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boldlyvoid · 3 years

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Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It

Criminal Minds x MINDHUNTER AU

Spencer Reid x Margaret Carr (OC)

Part 1: Ed Kemper.

Summary: Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.

warnings: graphic details of a real rape and murder case, like every trigger in the book, applies to this fic so read with caution (if you watch either show you're used to it, however), it's all real and did actually happen and I don't support any of it. strangers to lovers, mutual pining, flirting, fluff, eventual smut, idiots in love, OC is Wendy Carr's daughter, her bio father is Jason Gideon

word count: 3.9K

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't having fun teaching.

He started with guest speaking, moving to special seminars a few times a year. But he wanted something more, settling for a 7-week criminal justice elective of his choosing.

Intro to Criminal Minds: why they did it. Giving Spencer an excuse to share the most intimate facts about serial offenders in a setting where no one could tell him to shut up.

14 students total signed up for the two-hour Seminar, taking place every Thursday at 11 am from September until Halloween. Over the 7 weeks, he would explain the fascinating insights of the most successful killers in the United States. Only asking that his students write about a prolific crime they find interesting by the end of term, for their full grade.

All he wanted was to read about obscure killers from around the world, from the perspective of aspiring profilers.

The first Thursday, he came prepared with his coffee a half hour before the class. He wanted to write the main points on the whiteboard in advance, nice and neatly.

To his surprise, a student was already there waiting for him. "Oh, hello,” he smiled softly.

She was sitting with a book in her hands, she pushed her glasses up her nose to look at him as he walked in. She was older than his typical student, around 35. Probably finishing up a degree or adding something to what she already had.

"Hi," she smiled at him. “Sorry, I’m early, I was visiting my mom at Quantico earlier.” She explained. "I'm not a teacher's pet or anything. Promise, I’m not even a student.”

It made him laugh slightly, correcting him like she read his mind. "It's okay, I'm Doctor Reid," he introduced himself softly.

“Margaret Carr, Peggy is also fine.”

"Pleasure to meet you," he said quickly before focusing his attention on the whiteboard.

He could feel her eyes on him the whole time he wrote, not wanting to turn around and catch her. "That's so interesting," he heard her mumble under her breath.

"Hmm?" He turned around.

"It's just that, everyday occurrences that never phase the regular person somehow cause psychopaths to kill," she read the board back to him.

"I was reading a study a while back about how psycho killers medulla oblongata is approximately 19% smaller than the average human’s. Based on the way they're nurtured as children affects if they grow up to kill. The ones that don't often end up in law enforcement and other positions of power where their psychopathic tendencies can come to play."

He was taken aback for a moment. He had never experienced a student who was like him before. Someone who just pulled facts into conversations like it was nothing.

"I read that as well," he smiled. "It is fascinating. The smallest amount of bullying and abuse from a mother or disappearance of a father figure can set them off."

"Or, on the other hand, there are people like Ted Bundy," she added. "He was well-loved and taken care of, but it went to his head. His god complex and affinity for lying led him to be incredibly charismatic and enabled his killing."

"You're very educated on this already; are you just interested in hearing me speak today?" He asked, not wanting her to leave, finding it interesting that she was there.

"Oh," she blushed. "I was going to talk to you more about it after the seminar actually."

“Okay, I’ll be waiting for you,” he felt a little giddy at the prospect.

"Thanks," she laughed. "Seriously though, I'm a big fan of your teaching style, I saw a few of your classes when my dad was teaching at the academy in 2005. It's a lot easier to remember facts if the lecturer genuinely loves what they're talking about."

"You're going to like this Seminar then. It’s basically just a way for me to get paid while unloading all the random facts I have,” he warned her with a smile.

"I know." She smiled back at him.

The rest of his students filed in slowly. By 11 am, 14 faces were staring back at him.

"Hello," he waved awkwardly. "I'm dr. Spencer Reid. For the last 12 years, I've worked with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit. Catching serial offenders across the country."

He took a deep breath, letting the nerves find their way out of him. "I've been asked time and time again who my favourite serial killer is, which is a peculiar way to phrase the question. It feels morally wrong to have a favourite in the way people do with baseball players.

"I am, however, fascinated with several serial offenders' reasoning and explanation for why they did what they did. Every single killer is different, but it all comes back to 1 thing. Do you know what that is?"

