#this is not a cop out I do know what that is
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do you believe me now? | 5
in which spencer reid and fem!reader are reunited, but the worst kind of sparks are flying. you meet a man named randall. derek morgan buys you a drink (sort of). it seems that some things can't be unsaid.
part one | two | three | bonus chapter | four
this series is 18+
warnings/tags: r goes to a bar but doesn't drink alcohol, gets hit on by weird men, dramatic, angst, sorry in advance
a/n: surprise! i'll see myself out. love you! lmk your thoughts on this bad boy! i KNOW you'll have some! i'm locking all my doors and the cops are on speed dial after posting this. stay tuned for part six tho
You don’t call Spencer for four days.
Spencer doesn’t call you for four days.
It’s scary.
There’s some texting—mostly him giving you updates on how things are going and when he expects to be back. Mostly you giving the messages a thumbs up and saying nothing else.
Finally, on Thursday afternoon, his ringtone (the Bill Nye theme) makes you jump as you’re sitting on your bed staring into space.
His caller ID photo—which is simply his passport photo, because you’d thought it was adorable—stares at you. You stare back. Contemplate not picking up.
But you’re not quite there yet.
And you cannot keep listening to Bill Nye the Science Guy.
The answer button is cold under your thumb, but not as cold as your greeting.
“Hi.”
You barely recognize your own voice.
It seems to send Spencer for a loop as well, because his reply is halting.
“Hey! Hi, um—how are you? I feel like we’ve barely talked this week.”
That would be because you told me my feelings for you are stronger than your feelings for me and I don’t know how to stop making every single word I say secretly mean I love you. We can’t have a conversation without me loving you. It will always be in the room or on the phone with us. To ignore the presence of it is impossible, and I don’t know if I can ignore the absence of yours, either.
“Uh… yeah. I’m fine. What’s up?”
There’s a pause.
“We wrapped up this morning. We’re getting on the jet here in a few minutes, and, um—I know it’s not ideal, but we missed Derek’s birthday and Penelope is insisting we all go to his favorite bar tonight. And he told me that for his birthday he wants to meet you. So… would you be up for that?”
“You want… to take me to a bar?”
“No. I mean—I know it’s not really your thing, but we missed Derek’s birthday three years in a row, and—and I understand if you don’t want to meet him tonight, but we wouldn’t have to stay very long and I really, really shouldn’t skip it. Derek has saved my life on more than one occasion.”
“You could go without me.”
More silence. Every second hurts, but you don’t understand why he wants you to come meet his best friend if he thinks the two of you are in different places emotionally.
But maybe he’s not going to break up with you just yet. Maybe he’s going to keep inviting you to bars and foreign film festivals and bookshops. Maybe he’s going to treat you exactly the same as he always has but with this new added layer of knowledge that the way he treats you isn’t actually love, and it never was, and you’re not sure if it has the potential to ever become love. Because if it did—wouldn’t it have already? What more do you have to offer than what you’ve already given him?
Breakup or no breakup, you feel sick.
When he speaks his tone is similarly chilly. It’s welcome. You want him mad. If he can’t reciprocate your adoration, then the very least he can do is have the decency to reciprocate your reproach.
“I could. Is that what you want?”
No. I don’t want any of this. I need you to know me well enough to know that. And if you can’t love me then at least get angry. At least show me you feel something other than passive contentment.
“Yeah. Sure. I don’t know.”
A pause stretches so long your heart pounds. You watch the elapsed time of the call tick by, second by second, and you wait for the anticipation to crack under the weight of silence, to give way to some terrible jump scare or to give way at all.
But the words that end the conversation (if you can even call it that) aren’t any great relief. They’re just sad, and chalk full of defeat.
“Alright. I’ll… I’ll call you later.”
You feel like you’ve swallowed an ice cube. All the words you’d like to say are frozen in your stinging throat.
“Okay. Um… I’ll let you board now.”
“The jet’s not…” but he trails off. When he speaks again he sounds just as hurt as you’d wanted—and it doesn’t make you feel better at all. “Okay. Bye.”
“Bye.”
