#DID x paranoid schizophrenic

[dada-dandy]

#total drama #td duncan #td mike #td shawn #td Ezekiel #td Courtney #td zee #td harold #shawn x mike #started as a crackship #but I kinda like it #DID x paranoid schizophrenic #bonding over their mental illnesses

[entitled-fangirl]

A civilized meal.

Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Joel admires Bill and Frank's daughter at the table. Bill hopes his glares are enough to kill him.

Words: 1,378

Warnings: gun, talk of infected, tension.

Author's note: I just know for a fact Bill and Frank are such chaotically great parents dude. Girl dad energies.

Masterlist <3

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“Well, this really is just- it’s amazing.”

Tess and Joel sat at the outdoor table of Bill and Frank’s. The two lovers had invited the QZ members to lunch. Well, Frank did. That much was obvious by the smile plastered on his face and the handgun in Bill’s hand.

Their daughter sat next to Bill at the table. 

Frank had found her outside their home one day, cold and starving. Of course, Frank took her in. How could he not have? And Bill, as always, rolled his eyes and kept an eye out for any signs of danger from her. When none showed, he hesitantly opened his heart out to her. The two adopted her under their wings. But that was many years ago. Now, she was very much a woman. Beautiful, graceful, innocent. Bill and Frank had made sure of that. They gave her everything in the world that she didn’t have before. Bill would sometimes teach her things about how to survive, but Frank would always interrupt, saying his lover was corrupting her, and as long as Bill was around, everything would be fine. She didn’t need those things. Not under the careful watch of the two men she adored.

She sat next to Bill, her eyes watching the two visitors curiously. She hadn’t seen anyone other than her parents in over 10 years. And God, were these people interesting. 

It seemed that went both ways. Because Joel watched her just the same.

“Can you not, please?” Frank asked Bill politely. 

Bill listened, of course. He set the handgun down on the table, but kept it pointed at Joel.

Bill was not an oblivious man. He was noticing the looks Joel was giving his baby girl. And he didn’t like it at all. 

Not that this was a dirty look. No, not at all. It was a watchful, almost admirable gaze. He thought she was beautiful. 

And Bill agreed. His daughter was beautiful. He knew that. And by fucking god, he wouldn’t see her be taken by some outsider.

Frank poured Tess another glass of wine, both Joel and Bill staring across the table at each other. Their daughter watched the exchanged, her eyes shifting back and forth between the two.

Joel finally spoke up, “I’m the same way.”

Frank teased, “Oh, you’re a paranoid schizophrenic, too?”

Bill immediately rebutted, “I'm not schizophrenic.”

Their daughter let out the smallest of laughs, a soft breath coming from her nose. 

Joel turned to look at her. She was such a pretty thing. Especially in the sun like this. But he quickly turned back to look at Bill, who was already glaring in his direction.

Tess felt the tension, “Well, can I just say, uh, gun aside, which I get, how nice this is to have a civilized meal in such a beautiful place? It’s been so long…”

Frank looked over to Bill quickly, the two sharing a knowing glance before Tess continued.

“I mean, I just… uh… I wanna thank you. Even if we don’t end up working together.”

Frank held up his glass, “We ARE working together.”

The two touched their glasses with a small clink. 

Bill continued to glare at Joel, even while Frank tried to dilute it.

Frank got an idea, setting his napkin on the table, “You know what? Let’s go inside. Tess, I wanna show you something.” He quickly stood, as did Tess. They began to walk to the front door of the home, Frank grabbing the wine bottle to take with him.

Bill sighed, “No, not inside.”

Frank continued.

“Frank… FRANK!” God, that man would be the death of him. 

When he and Tess closed the door behind them, a silence filled the table. Bill immediately cocked the gun on the table, setting it back down, like a warning to Joel. 

Joel simply watched with squinted eyes. 

Bill’s daughter awkwardly stared at the gun, wishing her father wouldn’t do anything rash. The last thing she wanted was for him and Frank to fight. That was her least favorite thing in the world. 

Finally, Joel sighs, “I understand…”

Bill retorts, “No, you fucking don’t…,” he looks over to his daughter, “Go inside.”

She sat a little straighter in confusion. “I… what?”

Joel couldn’t help but stare at her. Her voice sounded so sweet. So kind. But Bill wouldn’t let him look for too long. 

“I said go inside. Now.” He tips his head towards the door as if pointing. 

She immediately stood with a quiet, “yes, sir.” She glanced over at Joel one last time, as did he, before she walked to the front door to join her other father indoors.

Joel sighed. He can’t lose his temper. Tess really wants this. “If my, uh,… if mine brought strangers into our situation, I wouldn’t be happy either. But of all the people he could’ve found on the radio, we’re actually decent people just tryin’ to get by.”

Bill gave a scoff, “Oh.. well, aren’t I the lucky one?”

“There’s stuff we have in the QZ that you don’t have here. We can help each other, and get that gun outta my face.” 

Bill was slightly thrown off by the shift in Joel’s tone towards the end. He leaned back, thinking for a moment, before putting the gun in the holster on his hip. He couldn’t help but rub in what he did have, “Well, there are things here that you don’t have.”

Joel knew exactly what he meant. The girl. Of course, he couldn’t help but point out Joel’s staring. Joel’s jaw clenched slightly, “Yeah… Suppose that’s true. So, what, you were a… prepper or somethin’?”

Bill relaxes slightly, “A survivalist.”

A silence set in before Bill breaks it again.

“Maybe you are decent people, maybe not. Doesn’t matter. We’re self-sufficient here. I don’t need you or your friend complicating out lives. Is that clear?”

Joel looked over in thought, considering the older man’s words before a small laugh raked through his body. “That fence has got a year on it, tops.”

Bill peered over at his fence, gawking slightly.

“Galvanized wire already started to corrode. I can get you 10 spools of high-tensile aluminum. Last you the rest of your life…,” Joel’s head tilted to the house, “…lives.”

Bill looked back at him, slightly impressed. 

…

The group all walked to the front gate together. Tess and Frank led, whispering to each other happily while the other two men hung back slightly in silence. The daughter walked between the two groups, looking at the trees, watching the birds fly. In her opinion, it beat trying to talk to Bill at the moment. 

Frank and Tess squatted next to the fence, packing more into her pack as they giggled about something. The daughter watched, happy for her father. She stood, rubbing her arms to keep warm despite the sunshine.

Joel took this opportunity to try one last time to make sense with Bill.

Bill stood a little further back, his gaze watching his girl and Frank carefully, his eyes never leaving the two of them. He wouldn’t let a thing happen.

Joel stood next to him, watching the girl as well, “FEDRA’s never gonna come up here. And you’re well protected against stray infected. But sooner or later… they’ll be raiders. And they’ll beat that fence and your tripwires…”

Bill turned to face Joel now, listening intensely.

“…they’ll come at night… quiet and armed.”

Bill stared at the man, “We’ll be fine.”

Joel turned his head to look at Bill, before looking back at the girl, and back to him. He then walked forward, pulling his backpack on.

He walked past the girl, the light breeze of his movements brushing her arm. Her head perked up, watching him walked away. She turned around to look at her father. 

At first glance, he seemed angry. But, she knew that look. Bill wasn’t angry. He was actually considering whatever Joel had told him.

She knew that meant Tess and Joel would visit again.

And she couldn’t wait for that day.

…

After dinner that night, she sat Frank down and told him everything. And he giggled with her, telling her he would ask Bill about the interaction later. 

God, she couldn’t wait to see Joel again.

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#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #the last of us hbo #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou #joel miller #bill and frank #frank and bill #bill tlou #frank tlou

[so-lay-with-me-in-the-trees]

being a multishipper and a rareshipper is fucking HARD

LIKE WHERES MY BRICK X MANITOBA SMITH ??

WHY IS EVERYONE HATING ON LIKE HEATHERRA AND STUFF

WHERES MY DID X PARANOID SCHIZOPHRENIC ???? (mike x shawn (also known as my fav characters >0<)) (I've been shipping this for YEARS PLEASE I NEED SOMEONE ELSE WHO SHIPS IT)

DO YOU GUYS HAVE NO CREATIVITY ???

like who gives af imma go make my own svetlana x anne maria x dawn fan art if you guys aren't >:[[

#td #total drama #tdi #tdroti #tdpi #tdwt #td heather #heather td #heather total drama #total drama heather #td sierra #sierra td #total drama sierra #sierra total drama #td brick #brick td #total drama brick #brick total drama #td manitoba smith #td mike #mike td #shawn x mike #mike total drama #total drama mike #td shawn #shawn total drama #shawn td #total drama shawn #td svetlana #svetlana td

[thetenthdoctorscompanion]

Summary: Tess learns more about Frank on day one than she’s learned about anyone else in a long, long time. Surprisingly, she doesn’t mind.

Words: 2.6K

Warnings: guns, canon-typical angst, me filling-in Frank’s backstory because I can, takes place during the 1x03 flashback

A/N: Technically this is the first in my joel x oc one shot series. That said, Joel doesn’t have any dialogue in this and my OC simply isn’t there, so it can pretty much be read as straight fanfiction. 

Masterlist | Next Chapter

August 2010

Tess was pretty sure she’d died and gone to Heaven. That, or she’d hit her head really hard. Hell, maybe she’d been infected, and this was some hallucination her brain had come up with while the rest of her body was invaded by cordyceps. That’d be fucking depressing, but she had to admit—this wasn’t a bad way to go. 

She knew that it was a risk going to meet Frank in person; there hadn’t been an hour in the last week that Joel wasn’t reminding her of that. They’d only spoken on the radio, and everything he had to say was too good to be true: gated community, no infected, no FEDRA, stocked with supplies, and people willing to trade. Tess was prepared for it to be a trap, some kind of lure set up by FEDRA to catch smugglers in the act. At the same time, that was exactly why she wanted to go: no one else would be stupid enough to try it. If Frank was telling the truth, Tess and Joel would have access to resources no one else in Boston could dream of touching. “Good for business” would be an understatement. And if it was a trap…well, she’d trusted Joel to get her out of worse. 

He hadn’t appreciated that argument when she told him. Now, though, he didn’t seem to have anything to say. Joel was a grumpy bastard at the best of times, but even he had a hard time complaining with a stomach full of venison and wine. 

Tess took another sip from her glass—a sip of rich, delicious Cabernet out of a fucking crystal goblet—and shook her head in disbelief. 

“Well, this really is—this is amazing.” 

“Right?” Frank smiled and set about pouring himself another glass. He did a double take when he looked at his partner. “Can you not, please?” 

Bill, the surlier of the two, reluctantly lowered his gun and clicked the safety on. He sent a dark look at Joel, sitting across from him. It didn’t escape anyone’s notice that the gun did not leave the table. 

Joel nodded stiffly. “I’m the same way.” 

“Oh, you’re a paranoid schizophrenic, too?” Frank asked dryly. 

“I’m not schizophrenic,” Bill grumbled. 

He glared at Frank, who was totally unfazed by his intimidating demeanor. Frank hid his smirk in his glass, his pinky raised with delicate poise. Bill might’ve owned the house, the traps, the supplies—but it looked like Frank usually called the shots. 

Tess had to bite back her own smile. It was like looking into a mirror. 

“Well,” she said again, clearing her throat to break the awkward silence, “can I just say, gun aside—which I get, by the way—how nice this is to have a civilized meal in such a beautiful place? It’s been so long, and…I mean, I wanna thank you, even if we don’t end up working together. I really needed this.” 

Tess nodded to herself and left it at that. A part of her wanted to keep going—to explain that this felt like more than a meal or a break. It felt like stepping into a time machine and remembering the person she’d been seven years ago. It felt like some kind of cosmic reminder that she didn’t have to live the way she’d been living. There was still life outside the QZ, good people, peace. The whole world hadn’t gone to shit just yet. 

Of course, she didn’t say any of that. She’d had two glasses of wine, but she was very aware of the way all three men were watching her silently. She was preparing a snappy line to cover her sentimental ass when Frank raised his glass. 

“We are working together,” he assured her. 

He gave Tess a knowing smile, and the way he held her gaze told her that he already knew how she felt. She didn’t need to say anything, because Frank was sentimental too. She grinned and clinked their glasses together. 

Bill opened his mouth to complain, until Frank repeated, “We are.” At which point, Bill sank moodily down in his chair. 

“You know what?” Frank dropped his napkin on the table, a mischievous look in his eye. “Let’s go inside. Tess, I wanna show you something.” 

“No—” 

“Actually, I have been wanting to see inside,” Tess said as she got to her feet. “Thank you!” 

“Bring your wine—” 

“Not inside! Frank!” 

Frank ignored Bill’s shouting the same way Tess ignored Joel’s panicked expression. They grabbed their drinks and escaped toward the house, giggling like a couple of scheming schoolgirls. Tess spared one look back at the table, where Joel was watching her in betrayal. She winked, then followed Frank through the front door. 

Shocking as the tidy lawn and flowerbeds had been, the inside of the house was just as baffling. Frank led Tess through the mud room, gesturing for her to wipe her boots on the doormat before stepping onto the ornate rug in the hallway. Tess couldn’t help but look around in wonder as she walked forward, taking in the paintings, the picture frames, candles, vases of flowers, stacks of books… 

“I’m sorry about Bill,” Frank apologized, ushering Tess into the sitting room. “He’s an old grump with no manners, but he’s smart. He understands this a fabulous opportunity—for both of us. He just doesn’t like accepting help.” 

“Oh, I know the type.” Tess snickered and peeked out the window at the front yard. “Do you think it’s okay to leave them out there?” 

“Meh, they’ll be fine. It’ll be good for them to socialize a bit. Besides, I really do have something to show you. Let me just—” Frank took a hasty sip of his wine and placed the bottle on the coffee table. “—grab it from upstairs. Make yourself at home and I will be right back!” 

He smiled, yet again, before scurrying upstairs. 

Tess wished she could’ve made herself at home, because Bill and Frank certainly had a home, but she couldn’t bring herself to relax that much. As much as she teased Joel for his constant vigilance, she wasn’t any less paranoid. If she was, she wouldn’t have lived this long. So instead of sitting down on the couch and tucking into the wine by herself, she took the opportunity to poke around a little. 

 The centerpiece of the room was a grand piano, which Tess was too cautious to touch; some part of her was still hardwired to think of it as expensive. Instead, she opted to look through the desk in the corner, then the stacks of books on the coffee table, then the rows of pictures that lined the built-in shelves. 

 Most of the photos were old and yellowing, relics of a time long before the outbreak. Most of them showed an aging couple, a few family gatherings, a disgruntled kid Tess imagined to be Bill. He didn’t seem the type to move around. Chances were he’d planted himself at his childhood home, fortified it into a castle, and stood his ground. There didn’t seem to be any photos of Bill as an adult, before or after the outbreak. It looked like the electric fence and perimeter traps were his only way of personalizing the place. 

Tess took a step closer to the shelf as a larger frame caught her eye. Inside were two Polaroid photos, slightly askew the way they were taped to the backing. They were creased and worn, but it didn’t look like the kind of damage that came from age; more like the way a book fell apart when you handled it too much. 

On the right, Frank stood with his arm around a young woman, both of them smiling wide. Frank’s smile was natural, but the girl’s expression was forced, her eyes almost crazed as she strained her face into the biggest grin her muscles could manage. It was stupid and silly, an ordinary photo—which is why Tess did a double take at the second one. 

The left picture was a candid of the same woman. It might even have been the same day, judging by her clothes. She was sitting in the grass, deeply focused on the book in her lap and totally oblivious to the camera pointed at her. In one hand, she twirled a short pencil; the other was resting on a semi-automatic rifle at her side. 

Tess scanned the photos again to pick out the smaller details, ghosting a finger along the glass. It looked like they were at some kind of encampment in the woods, a fire going just outside the frame, some rusty cars blurred in the background. The girl’s face was dirty, a dark bruise blossoming on one temple. Frank was sporting some scratches too and, on closer inspection, he didn’t look much younger than he was now. 

Footfalls on the stairs broke Tess’s train of thought. She quickly stepped away from the shelf and sat on the edge of the couch, just as Frank re-entered the room. He was carrying a large cardboard box, which he dropped on the floor with an unceremonious thump. 

“Found it,” he said with pride, resting his hands on his hips. “We’ve got a little boutique just up the road. It’s a little upscale—dresses, heels, sports jackets, stuff like that—but I collected the more practical pieces. Should be some jeans in there if you want a fresh pair.” 

“Wow, uh—yeah, that’d be great,” said Tess. “I’ve tried patching these a few times, but honestly, I think I’m making the problem worse.” 

“What about you?” Frank asked. “Find anything interesting down here?” 

“Huh?” 

He nodded past her, and Tess followed his gaze back to the shelf…where she’d left her wine glass next to the frame. Fuck. A rookie mistake, and a bad one at that. She didn’t even remember putting it down. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized at once. “I saw the Polaroids and—” 

“It really is fine, Tess. I’d be more worried if you weren’t curious.” 

 He chuckled as he walked past her, and though Tess was tense, he sounded genuine. He passed her wine back to her and picked up the picture frame, then joined her on the couch. 

“So, you’ve got a camera?” Tess asked hesitantly. 

“Yeah. Not something most people were looking to salvage back then.” He held the pictures out in front of him, smiling fondly. “Found it in an old department store while everyone else was digging for food. Laurel just about clocked me with it, but it was worth it.” 

“Your kid?” 

“No, no. Not in the traditional sense, anyway. We met in Baltimore QZ and—well, adopted each other, I suppose. Smartest woman I ever met.” 

“Yeah?” Tess found herself smiling too, as if Frank was contagious. “She some kinda doctor or something?” 

“Nope. Just smart. She knew a lot, learned fast, always quick on her feet. She…she saved my life, out there.” 

Frank rubbed a hand along his chin, his solemn mood spreading just as fast as his smile had. Tess knew better than to ask any questions. The past was a sore subject for everyone these days. You never knew what kind of shit you’d dig up by asking, so it was safer not to say anything at all. Tess spoke about what was in front of her and that was it. Joel was the same way. So it surprised her when Frank continued talking unprompted. 

“When Baltimore QZ collapsed…it was messy. FEDRA and the Fireflies were causing enough damage, and that was before the infected got in. After that, it was pretty much every man for himself. Laurel and I got out with a few others from our building, decided it would be safer to travel as a group. We figured we’d pick our way up the coast until we found another QZ to take us in.” 

“You made it pretty far North,” Tess offered, mildly impressed. 

“We had to,” Frank laughed dryly. “I mean, you know what it’s like, I’m sure. Most places are over-capacity already. Philadelphia, New York, New Haven, Springfield—they were either full or gone, so we certainly weren’t the only people out there looking for someplace to go. Between the raiders and—and the infected and the conditions and the lack of supplies…it was just me and Laurel by the time we made it to Massachusetts.” 

This time, it took Frank a little longer to collect himself. He placed the picture frame down on the table and turned to his glass of wine. Tess wasn’t sure if it was more polite to give him some privacy or to sit there and wait for him to continue. Her conversation skills were more than rusty; the only person she talked to outside of making deals was Joel, and he made it easy by rarely talking back. 

Tess glanced out the front window, checking that he and Bill hadn’t killed each other yet, until Frank cleared his throat. 

“We almost made it to Boston, too,” he said softly. “We were only a couple miles west of here when another group cornered us. We were outnumbered and—well, I had a busted knee, so I wasn’t running anywhere. Laurel decided to lure them away and…that was the last time I saw her. I waited there for two days, but she didn’t come back.” 

“I’m sorry, Frank.” Tess fidgeted and, worrying she might not sound genuine, added, “I’ve lost partners too and…it’s never easy. Sorry for bringing it up.” 