They all shook their heads. “What is your relationship with your parents like?" He asked.

Everyone in the room reacted; some students sighed, some rolled their eyes as they recalled their parents and childhoods to memory.

"When a person decides to kill, it's often never in the moment. It's in childhood. The majority of serial offender's stories start the same; their mother didn't love them, their father left. Someone at home abused them or put them down repeatedly."

"Thus, causing a hatred so primal to bubble. No matter how hard they try and fight it, the bubble always bursts. They go from fantasizing to killing in retaliation for their abuse, taking the anger out in stages."

He referred to the board. "Every killer has a stressor and a trigger—something that causes the urge to bubble and the event that causes the bubble to rupture.”

"Edmund Kemper is a fascinating example of this. He grew up with a family for the first few years of his life before his father fully abandoned them. His mother handled the situation by turning her anger onto her son; it was his fault his father left, he looked just like him, Ed was just another useless man who would never amount to anything," he emphasized the words. Hoping the class sees the effects words have on children.

"He started by cutting up dolls, stealing his sister's barbies and cutting their heads off. In his mind, he was getting out his anger and hatred for how his mother saw him. She hated men, causing him to mature with a warped idea of what women are truly like."

"His attraction to killing worsened his mother's hatred; she could tell something was wrong with him, that he didn't react to everyday situations the way he should. By the time he was ten, she was locking him in the basement for days on end, telling him he was a monster and her biggest regret."

"The change in her rage amplified his own. He hated hearing her speak. He hated the way she walked around, thinking she was better than him. That just because she was a mother and a working woman, she deserved respect and submissive’s. All he could see was a woman with a big head who needed to be humbled. This is the moment when the psychotic side of his brain blended his hatred of his mother with how good it felt to kill."

"Is that why he, you know?" Peggy cut in, running her finger along her neck as she pretended to cut her head off.

He pressed his lips together in an awkward smile, nodding. "His signature, as it's called, was decapitation. But more specifically necrophiling the severed head of his victims."

The whole class let out a disgusted noise, Peggy and Spencer making eye contact while they shrugged, it wasn't news to them.

"At age ten, he moved from barbies to cats and dogs, never leaving them around for his mother to see. While he hated her, he was also absolutely terrified of her. Breading a special type of killer. When you think of school shooters or preferential predators, what do they have in common?" He asked.

He pointed at a student in the back. "They have a specific type of victim they’re after?"

"Exactly. Most serial offenders want to go after the cause of their pain or attraction. However, Ed wasn't able to kill the source of his rage for a long time. His mother mentally abused him so intensely that he believed she was in control of him and that her opinion of him mattered. He saw her as his God, he loved her, but he also knew that he disappointed her.

"He ran away soon after to find his father. Travelling to California, only to be told he was unwanted there as well. It wasn't just his mother that his father was escaping; it was the fundamental aspect of family that he didn't want. Ed defiantly didn't want to go back to his mother after that, so he moved in with his paternal grandparents."

He kept catching the looks on Peggy's face. She knew the story already, waiting patiently to hear the words he chose to make the horrific acts seem a little more conversational.

"His grandmother was exactly like his mother. If I had to guess, his father most likely had a distaste for his own mother and thus divorced Ed's mom. Only he never grew up to be a killer, just an absent father—his absence doing to Ed what never happened to him."

"Ed killed his grandparents when he was 15. Telling the police and his therapists that they had beaten him constantly, they refused to feed him and called him names. He said he snapped from the trauma; it was self-defence."

Peggy laughed to herself, making him smile softly. "Sending him to a mental hospital instead of a juvenile facility was the worst thing they could've done for him," Spencer added.

"Why?" A student asked.

"Ed is a psychopath." He reminded them. "He doesn't feel empathy the way we do. You can admit that you feel bad for him, yes? If you understand why he killed people, it doesn't make you sick, like him, it makes you human. You see a hurt person hurting others; Ed Kemper sees himself as a new sort of God, choosing who dies, how and when."

"He was brilliant, having the exact IQ as I do," just a humblebrag, "the staff trusted him. He looked like an innocent boy, smart enough to take matters into his own hands for the betterment of his life. They gave him computer privileges, they let him work the front desk and file patient information. Giving him all the resources to learn about who he was inside and how to get away with it perfectly."

"Damn," another kid added. "When did he get out?"

