

“No one. She stumbled into the main lobby at around 5:30am and collapsed.” Steve says. Bucky’s heart rate picks up quickly.

“Is she injured?”

“No.”

They both step into the elevator, Bucky punches the basement button and then the button that locks the elevator from stopping on any other floors before it reaches its destination. There’s only a few people in the tower with that privilege and Bucky tries really hard not to abuse it.

Most of the time.

“Has she said anything?”

“No.”

“What do you know?” Bucky snaps.

“Calm down. She’s here. She’s physically fine besides being underfed, dehydrated and likely hasn’t slept in days.” Steve crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m… concerned.”

“About what?”

“Why is she here? Why did she stumble in here on her own two feet. It all seems really fishy to me.” Steve mutters.

“She needs help, Steve.” Bucky growls.

“How do you know that, Buck? How do you know they’re not playing you like a fiddle right now? Sending you an agent you may have had contact with while you were under their control. One they know you might not fully remember, but enough to have a connection.” Steve didn’t sound angry now, he sounded exhausted.

It pissed Bucky off.

He didn’t say anything else as the elevator continued to hurtle into the bowels of the building.

When the doors slid open and they both stepped out of the elevator, Bucky paused to let Steve lead the way. He felt his heart rate pick up.

Steve led him through a few winding halls, nodding at various agents as they passed and finally stopped in front of a door where Nat was waiting.

“Took you long enough.” Nat said with a smirk at Steve before looking at Bucky. “Ready?”

Bucky grunted in response. Nat pushed the door open with her hip and sauntered into a small room that had one way glass looking into a large chamber where you were being held.

Bucky nearly went to his knees.

They had you sealed in a box, not unlike the one he had arrived to the Avengers in so many years ago. Metal braces around your wrists, upper arms, ankles and shins to keep you in place. The nearly indestructible glass, that which he had failed to shatter when Zemo had started to speak the dreaded string of words, was on all four sides of you.

“What the hell is this?” Bucky snapped at Tony, who sat in a chair flicking through some information projected on his side of the glass.

You sat with your eyes downcast, looking at where your hands were shackled. You wore what looked like scrubs and your skin was gleaming and a tiny bit red. Like you’d been shoved through a car wash. Bucky wanted to smash his metal fist through the window.

“Our new little friend!” Tony exclaimed. “I thought you’d be happy. You were so intent on finding her, and look! She found you instead.”

“Why the fuck do you have her in a cage?” Bucky demanded. “She’s not some fucking animal.”

He didn’t know where this was coming from, whether it was his own trauma speaking or the agony of seeing you trapped in glass.

“Whoa the beast bites today.” Tony held his hands up in surrender in front of him.

“Bucky, we have no idea what she’s capable of or why she’s here. We have to be very very careful.” Steve said placatingly behind him. “It’s just out of caution.”

“Yeah, because putting someone in a box went so well for us last time.” Bucky spit.

To their credit, all three of them flinched.

“Have any of you spoken to her?” Bucky asked, deciding that the current cage situation wasn’t going to change immediately.

“She went through some basic brain scans which Bruce is currently comparing, and a basic psych exam in which she answered exactly zero questions.” Tony huffed. “If anyone wants to take a crack at it, be my guest.”

“I’m going in.” Bucky said gruffly, not giving anyone any space to tell him no.

He ripped open the door that led to your cage.

--

He was here.

You were doing really well with being silent, giving away nothing as you read the room, but he was here now and it was twisting up your guts.

He was standing about two feet from the glass in front of you, which was about six feet closer than any of the other agents had dared. He was asking you questions but you tuned them out, you tried your best not to hear his voice at all.

You wished you could cover your ears.

His eyes were so blue it was hard to look at them, so you looked away, back to your hands.

He was so much more now.

It was agony to look at him.

--

Bucky stomped back into the controls room and flopped into a chair near the wall, defeated. He placed his head in his hands.

“Well, at least now I know she doesn’t hate the particular agent that gave her the exam.” Tony quipped.

You hadn’t spoken to him. He felt like he was going mad. There had been such a connection between you two in that club. He had been so sure there was something there, but now you wouldn’t even look him in the eyes. He couldn’t make sense of any of it.

He wanted to hear you speak again. He hoped that your voice would rattle his memories loose.

He just had to remember.

Or at least he thought so.

“Let me talk to her.” Nat said softly then. “Turn the mics off, I want her to know she’s only talking to me.”

“Nat, are you about to double agent me?” Tony muttered.

“Tony!” Steve snapped, even going as far as smacking the back of Tony’s head.

“Hands off! Captain My-Friends-Are-Made-Of-Glass!” Tony snapped.

“No. I just… let me talk to her.” Nat rolled her eyes at Tony before snapping the switch that turned off all the mics and speakers and strolled into the room.

--

You felt uneasy with the Black Widow’s eyes on you. You trusted her, for some odd reason, but that didn’t mean she didn’t make you wary.

You could tell from the lack of a faint buzz in the room that she had turned the mics and speakers off.

Interesting.

“Hello.” She said simply.

You stayed silent.

“Listen, I’m not gonna play games with you. You know them all already.” She gave you a soft smile then. You felt your heart flutter a bit. “I just want to know why you’re here. Or even what we can do to get you to talk. We’re very…” She bites her lip. “Curious. About you.”

You continued to stay silent. You really didn’t know where to start. What would make them believe you?