“Oh, please—you didn’t.” Frank waved off her apology and shook his head. “No, I’m the one who started gabbing. You came here to trade supplies, not sob stories. I apologize.” 

“No, it’s fine! It’s uh…nice, actually.” She was surprised to hear herself say it, more surprised that it wasn’t a total lie. “I don’t…talk much anymore. Like this, anyway. So…yeah. It’s fine.” 

Frank considered her for a moment, thinking that over. He placed his empty wine glass back on the table and folded his hands together. “I know it’s silly, but…I’d like to think she’s still out there. That she found someone like Bill to take care of her, and…maybe she’s not that far away.” 

Tess followed his gaze to the box of clothes, the cardboard marked with two pieces of masking tape: Woman’s Shirts, SM – MED. 

“I don’t think that’s silly,” she assured him. “It’s…optimistic, but not silly.” 

Frank chuckled and turned to look at her again. His eyes shone as he reached over to pat her on the knee. “You’re a good person, Tess.” 

Immediately, a series of flashback played behind her eyes. 

“I’m really not.” 

“And I believe you believe that,” said Frank, “but I also don’t believe you’re right. I happen to be a fantastic judge of character. How do you think I weaseled my way in here?” 

He gestured to the grand piano and Tess laughed. She really laughed, for the first time in what felt like a long time. She tried to hold onto that feeling as she and Frank dove into the box of clothes, sorting through what would and wouldn’t fit her, what could be repurposed, what was straight up ugly. And when she left, it was with a new pair of jeans and a strange feeling of hope. 

It had been a risk, coming to meet Frank in person. Joel complained all the way back to Boston about how she’d abandoned him with Bill, how the trek was too long for regular trades, how she was out of her mind if she thought he was coming back. Tess couldn’t find it in her to care. Hell, she’d come back on her own if that’s what it took. If Frank was contagious, she wanted as much of his optimism as she could get.

-

Masterlist | Next Chapter

#ocappreciation #tlou fanfiction #tlou oc #the last of us oc #extant life #laurel haynes #brittney writes #my stuff #stories #tlou stories

[leelee1234love]

A shootout

18+ Minors DNI!!!

Full Masterlist Legend Masterlist

Pairing: Reggie Kray x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ron and Reg have a gangster ‘meet up’ but Ron gets a bit hungry after…

Warnings:Blood,cuts,injuries,hammers,weapons,swearing,bad language,guns,bats,bruises!!! (Please tell me if I missed any!!!)

"Right boy's now i believe we have some business to do?" I said as i lit up my cigarette. "Yeah that's right Reg. Mike Jobber want's to see you and Ron down at their pub" Albie told me. "Oh is that so?

Well, looks like i'm gonna have to get my brother then don't it?" I laughed and then left to go and get Ronnie.

"Ron! Ron come on mate, we've got business that needs seeing to down at the Richardson's pub!" I shouted into his caravan. "Alright alright i'm coming" He shouted. A few minutes later the caravan door opened and out came Ronnie. "Lets get this over and done with" He smirked as he made his way over to us and got into the back of the car.

We arrived at the pub and walked in."

"Reg, Ron, the Richardson's was unexpectedly engaged so we're gonna look after you" Jobber said with a smirk on his face. "Ah its alright, um, landlords gone down to change the barrel for us. Ya don't mind if i pour myself a pint do ya?" I said. "What is that?" Ron questioned, looking down at one of the other guys hands. " What do ya think, poof? It's a fucking tool" He laughed. "No it's not, it's a fucking rolling pin. Who are you? Barry Kradick? What ya gonna do with that? Ya gonna bake me a cake?

Gonna sing me a song. watch me blow out me fucking candles?" Ron said as he held up both of his guns that was still in the pockets of his jacket. "I come here for a fucking shootout, right? A proper shootout with some proper men. Reg, this lot are fucking nonce's to a man. They're fucking nonce's.

Get out my fucking way, go on get out, go on, fuck off. Call yourself a fucking gangster? A shootout right is a fucking shootout! Wankers! Fucking embarrassing! Waste of my time! Fucking waste of my time!" Ron shouted as he walked out the pub doors. "Your brother's done a runner" Jobber smirked at me. "Nahh, he is just genuinely disappointed with ya that's all" I said as i looked at my pint of Guinness. " Charlie Richardson said we're to knock the granny out of you Reg" Jobber again, smirked at me. "Oh yeah he did, did he?

That's good of him. Right, listen. When you see him next, you tell him from me yeah, that I say fuck charlie, right? Fuck his brother yeah? Fuck that fat George Cornell that hangs out with him. Fuck your face yeah, yeah? And fuck the fucking lot of ya as well. What d'ya think of that? D'you like that?" I laughed at him. He nodded in reply. "Now you wont mind if i fight back will ya?" I smirked at Jobber. "What, d'ya think you could manage it?"

He laughed. "Just a warning, i ain't gonna fight fair though. So i brought these. Alright?" I showed him the knuckle dusters on both my hands. "Now before we start, i got a little joke for ya, you'll love this one. Paranoid schizophrenic who walks into a bar" I smirked as i saw Ron smash a hammer over the back of one of boy's heads. This was going to be eventful.

———

"Ah! Fucking poofs" Ron breathed out as reg went to go drink his beer.

"Oi Reg! Is Y/n busy?" Ron asked reg and reg shook his head "don't fink so".

"Can she make me a fry up?" Ronnie asked reg and reg nodded.

"I can ask her but it might take a little while" reg said and ron nodded.

"I don't care how long it takes reg! She makes the best hash browns, oh and her bacon is so good and her eggs she does it perfect every time.." ron couldn't stop talking about it all the way back to Y/ns flat.

Once they got to your flat they knocked at the door and you looked through the peep hole before opening the door.

"Hey boys, that better not be your bloo- Reg!" You gasped when you saw Reggie's blood stained face that was caused by a definite punch to the nose and Ron's bloody mouth.

"Y/n? Can you make me a fry up please?" Ron asked you pleadingly and you nodded quickly but you helped them get cleaned up first.

"Can you do hash browns bee?" Ron asked you and you nodded.

"I'll see what we've got in a minute ron" you smiled before grabbing a cold wet towel and cleaning up Reggie's face.

"You better have gotten them better than they got you" you said as you gently wiped his nose that was definitely gonna bruise.

"I can say we did dove" he smiled as he kept looking at you dreamily as you Carried on wiping his bloody face.

"Can I have three hash browns,three sausages, one poached egg and a couple pieces of bacons please?" Ron asked you whilst you cleaned up reg.

"Mhm, yes you can Ron, would you like ketchup with it?" You asked him and he replied with a small yes.

"Ron?" Reg coughed as he gave Ron a stare and Ron thought for a moment as to what reg meant by it.

"Oh sorry, thank you Y/n" Ron said and you couldn't help but smile.

"It's alright Ron, right Reggie can you clean Ron up whilst I make some food?" You asked and he nodded before walking over to Ron.

"Reg? What are you Havin?" You asked quite loudly so he could hear you.

"I'll just have the same as Ron lovely" he replied.

"Okay" you replied back.

———

"Okay Ron here's yours, and reg here's yours" you said as you placed the full plates down and they both said thank you.

"It's alright" you smiled before sitting down and eating yours.

Ron shut his eyes as he ate his food and he kept humming exaggerated hums that made you smile.

"Is it good?" You asked smiling and Ron nodded along with reg.

"It's amazing dove thank you" reg said which made you blush.

"Your welcome Reggie" you said before giving him a kiss on the cheek and walking off to the living room to carry on doing a word search book you had.

#reggie kray #reggie kray x reader #reggiekray #kray twins #kray brothers #the krays #ron kray #ronnie kray #x reader #legend #legend film #Tom hardy #mafiaau #mobster

[divinerulerluvr]

Mahogany Wood

Sister Mary Eunice punishes you at Briarcliff

Possessed!Sister Mary Eunice x fem!reader

Warnings - Smut, caning, whipping, sadism, punishment, homophobia mentions

A/n - Some good ole Mary Eunice smut. Honestly idk what the fuck I was thinking while writing, but hey, it's fun.

You hadn’t been at Briarcliff long when Sister Mary Eunice took charge. Sister Jude had been kicked out as you heard through the grapevine.

Sister Mary Eunice had always been Sister Jude’s henchwoman. That’s what another patient told you. That she was Sister Jude’s bitch, basically. You figured that when Sister Mary Eunice took over that she’d be lenient and a pushover.

You were wrong.

Around the beginning of the month, your father caught you kissing another woman and sent you straight to the crazy house. Being queer was a big no-no around here. So here you were. Stuck with the paranoid schizophrenics, the deranged killers, and the gone-crazy widows.

You were sat in the common room, playing Go Fish with Miss. Lancaster - a grieving widow. When she eventually wins, you slam your cards on the table and stand up abruptly, causing your chair to fall over behind you.

“This game fucking sucks! You always fucking win because you’re a goddamn cheater!” You accuse, yelling out angrily. Briarcliff made everyone go mad. And for you, it made you unable to control your anger.

Orderlies come rushing in and grab you by the arms. “You fucking bitches!” You yell out as the strong men grab you by the arms. “Rot in hell! All of you!” You continue screaming and kicking as the men practically carry you to Sister Mary Eunice’s office.

They throw you inside and you see the blonde woman sitting at her desk, her nun habit only showing her blonde bangs. Her skin was pale and she wore deep red lipstick on her lips.

She looks up at you, her eyes landing directly on yours. It felt like she was looking through you. “Leave her here. Thank you.” She says to the orderlies in a calm, smooth voice. The men leave the room, leaving it to just you and the nun.

“Anger issues don’t bode well in a place like this, Miss. Y/l/n.” Sister Mary Eunice states, standing from her desk. You stand in place, a deep fear in your body that if you moved, you’d be toast.

Instead, you just breathe heavily. She rounds the desk, eyeing you. She steps in front of you, being a few inches taller than you. “What do you think your punishment should be?” She asks.

You shake your head. “Let me outta this hellhole.” You seethe.

She chuckles shortly, a smile on her red lips. “This… isn’t even close to hell. You want to get on the good side of me? Don’t backtalk.” Sister Mary Eunice comments. You exhale sharply, watching as she leans back and grabs the file with your name on it off of her desk.

“Homosexual tendencies, huh?” She reads, her eyes set on your file. “Tell me, what have you done with a woman?”

“I’ve fucked them. They’ve fucked me. I love being a flaming, raging queer, sister. I love having women on top of me and below me. Feeling their tits and how wet they get.” You say bravely, a smug smirk on your face.

Sister Mary Eunice just chuckles, eyeing you up and down. She took in your asylum outfit that consisted of a boring dress and a knitted coat. “Speaking so courageously given the circumstances.”

You hum, quirking your head to the side. “Take off your coat.” She demands, her voice coated with finality. You delay and she just raises her eyebrows at you. Apprehensively, you slowly shrug off your knit coat.

It falls to the floor and Sister Mary Eunice smiles. “Drop the dress, too.” She adds on. You exhale deeply, your eyes set on hers as you undo the buttons of your dress and slide the dress off of your body, letting it fall pathetically to the floor.

Sister Mary Eunice surveys your body - taking in your breasts and hard nipples before falling to the slightly too big cotton panties the nurses provide. “Those too.” She says, pointing to the panties.

As you slide them over your hips, she walks over to the cabinet and opens it, revealing a variation of whipping canes. Your eyes widen at the side of them.

She grabs one of them and rubs the cane against her palm. “Bend over the desk. Now.” Sister Mary Eunice continues demanding orders like some kind of drill sergeant. You follow, your breasts touching the cold wood of the desk as you bend over so your bare ass was sticking out.

You feel the cold cane run up your inner thigh. You shiver, your body tensing. “How many whips? I say forty, given your foul language earlier.” She comments. You groan, feeling the cane rub against your pussy.

With your cheek pressed against the desk, you wince when Sister Mary Eunice whips you with the cane. And fuck, did it hurt.

Your hands grip the desk’s ledge, your ass cheek burning angrily from the slap. “Count for me.” Sister Mary Eunice orders. “O-One.” You groan out, breathing heavily. She brings the cane down on your ass again, this time harder. “Two!” You cry out.

The fire spread through your entire cheek, making you whimper in pain as she hit you with all her strength. Which was a lot of strength. The numbers slowly climb and with each whip, you can feel your cunt getting wetter.

“Thirty-eight!” You mewl, your voice breaking as tears waterfall down your cheeks. “Thirty-nine!” You continue calling out. With one extra harsh whip, Sister Mary Eunice reaches forty. “Forty!” You draw out, the wood wet below your face from tears.

Sister Mary Eunice pulls you by the hair from your bent-over position, making you face her. She smirks as she sees your red eyes and wet cheeks. Her eyes dance down your body, past your heaving breasts until she reaches between your legs.

“Dirty, dirty girl.” Sister Mary Eunice chides. She uses the tip of the cane to spread your legs, making you whimper as your ass presses against the cold wood of the desk.

She runs her cane over your inner thigh, collecting the gooey wetness that coated your thighs on the cane. “Lick it off.” She orders, raising the cane to your mouth. Tears roll down your cheeks as you beg her. “No… I’m sorry.” You plead.

Staying eerily silent, Sister Mary Eunice pushes the wet cane against your lips. You begrudgingly stick your tongue out and lick it, tasting your own arousal. She smiles as she watches you, her sadism helping her get off on it.

Pulling the cane away from you, she lets go of your hair and pushes you to the ground. “Get out of my sight.” She demands.

“C-Can I get...my clothes?” You say weakly. She shakes her head, sitting back down at her desk. “No. Ask the orderlies for another dress. It’s part of your punishment.”

Taglist- @just-some-lesbian @evanmybeloved @sallyscigarettes @arsenicbruise @mossybank @kaiscumrag @spookybitch @copy-of-a-cheeto @marynlangdon @tatesimper @mrspetxrs @im-verysad link to be added to the taglist here https://forms.gle/CfYyEsXsvTJAFpDf9

#ahs #sister mary eunice #ahs asylum #smut #lily rabe #american horror story #fanfic #american horror story asylum #asylum

[spacedikut]

the very insecure dr reid ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: “Could you write another fic about early Spence where he’s all insecure” combined with another request :) 5730 words

a/n: title taken from s1e5!! i wrote this months ago aka before i decided to try to make my fics gender neutral and i tried to make the appropriate changes but im also a dumbass so! yeah! 

masterlist

Spencer is a man of science, if you didn’t already know.

This means he doesn’t spend his time fretting over what isn’t there, what doesn’t have facts and evidence to back it up. Of course, he dabbles in reading conspiracy theories and enjoys learning about various religions and things of that sort, but these are to expand his already infinite knowledge, not because he particularly believes in them.

The first time he believed there was some kind of God was when you kissed him.

It was after the case where both Elle and Spencer were trapped on a train with a paranoid schizophrenic – he still remembers how you reacted when he agreed to being sent in, how you tried to keep it light-hearted but pulled him aside to solemnly tell him you didn’t think you’d be able to live without him (if you do something rash and stupid, Spencer, I swear to God-). You threatened to nipple cripple him if he did die, and it was weirdly motivating.

After he was checked over, and teased Elle about saving her life, you came crashing into him with an audible oof and a whisper of, “God you smell so good I’m so glad you’re okay don’t ever do that again.” It was probably the adrenaline, the near-death experience high, but instead of gently pushing you away like he’d do with anyone else, he discovers your waist has a wonderful dip that his arms fit perfectly into as he tugs you close.

He’s hugged people before, obviously, but it’s always different with you.

You must think so, too, because when you pull away just enough that you’re still in his arms but can clearly see his face, you take a minuscule intake of breath that Spencer wouldn’t notice if he wasn’t, you know, Spencer.

A strand of Spencer’s hair falls from where it was tucked, falling into his line of sight. Without hesitation you’re pushing it back, fingertips brushing against Spencer’s cheek as you fold the hair back behind his ear. Your eyes meet when there’s no obstruction, electricity crackling in Spencer’s ears when he realises there’s nothing between you, nothing stopping you, and there’s something about the lack of space between you and how he holds you that just makes you ask-

“Would it be weird if I kissed you right now?”

Immediately, Spencer thinks yes. Not because he doesn’t want you to (he couldn’t think of anything better to do, to be honest), or because of where you are (although, knowing the whole team is not far away does make him feel a little funny), it’s because he’s him. Gangly, awkward, with very sweaty hands that feel at home on your body, and you don’t want to kiss that. You can’t want to.

Yet, he shakes his head, and finds himself copying you when you lean in and close your eyes.

It’s short, sweet, and somewhat weird. He thinks he blacks out, loses himself in your lips despite it happening so quickly.

When you pull back, Spencer’s eyes remain closed for a good few seconds before he’s brought back to Earth. And he doesn’t know what to say - pretty people don’t just… kiss him. They certainly don’t ask if they can kiss him, then follow through, and… stare at him like that.

“Has anyone seen Reid? Y/L/N?”

Whatever was supposed to happen after, whether it was good or bad, you’ll never know. Hotch’s footsteps are thundering towards you and, despite your daze, you step away from Spencer just as he spots you.

The second time he believed there was a God, he asked you on a date. And you said yes.

Neither of you mention the kiss. In your defence, he supposes, it happened merely an hour ago – everyone’s rushing to get back to Quantico so no one’s had time to make any kind of small talk, let alone have the talk after a kiss.

Elle gives Spencer a look of confusion when she slides past him, moving into the jet as he hovers in the entryway. He’s obviously waiting for someone, passing out tight lipped smiles to the team when they all squeeze past. Spencer isn’t a big guy, but it’s bizarre for him to be standing there like that, swaying like the palm tree he is – he’s usually setting up for yet another game of chess with Gideon at this moment.

Then you shuffle on, faltering when you catch him waiting for you but smile nonetheless. He straightens, hands remaining in his pockets when his mouth opens to speak. You interrupt him (before he can make a fool of himself, thank God).

“Wanna sit together?” You ask, eyes never leaving his. He nods and follows you like the lost puppy he is.

The second you invite him to sit next to you instead of opposite he wants to pull you tight into his side, but that seems like too much. He’s not Derek, for Heaven’s sake, and you’re not Garcia – all you’ve done is kiss once and really, when he thinks about it, you were probably on an adrenaline high too, so it might’ve been a heat of the moment thing. It happens, Spencer’s read about it, and although it would break his heart that it meant nothing, it’s likely. Oh, it’s so likely.

Spencer might be the first one on the team to cry on the BAU jet.

Halfway home, the team is lost in their own pass-times to notice when you bookmark your page and place your book on the table.

“Spence,” You whisper, testing if he’s awake.

He is. He hasn’t been able to catch a wink of sleep, no matter how hard he tries. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry if what I did earlier- you know-“ You gesture vaguely in the air, completely oblivious to the fact Spencer is very familiar with what happened earlier because he can’t stop replaying it, “-If that made you uncomfortable. Or if I forced you, or-“

“Would it be weird if I asked you on a date when we land?”

The grin you send him shoots straight to his heart, eyes crinkling with laughter at his echo of the words you used earlier. If you notice you don’t mention it, but his hands can’t stop fidgeting under the table, slick with sweat.

“It’d only be weird if you don’t kiss me after.” You say.

His brows furrow, a small incredulous laugh leaving him. “What? Why?”

“We’ve already had our first kiss, so it’s out of the way.”

“Are you saying… You want to kiss me again?”

You thought that was obvious from when you kissed him earlier, but you’re happy to remind him. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

“Okay,” He says, bashfully, with a lick of his lips. “I can- I can arrange that.”