"At 21.” He answered the student quickly. “Ed was interviewed by my mentor Jason Gideon, in the 70s. Where he explained that being locked up during his sexual prime, as well as the access to information, is what truly set him off more than his mother.

"He moved back in with her and his sister when he came out of the institution, immediately returning to the constant ridicule. He went from being told all the time that he was a smart and charming young man, capable of rehabilitation to a useless, no-good son, who would have been better off collecting in a condom or running down her leg."

The whole class laughed, shocked at his repetition of Ed's mother's words.

"He got his licence when he was released. And remember, this was prime time for hitchhiking in California; everyone and their mother walked the roads with a thumb in the air. It was the birth of free love and recreational marijuana usage. It was also the best hunting ground for a learning serial killer."

"He was able to pick women up, but like I said, missing his sexual prime while in an institution made him almost impotent. He didn't know how to speak to women; he had to create a fantasy in his mind every time, one that involved killing, before he could look at a woman."

"How did he get them in his car then?" A voice asked from the back.

"He was 6'9, 300lbs; he looked like a big teddy bear. And his mother was the local college administrative assistant, so the whole town knew him anyway. If Ed offered to give them a ride, it wouldn't be that bad, right?" Peggy turned around to face the class as she explained for Spencer, who just shook his head.

"He only wanted to rape the victims, originally," Spencer added. "But he couldn't. There was no release of the tension. The bubble that had been growing inside him was at its breaking point; he needed to just do it. Get it over with and move on."

"He killed 6 women in succession after that. Gaining the name "The Co-Ed Killer," well before anyone even suspected Ed Kemper," Spencer took a sip of coffee, feeling his throat start to dry as they reached the insane part.

"He was overly friendly with the cops; he wanted to get his record expunged and join the force.” Spencer finally continued. “Being told, "don't worry about your record, worry about your weight.""

"Most killers enjoy wearing a uniform for the power and talking to the police about their cases, in the hopes of gauging how smart they really are—taking pride in the fact that they are getting away with it for so long."

"He watched all the cop shows, and he read all the books. He knew that in order to get away with it, he had to do it where no one could trace it back to him. He knew he had to keep his cool and avoid looking obsessed with the case, but just curious enough to gain insight into how they thought he was doing it. It went on for years, and they had absolutely zero leads, finding headless bodies every few months before they finally received a call." He left them hanging, walking over to his sheet of paper and pretending to read it while they anticipated the catch.

"Ed always knew that he wanted to kill his mother. He just never knew when,” Spencer teased the story along. Noticing as the students fidgeted in their seats as they wondered what happened next.

“In his interview with Gideon, Ed said that he knew she would die 7 days before he killed her. He walked into her room that night to find her reading, with the audacity to ask if he wanted to come in and chat all night. Teasing him for the way he rambled to her. It was the last time she ever did that."

"It's hard to imagine his signature with the fact his second last victim was his mother," Peggy added, cringing at the thought.

"Wait," another student interjected. "Who was his last kill then if he only really wanted to kill her?"

"Remember how I said he lacked empathy?" Spencer asked. "He loved his mother in the same way a prisoner can end up loving their captor."

Peggy nods at the comparison, looking like she's never thought of it that way before, then smiling at him.

"You grow a bond through the trauma and when the only thing you've ever known is violence and hate, you don't know what to do when that's gone, it's hard to cope."

"He said he killed his mother so that she never had to know what he did. She'd never have to sit at his court hearings or be able to tell the media that she always knew he was a killer."

"His last kill was his mother's best friend," He finally answered the question.

"He didn't want his mother to be even more disappointed in him, but he also didn't want his mother's best friend to find her like that and be upset. So the obvious answer to him was to kill her too."

"What the fuck?" He heard a couple of kids say under their breath.

"Yeah," he agreed with an almost chuckle. "This is what I mean by their answers are fascinating. It makes so much sense to them; clearly, if I kill my mother, her friend will be upset, so the best answer would be to put her out of her misery as well. He sees them as objects, like a matching set. One would lose value without the other."

Everyone was silent then. The students took in all the information they had just received, staring up at him with a look of disgust mixed with wonder.

"Any questions?"

Peggy raised her hand for a change; he pointed towards her in approval. "You missed the part where he specifically took the heads from the three women before his mother and brought them back home with him. He buried them in the yard outside her bedroom window, making sure they were always looking up to her."