The line goes dead, and your face is burning as tears fill your eyes for the hundredth time this week. That call was terrible and poisonous and you don’t feel like yourself.
Things have gone so wrong so quickly, and all you know how to do is ice him out so he can’t do it to you first. But it’s not going to make this better. No matter how mean you are to him, at the root of it all you feel unloved and scared and alone and Spencer knows things about love and relationships that you don’t. He’s confusing you with all this talk of feeling differently about each other and I’ll be home tomorrow I miss you and things get complicated when one person likes the other more and let’s talk in person and will you come meet my best friend tonight. All of it leaves you motion sick and ugly crying in the fetal position.
All you have to get through this is who you’ve always been, a little of the person you’ve become, and the love you harbor for Spencer which rattles around in your chest like a nail in an empty toolbox. At the moment it hardly seems helpful. It mocks you, pointing out the pathetic hilarity of your paradox. The only person who can comfort you, the person you want more than anything, is the reason you’re so upset in the first place. But you can’t help being drawn to him.
Maybe the love you have for Spencer is more like a magnet in a compass.
Even if he doesn’t feel it for you, you do love Spencer. And that goes beyond just loving the parts of him that like you. To hide from that love would be a gross disservice to yourself and all the work you’ve done to get here. It’s not as if you suddenly know exactly what the answer is—but you’re sure that hiding is the most childish, cowardly thing you could do and the furthest you could get from a resolution. Even if you can’t make him love you back, you refuse to allow yourself to fizzle quietly out of his life. This relationship deserves something more than that.
So maybe you don’t have a plan when you wipe your eyes and pick up your phone. Maybe there’s no strategy behind your actions as you text Garcia for the bar location. But if you keep running from everything you’ll never get anywhere. All you can do is show up. It seems like the next best step.
------
The pub isn’t too crowded—but for a Thursday night, you suppose it’s a bit busy.
Boot heels hooked onto the metal foot-beam of the stool you’re sitting on, elbows resting on the polished mahogany surface of the bar, you’re staring into an untouched mixed drink. Then you glance down the bar to your right, at the man who’d bought it for you.
Maybe your ensemble gave him the wrong idea.
Coming to this gathering had required bravery, and you came armored. Your ensemble projects significantly more confidence than you’re currently feeling. It was intentional, a form of self-protection—but now you’re wondering if it’s projecting a little too much confidence.
All done up, clearly still a little rough around the edges, and sitting alone at a bar was bound to draw the wrong pairs of eyes.
“Hey, darlin’,” the gruff man says, approaching when you inadvertently catch his gaze. “Are you gonna drink that, or should I? Otherwise I’m lookin’ at eleven dollars right down the drain.”
You avert your eyes, scanning the groups dotted here and there.
“I’m waiting for friends.”
“Does that make a free drink less appealing?”
He takes the stool next to you, off-gassing the scent of cigarettes and leather.
“I’m not drinking.”
“Really? I’ve never seen a girl who looks as sad as you do come sit at the bar to stay sober.”
You frown, looking back up at the man next to you. He seems like the Hell’s Angels type—tattooed knuckles, leather jacket, grey beard, and a weathered face that’s clearly spent decades with the sun. Fifties, maybe younger and just looks more rugged. What does it say about how I look tonight that this is the kind of man I’m attracting, you wonder. Maybe you look desperate and just as lonely as you feel. As he claims you do.
“I’m not sad.”
“Alright. I’ll take your word for it. But a happier girl wouldn’t be all alone.”
“I’m waiting for friends,” you repeat, letting the words drip like venom from your tongue.
“I’m Randall. See? Now we're friends.”
“I don’t need more friends. I like the ones I have.”
Something catches Randall’s attention long enough to catch yours. He raises his bottle vaguely, gesturing beyond your shoulder.
“Are those angry lookin’ guys in the suits marching right over here the friends you’re talking about?”
You turn your head, brows furrowed, and immediately see the gentlemen to whom your new pal is pointing out.
Spencer is storming across the bar looking close to furious (which for him, means an expression so placid it gives you chills) followed by Derek Morgan—a man who you’ve only seen pictures of and is even more impressive in person.