This time, when you turn back to your book, your head finds his shoulder and Spencer thinks his it has turned to gold, blessed by being touched by you. Would it be too much if, the second you get back to base, he writes about this moment in great detail to his mother?

+++

All of that leads to now, where The Date is in three days.

He plans to take you to his favourite book café, a place you’ve always wanted to go but never had the chance to, and he was so, so excited. Any time he gets to spend with you is cherished and means more to him than it does to you, because to him it’s an excuse for you to give him more reasons to fall in love with you. And he does - fall in love - every single day.

Was is the important word here. He’s not excited anymore.

It’s terrifying how quick the tides can change.

Just this morning, he was glancing with child-like excitement at the outfit he’s already chosen for the date. You brought him some coffee, whispering an endearing, “Three days!” as you did, and, according to Derek, Spencer’s love eyes (what the hell does that mean) were so big even Derek fell in love with you for a second.

Now, Spencer’s not territorial, but that comment stuck with him. Maybe that’s why he’s here now.

He has to cancel the date.

It pains him – God, does it pain him – but he has to. He can’t go on that date with you. He can’t… put you through that. Make you spend time with him and have to let him down gently, slowly, like you’re talking down a temper tantrum. He can’t then pretend everything’s okay in front of the team. He won’t be able to pretend, because he’s liked you for months.

He won’t force you to go on that date with him. You deserve better than that, and better than him.

That’s what it comes down to: you deserve better than him.

It started that morning with Derek, as previously mentioned. Then the team was whisked away on a case, and the detectives were all over you. JJ, too, but they were too intimidated by Elle and Morgan, who just laughed at their attempts to impress you. It was borderline inappropriate, but you were too concerned with the victims and finding a serial killer to pay some officers and detectives you’ll never see again any attention.

Spencer noticed, though. And he couldn’t concentrate.

The detectives are dressed too well – by that, he means the suits and the Rolex watches are way above their paygrade – and they keep emphasising how good looking you and JJ are and how lucky the BAU is to have such dolls working on the team. What is this, the 40s? Who calls anyone doll anymore? And, yes, the team is very lucky to have you and JJ, but because you’re both great minds and wildly intelligent people that, yes, are also very gorgeous, but your looks aren’t all you have to offer, thank you very much.

There’s a detective approaching you, again, as you stand by the water cooler.

Spencer frantically looks around, trying to find a member of the team. “Morgan!” He weakly calls, because Spencer won’t scare him off. Maybe Morgan can chase them away like they’re stray cats, with his big muscles and scary eyebrows. Or Elle, who earlier merely lifted an eyebrow and the officers scattered like cockroaches.

All he catches of the conversation between you and the model/detective at the cooler is, “I appreciate it, but no thank you,” and that’s all he needs to hear.

He should’ve known someone would eventually make a move. You’ve said no, clearly, and Spencer doesn’t understand why. I mean, yes, he knows why – you have a prior engagement – but the detective… As much as he’s kind of a dick, he complements you better than Spencer does. Physically.

And there starts the spiral.

There must be something in the water, because every officer and detective and everyone in between is in peak physical condition with dashing looks to boot. They’re all straight out of a magazine, as if the popular kids from Spencer’s high school graduated and followed him here to remind him he is incredibly unworthy of you.

Spencer is lanky, unlike the broad men and curvaceous women here, and slicks his hair to the side rather than up like the others. He wears sweater vests, not blazers, and he’s so skinny that his trousers always look like hand-me-downs – nothing is fitted, like so many outfits are here.

They’re all everything Spencer is not. And Spencer is realising, quite quickly, that they’re the better ones – and that’s what you deserve. Better. The best.

It gets worse when they deliver the profile.

He finds his spot next to you, gives you a tight lipped smile, then looks at the outfits of his team compared to his own. Both Hotch and Morgan wear dark suits, well-proportioned and sophisticated in a way that Spencer is sure isn’t even in his calibre. Elle wears a deep green t-shirt, tucked into her tight black pants, and looks wonderfully intimidating with her double gun holster wrapped around her shoulders.

And you. You.

You wear a white shirt tucked into nicely tailored trousers, hair effortlessly styled with a pen tucked behind your ear. You all look like FBI agents. Intimidating. Prepared. Put-together.

Spencer… looks like he’s still in high school. He threatens no one, intimidates no one, and definitely does not make anyone feel inferior with his masculinity. He’s not an alpha male, is what he’s trying to say, and for each person he encounters in this wretched police department he feels himself shrinking.

So when they give the profile, he tries to say as little as possible. Tries to attract as little attention as possible, so when Hotch says his usual, “Thank you.” He can slip away unnoticed and hide from the superior beings.

It works, given everyone is too busy trying to save lives. Except you notice, and Spencer has to pretend he’s okay when you find him at the evidence board and tell him you’re excited for the date. He wants to believe you, truly does, but no matter how hard he digs into his brain to find a part of him that can fathom you see him as a better option than literally anyone else, it doesn’t exist.

You don’t seem to notice. He tells himself he’s glad, but there’s no denying the disappointment.

+++

Hotch calls it a night when the clock nears midnight. He says the team should get as much rest as possible and come in with fresh eyes tomorrow – despite this, the team knows most if not all of them will get little to no sleep, given that they’ll all be going over everything they’ve got so far in their hotel rooms.

You slink up to Spencer, a pep in your step even though you’re running on pure caffeine and nothing else. It’s then Spencer realises he has to do it now, because if he does it in the police department then he’ll be called unprofessional, but if he waits any longer than that he’ll be cutting too close and that’s a bad look.

“Y/N,” He says, coming to a stop before the elevators, allowing the rest of the team to head up. “I need to say something.”

You nod with a smile, covering a cute yawn when he takes a couple seconds to gather his thoughts.

You’re not sure what he’s gonna say, but you assume it’ll be to do with the date. Maybe a change of time, or a change of venue – he did mention the library café can get super busy on weekends – or, worst case scenario, the date will have to be postponed for whatever reason. And none are particularly bad, because you’re excited and just want to be with Spencer – it doesn’t matter if it’s not when he originally planned or where he originally planned.

But Spencer has always unwittingly been full of surprises.

“We can’t go on that date.”

Instantly you ask, “Why not?”

“Well-“ He seems caught off guard, like he wasn’t expecting you to question the sudden change of heart, “It’s complicated-“

“I’ve got time.”

“We should go to sleep-“

“Is it your mother?”

“No. No, it’s not.” Of course you look empathetic when you consider his mother might need him – a stab to the start. Add in the flicker of concern in your eyes – two stabs to the heart. “It’s not her. It’s- it’s nothing. Just, can we cancel?”

“And reschedule?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

The disappointment is clear on your face and makes Spencer feel so guilty, but not guilty enough to take it back. You’re not disappointed that you’re missing out on dating him, you’re frustrated that you’ve been building up to having plans on the weekend and they’ve suddenly been cancelled without reason. By Spencer, of all people. In a couple months’ time you’ll thank him, when you’re dating some bodybuilder who can grow a mean beard. You’ll thank him for not making you go on that date with him and forcing you to tell him you’re just not my type, Spence, and making everything awkward.

He can’t look at you. Maybe that’s why he misses the genuine sadness, the sudden glassiness of your eyes that humiliates you enough to make you angry. His words have ignited a fire in your chest that burns through your body like you’re made of gasoline, and you wish you could turn your thoughts off so you don’t start questioning how long he’s been wanting to reject you, if he even wanted to date you in the first place, how embarrassing it is to have been so openly eager when, apparently, he was very much not.

“I’m sorry.” He says, like it’ll do anything. He still can’t look at you and he feels like a coward.

“Yeah.” You sniffle.

He decides to take the stairs. You head for the bar, just for one drink.

+++

The following day, when an officer tries to talk to you, you blatantly ignore him. You tell him that unless it’s work-related, you’re really not interested, and word spreads quick that your pleasantries have died out and you’re not in the mood to tolerate creepy compliments.

There’s a permanent frown on your face that haunts Spencer the entire day. He knows exactly what’s going on – it’s his fault, after all – and he finds himself simultaneously avoiding you whilst witnessing your downcast mood.

Morgan starts investigating not long after you barely react to his terrible joke. He makes them for you, because you either choke on laughter or throw your pen at him, but this time it was like you weren’t even in the room. When Morgan poked you and asked if you heard him, your lacklustre reply was, “Hm? Yeah, good one.”

Morgan perches on the desk Spencer’s using. “You got any idea what’s going on with Y/N?”

“They’re mad at me.”

“You’re the reason they’re like this?”

Spencer doesn’t physically react, just says, as casually as possible, “Unless another person asked them on a date then cancelled without reason, then yes. It’s my fault.”

There’s no point in lying. Especially to Derek. Spencer doesn’t know how you’ll go about explaining your sudden poor mood, if you’ll curse his very existence or lie about it, but Spencer’s never been a good liar and the sooner everyone knows it’s his fault and he sucks, the better.

Morgan leans forward, attempting to make eye contact with the doctor who very much does not want to. “There’s a story there.”

“Obviously.”

“…You wanna go ahead and explain it?”

“Not really.”

“Alright,” Derek shrugs, “You stir in your sadness and continue being a sourpuss, I’ll go check up on Y/N and find out what really happened.”

Derek’s barely moved off the table when Spencer stops him, voice small like a child, “Wait, Morgan, I-“

You walk past then, too focused on a suspect list faxed in by Garcia to pay attention to anyone else. Spencer’s eyes follow you the whole time, and the look in Spencer’s twinkling eyes make Morgan slump back onto the table in realisation.

“Why’d you cancel, Reid?”

“I had to.”

“You had other plans?”

Spencer chews his bottom lip. “No. But I… I couldn’t take them on a date.”

Derek waits for him to elaborate.

“Have you seen the kind of guys hitting on them?” Spencer asks, scooting his chair closer so no one can eavesdrop. “They’re all… They’re- they’re like you, Morgan. All cool and put-together and actually look their age, for one, and I’m not that. I could never be that – and that’s what Y/N wants-“

“Have you asked them that?”

“No. But I’m a profiler, in case you forgot, and I think it makes sense that these big-shouldered, super muscly guys are all over-“

“But you haven’t actually asked them what they want.”

“No.” Spencer sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“That’s your first, and most vital, mistake, my man.”

Spencer purses his lips, catching you watching him over Derek’s shoulder. You immediately look away, shooting off to the evidence room as an escape, and Spencer’s cheeks burn with guilt and embarrassment.

He can’t believe he thought he had a chance with you.

“I feel like this should be obvious, Genius, but Y/N said yes to a date with you, then turned down every offer that came from someone that wasn’t you-“

“That’s because they already made plans with me and they’d feel terrible if they had to cancel for another, better offer. I made it easier for them.”

Derek gives him such an incredulous look Spencer wonders if he should burn his PhDs. “Are you serious?”

The crestfallen expression on Spencer’s face is enough of an answer.

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“C’mon,” Derek tugs Spencer up from his chair. “I need to show your dumb ass something.”

All that’s missing is classic spy music when Derek and Spencer sneak into the conference room the BAU is using. Only Hotch is in there, scribbling something down, barely glancing up when the two agents creep in like they’re on a mission.

Spencer doesn’t say anything until Derek reaches for your bag. “Whoa- Morgan-“

“Relax.”

Spencer just stares, brows halfway down his face, and watches silently.

“That’s they’re journal, Morgan, you can’t just read it-“

“It’s not, pretty boy.”

Hotch watches the interaction, mildly confused, then nods to himself when he realises what Morgan’s holding.

Morgan splays the journal on the table in front of them, flipping through pages with precision like it’s his notebook and not yours. When he lands on his desired page, it’s slid towards Spencer.

He reads it.

The Doctor Spencer Reid cheat sheet. (Because I do not have an eidetic memory and feel bad whenever I forget something he tells me)

He’s too stumped by the words cheat sheet to look further, so Derek does it for him, flipping to the next page where very basic information about Spencer sits – full name, date of birth, hometown. As he looks to the page next to it, he realises it’s full of his favourite things – favourite coffee, favourite candy (which has multiple answers, by the way), even favourite pair of socks. Like a switch has been flipped, Spencer comes to life, frantically switching between pages that are overflowing with facts and tidbits about him, from his favourite monologue from his favourite film to his favourite shelf in his apartment. All things he’s told you either in passing or when he’s confided in you at random times, you’ve taken note. You’ve listened, and for some reason you’ve written it all down so you’d never forget.

“What…What is this?”

“It’s everything there is to know about you, Reid.” Derek watches as Spencer slips through the rest of the book, filled with random to-do lists and phone numbers of various people, looking for the same information about the rest of the team. “There’s only one for you, you know. And if you ask me it’s a little creepy, but it’s saved our asses when it’s come to buying gifts for you a good few times.” He slaps a hand on his friend’s shoulder, smirking at how Spencer’s awe-filled eyes never leave the pages before him. “They care about you a lot, Reid. More than you think. So…”

“I need to talk to them.”

“Yes, idiot, you do.”

+++

That night, Elle and Derek invite you to join them for some drinks at the bar, promising they won’t let it escalate to arm wrestling and childish bets like they always do. Even though they make a compelling argument, add on that you’re stressed and upset and really, really want to forget emotions exist more than anything else, you’re half tempted to accept and lose yourself in some cocktails.

Then you spot Spencer talking in hushed tones with Gideon and everything comes flooding back. So you tell Elle to have a drink for you, please don’t make a ruckus when she gets back to your shared room, and bid them adieu.

In your room, you distract yourself by renting one of your favourite movies. It’s overpriced, and a part of you wants to look over the case files again, but being sad and burnt out won’t lead to any good outcomes.

It’s a futile attempt at switching your brain off so you don’t have to think about how excited you were for the date. You’ve had twenty-four hours to get over it, but every time you see him you’re thrown back into the bitterness you feel – bitter that you fooled yourself into thinking it’d work out, bitter that your hopes were so high, bitter that you let your feelings for Spencer become such a big part of your life.

You’re lying on your scratchy hotel bed, thinking about Spencer and how he’s going to be complaining to Morgan about said scratchy beds, when there’s a knock at your door.

Naturally, you assume its Elle. She reminds you so much of your older sister who used to slide you some money so you’d stay up late into the night and quietly let her back into the house after she’s sneaked off to go to a party – except Elle is probably swaying outside your hotel room after losing her keycard rather than swaying on your doorstep.

So when you open the door, teasing quip ready, you legitimately choke when you’re faced with a fidgety Spencer Reid.

He tries to ignore how the way your face drops when you realise it’s him feels like a punch to the gut.

“Hey-“

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You-what-“ He’s never seen you so flustered. “Are you lost?”

Just in case, Spencer leans back to check the number beside your door is in fact 208. It is, and he turns back to you, “Please don’t slam the door in my face.”

It slips out. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise your pretty face.”

You’re humiliated that he has this effect on you, the ability to obliterate all your filters and common sense just by existing. But the look on his face alleviates the want to jump out of the window – his mouth opens, twitching into the smallest, most bashful smile before it falls and morphs back into disbelief. You just… You just called his face pretty, a word that makes some feel emasculated but no, never with you. You compliment people and mean it, which makes Spencer’s guilt worsen and the urge to tell you he loves you with his entire heart more intense.

You speak at the same time.

“Why are you-“

“I wanted to-“

You roll your lips together, holding back a smile, and nod for him to go on. He does the same, so you shake your head with a, “I was just asking why you’re here.”

He holds up a finger, signalling one moment, and opens his satchel to start rummaging in it. “I know this is a complete invasion of privacy, and theft, really, but Morgan showed me it and I just- Why do you have this?”

You gasp.

In his hand is the journal you’ve been working on since a month into your employment at the BAU. The gifted notebook was initially used to jot down any bits of advice your superiors gave you (on your first day, Elle gave you a list she lovingly titled “If I wasn’t an FBI agent I’d sock these people in the mouths”) but, before you knew it, it had an entirely different purpose.

It started when you witnessed Derek stumble when asked Spencer’s favourite colour, to which he said no one remembers stuff like that! Aptly followed by Spencer reeling off everyone’s preferred colours (even delving into second favourites and favoured colour schemes) and you realised then that… Spencer’s whole life, he’s remembered so much about the people around him and very rarely have they returned the favour. So, in an attempt to build friendship and because you had the fattest crush on him already, you started the Spencer Reid cheat sheet.

You didn’t think he’d ever see it, even if it’s always used by the team on various occasions. It was the team’s little secret, bar Spencer, that assisted in nearly every decision made on Spencer’s behalf – what to order from restaurants, drinks, birthday and holiday gifts, how to comfort him when he’s stressed or upset.

The responses vary. Derek thinks it’s weird, as did Elle at first, but JJ and Garcia insist its sweet and, really, no matter what they think they’ve all come running to you when time has called for it.

“How… Did you steal it?”

“Yes,” He tells you, guiltily, “I had to read it – it’s incredibly accurate, by the way.”

You don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.

“So… Why?”

“I don’t know,” You say, a bold-faced lie and Spencer can tell, but he lets you continue, “You remember everything about everyone else, so I wanted to… do the same for you, I guess.”

“I have an eidetic memory.”

You airily laugh – does he think you forgot that? “I know that. Doesn’t it get tiring recalling all this information about your friends and not having it reciprocated?”

He clicks his tongue at that, eyes falling back to the notebook in his hands that he fiddles with while he thinks. It is tiring, he supposes, but that’s how it’s always been. He remembers everything, the people around him just… don’t. He realised at a young age that he’ll often have to remind himself that friendship isn’t measured by what they remember, but by other ways – like this. You, with your unassuming journal that is full of things Spencer assumed no one would ever care to remember.

You, with your tensed jaw and fluttering eyes because you’re embarrassed.

You, who’s done quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for him, and it’s been happening for years right under his nose.

You, who he cancelled a date with because he was so sure you were dating him out of pity, out of obligation after he asked and you felt forced to say yes, but now he realises you care about him just as much as he cares for you.

Touched feels like an understatement.

“Y/N…”

“If you find it weird, I’ll burn it the second we get home. Pretend it never happened, we can… discuss a restraining order if we must-“

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Oh.”

He smiles at you, hands tight on the book in his hands, smiles so big that his eyes crinkle and his teeth show and he looks gorgeous. It tugs directly on your heart strings and just for a second you forget that he cancelled your date, forget that you’ve been pining for years, and bask in the warmth that radiates from him.

“This is… Insane, really.” He laughs, “But also so… so cool. I don’t deserve this, at all, and to think we could’ve gone on a date but I chickened out-“

“What?”

He shrugs with faux-nonchalance. “The-um- the reason I took back the date was because I think you deserve so much better than me. In a, you deserve someone like all the police officers down at the PD, kind of way. I don’t want a pity date-“

You scoff, then with an indignant, “Come in here,” You grab Spencer’s satchel and tug him into your hotel room, closing the door with a forceful push as he turns to face you.

With your hands on your hips, you stare him down with furrowed brows and a look that screams really? “Is that really what you think, Spence? It was a pity date?”

“Well, yeah,” He tells you. The conviction in his voice is so strong that, if you weren’t this riled up, you’d probably tear up at how sure he sounds.

You give another scoff. “Not only am I offended you think I’d do that to anyone, but I’m also mad that you don’t see how I look at you! Spencer, I’ve been into you since I started working here-“ His mouth falls open. You’re exasperated. “-and the notes were a way to get to know you, yes, but they were also because I couldn’t stop watching you and had to play it off like I was doing it for a reason. You’re my favourite, Spencer.”