Spencer was amazed that she knew the details. "Yes, I guess I did."

"I always found that part particularly interesting in this case," Peggy added. "Her opinion mattered so much to him. He knew how much she loved her co-ed's and how they looked up to her so much. They'd be exactly like her. He felt trapped in a town of women who were exactly like his nightmare, and his response was to make them physically look up to her for the rest of her life."

"Exactly." Spencer smiled. "understanding how he sees the situation and how the events played out in his mind is the key in figuring out who he is."

"If you were on the case in '72 when the first victims were discovered, how would you have handled it, Dr. Reid?" A male student in the back asked in the silence between answers, taking his shot before Peggy and Spencer went any further in their discussion.

“That's a hard thing to answer, connecting evidence back then was a lot harder than it is today, if it wasn’t for men like Ed there wouldn’t really be this many answers,” Spencer said honestly.

Another student put her hand up, “what’s the worst thing he did in your opinion?”

That racked his brain, there was a handful of horrific things he did that were particularly horrific, “probably his mother's entire murder.”

“What did he do?”

Before Spencer could answer he saw Peggy open her mouth and start explaining. “He not only cut off her head and fucked her neck, but he also took her vocal cords out and shoved them down the garbage disposal. And before he called the cops, he cleaned everything up and made her look presentable because he said his mother wouldn’t want guests to see the mess.”

The class all cringed, sinking into their seats with disgust. But that didn’t stop Peggy from explaining it all further.

“He used to go to a bar all the cops went to and he would talk about his case. They would always one-up themselves and say they were close which gave him this false idea that they were on his tail and they’d find his mother soon. But when they didn’t, he called it in from a payphone and said he’d come over and explain it all. And boy did he ever, the cops said he wouldn’t shut up. And then when they put him in the cop car finally, a woman walked past him and he threw up.”

Spencer watched her with awe, the way she could call information to memory like that was beautiful. He listened to her like he’s never heard a fact before, she was so intriguing.

“Thank you for the detail,” he teased her lightly. “Sometimes I get so caught up that the really gross parts get swept aside.”

The class smiled at him, he had gained their trust and attention within only 1 hour of class.

“I know you said you don’t have a favourite,” another student asked from the back. “I agree it’s weird, but who is the one you gravitate towards the most?”

“I’ve met hundreds of serial killers, I’ve read about thousands,” he explained. “I think Ed Kemper is the one I gravitate the most around because he was so willing and open to explaining why he is the way he is. Going as far as to say that the only way they could keep women safe is to give him a lobotomy. He didn’t believe there was any correcting to be done, only removal of the evil within him.”

He heard slight mumbles as everyone took in what he said. “Does anyone here have a killer or a case that interested them in learning more, or just introduced you to the chase of justice?”

Peggy put her hand up, “I personally think BTK is the scariest, most tactical, and just downright evil man to ever exist. He scares me to no end but he’s so interesting to learn about.”

“Ahh,” Spencer agreed. “Too bad you won't be here for week 3. But with that I think I’ll end the class, next week we’ll be discussing the difference between Ted Bundy and Richard Speck.” He nodded lightly, watching the majority of them close their books and had on out.

“I really enjoyed the class,” she said softly. Holding her purse in one hand, a collection of files in the other.

Spencer turned to look at her then, smiling right back. “It was a pleasure to teach alongside you.”

“What do you mean?” She teased, “it’s not like my mom and dad were the ones who did all the interviews."

“Carr,” he repeats her last name. The gears turning in his mind as he brings all the information forth.

“Your mother is Wendy Carr, she was recruited after the BTK case with Bill Tench, she’s who was behind that study you mentioned.”

“I know,” she smiled.

“Who’s your father?”

“Guess,” she looked at him with an unimpressed look on her face, pushing her glasses up slightly.

“You’re kidding? Gideon never said he had a daughter let alone a,” he stops himself before he can embarrass himself any further.

She smiled at the implication of his words, “but he’s told me all about you Dr. Reid, that’s why I'm here.”

“You need help with a case and I’m the only agent in Virginia currently,” he pressed his lips together awkwardly. Knowing it was too good to be true that she would have any interest in him in the slightest.