You hate how your breath catches, how your heart is already beating a little faster than usual at the sight of him even though you’re not exactly pleased with each other right now.
Suddenly the bubbles in your cocktail are once again fascinating.
“Those are the ones.”
“And why are they dressed for church?”
Church?
“They’re FBI.”
“Ah. My lucky fuckin’ day.”
You almost snort.
“Hey,” Spencer says sternly, hand settling on your back as he partially fills the small space between you and the strange man. “Who’s this?”
You shrug, sit up a little straighter, and take a shallow breath—not because you’re scared of this man but because Spencer is suddenly so close to you and you can feel his warmth and the air bending around him and the scent of him is genuinely dizzying to you.
“Randall,” you exhale unenthusiastically. But the odd thing is that you’re rather grateful for Randall’s presence. Because now Spencer is here and you have no idea what you’re going to say to him.
“Oh,” Randall says, sipping his beer unhurriedly before using it to gesture to Spencer. “You’re the boyfriend. You know, that’s funny, because she didn’t mention a boyfriend.”
“I didn’t mention anything. We weren’t having a real conversation.”
Randy holds his hands up defensively, fingers still wrapped around the neck of a sweating bottle.
“I’m just saying it’s in-ter-esting. Not trying to start anything.” He stands, pauses for another sip—Spencer obviously isn’t sure what to make of this man because he says nothing. “But listen, man to man—you better buy her some flowers or a real pretty fuckin’ necklace or somethin’ because a happy girl in a happy relationship does not come pout at the bar all by herself.”
“Get out of here, man,” Derek finally speaks up.
“Yeah, yeah.” He sets his empty bottle down and fishes in his pocket for a cigarette, sticking it between his lips. “But—just for the record—I have a wife. I wasn’t gonna do anything weird. Sometimes when you’re my age you just gotta live a little. Buy a pretty girl a drink. Piss off some Mormons, or whatever the fuck you are.”
This guy sounds like a bad Bruce Springsteen song. But part of you would almost rather hang out with Randall than be forced into a conversation you’re not prepared for with Spencer.
And whose fault is that, you remind yourself. You decided to come be mature. Suck it up.
“Goodnight,” Derek emphasizes.
Spencer doesn’t say a word. You can feel his eyes boring smoking holes into the side of your face, and you look anywhere else.
“I’ll be here next week after physical therapy like clockwork,” the stranger waves as he ambles away—but not before pointing at you. “You enjoy that drink, friend. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
What a weird man.
There’s silence for a moment—in which Spencer refuses to stop watching you and you refuse to acknowledge that.
“And here I was thinking Spencer made you up.” Derek has a beautiful smile and a warm, charming cadence as he holds out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Derek.”
You take the proffered hand and shake, offering him a shy smile and introducing yourself in kind.
“Happy birthday, by the way. Sorry for crashing your party.”
Really, he’s stunning.
“Thank you, sweetheart. And you’re not crashing anything. I told pretty boy here I wanted to meet you the second he started talking about a friend. But nah, he just wanted to talk and talk and talk about you—”
“Alright,” Spencer mumbles, blushing, eyes finally torn from your profile. You smile slightly, brows knitting as Derek magically melts some of the terrible tension.
“Pretty boy?”
Before either of them can explain, someone shrieks in your general direction. You startle backward in your seat, and Spencer steps closer, hand sliding up your back as Penelope, JJ, and Emily join your little huddle. For only a second you allow yourself to shrink into him—before you’re straightening your posture like your spine is a metal rod and his touch burns. It’s a knee-jerk defensive reaction for which you have no explanation. You can’t see him, but you don’t feel his hand on you again.
“Oh my god! Look at this beautiful person who I love!” Penelope exclaims, pushing past Derek to grab your face and kiss both of your cheeks. “Oh my god,” she says again, wiping sticky lipgloss away with her thumbs, “I totally meant to ask before I did that. But your face is just so kissable. I’m so glad you decided to come!”