His heart aches a little, full of such a tenderness he’s never quite felt before. He feels loved, and so, so touched that someone would put so much effort into getting to know him and… years. Literal years you’ve liked him, and he’s been blind to it.

“I like you a lot.” You’re breathless after your little speech, “And if you still don’t want that date, that’s okay. But I like you, Spence, I really like you.”

Your gaze never wavers. Spencer wants to scoop you up and place kisses all over. For the first time in a while, he feels worthy. Like what you’re saying isn’t being said for the sake of it, because you’re his friend and you have to support him, but because it’s what you genuinely think and feel and Spencer might be in love.

He swallows deeply before speaking.

“I really like you, too, Y/N. And I’m-I’m sorry that I cancelled the date and- I should’ve talked to you, maybe, before doing it, but… We’re here now, right?”

“You want to have a date right now?”

Thumbing through the book, he says, “Actually, there’s some blanks in here I’d like to fill, if you’re not busy…”

You’re very clearly on board with the suggestion, basically skipping to your bed, plopping down and patting the space beside you with a grin. “I’m not busy at all, Doctor Reid. Tell me everything I don’t already know.”

So he does, thigh pressed against yours and blush on his cheeks when you let your head fall onto his shoulder.

The night is spent giggling over the most random information you’ve gathered, correcting only one mistake (his favourite socks change every week, not your fault), and adding onto the already plentiful fact file.

And the date that weekend happens, ending in a sweet kiss on your doorstep that leaves you both with shy smiles and thundering hearts.

It’s the first date of many, followed by the creation of a new journal full of all there is to know about your and Spencer’s relationship.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @bitchyreids @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @jasongideonapologist @gublertoon @averyhotchner

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #i tried to write the first half in the past tense but i got confused so sorry if the tenses r weird

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Trapped Secrets

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader, Derek Morgan Platonic x Reader

Words: 3692

Summary: With no time to lose, you and Morgan storm an unsub’s house before the rest of the team gets there. After not hearing back from you, Spencer and the team start to panic. Injured, trapped, and keeping a major secret, you and Morgan have to stay alive in a frightened unsub’s basement. 

Notes: I picture this in season four because that’s where I am in the series. Plus I really like Spencer’s hair cut at the beginning of this season.  I am totally in love with Spencer Reid so expect to be seeing more imagines for him and for Criminal Minds in general! I hope you guys are as excited as I am. 

Find more Spencer and more HERE

-

“You’ll be careful, right?” You asked, straightening your boyfriend’s tie underneath his vest. 

“Only if you are.” Spencer gave you that little awkward smile that he always gave you. “Besides, I’m not going with Agent Action Hero.” He motioned to Agent Morgan; your search partner for the evening. 

“He’s not an action hero.” You laughed, strapping on your vest. “He just really likes kicking in doors.” Spencer snickered slightly, but his expression was still uncomfortable. 

“You jealous that I’m riding with your girl Reid?” Morgan laughed, patting the younger agent on the back. 

“Morgan.” You hissed, jerking your head towards Hotch. 

“What? We all know about you and the brainiac.”

“Yeah, and Hotch doesn’t exactly like being reminded about it.” The relationship between you and Dr. Reid wasn’t exactly protocol, especially on the same team. You hadn’t quite been able to figure out why SSA Hotchner hadn’t reported you or told you to put an end to it. 

“You guys better get going. We only have about five hours before he’ll likely kill Audrey Lang.” Spencer hooked his finger with yours, only for a moment, but it sent a sweet, tingling feeling up your arm. With both of you being new to any kind of serious relationship, you stuck to pretty small signs of affection. You didn’t mind. It was personal and perfect. Spencer went to join Hotch and you headed to the car with Morgan. 

“Is it just me, or did Reid actually look kind of worried?” Morgan asked. It was more to tease you than from concern. 

“Shut up.” You couldn’t help but grin. Morgan had that effect. You got into the passenger side and waited for his list of snarky comments. He wasn’t done poking fun at you yet. 

“I have to say, you’ve got ‘rule breaker’ all over you, but I honestly did not see this coming from Dr. Teacher's-Pet.” He shook his head with a smug smile and started the car. You just sat and rolled your eyes. Any response would just mean more provocation. “But dating a younger man… I always pictured you as more of the ‘Silver Fox’ kinda girl.” Now that pressed your buttons.

“Okay, first of all, just because I like Richard Gere, doesn’t mean I like older men.” You retorted, “Secondly, I’m not even that much older than Reid. There’s what, three years, between us?” 

“Uuuhuuuh.” The side eye he gave you made you want to slap him. Morgan chuckled. “Come on, you and I are friends, right? Don’t I get a few little details?” From the smirk on his face, you knew what he was talking about. 

“Derek Morgan, we are on a case. We are professionals on a case about three murdered federal employees. I will not divulge information regarding my sex life!” 

“I never said anything about sex, Agent Y/L/N.” His grin grew and you begrudgingly turned your face to the window. Morgan laughed at the red flushing your cheeks. You would be mad if he wasn’t your best friend. 

In the other car, Reid rode beside Hotch in tense silence. Spencer knew that his relationship with you could potentially get both of you into trouble with the bureau. Every time he was around Hotch, he waited for the reprimand. The unusual quiet was almost worse. Hotch turned a corner and took a heavy breath. 

“It’s a bad idea. You know that right?” 

“I know it’s against the rules, if that’s what you mean.” As intimidating as his superior could be, Reid was sure of himself. 

“The rules are there for a reason, Reid.” Hotch sighed. He would give anything to not be having this conversation right now. 

“Have either of us proven to be less efficient?”

“That’s not the point.” 

“If our relationship complicates our work, I can assure you that Y/N and I will be the first ones to address it.” 

“Reid-”

“You know, if anything, I think that we’ve working better together than we have in the past, which is saying something because Y/N and I-”

“Are you happy?” He asked a little more aggressively than he had intended. Reid just blinked at him blankly.

“What?”

“Are both of you happy?” He glanced over at the younger agent and Spencer shifted in his seat. He was awkward, but assertive. 

“I can’t totally speak for Y/N, but… yes.” He sat and waited for his superior’s response. Hotch fixed his eyes on the road. 

“Okay.” 

“I’m sorry?”

“I said okay.” Maybe he was going soft, but he’d never seen Reid or you like this before. If this relationship could help the both of you get through the horrors you saw every day, then turning a blind eye might not be the worst thing. 

“Thank you.” Spencer felt a small smile creep onto his face. Hotch scowled. 

“If a single problem arises, and I mean any dispute or laps in judgement-”

“You didn’t know anything about it. Got it.” Spencer stared at his lap to hide his smirk. 

You were still avoiding Morgan’s inquiring gaze when Garcia’s voice came through your earpiece. 

“Guys, Audrey Lang’s phone just turned on.” 

“Where?” Morgan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. 

“157 21st Street.” Your stomach turned. As selfish as it was, a part of you had hoped that someone else would be closer. Morgan whirled the car around. 

“That’s just around the corner from us. We’re right on top of him.” He slammed on the brakes in front of the house and the two of you jumped out of the car. The house was about what you expected from a paranoid, conspiracy-obsessed unsub. The windows were boarded up and two different cameras looked down at you from the roof. 

“Morgan.” You pointed to the devices. Jacobs knew you were here. He nodded and spoke into his radio. 

“This guy has surveillance everywhere. He’s going to panic.” He glanced back at you, waiting for you to have his back. Despite your building panic, you didn’t have time to hesitate. You gave him a strong nod. “We’re going in.” 

You pushed your fear to the pit of your stomach. If you showed even the slightest panic, Morgan would know and you could jeopardize everything. So when he kicked in the door, you were right behind him. 

The house was silent. With guns raised, you both covered the first floor, finding nothing but scattered notes and ‘Big Brother Is Watching’ flyers. You located a flight of stairs leading to the basement and cautiously followed Morgan down. Similarly to the floor above, the basement seemed other than a desk with a few surveillance screens. Across from the stairs was a large metal door. It was open.  

Morgan charged towards it, but something wasn’t sitting right with you. 

“Hotch, how close are you and Reid?” You asked tentatively. 

“Five more minutes. Have you found Mrs. Lang?” 

“She’s in here!” Morgan announced. You stepped into the room, but kept close to the door. Morgan was kneeling over the unconscious body of Audrey. While she was out cold, she was still breathing. 

“What about Jacobs?” Hotch asked. 

“We looked everywhere upstairs and he wasn’t there.” 

“Reid, when you went to the other crime scene, you said that the victim had been covered and made to look like part of the rubble, right?”

“Yeah, Jacobs wanted to hide the body. If the construction worker hadn’t been working there, it likely wouldn't have been found.” Spencer’s voice wavered as he figured out where you were going with this. You looked at Morgan with wide eyes. 

“Then how did we get here so easily?” 

Hotch yelled into the radio. 

“It’s a trap. Get out of there. Now!” 

You whirled around and came face to face with Steven Jacobs. You fired your weapon, but didn’t get the chance to see if you hit him. Instead, you stumbled backwards and the large metal door slammed shut. 

“No!” Morgan shouted, throwing his weight against the door to try and break it down. “Hotch, can you hear me? Reid!” The radio connection was dead. Morgan slammed against the door again. 

“Derek.” 

“We’re going to get out of here.” He searched the door for any point of weakness.

“Derek.” 

 “Let us out, you son of a bitch!”

“Derek!” You finally yelled. When he turned around you watched his face morph with panic. Blood leaked through your fingers, your hand pressed against the wound in your shoulder. It wasn’t your gun that had gone off, it was Jacobs’. And you were hit. 

-

The street swarmed with teams from local police, S.W.A.T, and the BAU. In the middle of all of it was Spencer. He just stared at the front door. Somewhere in the basement of that house, his girlfriend and his closest friend were trapped by a paranoid schizophrenic with a gun. Neighbors reported already hearing a shot go off. Judging by the lights still on in the house and the fact that you and Morgan still hadn’t come out yet, it wasn’t one of your guns to make the shot. 

“He must be using something to jam the signal.” Prentiss huffed, her attempts to get a hold of either of you failing. “We need to get in there.” 

“We don’t know what Jacobs has in there.” Rossi said gruffly, joining them after meeting with the S.W.A.T leader. “For all we know, he could try and blow the whole block.”

“The longer we wait, the longer he has Morgan and Y/L/N.” Spencer ran his fingers through his hair. “Audrey Lang is probably dead and we don’t know who shot the gun or-”

“When they found her, Morgan didn’t say anything about Lang being dead.” Hotch said sternly. 

“He didn’t say she was alive, either.” Spencer’s voice was harsh considering he was speaking to a superior. 

“Reid, I want to get them out just as badly as you do, but if we try and storm in there, Jacobs will likely kill them and himself.” Hotch’s tone was stern and surprisingly calm. 

“You thought you had me, didn’t you!?” A voice boomed from the house. Every agent in the street tensed and raised their weapons. Prentiss was the first to lower her gun. 

“Look in the bushes.” She pointed to the shrubbery on either side of the door. “Speakers.” 

“You all thought you would silence the truth! Well I’m smarter than you. That’s right. And I will not be silenced!” 

Hotch looked at the hostage negotiator, who gave him the okay to talk. 

“Mr. Jacobs we don’t want to silence you.” 

“Tell that to the three spies in the other room.” Underneath Jacobs' voice was the sound of banging. Like fists against a door. Listening closer, Spencer could hear a yelling voice. 

“Morgan.” He whispered to the others. They listened to the sound of their coworker- their friend- trying to break free. 

“Jacobs you son of a bitch, we’ve got two injured people in here!” Derek screamed. You closed your eyes, trying to drown out the sound that was just making the pain worse. 

“Derek, don’t antagonize him.” You grimaced, trying to keep pressure against the still gushing bullet hole in your shoulder. “It’ll just piss him off.”

“Y/N, we need to get paramedics in here. Audrey is barely breathing and you’re bleeding out.” He knelt in front of you, lifting your hand slightly to look at the wound. 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to tell the patient they’re going to die.” You teased, trying to get your mind off of the guilt and regret. Derek winced. 

“You’re not going to die. I didn’t mean that.” 

“Go check on her.” You motioned towards Mrs. Lang. “I’ll be fine.” You adjusted slightly so your vest was in your lap. You had to take it off in order to tend to your wound and it left you vulnerable. 

As Derek crossed the room, you felt your vision blur with tears. You should have told him. You should have told him. 

Outside the tension was only getting worse. Jacobs had gone quiet and the team was itching to break the door down. Spencer was pacing, running through plan after plan in his head. If Garcia could hack into Jacobs’ system, they could cut the surveillance feed and go in. But if Jacobs noticed the hack, he would kill everyone inside. Finally, the shrill voice came back over the speakers. 

“One of your spies is dead.” He laughed frantically, a madman slipping more and more into his delusion. Spencer froze. “She said she didn’t know anything, but I knew she was lying. You train them well, you know.”

“She.” Spencer whispered, the panic making his hands shake. 

“Mr. Jacobs, which woman is dead?” Hotch asked carefully. Jacobs laughed again. 

“You have chips in all of them, you tell me.” 

“Mr. Jacobs, I need to know who died.” While he kept his gaze focused on the house, Hotch could tell that the team was holding their breath. 

“Damnit!” Derek exclaimed, slamming his hand against the floor. Audrey was dead. 

“There was nothing you could do, Derek.” You said grimly. You looked around at the metal walls and felt the last bit of hope leave you. “He’s going to kill all of us.” 

“No, no, you don’t get to talk like that.” Derek crouched in front of you and put a hand on your cheek. “We are not going to die in here.” A tear slipped down your cheek and you shook your head. 

“I never even got to tell him.” Maybe it was shock, but you started to hyperventilate. “I didn’t tell him, Derek.” 

“Sweetheart, what are you talking about?” 

“I didn’t tell Spencer.”

“Tell Reid what?” Derek’s eyes searched yours until you watched the realization on his face. “You’re not…”

“Yeah, Derek. I am.” You wiped another tear away. “I found out a couple of weeks ago.” 

“You’ve known that long and haven’t told anybody?” He sighed, sitting down beside you. You laid your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” You laughed humorously. “I know I should have told Hotch as soon as I found out, but I couldn’t tell him before I told Spencer and I just couldn’t figure out how to tell him.” Your voice cracked and Derek pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” 

It was eerily quiet. Jacobs had stopped his rambling and the sirens outside seemed distant now. Your hands fell to your stomach and you smiled sadly. 

“Help me think of names.” 

“Hmm?”

“Come on, distract me from the pain. Help me think of names for the little genius.” You shifted so that you were looking at Derek. “I was thinking that, if it’s a girl, I want to name her Diana. Spencer’s mom has always been such a big part of his life and I think that’s what he would want.”

“Diana is a beautiful name.” He gave you a sweet smile and took your hand in his. “What if it’s a boy?”

“See, I can’t make up my mind on that. I’m sure Spence would want some super smart author’s name or something, but... he’s the smartest person I know.” You spread your fingers over your belly, thinking about everything you had to lose. 

“Well if Spencer Jr. doesn’t stick, you could always name him after your favorite profiler.” Derek chuckled. His smirk fell when he looked at the sorrow on your face. 

“I need you to tell him.” 

“What?”

“If I don’t…” You gulped. “If I don’t make it out of this, I don’t want him to find out from some doctor. I want him to hear it from you.” 

“Don’t go there. Don’t you go there, you hear me?” He stood with new determination. “We are getting out of here and you and that wonder baby are going to be just fine.” He brought your hand up to his lips before turning towards the door. 

“What are you-”

“Jacobs!” He pounded on the door. “I’m ready to talk! I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” 

“Derek what are you doing?” You struggled to stand and Derek moved you to the wall beside the door and motioned for you to stay still. 

“I’m ready to talk, Jacobs! You win!” You both readied your weapons and Derek stood in the corner. 

It didn’t take long for Jacobs to take the bait. Slowly, the metal door opened and Jacobs cautiously stepped inside. His wild eyes locked on you and your gun and he charged towards you. Before he could get far, Derek kicked the door into him. The impact made him stumble forward into you, shoving you against the wall. Your head hit the concrete hard, disorienting you long enough for Jacobs to aim his gun at your stomach. 

This time the shot wasn’t his. And you didn’t miss. 

-

The second shot had everyone ready to go in. Teams were prepping when the front door opened. 

“Hold your fire!” Morgan shouted. “I’ve got an injured agent here!” He emerged from the house walking as fast as he could. He was carrying you. Spencer broke into a sprint, rushing alongside him and trying to examine your injuries. 

“What happened? Is she okay?” Before he could answer, paramedics swarmed them. 

“She was shot in the left shoulder, no exit wound, and she’s lost a lot of blood. She also hit her head pretty hard, but she’s remained conscious.” He informed them. 

“Sir, you’ll have to come with us so we can examine you as well.” One ordered. 

“I’m coming with you.” Reid said firmly. Nobody argued with him and so they all climbed into the back of the ambulance. 

They sat Morgan and Reid down and got you onto a gurney. 

“Agent Y/L/N, can you hear me?” 

“Agent Morgan, did you sustain any injuries in Mr. Jacobs’ basement?”

“Dr. Reid, I need you to stay over there.” 

So many things were happening at once, Derek could barely get a word in. 

“There’s something you need to know before you give her anything.” He told the woman tending to you. He finally looked at Reid. He’d been avoiding his gaze since he stepped out of the house, but now he had to keep his promise to you. He had to tell him. “She’s pregnant.” 

The paramedics acted accordingly and Spencer just stared at him. 

“What?” 

“She’s pregnant, kid.” Derek put a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, his gaze shifting to you. 

“That’s not… she would have told me. She would have-”

“She wanted to tell you. She was just scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“I don’t know, kid.”

“Don’t call me that!” Spencer pushed away from him. 

“Sir, I need you to calm down-”

“Reid-”

“You should have waited! If you had waited for the rest of us, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“We were trying to save Audrey Lang.”

“Audrey Lang died!” Spencer snapped. “And now so could Y/N. She could die and could my…” He trailed off, his anger fading quickly into a devastated panic. 

“This is really not the place for this argument.” One of the paramedics warned. 

“She’s going to be okay, Reid. Her and your baby are going to be okay.” He pulled the younger agent into a hug, trying to convince himself as well. 

-

The whole team was in the waiting room. Hotch watched Reid carefully as he paced relentlessly. Judging by the tension between him and Morgan, there was something the two weren’t saying. 

The bodies of Audrey Lang and Steven Jacobs were found in his basement. Hotchner would be filling out the paperwork as soon as they found out your condition. When the doctor finally approached them, everyone was on the edge of their seats. 

“Agent Y/L/N will have to wear a sling for her shoulder injury and she’s suffering from a concussion, but in time, she will make a full recovery.” Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The doctor continued. “As for the other matter,” She gave Spencer a small smile, “she’s asking to speak to Dr. Reid before any other visitors.” 

With everybody’s eyes on him, Spencer followed her back to your room. You looked a lot better now and you were giving him a nervous smile. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” He stood in the doorway for a moment, unable to move. 

“I’m going to go fill out some forms, but I will be just down the hall if you need anything or have any questions.” The doctor said before leaving the two of you alone. Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly shuffled forward. 

“Is everything okay?” He asked. “I mean… is the… are you-”

“We’re both fine, Spence.” You held your breath, waiting for him to react. Spencer pulled up a chair and took your hand in his. His hands were shaking slightly. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Spence…”

“Were you that afraid of how I would react?”

“No!” You exclaimed, laying a hand on his cheek. “Spencer, I was afraid of everything. I was afraid of facing it. I love you and I want this child, I do. But… I know geological profiling and how to link victims and what to say to a grieving family. I don’t know how to be a parent.” 