“No actually, I have a case I’ve been working on privately and I need some help. I asked my dad but he said you’d be able to help me the best. I agree,” she corrected him softly. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was a big fan of yours. When I would sit in and watch his lectures, before he knew I was his kid, you would always step in at the best parts, adding the smallest details to the story that the average person would forget. It’s magnificent.”

He laughed slightly, tugging at his collar as she complimented him. “Thank you, you’re quite magnificent as well,” he replied with a blush and a smile

She didn’t look like Gideon, probably because she smiled so much. Like sunshine on legs, she beamed, all but blinding him with her smile as she stared at him, “do you want to get lunch and go over this case with me?”

“I’d love to.”

taglist: (message me if you want to be added or removed)

@shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #intro to cm #mindhunter #wendy carr #peggy carr

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thesleepysphinx · 3 years

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Tokoyami x (fem)Reader - Agoraphobic pt. 1: I love when it rains

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But I love when it rains 'cause I'm agoraphobic

- Corpse Husband

Tokoyami turned the page of his book, letting himself sink further into the couch of the dorm commons. He had been one of the first to rise this Sunday morning and relished in the comfort of making his tea in a silent kitchen. He sipped his tea every other page, content in a slow pace. Every once in a while, he glanced towards the elevator to see if any others were approaching, and when he found no one, he would look to the windows to see if it was time to greet the sunlight. Just as the promise of sunlight was approaching, a drop of rain fell. Then another. Until rain overtook the sun for the day.

Tokoyami smiled fondly at the rain, finding comfort in it and in the fact that it meant it was unlikely he would be asked to leave the dorms that day. He was indeed content to stay alone, at home, with his book and his tea. But the alone part did not last for long, as he heard the doors to the elevator open. Out you walked, still in your pajamas, stretching your arms up over your head as you yawned. Tokoyami watched for a moment, waiting for someone else to follow behind you, but no one ever did. So now, he was alone with one other person. He looked away back to his book, tracing his finger along it to find where he left off.

You noticed Tokoyami once you finished your stretch and yawn. You knew Tokoyami well enough to know he prefers a more silent than chatty company. So, as you passed by the couch he was sitting on, you offered a simple, “Good morning, Tokoyami.” You continued your walk towards the kitchen, not sticking around to pressure him for a response.

“Good morning, (y/n).” He turned the page of his book. He paused to see if you wanted to say anything else, but found you had nothing to say. Tokoyami was appreciative of your silence, but he was never opposed to conversation with you, a luxury he did not have with very many people. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke again. “There should still be some hot water in case you wanted tea.” He didn’t look away from his book as he spoke, almost anxious to look at you. Something deep within him just wanted him to hide.

“Oh, thanks!” you said with a voice too chipper for the early morning. You started to hum as you prepared your preferred tea, a tone much more fitting for the time of day. Tokoyami couldn’t pin-point the exact song, but it had a somber tone, one that he might find himself entranced by. He kept his eyes on his book, but found that every time he read a page, he’d have to reread it again. He was constantly getting lost in the beat of your hum.

Eventually, the hum stopped, and he continued his reading. But in his peripherals, there you were, standing at the window he had been looking out of all morning. You held your tea in both hands as you looked up at the cloudy sky, sipping it here and there. Tokoyami soon noticed that his eyes had moved from his book to you. Why did he find himself looking at you when he was so anxious to just a moment ago?

The moment Tokoyami moved his eyes back to his book, you started to mumble out a song. He couldn’t make out any of the lyrics but recognized that the beat was much faster than the one you were humming earlier. Tokoyami felt like it should have been a total mood shift, but for some reason the mumbling still felt somber. His curiosity was piquing, but his anxiety was fighting to hold him back. But as you kept singing, the mumbles turned into actual words, and Tokoyami made out the words “I love when it rains ‘cause I’m agoraphobic.”

Tokoyami raised his head to face towards you, finally giving in to his curiosity as you began to hum the beat you were before. “What song is that?”

His question made you jump, almost dropping your cup of tea. You caught it, though just barely, and turned to face him. “It’s called 'Agoraphobic', by Corpse Husband. The rain just reminded me of it.” You looked back through the window with a smile, appreciating the rain just as much as Tokoyami did. As you moved your head back towards Tokoyami’s direction, you pulled your phone out of your pajama pocket, navigating over to YouTube. “Here, let me show you!” Again, your voice was very chipper, and Tokoyami’s feathers ruffled a bit as you made your way to sit next to him and show him the music video.