“Hi, Penelope,” you smile half-heartedly, incapable of reciprocating her cheery mood. Fortunately, she’s cheery enough for a standard commercial flight’s worth of people, and probably thinks of Derek’s birthday as a national holiday—so she doesn’t pick up on this.
Emily and JJ offer you tamer although perfectly kind greetings.
“Ooh, what are you drinking?” Emily asks, leaning closer to examine the forgotten beverage in front of you.
“Not that,” Spencer mutters, grabbing the glass and sliding it away from you. You give him an affronted look—and immediately wish you hadn’t, since you’re meeting his eyes for the first time since he left. His words stall for just a moment as his eyes dart between yours before he’s saying, “you shouldn’t accept a drink if you didn’t watch someone make it.”
The audacity of him to be acting protective makes you scoff.
“That guy didn’t spike my drink. He was harmless.”
“People thought Ted Bundy was harmless, too.”
It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that you don’t even have a response—your eyes simply narrow and you shake your head. A claustrophobic silence falls over the small group.
“Okay…” JJ murmurs. “Um, do you guys want to go check out the jukebox with me? We have to play all of the birthday boy’s favorites.”
Several enthusiastic yeses go around, but you’re too busy having a stand off with your boyfriend to take much notice.
Soon, it’s just the two of you.
“Controlling isn’t a good look for you,” you finally say, spinning to rest your elbows on the bar once more and studying the bottles of liquor on the shelves beyond.
“Evasive and avoidant isn’t particularly flattering, either. I was under the impression that you had no intention of coming after that phone call earlier.”
You scoff again as your blood heats. Already the conversation is going worse than you’d expected—and your expectations were not high.
“Do you think the cab driver was a serial killer, too? Or maybe the bartender?”
He’s still behind you and slightly to the side—but he leans down, resting his own fists on the bar right next to you and speaking lowly, directly over your shoulder.
“Why don’t you try speaking to me like we’re adults instead of starting meaningless arguments in order to get under my skin?”
From him, that hurts.
It’s a branch on the tree of your greatest insecurity—the fear that you’re too inexperienced with relationships and that makes you too immature and he’s been lying every time he says it’s not an issue. Because of course it’s an issue. It’s why you fell in love with him, it’s why you don’t know how to fix it, and it’s why you’re incapable of actually expressing any of your feelings to him.
“Why do you think I’m here right now?” you whisper—as sharp and stinging as a poison dart. “I’m trying to be a fucking adult. I don’t want to be here.”
Silence.
“Then why did you come?”
His voice is so calm it burns like dry ice.
“Because! Because you asked me to, because—”
You can’t bring yourself to say it aloud.
Because I’m obviously still in love with you and I can’t just turn that off. I tried to do the right thing.
Instead you bury your face in your hands and let it hang in the air, unspoken. You know he knows. You just don’t know why he’s acting like you’re so unreasonable for being upset.
“Let me make this very clear to you,” Spencer murmurs, brushing your hair away from your ear so tenderly, speaking so softly you could convince yourself that he’ll say something kind. It’s the closest he’s been in days and now that he’s here you feel how much you missed him in your bones. And even though you sense a trap, you can’t help but sit up straighter. You’ll be complicit in your own undoing if it means you can have him close. His breath shakes slightly as he inhales and you brace as best you can. “Nobody is forcing you to be here. You told me you weren’t coming and then you decided to show up. I was ready to give you the space that you were too scared to ask me for. But I can only take responsibility for so much of what is ultimately your bad behavior and your adolescent volatility. You can only blame so much of your bad behavior on inexperience before I run out of patience because I don’t find thoughtlessness and emotional immaturity compelling. I told you that if there is a disparity in the way we feel for each other, that was fine, and I meant it. But if you can’t cope with how I feel about you then don’t let me hold you back. I am not holding you hostage. You can leave whenever you want. So don’t waste your time punishing me because you don’t want to be here. And if you do want to be here, good. I want that too. But act like an adult and make a decision. My leniency has limits, even for you. I am asking that you do not push it any further than you already have.”
You don’t know how long it’s been since your last breath by the time he finishes his address.