“You think I do?” He laughed anxiously. “I don’t know the first thing about being a dad. But…” He gulped. “I know that I have been happier with you than I have in my whole life. I don’t know a lot about love, but everything I do know, I know because of you. And if you can do that, then we can figure this out.” 

A grin spread across your face and you pulled his lips to yours. You were too distracted by each other to notice the other figure at the door. 

“I believe I was told something about naming a certain baby after me?” Derek smirked. Spencer gave you a look. 

“You’re delusional, Morgan.” You laughed. Derek looked at Reid. 

“Are we good, kid?” 

Spencer smiled. 

“Yeah. We’re good.” 

#spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #matthew grey gubler #spencer reid #derek morgan #aaron hotchner

[bisexualwannabewriter]

“This is killing me” Part Twelve - Spencer Reid x female reader

Summary : You’re working for the BAU, and Dr Spencer Reid is your best friend on the  team. Actually, he’s your best friend, pErIoD. The thing is, you’re not supposed to feel that way about your  best friend. He makes you feel some type of way, everyone in the  team   can see it, except you and him.

In the previous chapter, you put all of your focus on a new case involving a disorganized unsub, with an obsession with conspiracy theories and the existence of “lizard people” within our society. Spencer tried to tell you something about his date with officer Maggie Rowe, and Derek even tried to encourage you to listen to what he had to say. In addition to everything, you overheard a conversation between Spence and Maggie, that left you dubious : the both of them kissed, but it didn’t seem like things were going well between them...

You can find all the previous chapters here.

Chapter Summary : Your hard work has paid off. On the trip back to Quantico though, you and Spencer finally have the most honest conversation you’ve had so far. Your relationship takes a new turn, but things can never go too smoothly between the two of you. Still, after some clarification from Derek, hope starts to creep in...

TW : Violence, death, mental illness, drug use, conspiracy theories, exhaustion, anxiety. It’s fluffy, it’s angsty, it’s romantic, it’s clumsy, the tension is crazy. We’re getting there, people. Slowly but surely.

(Not my GIF)

You caught the unsub in a stupid way, really. He just killed at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Sometimes it happened. You could work as hard as you wanted, know the killer better than yourself... they would just leave one body, in a way that was even more sloppy than the others, and you could catch your man. One mistake, and that was it. It was a good thing, of course, but in situations like this, you never knew what the unsub's next move was going to be. They didn't even know it, until they did it. Your unsub fit in every category of an unorganized killer : below average intelligence, check. Socially inadequate, check. Worked an ungrateful job near the crime scenes, check. Living alone, check. Check, check, check. Your profile, your whole theory on his obsession with lizard people : check. You knew you would have caught him one way or another, as Spencer had managed to narrow down the places where the unsub could have been living, given the places of the last murders. But you caught him thanks to dumb luck. Gabriel Calahan was just a paranoid schizophrenic, whose mental illness had been exacerbated with severe drug use as a teenager. He believed some higher power was ordering him to uncover the truth about those controlling reptilians, who were going to lead us into chaos.

///

On the jet back to Quantico, you sat alone. You needed some peace and quiet. You were exhausted. You really worked your ass off on this case. Derek seemed a bit worried about you, while Hotch and Prentiss were pretty happy with your efforts. Spencer seemed restless, and the bags under his eyes were even darker than usual. His mind was a wonder that worked in mysterious ways, but you could tell he was just really agitated these days. Not telling you what he wanted to tell you, probably took more efforts and energy from him than an average person could possibly understand. You wanted him to go into a peaceful sleep, to forget about what was troubling him. Even in times like this, you just wanted him to be okay. Things were probably complicated for him right now. You somehow managed to get over the fact that he kissed Maggie, and tried to focus on the rest of the chat. It was wrong to listen to people's private conversations, and you lacked context. What they were talking about could mean a hundred different things, and you would know soon enough anyway. The rest of the team was slowly drifting off to sleep, and you were trying to as well, but you could feel Spencer nervously glance at you pretty regularly. At some point, you just gave up, let out a deep sigh, opened your eyes, and motioned him to come join you on the couch.

He sat heavily next to you. You just stayed together in silence for a moment. You didn't want him to start to talk. Because that would be it. You would be having the conversation you had been dreading for a while. Eventually, he had to start talking, and you felt your heart beating like crazy in your chest. "Go ahead Spence, break my heart." was all you could think about. Instead...

"Listen y/n, I know this isn't ideal. But... you have been avoiding me for a while now and... I don't even know if you want me in your life or not anymore. I just... we texted over the holidays and everything, and we hugged like nothing happened when we got back to work but... Things aren't... Things have been weird for a while now, and... I hate it. I hate to see us drift apart like this." You were listening to every single word that was coming out of his mouth as carefully as you could, like someone waiting for their verdict at court. You felt like you were going to get the death penalty somehow. He paused, before starting to talk again. "I don't know what to think anymore. I've been trying to understand, but it seems like my brain... can't function properly when it comes to you." You were going to die from a heart attack, right here and there. On the outside, you tried to put on your best poker face, but hearing Spencer utter those words made your eyes betray you, you were sure of it. You felt exactly like this when it came to him too. How could two people feel things so similarly, and still not understand one another ? He looked so nervous, as he was looking for the right words to say exactly what his heart had been meaning to tell you. " I guess I'm just... I think... Jesus, why is this so complicated ? Just... say something, y/n. Anything."

You honestly didn't know what to say. He said so much and so little at the same time. What was there for you to say ?

"I... I don't know what you want from me Spence... I know things have been weird, and I'm... I'm sorry, okay ? I've been acting strange for the past couple of months, I know it. I just... Of course I want you in my life. And I hate that we don't even know how to talk to each other anymore... You said you wanted to talk about your date ? What does it have to do with anything ?" You tried the innocent card, but Spencer wasn't biting. "Come on y/n... no more mind games. I was trying to get there slowly but... You're not giving me much of an alternative, are you ?" He stared at you, more directly than he had in a while. You hadn't noticed, but he got closer too. You had to fight the urge to drag his face to yours to kiss him feverishly. He was so right, your minds just wouldn't work properly around each other. Something about the way you were looking at him might have given him some newly found determination, because he carried on without letting you out of his sight at any moment, shifting his gaze between your tired eyes and your slightly parted lips. The nervousness was still there, but he was going to say whatever it was he wanted to say, no matter the consequences now.

"As you know, I went on a date with Maggie. It was great. I wanted to have a good time with her. I really did. Everything worked out just fine. It was almost too cliche, how smoothly the evening went." You felt your heart sink in your chest. Yup, there it was, you thought. The end of all hope. "She was wearing this really pretty red dress, and at first, all I could think about was how you have a really pretty red dress too, that you don't put on nearly as often as you should. But then I thought, hey, you're on a date with her, with Maggie. Y/n even seemed happy for you, even though you thought she kind of hated her. So focus on her, focus on Maggie. And I did. I tried." He paused, looking for something in your eyes. Were you supposed to understand where he was getting at with this story ? "I... we kissed. Okay ? I kissed her, after I walked her back home. It was really romantic. The sky was filled with stars, and there was a nice little breeze... I- It was perfect." You couldn't help it, but you wanted to cry. You felt like you couldn't breathe anymore. Why was he telling you this ? It took eveything you had in you to keep listening to him as calmly as possible. "And then... I don't know why, I just... I couldn't... You're not supposed to think so much, when you're kissing someone, are you ? It just makes sense, and you go with the flow. And so... I thought I could kiss her, touch her, and hold her. I wanted to try to take my mind off of... things. But it felt... wrong ? It just felt weird, like something wasn't... what it was supposed to be ?" And then, the hope subtly came back.

You saw how hard it was for him to express himself. What was the point of all of this ? What was he really saying ? You wanted to scream that question, to just demand an answer from him. Your emotions were all over the place. He had a date with Maggie. It was perfect. She was wearing a little red dress, that looked like the one you put on, when you went out of your way to impress him when you went out sometimes. But he had a hard time focusing on the present moment, even as he kissed her, because... ? "What are you saying Spence ?" you murmured as softly as you could, contrasting with the inner turmoil you were facing. He tilted his head to the side, looking almost desperate, silently asking with his eyes why you couldn't understand the true meaning of what he was trying to say.

Behind you, you felt Hotch and JJ move in their seat. The jet was almost back at Quantico. Spencer saw them, and you saw him slouch a little. He looked more exhausted than ever. The determination in his eyes seemed to have abandoned him. "Nothing, y/n. Forget it. I had a date with Maggie, we kissed, but it didn't work out in the end. It's okay. It doesn't matter now." It mattered. You saw how much the whole conversation meant to him. You thought you could understand now. You felt like it was starting to make sense. But you had to hear him say it, otherwise you would never truly believe it. "Spence..." you tried to call, as he stood up. "We're nearly home, and we need some rest. I'm gonna get my things now."

When the jet landed, Spencer barely acknowledged your presence. He went back home as quietly as possible, without letting anyone know he was leaving. Derek helped you with your luggage "You look like you've seen a ghost. I don't understand, didn't he tell you about his date with Maggie ?" You hesitated : "He tried... I don't really know what he was trying to say." He gave you a soft smile and answered "Yes you do y/n. Come on, let me drive you home."

The ride home was pretty quiet. You were both tired. When you got there, Morgan and you sat in silence for a moment, before he told you : "Listen, I know me and Garcia have done enough already when it comes to the two of you. I don't want to overstep on your boundaries. But I feel like you guys just need a little extra push, otherwise it'll take ages." You laughed a little "I thought you said we were going to find our way back to each other at one point or another, no matter how much time it would take ?" He chuckled "Yeah yeah, I know what I said, but listen... what I understood from this entire situation, is that kissing that woman made him realise just how much he wanted you. The only problem with her, no matter how perfect the whole date was, was that she wasn't you. He thought he could be with someone else, he thought he could give her a chance. After all, you showed him you supported his decision, thumbs up and all that bullshit, right ? He kissed her, felt like shit, tried to kiss her some more to get over that weird feeling, started to think about you, got into it, but then she said something, and that threw him off." You were raising your eyebrows at him, questioning what he was reporting. "Hey, me and pretty boy talk a lot, alright ? And what he doesn't tell me, I understand. I see right through him. The rest is just me being good at my job. The only way the kiss kind of worked, was if he was thinking about you. Trust me, I know that. I've been there. You can try and pretend for a little while, until it doesn't work anymore, and you end up feeling like shit because the poor girl doesn't deserve that." You just stayed there, numb with fatigue and the overwhelming nature of what Derek was telling you. You told him about the conversation you overheard between the two of them "I think she was calling him to try and understand why it didn't work out between them, even after that perfect date. Knowing Spencer, he didn't want to hurt her feelings, and he didn't tell her what was really going on." It wasn't like you did either. What WAS really going on ? Morgan answered "Yeah, he vaguely told me about it. My guess ? She knows it's about you. She just needed to hear him say it. Just like you do. But deep down, you know what this all means. You know what's going on." After a little moment, you admitted "You're right. And I knew what he was trying to say, but I just... froze. I can't really... fully comprehend any of it right now. I think I just need some sleep." You paused, before breathing out with a soft smile :  "He tried... he really did..." Morgan answered "Now it's your time to try, pretty lady." You smiled at him, not entirely sure whether that whole conversation was a dream or not, and headed back home to get some restorative sleep.

Chapter Thirteen is here !

#spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #mgg #matthew gray gubler #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #Criminal Minds #fbi #fbi agent #FBI BAU #FBI imagine #profiler #criminal profiling #conspiracy theories #aliens #mentally unstable #mental disorder #jealousy #bestfriends to lovers #slow burn #Jennifer Jareau #aaron hotchner #Penelope Garcia #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jason gideon #david rossi

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things-A New Home

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

a/n: this is a repost considering it didn’t show up in any of the tags yesterday. have i mentioned how much i despise tumblr sometimes :) again, i want to give a special shoutout to @avengersbau for giving me a second set of eyes on this one.

word count: 2k

warnings: canon-typical violence and descriptions of injury.

The Purest Things Masterlist

gif is not mine! credit goes to @hqtchner

au! october 2007

Bookend: “It’s never too late to become who you want to be. I hope you live a life that you’re proud of, and if you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start over.” — F. Scott Fitzgerald

++++

"I am SSA Hotchner. Welcome to the team Agent Y/L/N," his voice reminds you of the transatlantic accents of Hollywood stars of old. The kind you used to hear in the old black and white movies you would watch as a child.

"It's an honor to be here sir," you stare directly into his brown, soulfully deep eyes.

"J.J., get us started, please," SSA Hotchner suggests.

Sitting down, you look to the screen that displays the frightful footage of bombs detonating in various locations.

"Yesterday, an 81-year-old woman was severely injured when a bomb exploded in the toilet of a women's restroom," J.J. informs.

"Interesting spot to hide a bomb," Agent Prentiss sneers.

Jennifer flips through the slides and shows another bombsight located in a subway station, "Last year a similar bomb that had been attached to a phone box detonated. No outstanding injuries were reported. However, the bombs' similar makeup alerted detectives to dig into other bombings throughout the years. They have positively identified attacks over the past twelve years as perpetrated by the same bomber."

Spencer adds, "His M.O. is similar to George Peter Metesky, better known as the Mad Bomber. He terrorized New York City over a period of 16 years. He planted bombs in theaters, subway stations, libraries, and offices. They were left in phone booths, storage lockers and restrooms."

"Do you think we are looking at a copycat?" Derek questions.

"If we are, we need to stop him soon," declared David.

"He's escalating-becoming bolder and more vicious," you say, scanning the report.

"Tell Boston we can be there by 9:30," Hotch notifies J.J...

++++

"It seems like he's a textbook paranoid schizophrenic. People suffering from this disorder may think that other people are regulating them or plotting against them. They tend to be reclusive, antisocial, and obsessed Hwith hatred for their presumed enemies," you twist a loose string from your shirt around your finger, unwind it, then repeat the process.

It's a nervous tick you developed over the years that has worn down numerous tops before achieving their intended lifespan. You glance at Agent Hotchner, seeking a sign of approval. His eyes meet yours, and he poignantly nods.

Did I say too much? No. Don’t overthink this. They can probably smell fear.

"In his letters left at the bombsights, he uses words like 'broad' and 'chick' to signify women," Dr. Reid chimes in.

"Do you think the unsub is motivated by hostility towards women? "

"It's possible," he continues, "These speech patterns age him significantly, however. Phrases such as these were mainly used in the 30's, 40's, and 50's."

Agent Hotchner begins to delegate tasks before the jet lands, "Morgan and Reid, I want you to head to the bombsights and see if you can't work out the motive. J.J. and Prentiss talk to the victim's families, determine our victimology. Y/L/N, Rossi, and I will head to the precinct and familiarize ourselves with the lay of the land and see if we can't formulate a geographical profile."

++++

At the precinct, you observe Agent Hotchner's ability to singlehandedly transition an entire police force's obligation to under his jurisdiction.

"Captain Moreno, this is SSA David Rossi and SSA Y/F/N Y/L/N," the Unit Chief introduces you.

The captain tilts his head at you, "Aren't you a little young to be in the FBI? How old are you anyway?"

You nail him with a you're-full-of-crap look. 

Everyone gets to be young once; your turn is over, old man.

Choosing to take the high road, you say, "I'd like to get my hands on the bombers handwritten notes. There has to be something in those letters that can give us a clue into the who, what, when, and where of this case."

Skeptical of your request, he narrows his eyes and looks to David and Agent Hotchner.

"You hear her," Dave exclaims, "Lead the way!"

Your enigmatic smirk no doubt gives away the great pleasure Dave's gibe brings you.

++++

"Agent Hotchner," you hand him your preliminary geographical profile. With his arms crossed, he intimidatingly peers into your research.

Don't burn a hole in my paperwork; I worked hard on that.

He is impressed by your work, taking in your comprehensive outline of proof that details the unsubs point of origin. For someone so young, your attention to detail puts even his most observant profilers to shame. "How did you come to this conclusion?"

"My family is from Chicago. When I was little, I used to read through my grandfather's old newspapers that he collected throughout the 1950's. On the jet, I knew some of the phrasings that Dr. Reid was using sounded familiar, so I cross-referenced it with some of the particular articles I remember from my childhood and found his wording to be exact iterations of the Chicago Crier."

Without taking his eyes off of the paperwork, he commends you, "Impressive use of your prior knowledge. Often, the information drilled into us through education is lackluster compared to that of real-world experience."

You turn to walk back to your makeshift desk when he calls out to you, "And Y/L/N, call me Hotch."

Your shoulders relax from the tension you hadn't even realized you'd been clinging onto, "Alright. Hotch."

++++

You immediately regretted your decision. In pursuit of the unsub, you had wandered off down an abandoned subway tunnel and cornered him.

"Harold Watts, FBI. Gently place the remote detonator on the ground," You shout. Grappling to keep your gun from slipping between your clammy palms, you grip the weapon tighter.

Ordinary people's first days of work are uneventful; they're given a series of mundane tasks at most. Me? Of course, my first day involves being secluded in a subway tunnel facing down a man decked from head to toe in explosives and wires.

"D-don't come any closer. I have my finger on the trigger! I'm not afraid to die, and I will not hesitate to take you up in flames with me," he stammers.

The stampede of footsteps, no doubt from your colleagues and half of the Boston police force, resonate through the echo chamber you're standing in. Watts spooks and loses his balance. You begin shouting for the people behind you to stand down.

"The tracks are live, one wrong step, and we all blow up. I repeat, stand down!"

Turning your attention back to Watts, you attempt to soothe his irrationality. You slowly return your gun to its holster, raising your hands up in surrender. Hotch yells something unintelligible from behind you, but your focus is on the unsub and trying to prevent any more casualties.

"Harold, let's just talk this through for a couple of minutes. My men behind me will leave us alone. It's you and me now. Before this, you never wanted to hurt yourself. You wanted to be heard. All of your life you felt like you were forced into the shadows, and you began to fester there in your pain and rage."

He tenses up; you have his attention now.

"Those girls who teased you and ripped your masculinity from you needed to be taught a lesson. But you didn't just stop there; you decided to do all women a favor and demonstrate to them the kind of pain they could cause, hoping to prevent them from making the same mistakes. In fact, you helped me to see what I can do better. I never want to make someone feel the way you did."

"Y-you learned that...f-from me?" Harold quietly sobs.

You nod, "Yes! Yes, Harold. And you can still be heard, but not if you die today. I could be your greatest advocate. If we walk out of here right now, think of how famous you could be. Harold, you will never be stuck in the shadows again."

It is crucial to your survival and your teams that you are brave just long enough to analyze the situation and keep your self-control. Panic won't do anyone any good right now.

Your mouth dries as you await Harold's next move. Suddenly, he hunches over, extending the hand gripping the detonator. Pausing for a moment to be sure he isn't making any drastic moves, you promptly hurry to his side and gently pull it from his clutch.

As the police officers and your colleagues rush to your aid, Harold looks up at you with hopeful eyes.

"Make me famous," he murmurs with a grin that churns your stomach.

Hotch ushers you away from the unsub, backing you up against the wall of the tunnel, "You actively defied my orders."

Searching every inch of his face for an accurate reading of his emotions, you are unsure of how to respond.

"I'd like to think it won't happen again," his eyes studying you just as intently.

You swallow hard, aware of the lump in your throat and take a deep breath, "You have my word, Agent Hotchner."

"Good," he affirms, eventually freeing his hold on your arm.

You let out a shaky sigh of relief and relax your spinning head against the wall.