Tokoyami tried to calmly move his bookmark into his book, closing it so he could give his whole attention to the music video. You seemed so excited about it that he would feel bad if he didn’t. As you started the music video, the beat you hummed before played in instrumentals. You hummed along to the video, and Tokoyami had to push down the urge to divert his attention to you rather than the music video. Without everyone else around, he felt somehow drawn to you, and he just couldn’t explain it.

As Tokoyami continued to listen, a deep voice began to sing very quickly, at the rate you had been mumbling before. He could hardly register the lyrics as they came, but he was able to read them as they popped up on the video. He spared a couple of glances in your direction, finding your lips mouthing the lyrics, but you never sang them out loud.

As the song came to a close, repeating the lyric “I’m not okay,” Tokoyami felt a sense of catharsis. He found himself relating heavily to the song, though he had one question.

“If I may, what does ‘agoraphobic’ mean?”

You stopped your mouthing of the lyrics to answer. “It’s a fear of crowds or leaving the house.” Your eyes went soft as you continued. “The artist has to deal with it a lot, that’s why the song has so much feeling to it.” You sipped your tea once again. “It’s just been stuck in my head lately. Sorry if I bothered you.” Your face turned somber as you pocketed your phone and leaned back on the couch, drinking your tea with both hands.

Tokoyami’s feathers ruffled once again at the sudden change in your mood. Why does she look so… sad all of a sudden?

“Not a bother at all.” He sipped his own tea. “In fact, I enjoyed the song. The book was not holding my attention.”

You let out a hum that sounded more like a sigh. You considered for a moment if you should continue the conversation. Does he want to keep talking? I don’t want to make him uncomfortable or anything… But is it rude if I don’t respond? After one more sip of your tea, you came to a decision. “What’s the book?”

It wasn’t until after you asked that Tokoyami realized he had wanted you to. He passed the book to you as he explained, “Pride and Prejudice. It’s an older classic. I’ve been told it’s one of the best novels ever written. Though, I cannot speak to the validity of that claim.” He stuffed his hands in his sweater pockets as you propped the book up against bent legs and analyzed the cover and some pages. You found that he was somewhere around half-way through according to his bookmark.

“I’ve read it, actually. Elizabeth Bennett is a whole mood.” You giggled as you remembered the character. “But it’s hard to get through classic literature.”

Tokoyami nodded in his agreement. “The diction is most definitely a struggle. But I’ve always appreciated the challenge of classic literature.”

The two of you continued your discussion of literature, anxieties fading as time went on. You found yourself enthralled in Tokoyami’s company, and he in yours. Your half drank tea had ended up on the coffee table next to his, both of them going cold. You had kept the book on your lap, forgetting its existence. The tapping of the rain drops outside complemented the conversation, shutting the two of you out from everything else. That was, until the elevator doors opened again, this time to much louder company. Nearly half of the class poured out of the elevator, chatting loudly with each other as they made their way towards the commons. Among them was your best friend, Toru.

It was a wonder that you were able to be such a calm person with a best friend like Toru, the biggest ball of energy. Unlike you, Toru was already dressed for the day in a yellow sweater that fell off her invisible shoulder and a pair of leggings. She jogged her way over to you excitedly chattering too fast for you to know exactly what she was saying.

Tokoyami started to feel like he was intruding. He rose from his seat, grabbing his cup of tea. “Excuse me.” Without waiting for an answer, he moved to the kitchen to wash his cup.

You watched him as he left, sad to have lost him so quickly.

“Hey, (y/n)!” Toru called to you, “When did you become friends with Tokoyami?”

You watched him walk around the crowd of students back towards the elevator. “Today, I guess.”

Toru took his place sitting next to you on the couch. “He’s so quiet and mysterious! What did you even talk about?”

You kept your eyes glued to the elevator, hoping that maybe he’d come back down soon. “Music and literature.” Usually, you’d say more, but your mind was completely occupied.

“That’s, like, completely unspecific.”

You finally gathered the control to look towards Toru’s invisible face. “I showed him the song 'Agoraphobic' and he showed me he was reading Pride and-.” You suddenly looked down to your lap, remembering the book that had made its way there early in the conversation. “Damn, he left so fast that I didn’t even get the chance to give him back his book.” You grabbed the book and rose from your seat. “I’m gonna go give it back, I’ll be back down in a bit. Movie marathon later?”