Long enough that you’re dizzy when you push away from the bar and shoulder through the throng of patrons as quickly as you reasonably can without outright running.
Long enough that when you burst out the door into the biting-cold night air, and finally take a deep, gasping breath, it burns and stings and aches and so does your head and your eyes as they well with hot, furious, heartbroken tears.
You speed-walk to the end of the block, hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your cries and all the curse words you’d love to scream.
Part of you knows you walked away from the bar in case he decided to try and follow you—but when you look over your shoulder the sidewalk is empty. You should’ve known better than to think he’d follow you after that. But at least it means you can have your breakdown by the relative safety of the bar, leaning your back against the dirty brick facade next to the entrance alcove and sliding down until your butt hits the cold concrete and you don’t even care.
Who the fuck was that man in the bar who looked like Spencer and sounded like Spencer but spoke to you like this is all your fault, like it’s your fault you love him and he doesn’t love you back, like it’s ridiculous that you’d be upset, like you’re cruel and petty for having feelings about it, about him—for having any fucking feelings at all? And to think that was the man who you let know you more intimately than anyone ever has. Every insecurity you’d ever admitted to him was hurled back in your face like it was nothing. Hell—he even handed you the ones you’d never mentioned. He proved every terrible thought you’ve been having about yourself right.
How could he be so unabashedly mean to you?
Spencer doesn’t have to love you. It seems clearer now than ever that he doesn’t. But part of you wonders if he suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury because that’s the only explanation for why he could go from treating you how he did before to treating you like he doesn’t even like you.
You feel like you might throw up.
“Called it,” a rasping, grumbling voice says from a few feet away.
You look up, and spot fucking Randall standing under a street light ten feet away, still smoking.
You go back to studying the tar spots on the sidewalk through bleary eyes. Pebbles sting as they press into your palms. Another one of the universe’s terrible jokes, you suppose. Just earlier you’d thought that you’d rather talk to Randall than Spencer and now here you are and here he is.
“That kid as much of a dipshit punk as I thought he was?”
Hearing Spencer described as a kid and a dipshit punk is so jarring you almost stop crying.
“He’s not a dipshit,” you sniff, voice thick with tears as you find yourself explaining Spencer Reid to this stranger for no reason at all. “He has an IQ of 187. He’s a genius.”
“Ah,” he scoffs dismissively, flicking ash from his cigarette. “Dipshit-ism don’t discriminate. Anyone can be one. Even your genius punk boyfriend. As a recovering dipshit myself I know what the work of a fellow dipshit looks like. And this has dipshit written all over it.”
You sob harder.
Randall speaks calmly around his cigarette.
“You know, I’m sorry for whatever you got goin’ on. But I’ve never not been the asshole when I got a hysterical woman in front of me. It’s nice that I can confidently say this time it is not my fault.”
The bar door opens, letting a warm burst of jovial music and chatter into the otherwise still night. Steps that are too heavy to be Spencer’s hit the concrete next to you—you look to your left and see Derek Morgan before he looks down and sees you.
“Hey—you okay out here?”
“Why don’t you go ask your Jehovah’s Witness buddy? He did this.”
Derek makes a face, locating the source of this interjection.
“Sir, I asked you to leave her alone once and I don’t appreciate being made to repeat myself. Are we clear?”
“Yeah, whatever. Fuck me for making friendly conversation, I guess. Gonna have to call my wife and tell her to pick me up down the street. I don’t want her on the damn phone while she’s driving.”
Randall wanders away again, still muttering to himself and smoking. Derek watches him go, staring daggers into his back until he turns his gaze to you.
Goodbye, Randall, you think. Great. Now I have neither of them.
“Hey,” he softens, crouching down to your level. “You okay?”
You sniff, wiping your cheeks and attempting not to smudge your makeup. It’s impossible not to feel awkward—you just met this guy and now he’s here trying to do emotional labor for you on his birthday.
“Yeah, I’m fine. This is embarrassing.”
“You don’t look fine. Can I do anything for you? Do you want some food? A drink?”