Opening your eyes, you observe your new team tieing up all loose ends. They're safe. You are safe. Despite this first day not being as mundane as others, you wouldn't have it any other way. This feeling is what you signed up for, and it's already fulfilling you in ways you couldn't fathom before stepping inside the BAU office this morning.

++++

Aboard the jet, you tuck your legs underneath you and open up a book to read.

A cup of steaming hot coffee appears on the table in front of you.

Hotch sits across from you with a similar cup and offers you a subtle smile, "Impressive work out there today. I'm sorry your first day of work couldn't be more eventful."

A joke? I didn't take him as the joking kind.

Rolling your eyes, you put on a disappointed tone, "God...if you guys drag your feet like this every day, I might have to consider a transfer."

In a more serious nature, he asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Alright, I guess. You were right, you know, no amount of studying or lectures can truly prepare you for what it's like when you're staring into the eyes of a killer. I've learned the negotiation techniques and memorized the textbook 'put the gun down' speech, but all of that flies out the window when you're in the moment."

"You will find that improvisation at times is the key to success in this job. Just know that this team is a family. You will never face this alone or be at a loss for anything. Your career is in its infancy, but I can tell you have a long and triumphant journey ahead of you. We will do whatever we can to ensure that you are at home here and can use this team as an opportunity to refine your abilities. All I ask in return is that you work with us, not against us. You have nothing to prove. They see your resourcefulness. So do I. You are one of us now."

Some gazes are the promise of protection; his is all that and more. The words "at home" resonate in your mind. You've spent your whole life searching for a home, and here it is, its doors being opened to you. After a lifetime of running from place to place, perhaps this is where you can finally settle down.

"Get some rest," Hotch whispers to you. And with that, you lean your head against the chilled window and shut your eyes.

++++

Tag List 🏷

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[nastybuckybarnes]

Monsters  -  Eleven (Alternate Ending)

Pairing: Dark!Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a man who just wants to do better. But he can’t stop the monster from coming out every now and then. As a last and hopeless attempt at calming The Winter Soldier, SHIELD finds him something they figured would help. An innocent young woman with not a lot going for her. Or, The Winter Soldiers newest victim.

Warnings: Language, Violence, Injuries, Fluff, Mentions of Mental Disorders and Personality Disorders (of which I've used personal experiences as references)

Word Count: 2.8K

A/n: Fourth day of ficmas and y’all get an alternate ending!! The end of this has given me an idea for a new dark!Fic that could potentially become a dark series but idk yet. Anyway, enjoy!! 

A/n 2: This doesn’t fall in line with Madness or Bad Dream, but idc

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING CONTENT!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

“(Y/n)? Honey? You in here?” Bucky hesitantly pushes open the front door, senses on high alert in case you make a hostile move.

“James?”

He walks slowly into the living room, smiling softly when he sees you.

“Hey,” he whispers. You eye him warily and he sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he begins gently, sitting down next to you, “I know what I did was wrong, and I know it looks like I chose her over you, but I’m here for you now. And I’m gonna be here for you as long as you’ll have me.”

You stare at him for a moment longer before grinning.

“You need me,” you state. He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. “That’s why you came back,” you elaborate, “because you need me. Because you know that Natasha won’t be able to handle you the way I can.”

He swallows hard, thinking back to the way Nat was appalled by the video.

“You’re right.”

You giggle, shaking your head at him. “I know. I know I’m right. I’m the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to you! You’d be lost without me and you’re now realizing it, aren’t you?” His guard is up in an instant, your outburst making him uneasy.

You get up off the couch to stand in front of him, hands on your hips.

“You hurt my feelings, James.” He nods, reaching for your hands slowly. You allow him to take them and watch as he presses gentle kisses to your knuckles.

“I know. And I’m sorry. And you’re right again. I do need you. More than I’ve ever needed anybody and that scares me.” You ponder this for a moment, thinking about all the pictures he received.

“How long were you with her?” He sighs heavily and closes his eyes tightly.

“A month. Maybe longer. At first, she was just something for the soldier when you weren’t there but… I’m not sure why I kept going back. I care about you, I really do.” You hum, pushing his hands away and straddling his waist.

You lean down, lips brushing over his just gently before you smile again.

“I fucked Steve last night. Several times.” A growl rumbles deep in his chest and you pull away for a moment, grinning wickedly as you see his eyes glaze over slightly. His hands grip your hips tightly and he takes a deep breath.

“Your best friend fucked me. For hours. Because you were too busy picking that stupid fucking bitch over me. That’s a lesson for you. I can get whoever I want, whenever I want. You need me, not the other way around. Remember that.” You push yourself off of his lap and walk to the staircase.

“In time you can have me again. But not now. If the soldier needs me, he can have me, but not you, James. Not yet.” He sits panting on the couch, eyes trained on your backside as you leave him confused and aroused.

You close the door to your bedroom and plop yourself down on your bed, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of your mind, the one that’s begging you to leave him. He hurt you, but he’s back. He must care about you or else he wouldn’t have come back, right?

As you’re pondering this, the window slides open with a soft thud. You turn to the sound, anger coursing through your veins as you see the redhead climbing into your room.

“What are you doing here?” You demand, uncurling your legs and climbing off the bed. She closes the window silently and holds her hands up in surrender.

“I just want to talk. Please.” You eye her warily but stay seated at the edge of the bed.

“He came home to me. He chose me. So if you’re gonna try and convince me that he wants you, think again,” you snark, hoping to hurt her feelings before physically hurting her again.

She shakes her head, sitting down slowly on the floor a few feet in front of you, giving you the upper hand if you wanted to get physical.

“He doesn’t deserve you.” You furrow your brows in absolute confusion at her statement. You were expecting a lot of things; yelling, screaming, insults, violence. But this is the absolute opposite of what you had prepared yourself for.

“You don’t even know me,” you scoff, shaking your head at her.

She raises her eyebrows at that. “I know about your parents. Your dad, the paranoid schizophrenic who abused you because he thought he was doing what God wanted. And your mom, the Narcissist who neglected you.”

Your hands start trembling as she brings up people who you’ve fought to forget. The people who made you the way you are.

“You don’t know anything about them. Or me. You’re just-” “Just what? Telling you the truth? Reminding you of the fact that you were raised by them, yet you turned out to be a beautiful, smart, independent young woman?” You look at her, uncertain of where she’s going with this but still angry at the fact that she knows about your past.

“You may have been raised by them, you may have had a difficult childhood, and you may be dealing with something that very few other people can understand, but that doesn’t make you a bad person. You’re not a bad person. You’re hurting, and you’re scared, and I know deep down that you know this isn’t a healthy relationship. But it can stop. We can stop this.”

“You think you know me, don't you? You think you’ve got me all figured out. You don’t. You don’t know a single damn thing about me and I’m tired of you pretending like you do.”

You stand up, glaring at her as she slowly rises to her feet.

“First you come in and intrude on my relationship, make the man who loves me question his devotion to me. Then you come into my room, in my space, and try to tell me that you know all about me. Well, guess what? You don’t. You don’t know a single damn thing about me. You think that because you’ve got the files and the information that you know a single thing about what I’ve done.”

You lean closer to her, lips just barely brushing over the shell of her ear.

“I’ve killed people before, Natasha.” She furrows her brows. You pull away and grin, batting your lashes at her.

“I’ve killed so many people, I’ve lost count. But I remember their faces. Do you wanna know why I did it?” She’s silent but you continue anyway.

“I did it because of the rush. The power of knowing that you hold someone’s life in your hands... and you ended it. It’s euphoric. I may never get enough of it. And when I plan a kill, I plan it precisely. I make sure they have no idea and then... then I pounce.” She backs up a step, inhaling sharply when her back gets pressed into the wall.

“I guess I should thank you, Natty. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be that sweet innocent girl I pretend I am. The one who I’ve been since I moved here. But now that I don’t have to pretend anymore... I feel free. And I’m ready for my next kill. Do you wanna know who it’s gonna be?”

She shakes her head, feeling genuine fear as you talk so casually about ending innocent lives.

“I’ll give you a hint: she’s a woman. And she stuck her nose where it didn’t belong. Do you have any guesses yet?”

“If you kill me, Fury will kill you. I have no doubt about that.” You snicker and pull away, looking her up and down.

“Yeah... but I’ve got someone on my side who isn’t afraid of him. Someone who’d choose me over you in a heartbeat. You may have James, but I have the soldier. He's perfect. Everything I need and more.

“He broke you!”

“He didn’t break me!” You snarl, fist slamming into the wall beside her head. “He showed me who I am and how much I can take. And let me tell you, having those boundaries pushed... it really opens your eyes to what you can endure as a person. It’s a really spiritual process. Would you like to try it?” You ask, eyes wide and full of mischief.

“No. (Y/n) you’re better than this, I know you are.” You laugh, shaking your head and staring into her eyes.

“See, that's where you’re wrong. And that’s what your problem is. You think you’ve got everyone all figured out. But you don’t. You think I’m better than this? I’m not. I can tell you that right now. I’m not the damsel in distress that you think I am. I don’t need your help. Because I like the way I am. I’m fucking perfect! Men want me, I have a purpose. And now, I can get away with whatever the fuck I want. Murder included.”

“James would never-” “You wanna call James up here? See how he likes you intruding on his space? As soon as he sees me and you in any type of fight, the soldier will step in. I know how to trigger him without those special words.” The colour drains from her face and you nod.

“Him and I? We could be great together. I just need you and James out of the way. And look, you’ve handed yourself to me on a silver fucking platter. So Bravo, Natasha.”

“So what? You’re gonna kill me? Then what?”

You shake your head, fingers stroking her cheek gently.

“I’m gonna post that little video of us first. And then, after the good name of The Avengers has been destroyed, I’m gonna take you somewhere nice and quiet and I’m gonna put a bullet between your pretty green eyes. By then, James will be too consumed with his feelings to fight off the soldier, and I’ll have everything I could ever want.”

“Why?”

“Why am I like this? You said it yourself. Daddy was an abusive schizophrenic and mommy was a neglectful narcissist. They made me like this. I’ve pushed it down for too long.”

“But you can be kind! Caring and compassionate and forgiving! You don’t have to be like this!”

“You want me to be kind and forgiving? Ha! The world isn’t kind nor is it forgiving. Why should I be any different?” She shakes her head at you. “I can’t let you do this.” You raise your eyebrows at her and look her up and down.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it? You gonna hurt me?”

She has the two of you in opposite positions in a heartbeat, a knife from her thigh plunged into your side.

You cry out in pain, slumping against the wall.

“James!” You shout, eyes full of pure evil as you look at the redhead in front of you.

Her eyes widen as you rip the knife out of your gut and shove it into hers.

The door bursts open as he runs into the room.

“Nat? What’s...” he trails off and you see the switch as the soldier takes over upon seeing you injured. Natasha is torn from you and tossed to the floor while the soldier hovers over you, inspecting the knife wound for a moment before looking back over his shoulder to where the threat is.

She scrambles to her feet and holds one of her hands up in surrender, the other going to her gut and gently holding around the knife wound

“James, listen to me. You need to understand that she isn’t who she says she is.”

You grab his hand, holding tightly and doing your best to look innocent.

“She came in here and tried to convince me to leave you. When I refused she stabbed me and said I was a monster just like you. I-I didn’t want her to hurt you... I had to do it...” You can see him struggling, trying to regain control of his body as the soldier reaches out to you.

“Bucky, Listen to me. She's not who you think she is. I know I vouched for her in the beginning but now it’s different. You’ve gotta listen to me. She’s dangerous. Please. She stabbed you and she stabbed me, James please.”

He looks between the two of you, clearly measuring his options.

“You chose her once, James. Don’t make the same mistake. Please. I trusted you.” You can see the confusion and anguish in his eyes as he looks at you then over at Nat.

“James, please. Please, you need to believe me. I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I know you’re in there.”

“No! She hurt me! She tried to get me to leave you! She tried to come between us! Don’t let her get away with it! Please, James. Please. She did it once, what’s stopping her from doing it again?”

It’s silent for a very long time, the two of you staring at the man, waiting for him to make his decision. When you see his shoulders tense and his jaw clench, you know you’ve won this fight.

The soldier turns to Nat, metal plates in his arm whirring as he clenches his hand in a fist.

“Leave. Never come back. If I ever see you near here again I will kill you.” His words are spat with a thick Russian accent, and it takes all of your self-control not to smile wickedly at the redhead.

“James please! Please, you’ve gotta listen! She isn’t who you think she is!” He says nothing, simply takes your hand and nods at you.

“He picked you last time. Now he’s finally picking me,” you whisper, smiling softly at the man only to grin wickedly at Nat when he turns away.

“Leave now,” he barks, glaring at her until she starts moving. She half runs half limps out of the house, leaving you alone with the soldier.

“Thank you,” you whisper, hugging him tightly then hissing as the wound in your side burns.

He lays you down on the ground, inspecting the gouge before nodding to himself. He stands without another word to retrieve a first aid kit and when he’s beside you again he starts stitching you up, his fingers gentle and kind.

You spend the rest of the day relaxing with the soldier, Bucky hardly making an appearance at all.

You’re getting ready for bed when you feel someone’s eyes on you.

“God, do none of you have any respect for other peoples’ privacy?” You demand, turning around with your hands on your hips.

Steve stands by the door, his arms crossed over his chest and a stern look on his face.

“You know why I’m here.” Is all he says. You nod, pursing your lips and plopping down on your bed.

“The redhead sent you. Came and tattled on me for being a bad girl, right?” He says nothing, but you see a muscle in his jaw twitch.

“Fury’s gonna find out.”

“Oh yeah? And then what? Is he gonna deprive his pet of the one person who can keep him calm and contained?” Steve’s silence is answer enough.

“Don’t act like I’m the bad guy here. You and I both know that you’re just as fucked up as I am, if not more.” He swallows hard and avoids eye contact, making you chuckle.

“Imagine what would happen if people found out about Captain America’s depraved fantasies. Imagine if they knew how badly he craves power... how he longs to make people cower before him. Well, I don’t think they'd react too well to that. Do you?” His nostrils flare as he finally looks at you.

“What do you want?” He asks.

“I want to help you find her. Whoever it is you’re planning on taking. I want to be a part of it.” He furrows his brow, taken aback by your request.

“Why?”

“Because,” you whisper, pushing yourself to your feet and standing right in front of him. “The power is euphoric. It’s addictive. And I wanna feel it again.”

He stares down at you, blue eyes fighting a battle as he mulls over your words.

It’s wrong. He knows it’s wrong. He knows you’re not a good person and that wanting the things he wants isn’t something a good person, a normal person, wants. And yet... there’s something so alluring about you. Something addictive about the darkness inside of you. And he desperately wants a taste of it.

With a huff out of his nose, he glances down.

“So we have a deal?” You ask, a smile playing around the edges of your pretty lips.

“We’ve got a deal.”

#bucky x reader #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky smut #dark!bucky x reader #bucky x dark!reader #bucky barnes x dark!reader #dark!steve #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve x you #dark fic #dark!fic #Bucky Barnes x reader dark au #Steve x reader dark au #steve rogers dark au #bucky x reader dark au #dark!reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader

[mediocre--writing]

Highway to Hell

Billy Hargrove x fem!Reader

Summary: After being stuck in the Upside Down for a month, you return, only to have to fight off the same monster that had been haunting you there, but what sort of friendships can form out of a bit of shared trauma and good taste in music?

Word Count: 4045

Warnings: talk of blood, language, the Upside Down and all its horrors

Not gonna lie, this is kinda out of character for Billy, but I’ve had this idea for like a week so... enjoy

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?” a male voice was heard through the trees.

“Yeah it’s me,” replied another voice, not quite as deep, but still loud, “Don’t cream your pants.”

“What’re you doing here, amigo?” The first voice asked, and sounded louder the closer you got.

“I could ask you the same thing,” You heard the second voice, and the rest of the conversation could barely be heard over your ragged breathing and beating heart.

You sped up, ducking under trees as you got closer to the light, a house light, and you soon realized where you were.

This was the Byers’ house.

And one of the voices you’d heard was Steve’s, and that gave you a bit more energy to walk faster towards the house.

“... and you lie to me about it,” The other voice says as you finally break through the woods, finally feeling the muscles in your back relax as you saw a familiar face.

But as you heard rustling behind you, you remembered why you’d been out of breath and exhausted in the first place. You walked quickly, catching Steve’s eye as he was talking to the other boy.

“Get inside, now!” You yelled as you limped quickly to Steve, shaking like a leaf in a windstorm as you grabbed his arm and tried to drag him inside.

“Wh-Y/n--What the hell?” Steve’s eyes were darting around the outside and he looked into your eyes as you tried to shove him inside.

Though, he had every right to be confused as hell, you’d gone missing almost a month ago and they’d just assumed that you’d been killed by a Demogorgon or something, given they never found your body and soon after, this whole thing with the Mind Flayer started. But you were here.

You were covered in blood, scratches, and ripped clothing, but you were alive, and still trying to shove Steve into the Byers’ house.

“They’re still in the woods, Steve, go inside now, they were chasing me earlier,” Your voice was shaky and your breathing was picking up the longer you stood outside, “Go, go, go, go!”

Steve finally complied as you shoved/held onto his arm for support as you walked to the porch.

Billy, who was not notified of the multi-dimensional-horror that Hawkins was, still stood by his car, confused.

“You too, inside! Now!” you turned around and screamed at Billy, who was taken aback by both your attitude and the sheer absurdity of the situation.

“NOW!”

That put a pep in his step as he walked, albeit confused, to the porch as you opened the Byers’ front door, coming to see all the kids, plus another little redhead.

All of them were crowded on the couch, heads snapping towards the open door as they saw the three teenagers walk in, you still shoving Steve inside and waiting for Billy to get in before slamming the door and locking it.

“Y/n?!” The boys shouted as they all watched you look out the windows in the living room and kitchen into the woods, checking for any monsters.

They looked to Steve in question, though he had no answers for them.

Billy was still standing by the door in confusion, taking note of the shattered window, papers crawling up the walls and through the house, his step-sister cowering behind the Party, and the random girl from the woods acting like a paranoid schizophrenic.

“Y/N!” Dustin yelled, finally holding your attention as you looked away from the window, bracing yourself on the kitchen counter as you looked at all the kids.

Your eyes were more tired than ever, blood covering various parts of your clothes, just a ripped flannel and even more destroyed jeans, the same thing you’d been wearing a few weeks ago the last they’d seen you.

“Where have you been?” Steve asked, more gently than Dustin’s loud voice, but still filled with confusion and concern.

“Upside down,” They all looked up to you with varying levels of shock.

“I told all you bitches!” Dustin yelled to the rest of the Party, “I knew she was in there, and none of you believed me!”

“...Dustin,” Steve rolled his eyes as he tried to ignore the preteens’ outburst.

“How long have I been gone?” You asked shakily, all of them staring at you with sadness floating in their eyes.

“Little over a month...” Mike said.

“A fucking month!” you shouted, looking over to Steve who nodded in confirmation. “Well, shit,”

“How did you get back?” Lucas asked, flicking his eyes to you and then around the house and the mess that was created.

“...I fell in a hole?” You scratched the back of your head, “I was running from the Demogorgon, then I fell into this tunnel system thing and I found this really shallow part and I climbed out. Next thing I knew I was running from smaller Demogorgons through the woods and I saw the porch light.”

“What the fuck?” all heads turned to Billy, who none of them had registered was there, as he looked around at all the people there.

“Shit,” Max muttered, still not exactly understanding your significance in being here, but knowing that her stepbrother was involved just made everything more complicated.