Toru’s shirt sleeves raised in the air to show her arms were raised in excitement. “You bet! Ojiro said he’d watch too!”

“Kay, I’ll be down in a bit!” You waved back to your friend as you made your way up the stairs, deciding not to wait for the elevator. Besides, this would get your blood pumping. But as you reached the second floor much faster than expected, you felt an anxiety rise within you. What if he just wants to be left alone?

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Hi, yes, I am writing a whole new fic when I haven't updated my last one in eons, but I felt much more motivation with this one. I love me my bird boi. I do intend for this to be a slow burn (maybe a friends to lovers? 👀) so I'm excited for this :) Please harass me if I take forever to update. Seriously. Harass me about it.

Also, all the love to Corpse Husband <3 check out his music if you haven't :)

#mha #mha x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #tokoyami x reader #tokoyami #fumikage tokoyami #fumikage x reader #fumikage #agoraphobic #bnha fluff #x reader fic #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #my hero x reader #corpse husband #x reader #mha fluff

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sweetst24 · 4 years

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Inside - This is my first and fanfiction. I wrote it to process some emotions/grief. Any feedback is appreciated!!

Sam Winchester is a great man, though he doesn't think so. Constant reminders of the ones he's loved then lost cloud his vision, the pain gripping him as he falls asleep at night. Loving Sam simply was out of my hands, his soft tortured soul calling to me through the concrete walls of the bunker every night. Both being a friend and being in love brings me to our current predicament.

I got stuck in a Rye, Colorado, about 30 mins outside of Pueblo. A nest of vampires had set up shop, attacking people in Pueblo, bringing them back to the nest for a slow feeding. Cleaning out the nest was a job, but nothing I couldn't handle.

After dropping people at the hospital, my car broke down, so I thought I'd hop the bus in Pueblo to get back to Lebanon without bothering the boys. I figured I'd be home by morning, have a nice weekend. Wash day was Saturday and I was due for a deep condition because natural hair is plenty of upkeep, especially when you constantly shower in shitty motel bathrooms.

I usually don't spend my weekend in holding cells but using a fake ID to buy a bus ticket generally does that. We have contingency plans for situations like this, but I'm having doubts since the dark of night is slipping into the third day without my freedom.

"Psst. Y/n? Are you awake sweetheart?" Dean silently tries to get my attention while cracking open the door to the holding cell.

"Of course I am! Where have you been?" I whisper-yell trying my best not to wake Bess and Tess, my very cozy, very drunk cellmates.

"You can't rush perfection, sweetheart. Plus it's only been two days." Dean sassed, face crunched together, muttering something along the lines of 'spoiled brat'.

"Look, can you please tell me what the plan is before I chop you in the throat," Dean's face deadpanned while he puffed up his chest looking for a fight.

"You want to put that pretty hand on my neck so bad, don't you sweetheart, but I'm guessing Sammy won't appreciate that, will he?" Dean jabbing at that soft spot shut me up quickly, pain weighing heavily causing me to drop my head in defeat. Realization crosses Dean's face, knowing his joke reached too far, especially now when the relationship between Sammy and I is not ideal. Dean pulls me into a much needed hug.

"Look, y/n, I'm sorry. Let's get you out of here." Dean placed me in cuffs and starting pulling me from the cell.

"Come on D, can't I just pretend to be a deep cover spy or something??" I whined loudly.

"Look, deputy Doolittle thinks you ran off from a safe house to see your boy toy. So don't blow the witness protection cover or I'll leave you here."

As we stepped outside, the early morning chill erupted goosebumps across my body, forcing me to shiver.

"You should've thought of that before doing something so stupid," Dean gruffed while walking me over to Baby.

"Can you at least take the cuffs off?" I whined as Dean briefly stopped, then continued dragging me to Baby. "My body feels terrible and I don't feel like arguing about how I did the right thing," barely audible above the dragging of my feet.

"No, y/n, you did not do the right thing. The right thing would've been to call me or Sammy to come get you. Instead, you made a fool of yourself and now you have to own it."

As Dean tossed me into the back seat, I defiantly removed the cuffs, tossing them in the driver's seat. As soon as my criminal act was complete, I had the overwhelming urge to not turn to the passenger seat. But I noted that Dean was waiting outside of Baby as not to interrupt the conversation that was no doubt about to start in the car.