“You really don’t have to—”
“I know, I know. But look—Reid is always talking about you. You’re important to him, and he’s important to me. I’ve never seen him this happy and I’ve known that kid a long time. It is in my best interest that someone maintain you, and if it’s not him, it’ll be me. Call it a favor to him, if that makes you feel better.” Derek is sporting a slightly more modest Cheshire grin again by the end of his sentence. Listening to him speak that way about Spencer speaking about you, it’s impossible not to feel a teeny bit lighter. Even if you’re not entirely sure where you stand on all things Spencer related at the moment. “So I’ll ask you again. Is there anything I can do for you?”
You sniff again.
“Sure. A ginger ale or something might be good.”
“Got it. I’ll be back. And come inside if Randall tries to run up on you again, okay?”
Despite yourself you manage a laugh at the way he says the name. His warm smile flickers warmer at this.
“Will do.”
When Derek returns a few minutes later, the plastic cup he’s holding looks decidedly not like ginger ale.
“Penelope insisted that this is what you would want. I don’t even know.”
You smile slightly as you take the cup, full to the brim with bubbles and thick red syrup. A cherry bobs underneath the layer of cubed ice.
“Shirley temple,” you chuckle. “I’ll take it. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome,” he says, flashing that brilliant smile again, and you look into your cup as you drink. Maybe your face warms just a bit. You’re still shy around men, you realize. Especially attractive ones. And Derek Morgan definitely qualifies as attractive.
“So,” he begins, and to your surprise, crouches down in front of you. “I have to be honest—I came out here in the first place because Reid sent me to check on you. But now I’m wondering what the hell he did.”
Spencer sent him. A considerate action that would theoretically signal his care for your feelings. You take another sip, staring into space and trying to digest this information, but it only jumbles with the rest to confuse you more.
Of course, you don’t know how to convey this to Derek in a way that’s not overly-familiar for just having met the man, so you go with an old standby.
“I’m probably just overreacting.”
“Uh-huh. I have sisters. I know what an overreaction looks like and if you were overreacting you wouldn’t be out here hiding. What’d he do?”
You can only keep up the facade of emotional stability for so long. Your chin wobbles in a horribly embarrassing way and you look down again.
“I’m not sure—I’m not sure if he really did anything or if I’m just being dramatic and I don’t want to make him seem—”
“Why don’t you stop defending him and just tell me what he did?” Derek urges. “Trust me—I love that kid to death. But I also know he can be a dick sometimes. You don’t need to worry about making him look bad in front of me.”
Part of you is glad Spencer has such a good friend on his side. And Derek is right—Spencer is an adult. You don’t need to worry about besmirching his reputation. So you take a shuddering sigh, staring into the red of your drink.
“He just doesn’t like me as much as I like him. Which isn’t his fault, like I said, but—he’s being such an asshole about it.”
Derek pulls a face, strong eyebrows making an impression as they knit.
“Did he tell you that?”
“Over the phone,” you nod emphatically. “And just now he gave me this whole fucking speech about how immature and horrible I am for not being 100% happy about it. And maybe he’s partially right, I mean—I know people feel things differently and maybe he just was asking for more time. I worry I fucked it up so bad because I couldn’t handle that—but at the same time he didn’t say he wanted more time. He was really fucking unclear and vague about what he wanted, and he asked me to come to this bar like it was nothing when I’ve been worried he was going to break up with me all week. So yeah, I guess he’s right and I have been a bitch about it because I was upset that he didn’t… like me as much. And I wanted him to feel bad because I was so embarrassed, and I also didn’t want to act like everything was normal if he was just going to dump me, I…” you realize you’ve been hardcore rambling and your face heats. “I don’t know.”
There’s a pause, and you worry you’ve done exactly the thing you didn’t want to, which was overshare to this man who seems like he’s significantly more normal and well-adjusted than you. You drink deeply, swallowing sugar and the rest of your words.
“That’s… bizarre. I don’t mean to invalidate your feelings, but… that just doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yeah,” you scoff, projecting annoyance so you won’t start crying again. “I was confused too. I thought he really liked me.”