“Who is he?” you asked, you hadn’t seen him around before you disappeared.

“Billy, and that’s his sister, Max,” Steve responded.

“Stepsister,”

“Stepsister,” both of the new faces responded at the same time, glaring at one another once they realized they’d spoken together.

“And their significance is?” You asked quietly to Steve, who had moved closer to you in the kitchen.

“Max is friends with the boys and helped us earlier, and I’m pretty sure Billy was looking for her? Not really sure though, he’s a bit of an asshole if you ask me,” Steve said, trying to be quiet, but everyone heard everything he said.

You scoffed, running a bruised hand through your hair, it getting caught in knots that had formed.

You were looking around the room again, “Where are the others? If there’s more shit going on, then where is everyone else? Is Will ok?”

Steve looked to his feet, “We did save Will, but now there’s something wrong again, he’s possessed or some shit, and we’ve split up--”

“Stupid…”

Steve rolled his eyes, “We split up and Will is getting the Mind Flayer burned out of him, El is closing the gate--”

“And we’re stuck here,” Dustin complained.

“We are staying safe!”

“Ok…”

“This is some cult shit,” Billy muttered, half mortified at what was happening, “Max you need to come home,”

“I can’t,”

“Uh, yeah, you can. And you are,” Billy said as he walked closer to Max, the boys pushing her behind them.

“Billy,” Steve spoke up from the kitchen, seeing how he towered over the kids.

“Shut up, Harrington!” He snapped, “Max come on, Susan wants you home and this is not falling on my head!”

“No!” Max yelled again, “We have to help our friends! They’re not safe!”

“I don’t care, that’s not my problem, Maxine!”

“No way, Billy!”

“Max!” Billy’s voice was rising again.

“No!”

“Max!”

“HEY!” You yelled, feeling goosebumps rising on the back of your neck, putting a hand to cover them. “There’s something wrong,”

“What?” Billy asked with a look of disbelief.

“What?” The boys asked with concern.

“The thing that controls the Upside Down, it’s angry or close to us or something, either way, it’s not happy.”

“El’s trying to close the gate and they’re trying to burn him out of Will, do you think it has to do with that?” Mike asked, concern rising higher and higher by the second.

“If they’re trying to stop it, then definitely.” You nodded.

“Then we have to go, Steve!” Dustin shouted, “I know you want to look after us and shit, but we need to do something. NOW!”

“No, you little shits aren’t gonna go walking into danger! I promised Nancy--”

“Oh, screw Nancy!”

“Dustin!” Mike said, a little angry at the insult towards his sister.

“Sorry!” Dustin said to Mike, turning back to Steve, “But this is important, and we can do this and stay safe! If you come, you can protect us, come on!”

Billy blinked like twenty times, as if it would clarify what was happening, “The fuck?”

“Come on Steve! Can we take your car?” You asked as you approached Billy, still limping a little bit.

“No!” Billy said harshly, very protective of his car.

“Please!” you and the kids all begged.

“You are all fucked in the head if you think I’m letting you use my car for your little scavenger hunt!”

“I have been stuck in a hellhole for the past month and I want to kill this thing so by the good graces of God, GIVE US YOUR KEYS!” You yelled at him, taking him by surprise as he backed away from you a step or two.

“Billy, please!” Max begged.

“No!”

Max looked around the room, seeing Steve’s nail bat, picking it up, and holding it as if she was gonna swing it at Billy.

“Give us your keys, Billy!”

“Holy shit, what is wrong with you all?!”

“Keys!” Max yelled again.

Billy fished into his pockets, “I’m driving,”

“Fine, let’s go,” Max said, handing the bat over to Steve, who took it with an impressed look on his face, he’d never seen Billy give in, especially not that quickly.

Everyone was rushing around the house, gathering goggles and face coverings wherever they could find them, preparing to go into the tunnels.

“You sure you’re ok to go?” Steve asked you as you sat at the dining table, “I mean you keep limping and you just got back from… that place, you sure you want to go back?”

“I don’t really want to go, but I know how these dogs work and how to fight them off pretty well, and you know I’d do anything to help Will… help any of the kids, really.”

“Only if you’re sure,” Steve said, holding a fist up.

You bumped your fist against his, “I’m sure,”

“This is nice and everything, but we should probably get going,” Billy said sassily as the kids began filing out the door.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Hargrove,” Steve teased as they walked towards the door.

“Oh, bite me, Harrington,” Billy taunted in return.

You turned to the boys who were still standing on the porch, agitated at their fighting, “You can both continue your lover’s quarrel once we save the world, alrighty?”

They both looked appalled at the suggestion that they were anything other than mere acquaintances, which caused a grin to form on your face.

They’d all piled into the car, Billy in the driver’s seat, Steve next to him, and you and the kids piled in the back.

You’d considered putting one of the kids in the trunk, but none of them really wanted to, so You were shoved into the far left, Max on your lap, and the boys were all crammed next to you.

It wasn’t comfortable by any means, but it was doable, especially for how fast Billy was driving. Lucas was shouting directions from the backseat and Steve was screaming for Billy to slow down, or else they’d all die far sooner than preferable.

Once they’d made it to the tunnel entrance, they began to open the trunk and gather everything they brought, goggles, bandanas, gasoline, etc.

You went closer to the tunnel entrance, looking around the farm it was dug into.

“This is how I got out,” you said to nobody in particular, just voicing your own thoughts.

“Really?” Dustin asked, “At least we know it really goes into the Upside Down and it’s not just a lucky guess,”

You gave a noise of agreement as you turned back to the car, putting a bandana over your face, goggles over your eyes, and grabbed a can of gasoline.

The boys were tying a rope to Billy’s car that led to the hole.

“I swear, if this is some elaborate prank, I’m gonna kill everyone here,” Billy grumbled as he put the goggles over his eyes.

“This better not be a prank,” you said just as quietly, knocking your shoulders against Billy’s, “I’ve gone through too much emotional turmoil for this to be pretend,”

You both locked eyes, sharing a look of understanding before returning back to Steve and the kids.

“Ready?” Mike asked.

“This is still a bad idea,” Steve argued.

“Nobody asked for your two cents, Steve,” Dustin snapped, looking into the hole.

You all began the descent into the Upside Down, not quite sure what to expect.

“I’m pretty sure it’s this way!” Mike yelled to the group.

“You’re pretty sure or you’re certain?” Dustin asked, verifying how to get to the hub.

“I'm 100% sure. Just follow me and you'll know,” Mike responded, walking ahead down the tunnels.

Steve made a comment about how it wasn’t going to be his fault that they all got hurt and walked to the front of the group, the kids in the middle, and you and Billy in the back.

It wasn’t too hard to work your way through the tunnels, and you were all pretty prepared for the Demo-dogs if they attacked. Steve had his bat, you found an axe in the shed, and Billy was carrying a particularly pointy shovel.

You got to the hub with minimal disturbances, Dustin’s short run in with the floating things in the air getting into his mouth only being a minor setback on the journey.

Gasoline was spread around the hub, being sprayed on the top and poured all over the floor and walls, eventually emptying every vessel you were carrying.

Steve went into his pockets for his lighter, until a look of realization took over his face as he realized, “I forgot my lighter,”

All the kids began to groan and complain at Steve until Billy pulled out a lighter from his jacket pocket, dangling it between his fingers as the kids noticed that they were saved.

Dustin snatched it from his hand, opened it, and threw it into the hub.

“You’re welcome,” Billy snarked as they all began to run down the tunnels, away from the hub.

They were sprinting, no looking back, until Mike was screaming that something got his foot.

Dustin was trying to pull him away, Steve and Billy screaming for everyone to get back, and you brought the axe down on the little vine that had wrapped around his foot.

Everyone calmed down to keep walking on as they heard a snarl from behind them.

Turning to see a Demo-dog, the kids, minus Dustin, walked behind the older boys and you, shielding themselves from the beast.

While Dustin was… talking to the beast?... Billy had pushed Max further behind him, backing up himself as well, just to be cautious.

“Why is he talking to that thing?” You asked, curious.

“He’s friends with it,”

Your curiosity only grew.

“He fed it nougat once and now their besties, I don’t know!” Lucas whisper-shouted as an explanation.

Dustin knelt down to feed the monster as you all cringed at the action, but were able to sneak past as it ate a 3 Musketeers bar.

Steve had led the kids, and you had shoved them from behind, more eager than anyone to get out of those tunnels alive.

As the rope and hole came into view, roaring and chittering could be heard in the distance, the kids being ushered up first, followed by Steve, but the growls were drawing closer and closer.

Steve had just made it up the rope as the Demo-dogs had rounded the corner, heading straight for you and Billy, who both had their make-shift weapons up and ready.

Your weapons proved fruitless as the Demo-dogs ran right past the both of you, seeking to reach another location rather than eat the two of you alive.

One of the dogs ran into your knees, knocking you off balance, but Billy grabbed your waist before you fell, shovel in one hand, you wrapped in his other.

Staring in shock as the last of the dogs went down the tunnel, Billy lifted you up to the rope, where Steve and the kids grabbed your hand and pulled you the rest of the way. Billy shimmied up the rope soon after.

A few moments after you were all around the hole, the car lights illuminating the field began shining brighter and brighter, eventually hitting a blinding glow before dimming back down again.

“Eleven,” Mike murmured.

“Why’s he talking about a number?” Billy asked as he stood up from where he was sitting on the ground.

“You say that like it’s the weirdest thing to happen today,” you joked as you laid on the dirt.

“Short story: Eleven is our friend, she has superpowers, she closed the gate to the Upside Down, saved the world, all that cool stuff,” Dustin filled in quickly.

“You alright, Y/n?” Steve asked as he looked to you laying on the ground, eyes closed, breathing becoming more steady.

You made a grunt as you wiped your hand across your forehead, getting rid of any dirt or sweat you had. You heard someone sit next to you. Peeking one eye open, you noticed Steve closest to your head, Billy sitting near your legs, and the kids scattered around as well, all looking almost as exhausted as you felt.

You started giggling out of pure exhaustion as they all stared at you.

“What’s so funny?” Max asked, looking to Steve and you.

“I’ve been stuck in another dimension for a month and the second I get back I have to fight the same monster dog things but in the real world, and I also just realized that I have not slept at all this past month.”

You were still laughing as the others began to chuckle as well, fueled by the long few days they’d had.

“I’m sure you’ll catch up, you slept all the time before anyway” Steve said through his own laughter, earning a punch in the stomach for that comment.

“You know what?” You asked, eyes still closed, head rested in your hands, back against the dirt.

“Hm?”

“I really want a cheeseburger,”

“After all this, you want a cheeseburger?” Steve asked.

“No, I wanna get a cheeseburger now,”

“Any specific reasoning to this craving?”

“I don’t think I’ve eaten in the past month.”

“If you didn’t have food then how did you survive?” Lucas asked incredulously. “Did you even have clean water?”

You scoffed as you sat up, hands holding your weight behind you. “It only felt like a day, like maybe four or five at most. I didn’t think I was in there all that long, to be honest.”

“I’d be down for a cheeseburger right about now,” Billy said out of nowhere.

“Yeah,” Dustin agreed.

“Alright, let’s feed you heathens,” Steve grumbled as he stood up, walking to the trunk to pull his gear off and throw his bat inside.

“Don’t fucking touch my car, Harrington!” Billy shouted from where he sat.

“Oh my God!” Steve flung his arms in the air, “It’s not like I want to wreck your car, I just wanted to put my stuff away!”

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re doing, Harrington!” Billy stood from his spot as well, throwing his stuff into the trunk as well, then sitting in the driver’s seat and starting the car, still yelling at Steve through the window.

“They always like this?” You asked the kids.

“Not really sure, this is the first time we’ve seen them interact,”

“Well, it’s entertaining as hell,” You giggled.

“Do you wanna get cheeseburgers or not!?” Billy yelled from out the window.

You scrambled to get up, “Shotgun!”

“NO!” Steve yelled as you ran to the car.

“You got it on the ride here!”

“I don’t wanna sit with the kids in the back, it’s too squished!”

“Suck it, Steve!” you yelled, ushering him into the back seat, then waiting for all the kids to sit with him, then pushing the passenger seat into its proper place and making yourself comfortable.

You all drove off to get burgers, going about a mile or two out of Hawkins to a McDonalds that was open 24/7, Billy even allowing you full reign of the radio as you drove, to the pure shock of Max, who wasn’t allowed to even look at the radio most times.

You all enjoyed the rest of your peaceful night, Steve making a phone call to the Byers to check in and say that you were fine, and in return everyone else was alright. He also informed her of your reappearance, to which she was overjoyed with the news.

Your mis-matched and, honestly, absolutely disgusting group was shoved into a corner booth as Steve stood by the counter waiting for your absolutely absurd amount of food to be ready.

Once it was on the table, you all dug in. Max and Lucas were (not-so) subtly flirting next to one another, Mike next to Lucas on the outside of the bench, devouring his chicken nuggets.

Next to Max was Billy, then you, then Steve, then Dustin.

You were on your third hamburger when a paper straw had been shot at your forehead.

Looking up, you saw a guilty looking Dustin, a snarky looking Lucas, and Max, who was trying, and failing, to keep in her giggles at the scene. The whole table erupted in laughter for the nth time that night, and continued to chatter joyously as you ate, eventually getting ice cream from the not-so-thrilled workers who were tired and didn’t want to clean your mess after you left.

It was finally calming down at the table when a few familiar chords played through the speakers.

You looked to Steve, who was giving you a warning glance, as if to say don’t you dare, but you started nodding your head along as the music continued.

“Excuse me!” You shouted to one of the girls at the counter, “Is there any way you can turn this song up?”

She nodded at you with a smile and she went to the back, the music playing much louder than before as the song really began.

“Livin’ easy! Livin’ free! Season ticket on a one way ride!” You shouted, much to the entertainment of the kids at the table, and earned an annoyed Steve to roll his eyes at your childish behavior.

You continued singing, not letting anyone tear you down as you were standing on the seat singing your heart out.

When it got to the chorus, you felt Billy brush your leg, and you realized that he was standing on the seat as well.

“My friends are gonna be there too! I’M ON THE HIGHWAY TO HELL! ON THE HIGHWAY TO HELL!”

You and Billy had been singing into invisible microphones as you sang with vigor, even playing air guitar at one point.

The kids eventually began singing as well, Steve even mumbling the lyrics under his breath, much to the enjoyment of the workers who were having a very dull night before you all showed up.

Max was watching her brother smile more than he had since she’d known him as he rocked out with a girl he really didn’t know, and he didn’t seem to be making it weird, as if he wanted to get into her pants.

He was just happy.

And under the moonlight and the golden arches of McDonalds at three in the morning, who wouldn’t be happy?

Certainly not Steve, who finally had his best friend back.

Certainly not Mike, who finally got Eleven back.

Certainly not Lucas and Max, who had found comfort in one another.

And certainly not you and Billy, who had created a friendship that would last for ages.

What was it that they said about shared trauma? That it made you closer? You were no expert, but after the night you’d just had, between fighting for your lives and having a dance party at McDonalds, you’d say that you weren’t gonna let Billy Hargrove go for a while.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #billy x reader #x reader #stranger things x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things 2

[anti-anti-stevinel]

What the fuck is the deal with "ankle-beez"? They seem to be the biggest Steven Universe blog around. Every other SU blog I know (even the world's only proshipper Connverse normie, picturejasper20) reblogs from them.

They're also the world's biggest hypocrite.

They make analysis posts about the real message of SU, about love and forgiveness, against revenge and that sort of stuff.

At the same time, they are a hardcore anti-shipper bully.

They sent me gore and death threats last year when I was 17, for shipping Stevinel. Said "yer a pedo kill yerself!!11" (okay, that's paraphrased).

What's wrong with Stevinel?

Is it that Steven is "a minuh and not ready for sexual relationships"? Then, why is Connie, a human fourteen-year-old in-universe, ready for sexual relationships when it's with Steven? Why is Steven ready for it with Connie?

This leads me to believe it's the stated "aGe GaP!!11". In that case, Greg/Rose, which ankle-beez likes, is child rape (he wuz twenty an she wuz twentythousand!) That's fucking stupid. Kataang and Bubbline are "child rape" too, by those standards. Stating an exaggerated number next to a supernatural, non-aging, cartoon character does not child rape make. Is Katara a "necrophile" for having kids with Aang, a so-called "hundred-and-forty-something-year-old" character? Because 140-year-old men are all known to be dead? Is everyone who's read the Bible a Child Rapist™️, because the eternal, ageless God impregnated the thirteen-year-old Virgin Mary, as part of the biblical canon leading to the birth of Our Saviour Jesus Christ?

Also, by the same fucking stupid standards they use to call Spinel an "aDulT", Steven is one too. Gems don't fucking age. They're robots. If I have a 200-year-old baby doll, it's still a baby doll. Dolls don't age. Since Steven's gemstone (and with it, Pink's/his memories) has been around for 20000 years, he is "an adult", an "elderly man".

That brings me to the next point: one cannot "ship pedophilia". I wish I could "ship" mental disorders. I wish my autism, ADHD, OCD, Tourette's, depression and paranoia were as simple as fictional "ships".

More or less, "pedo" hysteria is NOT about protecting chilluns. When a child is murdered, nobody bats an eye. When child-on-child sexual abuse occurs, the same applies. Also, when an adult is raped. It's not about healing sexually abused children, or preventing rape. When adult-on-child sexual abuse occurs, the emphasis in media is never about helping the kid. It's always about torturing and murdering the "pedo" (sexual abuser). Basically, because nobody cares when there's no "pedo" to punish, it's not about protecting children, it's about hating people with mental disorders. Apparently, because I turned 18 two days ago, I lose my human right not to be raped.

What "paedophilia" actually is, is a mental disorder characterised by a greater level of arousal towards prepubescent individuals to pubescent ones. You cannot support or oppose it - you cannot be convicted for it or commit it - it's a disorder. Something you're pretty much born with and can't change. Conflating it with rape is like conflating "schizophrenia" with serial murder. While schizophrenic individuals have a higher murder risk compared to the general population, nobody ever says "commit schizophrenia" when talking about murder.

Fandom discourse is not a PhD. You cannot diagnose me with a disorder from the DSM-5 for writing the wrong fanfiction. You cannot convict me of a crime for it, either.

The most common anti argument that fanfic/hentai/whatever "encourages pedophilia". You cannot encourage a disorder. I will not magically sprout mental illness from reading fanfic. If you mean it ""encourages child rape"", if I were to rape someone, I could not blame reading a fanfic. Rape is caused by far deeper issues than having read a stupid fanfic.

Rick/Morty is canon in the multiverse, and Morty is a fictional teenager (who wishes incest porn had more mainstream appeal) with Rick, his equally fictional grandfather. So, who is raped by this? Nobody. Again, if you rape someone, you can't say Rick x Morty incest fanfic made you do it.

ALL ships are fine. Even stupid shit like Rick/Morty. Stevinel, though, isn't even of that kind. It's literally no worse than Bubbline, Kataang and Gregrose, all of which are canon to their shows.

So, what is it? "She """tried""" to kill him"? Strange. When Steven lets his shield down, Spinel could just blow him to fucking bits with that city-sized, injector-smashing fist of hers. She doesn't. SU's definition of "try" means "stop yourself". "Try" suggests someone else has to stop you with force, and that didn't happen, in which case, Steven "tried" to kill Greg in Mr. Universe, White (and with her, every Gem) in Homeworld Bound, and Connie in Buddle Buddies and every episode where he gets Connie into fights, and, and EVERYONE in Laser Light Cannon, Little Graduation and I am My Monster. He also "actually murdered" Jasper in Fragments by the standards (mind you, shattering isn't lethal and the Diamonds did nothing wrong).