“Nothing? There’s got to be a reason you’re here. I know there’s a hit on you, and I know that maybe you just wanted to stop running for a while but if you just talk to us then you don’t have to stay in a glass box.” You snarl. You weren’t here because you needed to run. She sighs then. “I don’t know your whole story, but I know some, I saw some myself. I want to help you. You’re not in the Red Room now, or in a bunker for Hydra. Just talk to me.”

You look at your hands. She stays silent and stares at you. Neither of you move for several minutes.

“I thought you said no games.” You croak out. “Seems like we’re playing the silent game right now.”

The Black Widow laughs softly then. “She speaks! What else does she say?”

“I… “ You start, but you’re cut off when the door swings open.

“Sorry to interrupt the girl party.” This was from Tony Stark. “But Nat, we’ve gotta go. Immediately.”

“Why?” Nat snaps, glancing back at you. You could tell she was fuming. You smiled a little to yourself. She was enjoying being the only one to get you to talk. You were enjoying entertaining the idea of actually speaking to her.

“Actually, it’s because of her former employer.” Stark tosses in your direction, your spine snaps straight. “We’ve caught intel that they executed a series of kidnappings and we need to go find out more about what's going on.”

You felt ice in your veins.

It was too late.

--  

As they all take long strides down the hall, Tony practically dragging Nat by her arm, everyone was shooting questions at each other.

“What did she say to you?” Bucky asked Nat.

“What the hell are you doing Tony? She might know something!” Nat snaps at Tony.

“Don’t you think that’s the plan here? Distract us with a little bait while they start unfolding whatever disgusting plans they have out there in the world.” Tony snaps back.

“Where are we going first?” Steve asks Tony. “Should we drop directly into Kyiv or Sarajevo?”

“What the fuck is going on?” Nat snaps, digging her heels in. “Tell me the plan right now and stop dragging me around.”

Tony heaves an overly dramatic sigh and Bucky has to fight his instincts to punch the man. You had said something and he didn’t know what it was. He needed to know.

“Hydra seems to be kidnapping people across Europe. It’s unclear who these people are or why they’re taking them, but we need to go. We just got a tip that they might be executing a raid in Kyiv right now so I’d say lets go there first. We can check for evidence at the scene in Sarajevo after.” Tony snaps, looking at Nat. “Happy now? Let’s go.”

He punches the button for the elevator doors to open and the whole group piles in. The elevator doesn’t even need to ask, it simply hurtles upward toward the quinjet hangar on the roof.

“What did she say to you, Nat?” Bucky asks again.

“Nothing.” Nat snaps. “Nothing that meant anything.”

“Everything means something.” Bucky growls back.

“Mr. Stark.” Friday’s interrupts. “There’s been a breach in the basement. The prisoner is no longer contained.”

“SON OF A BITCH!” Tony yells. “Take us down.”

Bucky’s stomach flips as the elevator abruptly shifts from hurtling upward to downward.

“This is exactly what they wanted.” Tony snarls. “I can’t fucking believe we fell for it and now one of their top agents is roaming free in my fucking tower!”

No one speaks. What is there to say?

Bucky shifts on his feet. He’s in disbelief. Could his instincts have been that wrong?

When the doors to the elevator open again in the basement, there’s limp bodies littered everywhere. Steve and Nat immediately begin crouching and checking for pulses.

“They’re all alive.” Steve murmurs. “Just unconscious.”

Bucky’s heart swells.

“Look for her.” Tony says.

“No need.” Friday calls from the ceiling. “She’s no longer in the building. I lost track of her after about 10 blocks. She was headed south, Sir.”

Steve and Nat continue to move around, checking on agents and gently shifting their bodies to rest in more comfortable positions and helping people up as they gradually regain consciousness.

“Fuck.” Tony whispers, sitting down in a chair in the hall and putting his head in his hands.

“Tony!” Nat calls from the end of the hall. “Come here.”

Bucky follows on Tony’s heels as they round the corner. There, written in sharpie on the wall behind an agent's desk in a sloppy scrawl were the words.

I’m sorry. But I was too late.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Tony splutters. “Too late to what? Keep us completely distracted while they abducted people?”

“I don’t get it…” Nat mutters. “Who’s side is she on?”

“What did she say to you?” Bucky repeats his question again.

Nat spins and looks at him.

“She made fun of me for playing the silent game. She was about to say something else but she hesitated. Then Iron Boy came pounding in and ruined everything” Nat snaps turning her heated gaze at Tony. “Even though you definitely could have just gone without me to Kyiv or wherever and now we’ll never know what she was going to say.”

Bucky lets his weight sink into the chair behind him, his head spinning. What does this all mean? He still felt certain this wasn’t a trap, that she was acting alone, but why? Why was she here and why wouldn’t she speak to him? None of it made sense.

“To be fair, I always knew she was only staying in there because she wanted to be there.” Nat continued.

“What did you say to her?” Bucky asks again. He needs more information to try to fit this puzzle together in his head.

“Nothing really.” Nat sighs. “Just that we would help her. That she wasn’t with Hydra anymore and I wasn’t playing games.”

Bucky sighs too. They weren’t playing games, but were you?

--

You’re hurtling through the streets as fast as your feet will take you.

You don’t have a plan, just an instinct.

You have to get there.

As fast as you can.

You don’t know how, but you’re going to get there.

So you run.

And run.

And run.

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