Closing my eyes, I turn to the right, peeking through my lashes in a failed attempt to pretend I don't see him but...There was Samuel. His syrupy-brown hair tucked neatly behind his ears. Looks of "explain yourself" and "I'm sorry it took so long" fighting for dominance on his face, ultimately the much needed explanation winning out.

"Y/n..." Sam lowly stated, voice as even as possible.

"That's me," I huff with a half-hearted wave.

"You know what I'm going to say. After everything we've been through lately why didn't you call me, or Dean, or Castiel, or Hell even Jody! Someone should know what's going on! Communication is everything for hunters and you know better."

Sam stared with so much emotion it almost broke me, but his questions were met with my silence.

"Fine. You aren't going to answer me now but you will before you walk into our home." Sam affirmed.

Sam startled me. Though I could see where he was coming from, everything being so MESSY. I should've called. But I was not wrong about riding the bus. Besides, a little time away from the bunker, and the boys, with my thoughts couldn't hurt, right?

Sam waves for Dean to get in the car so we could begin our long, tension-filled, 6 hour drive to the bunker. It was a relief to be headed home after spending a few days away to clear my head. Everything was so complicated because of the night that I called the best of my life. The night I fell into bed with Sam.

-flashback-

Nice and rainy. My favorite weather. Being able to be comfy cozy with a nice mug of tea and Netflix was the shit. Rewatching Princess and the Frog for the thousandth time just seemed like the best thing for a rainy day. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed my time alone, but time alone with Sam was a particularly rare occurrence, especially when he wants to be in the same room with me.

Sam choose to wear his regular ass hunter's 'uniform' of a plaid shirt and jeans. Although, I made note that he decided to wear my favorite of his collection, the hunter green with blue block pattern. I thought it brought out the striking beauty in his eyes, the balance of the two colors precariously placed in his irises. He sat close enough that I wasn't nervous but I was getting distracted by the way he ate his popcorn, arm flexing in his tight sleeve.

"Why are we watching this again?" Sam inquired about the apparent Tiana streak we were on.

"Because. Why, you got a problem with representation? I just, see myself in her, and plus Prince Naveen... Do I have to say more or," I laughed, head cocked back as I finished the thought while Sam shook his head next to me.

Then, it happened. Once I stopped cackling like a weirdo Sam placed his arm around me, bringing me close to his side while he watched the movie, a slight blush on his cheeks. I didn't realize I was staring at him until Tiana's alarm clock went off, prompting me to jump out of reflex. Sam suddenly turned to me with a concerned look on his face that melted away once he realized what happened.

For a split second I thought I should stop myself. But, YOLO. Before I could react, Sam kissed me passionately, grabbing my twist-out, making me moan. I climbed up on his lap, grinding his massive imprint through my sweats. Sam tasted sweet, and I knew that that tasted sweeter. I slid down onto the floor, removing my sweater and t-shirt, unbuckling his pants. Sam let out a loud growl.

"Y/n, please get up. If you do that... right now. I need you, y/n, now."

As I slowly stood, Sam picked me up, staring into my eyes, and gently placed me on my bed. Quicker than I could blink, Sam ripped off my sweats.

I moaned, "Sam."

"I need to be inside of you," Sam growled while looking deep into my eyes.

He took his time, driving me insane, driving slowly in and out of me, not yet giving me the full length of his masterpiece. As I looked into his eyes, I saw something deeper flash through, not just sex, but love. Strong, passionate, unconditional love that you only read about. It took my breath away, gasping, Sam eyes widening, fear crossing his features as he realizes what I saw. In that intense moment, Sam thrust all the way into me, both of us shouting unintelligible phrases that sounded like animals.

"I... Please.. don't... Leave... Ahh..." Sam's affirmation of love, shocking, but looking in his eyes I knew he was telling the truth.

Faster, faster, faster. Our orgasms syncing, our eyes never wavering from one another. When suddenly stars, lights filled my eyes as the feeling of euphoria washed over me, the both of us collapsing on the bed, completely exhausted.

"Sam. We have to... We have to do that again... Again." I gasped out as Sam attempted to cover us with a light blanket behind me, failing from exhaustion.

"... Please... " Sam chuckled.

Thanks for reading part one.

***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.***

#supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x y/n #Sam Winchester x black!reader

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