Anti-shippers have implanted this stupid idea that non-aging things age as humans into my head. The idea is there to virtue-signal against MUH EBIL PEEDOUGHS. Now, I have paranoid thoughts about being a child rapist when I cuddle naked with a pillow that's been manufactured one year ago. Pillows don't age. But, in antis' heads, they do.

Why am I supposed to think of Spinel as an elderly woman? The character who is shorter, less mature and higher-pitched than Steven, sobs like a baby, plays peekaboo and gets adopted at the end of the movie?

It just disturbs me, honestly, how anklebeez can understand the show's message against violence and for healing, while literally murdering real children (and adults) for the rights of fictional ones, by bullying into suicide.

Why are they so popular? Anyway, I accidentally got carried away and wrote a masterpost when I meant for a quick ask. Hope you appreciate it.

Also, what determines whether a cartoon character is okay to "sexualise" or not?

Stated number? Then I can draw a stickman with a dick, then write the number 15 next to him, then you're a Child Rapist™️ for having looked at the image?

Height? Then is why is R34 of Madeline from Celeste, Sans and Amethyst, okay, when it's not okay for Steven and Hat Kid?

The word "kid"? Then, kill any teenager with a crush on a cartoon of Kid Cudi, I guess?

Don't harass ankle-beez. It's not worth it. Revenge is pointless. Never, though, have I been so confused by someone's self-contradictions.

Seriously.

Wow, this is huge, I didn’t know they allowed asks to get this long now, lol.

Um, but no comment on all of this since it’s just a rant, lol. But I don’t disagree.

#Anonymous

[sammyxorae]

Falling For You - Chapter 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: cussing, kissing, fluff

Summary: This chapter is literally a filler chapter, it kind of sucks but oh well. Spencer x Y/N learn they have more in common than they thought when it comes to life experiences, but they also learn more about each other and their feelings. :P

***

Spencer came back into the living/family room. He looked upset but in deep thought.

“Hey, are you ok?” you asked as he came over and sat down next to you.

You could tell he was really holding back, but you stayed quiet now. Spencer rubbed his face and began talking about his Mom going missing.

“I’ve had some stuff go on in the last couple of months and because of the nature of my job, sometimes the people I care about also get affected by it. Now she is missing and we can’t find her,” he went on, you could see tears running down his face. You lightly put your hand on his knee, not wanting to startle him.

“You don’t have to tell me everything if you’re not comfortable, I understand. Sometimes it’s just nice to have someone to be around,” you said in a calm, soothing voice. This was one of those times that you were glad that empathy was a natural gift for you, but not because of being a therapist, just that you really did feel for Spencer.

“She’s a paranoid schizophrenic and although many individuals who aren’t being treated are more likely to leave where they’re staying and get lost, she is getting treated and staying somewhere. She was being watched by someone, who I was paying to stay at my house while I was working during the day. It was safe there…” he quietly spoke, doubting his own words, “or so I thought…”

“I’m sorry Spencer, I really am, but I also understand what you’re going through. My mom has schizophrenia and I’ve seen her have episodes and run away, even when she was on medications and being treated. Growing up I had to pretend that my mom was just on vacation somewhere and that no one could come over. I also know what it’s like to have someone go missing. My best friend had a habit of doing that when we were kids, but one day she was finally taken from her Dad and placed with someone else. Losing someone regardless is scary.” You empathize with him and share a very deep part of that you didn’t normally let out. It felt like taking a breath of fresh air, someone who wasn’t going to judge you.

“I hate to do this to you, but I do have to leave. I have to go into work even though I’m supposed to be on ‘leave.’ Hopefully I can find my Mom,” his eyes showed exhaustion but looked at you as if they were smiling. It made you blush and you couldn’t hide it, making him chuckle.

“Of course you can go,” you smiled, still blushing by the looks that he kept giving you.

“I’m going to stay a little bit longer, they said they don’t need me until 8am and it’s 5:30am. But when I leave, I could always come back later. It shouldn’t take long. Here’s my number though,” he took out his phone and grabbed yours on the table, putting each other's information in both. “As long as that’s okay of course. I don’t want to intrude,” he looked at you again.

You can stay as long as you want with the way you keep looking at me. Stop Y/N. Reel it back. You smiled at him, grabbing his hand again, “of course you can come back over. I’d love that. Again, I’m really sorry about everything you’re going through.”

Normally you don’t just hug someone randomly, especially because some people don’t respond to touch well, but you just had this instinct driving inside of you to hug him. At first his response was to jolt, to the point you almost stopped, but then he put his arms around you, pulling you into him like you were when you woke up a half hour ago. Have you ever just met someone and immediately you feel comfortable with them? No matter what is going on and how upset you may be, they find a way to soothe you, to the point you couldn’t get mad at them? Well, that’s how you felt with Spencer.

“You know, I don’t normally do well with touch. It normally bothers me, but I didn’t feel that way with you,” he looked at you again, and damn was that man making you melt into a puddle of water.

You decided to be brave, reached for his face and kissed him. His lips were soft and he was more than willing to return the kiss. You smiled as you pecked a few at each other and you could feel the heat rising in your body.

Spencer began to speak softly, “There’s a possibility you may be feeling this way because of me saving you. I’m sure you’ve heard of transference be-” you shut him up by kissing him more. This time with more force and moving your body up so that you could straddle his lap. You felt the pain on your knee and leg from the day before, but told yourself to shut up and continue before the boy genius decided to talk again.

That was until he threw his hand into your hair, gripping it enough to make you moan on his lips, but also gentle. You did the same to his hair, and slowly peppered kisses over to his ear, breathing hot air into them. The light giggle that came out of your mouth coincided with the moans that came from his mouth. He pulled your hair to have control of your head with one hand to get access to your neck, while his other hand wrapped around your body, pulling you in as close to him as he could. You honestly felt as if he wasn’t going to let you go, but you really didn’t care if he did or not.

You started to feel something underneath you and you smiled knowing exactly what you felt.

“Hmm.. wonder what that is?” you whispered into his ear, now biting his earlobe and then moving quickly back to his lips with even more need than before. You slowly started to move your hips against his, both of your kisses sloppy with one another.

“Y/N, I want this more than anything, but I want to do this when you’re ready. I don’t want this to be a one time thing,” he spoke quietly, stopping you and holding your face. “I met you less than 24 hours ago and there is something you’ve done inside of me that I can’t even explain.”

“I feel the same way as you do,” you leaned into him as your heart rate started to slow down. You put your head on his shoulder and he hugged you again.

“I want to do this right, if that’s what it is. Please,” he begged you and whispered into your ear.

You heard what he said, you weren’t upset, in fact, you agreed with him. As much as you wanted this man to take you and show you what he’s made of, you needed to go slower and at this point, you felt as if your body was about to give into another bout of sleep.

He didn’t need to hear your response, he got your answer when you kissed him gently again and slid off into his arms to cuddle him. Slowly, you began to fall asleep again.

***

The two of you fell asleep but this time you were woken up to a body not behind you and Spencer’s voice talking. You tried to listen, but decided against it. You didn’t want to eavesdrop, it really wasn’t fair. If he wanted to tell you, he would.

You grabbed your phone and saw that you got another couple hours of sleep in. It was now 7:30am. Spencer hung up the phone and came over to you.

“They may have a lead on my Mom, more than they did just a few hours ago,” he spoke. “I really need to go.”

“Go, go. Let me know what happens or call me before you come over, I might be sleeping,” you laughed.

He kissed your forehead and was out the door.

Still a little sore and tired, you went and took some tylenol, noticing that you could at least walk better today, and you felt like you should probably try to sleep again and in bed this time. Walter came over and licked your face as you laid down in your bed. Again, you felt sleep hit you like a brick.

***

After a few hours, you woke up noticing that it was around 12pm and that it was going to be a long unproductive day. You got out of bed and tried to clean whatever you could without hurting yourself and finished up some session notes from the few days before, but that time it was 3pm. You called your friend and told her about Spencer. She, of course, harassed you about it and told her to shove it, but that you definitely had an interest in him. She ultimately told you she would kick his ass if he hurt you.

You let Walter out, managing to get down and up the stairs without much of an issue and fed him. You sat down on the couch again, noticing it was around 4:04pm and thought you should probably eat, but when you started to think about what to have, you fell asleep again.

*KNOCK* KNOCK* *KNOCK*

You woke up, not knowing what was going on. “What?” you grumbled to yourself.

*KNOCK* KNOCK* *KNOCK*

You grabbed your phone and noticed that it was 7:34pm and you had no phone calls or texts, so you definitely weren’t expecting anyone. You stumbled off the couch in clumsiness and reached the door. You rubbed your eyes and opened the door. If you weren’t awake then, you sure as hell were now.

Spencer was standing right in front of you, but this time he looked different. He was wearing an FBI jacket, still looking handsome as ever but there were 3 others behind him. Two girls and a much older, fatherly-looking, handsome man.

Spencer walked into your apartment, the other three introduced themselves. The brown headed one being Emily Prentiss, the pretty blonde was Jennifer Jareau, or JJ, and the older man was Dave Rossi.

You let them in and looked at Spencer as he was walking around your place.

You walked over to him, stopping him and looking him dead in the eyes. This was something you hadn’t seen in him before, though only knowing him for 48 hours, that would make more sense. But no, this was something sinister, anger, and you were a bit frightened.

“Spencer!” you yelled with your hand on his chest, “What the hell is going on?!”

“We need to talk.”

***

taglist - @spnackleholicswainer @alexa-ann-blog @crazysocklovingfangirl@totallysupernaturaloneshots @crowleysplaythings @i-dont-understand-that-url @baritonechick @samanthasmileys @sammys-angel @dont-hate-relate-pls@thegameison97 @growningupgeek @ive6669 @your-favorite-emo @fandom-has-ruined-my-life @youcanhavit @hillface89 @angelkurenai@letmewriteyourlove @fangirl1802 @robbenedictxreader @ellienovak@psycho-moose-sammy @ashiewesker @hudine @paddy121996-blog@wayward-mirage @zymmas @evyiione @heatherhoney2000-blog @gabriels-trix @your-not-invisible-to-me me @carry-on-my-wayward-girls@reigningqueenofwords @writings-of-desire @haylaansmi @justanothetfangirl​ 

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fan fiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #dave rossi #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #cat adams #falling for you

[writeyouin]

Rung x schizophrenic reader? Like they're having an override of emotion and thry can't trll what's real about anything other than being afraid of everybody until they find rung.. they're refuge in him is stronger than everyone thinks

Rung X Reader – Safe with You

A/N – Hey, this is little more than a drabble, but I hope this is what you imagined, or something along the lines. I just know when I overload, this is something like how I feel.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

A light knock at the door brought Rung away from the reports he was writing on Megatron’s psyche. He locked his datapad before answering the door, keeping everything confidential as it should be. A rather concerned Nautica was waiting for him on the other side.

“Good afternoon Nautica, can I help you with something?”

“Uh yeah, I mean, not me, but (Y/N),” Nautica replied uncertainly.

“Oh, is something wrong with our resident human?”

“I think so. (S)he was freaking out earlier, kept saying something about not being able to trust anyone. Then I offered to get some help and (s)he just kind of ran off when I wasn’t looking. I was hoping (s)he might have come to you for help, but clearly I was wrong.”

Rung considered the call to aid for a moment, thinking about all he knew about your schizophrenia; the other bots on the ship didn’t know about it yet, and nor would they unless you decided to tell them. Figuring that you were probably having a bad episode, Rung closed off his office, leaving it open in case you decided to hide in there later.

“Not to worry Nautica, I shall find (Y/N),” Rung stated, thinking of all the places you might go.

“Okay… Just message me when you do so I know (s)he’s okay.”

“Yes, of course.”

Without so much as a good bye, Rung set about finding you. From what he knew of your illness, you would go somewhere you wouldn’t be disturbed, which removed your hab-suite from the equation. You would choose somewhere familiar where you could ground yourself, perhaps somewhere dark and smaller than the other areas on the ship. It would have to be somewhere quiet that ran little risk of being discovered by a random passer-by.

Sure enough, Rung thought he might know where you were hiding. Between your room and his was a supply closet that nobody other than himself usually went into. It had plenty of spare datapads that made great files for his patients, as well as a few other office supplies. In fact, it was after the two of you had gotten locked in there once that Rung had fallen in love with you.

Once he arrived there, Rung knocked quietly, “(Y/N), are you in there, my spark?”

Rung heard a small whimper and let himself in the supply closet, finding you sat on the floor with your knees tucked into your chest and your hands pressed firmly over your ears. Everything from the tear-tracks down your face to the way you were sat told Rung everything he needed to know. You had fallen into a sensory overload and, until now, had nobody to help you.

Rung didn’t say anything, knowing that there was nothing he could say that would make you feel better for a while. Instead, he switched on his holo-form, sat down beside you, and wrapped his arms around your shoulder, resting his chin on top of your head.

You didn’t move. How could you when the world was too loud and the lights too bright? You had to deal with being scared, angry, sad, tired, anxious, guilty, and humiliated all at the same time. All the while, you wished your brain didn’t throw every emotion your way simultaneously. You had once told Rung that you hated yourself for being broken; he insisted that you weren’t broken, just different.

“Why do I have to be different?” You asked now, having trouble isolating the question.

Rung followed your train of thought with ease, “Because you are special, my darling. There are a million bots who would give anything to be like you. Unfortunately, you can only see the downside of being so unique right now.”

“The world is too much Rung. It isn’t fair.”

Ring lightly stroked your arm, “I know it isn’t, but it won’t always be like this you know. One day, you will wake up and you will find that the world isn’t too loud or bright, but that it is just right and you fit right into it where you are supposed to.”

You shook your head, “But they were talking about me… How can I fit into the world if everyone’s always talking about me behind my back?”

Although Rung knew this was just one of your paranoid episodes, he didn’t bother refuting your claim. For all he knew, the Cybertronians on the ship could have been talking about you, the only human aboard. Instead he answered, “They might have been saying positive things about you. Did you think about that possibility?”

As if Rung’s question had flicked a switch inside your brain, you began to feel soothed. You were by no means in the clear from your sensory overload, but by simply being with someone who considered the positives of your worst scenario, you were starting to feel a little better.

You leaned into Rung’s side, slowly wrapping your arms around his side, affirming that he was real and not a figment of your hyperactive imagination.

“I’m scared,” You admitted.

“Of what?” Rung asked, though he was fairly sure he knew the answer.

“Of the next time this happens… What if you aren’t here for me?”

“I will be. No matter where I am or what’s happening around us, if I know you need me, I will be there for you.”

“I- I don’t want to go back out there.”

“Then we will stay here, for as long as you would like. In here, you are safe.”

You nodded then let your head rest against Rung’s chest where you could hear the low buzz of his spark. Being held and comforted wasn’t much, but for now it was enough. Rung was your rock and your refuge; with him, you felt safe.

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#transformers #tf #mtmte #more than meets the eye #the lost light #lost light #ll #rung #rung x reader #reader #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic #dear-fellow-travelers

[sometimesrosy]

Anonymous said:

So Bellarkes have been gaslighted by Jason & his writing team and the CL fandom for seasons thanks to Jason again, but they are not bad writers? You really need to stop defending the abusers here.

+++

I mean. No. you’re incorrect.

Gaslighting is a form of psychological manipulation in which a person or a group covertly sows seeds of doubt in a targeted individual, making them question their own memory, perception, or judgment, often evoking in them cognitive dissonance and other changes such as low self-esteem. Wikipedia

People telling a story are not gaslighters. It’s just a story. They are not aiming their story at your psyche to wound you. They are not TRYING to sow seeds of doubt in you.

They ARE creating characters that you will relate to and ships you will root for. Their eventual endgame or tragic ending or failure to connect is not gaslighting. Can they guess how people will react to stories they love? No. They won’t be able to please everyone, that’s just how that happens. Putting forth a story as a love story, or a canon relationship, and having that play out onscreen, to whatever end, is not gaslighting. Neither Bellarkers nor CLs have been gaslighted by the story. 

As to the social media? Sometimes it is questionable, I’ll grant you. But a creator saying they love a character or a ship is not gaslighting, whether or not that character/ship gets a happy ending. A creator saying people misinterpreted is not gaslighting either, I don’t think. It’s rude maybe, but that’s not a sin. A creator saying you’ll get a ship, which you do, but that ship doesn’t end the way you want it to is not gaslighting. It’s tragic, but not gaslighting. Saying you’ll like the story but you don’t is not gaslighting either. It’s a difference of opinion.

What are the definitions of abuse?Abuse is defined as any action that intentionally harms or injures another person. In short, someone who purposefully harms another in any way is committing abuse. There are many kinds of abuse encountered by adults, including: physical abuse. psychological abuse.

Putting on a tv show does not make people abusers. They actually have no to little contact with the audience. It’s just a story.

They aren’t tyrants intent on gaining power over their audience. 

They’re telling a story that they THINK will draw the audience in. They are TRYING to create characters we care about and put them in danger and make us worry for them. 

YES it is a tragic show with lots of death and loss and trauma. That is a valid type of story that fills the needs for many people. It does not work for everyone. It is not helpful or enjoyable for everyone, but that doesn’t mean it is bad for doing what it does.

If you ask me, which you did since you’re in my ask box, the gaslighting in The 100 fandom has come from within the fandom.

It’s the FANDOM that is telling us not to believe our own eyes and ears and canon. It’s the FANDOM calling huge swaths of fans “delusional,” making us question whether what we know is really happening. It’s the FANDOM that has worked against people, against the narrative, against the characters and actors and creators and other fans, in order to destroy their sense of community, identity, and ability to enjoy a show or ship.

I mean, isn’t that what all this ad hominem attacks are for? You call the writers bad writers and abusers and gaslighters so that we will be afraid to enjoy the show or trust them or support our own ship. 

I’ve had people not only call me delusional, but deride my education, my career, my writing, my identity, my race, my experience, my age, my sexuality, my personality, my intelligence and on and on. Why? 

...a person or a group covertly sows seeds of doubt in a targeted individual, making them question their own memory, perception, or judgment, often evoking in them cognitive dissonance and other changes such as low self-esteem. Wikipedia

Oh yeah. That again. 

Isn’t that why you sent me your nasty anon? 

I tell you what I think about something, backing it up with evidence from the story or my own life or fandom or my education, and you tell me I’m wrong, and then start flinging around ad hominem attacks to make me question my perspective and understanding.

You are personally using your nasty anon asks as a way to covertly sow seeds of doubt in a targeted individual. Me. And my followers. Oh wait oh wait. I was looking something up about the signs of a gaslighters. You fit one.

8. They project. They are a drug user or a cheater, yet they are constantly accusing you of that. This is done so often that you start trying to defend yourself, and are distracted from the gaslighter's own behavior. [x]

You are trying to gaslight me so you accuse them of gaslighting and me of supporting gaslighters and abusers. 

I’ve been called so many nasty names on this site and in my inbox that none of them mean anything anymore. It’s become a meaningless whine of white noise in which harassers and bullies (a variation of abusers imo) try to silence and gaslight and control anyone who doesn’t ship their ship or have their interpretation of a damn tv show.

Please be aware that I see through gaslighting. My life may have sucked as the daughter of an abusive paranoid schizophrenic and the wife of an abusive drug addict, but I know how to tell reality from paranoid fantasies and narcissistic manipulation.

Critical thinking tears those attempts at gaslighting apart. It wont’ work with me nonny. The writers are not gaslighting us, but you and people like you are trying to.