“No, sweetheart, I’m saying—that doesn’t make sense because he does really like you. Really, really likes you, more than I’ve ever seen him like someone before. I mean, last week I finally finished that Tesla biography he’s been on my ass about for months and when I told him, all he wanted to do was talk about your thoughts on it. And then it wasn’t even about the book anymore. I have never, ever seen Reid pass up an opportunity to talk about Nikola Tesla. I’m talking never in my life. He finds a way to make every conversation about you. I can’t even follow the connections sometimes but he always finds a way.”
Your nose wrinkles.
“Sorry you’ve had to hear so much about me,” you mumble. Though you’re not really sorry. It feels good. A twinge of joy in all the murk.
“I’m not. Like I said, I’ve known Spencer for a long time and I’ve never seen him this happy. I’m not about to let him fuck it up.”
“If I make him so happy then why did he tell me we don’t feel the same?” you whisper, reaching into the puddle of syrup and ice at the bottom of your now empty cup.
“Is that exactly what he said?” Derek asks, after a long pause. You bite the maraschino cherry off the stem and nod morosely, grinding a long-gone stranger’s cigarette butt with your boot just to crush something. There’s another beat of silence. “Alright. You know what I think?”
You raise your head to meet his gaze, your own wide-eyed and expectant.
“I think you two need to have an honest conversation. You’re both confused and hurting—I promise Spencer is feeling it too. If you talk to him he won’t be unkind to you.”
“He already was,” you admit.
“I apologize if I’m out of line here, but you just told me you’ve been icing him out all week because you want him to feel bad. I’m willing to bet you don’t realize how sharp these claws are.” Derek grabs your hand as he says it and you marvel at how much he is the opposite of you. Everything he does and says seems so natural and reasonable and charming even if it would piss you off from anyone else—and you just met the guy. You can see why Spencer and Penelope speak so highly of him. “I think you’ve probably both had your moments these past few days. But that doesn’t mean neither of you deserve any more chances.”
He puts your hand back on your knee and pats it.
“Besides, Spencer‘s not good at mean. I bet he’s inside worrying himself sick over whatever dumb shit he said to you. He’s probably hyperventilating as we speak.”
“It was really out of character for him,” you concede.
“Yeah. He’ll be apologizing for a long while. It will get annoying. But he sure as hell won’t be doing it again, I can tell you that much. If he does, let me know. Emily and I will whoop his ass and call it a fitness evaluation.”
“I think that’ll be unnecessary,” you laugh thickly, pulling your sleeve over your hand and wiping away the few tears that haven’t quite dried. “But thank you.”
“Anytime. Now, it’s my birthday, and as a grown man I should not be getting involved in someone else’s relationship drama. I was supposed to be on the dance floor a while ago.” His tone is so warm and sugary by the time he finishes it could rot his perfect grin. It’s futile to hide the way your mouth twists into a reluctant smile as you look down and fix your hair—praying he can’t tell how fazed you are by his kindness. “You’re going to talk to him, right?”
“I’ll—yeah. Right,” you say quietly. But the sinking feeling in your stomach knows it’s a thing easier said than done.
“Good,” Derek grunts, taking your empty cup before pushing himself back up to his feet and offering you a hand. “Do you want me to send him out here or do you want to come find him inside?”
You balk.
“Like—right now? I have to talk to him now?”
Before he can give you an answer you think you’d rather not have, the bar door is opening. From your spot you can’t see who it is right away, but Derek turns over his shoulder and does a double take before looking back at you.
Spencer steps out onto the sidewalk, eyes scanning for until he realizes you’re a few feet shorter than usual. Sitting on a filthy public walkway is probably his worst nightmare, you realize, as you scramble to your feet and dust the crumbs of concrete from your palms against the back of your cold jeans. He begins to say your name, and it sounds like relief and regret, but you stop him.
“I have to go wash my hands.”
It’s monotonous and mumbled and comes out too quickly but you don’t have time to worry about that as you brush past both of the men on your way back into the bar, making an immediate beeline for the bathroom.
Your face burns with anxiety as you shut the door behind you, immediately drowning in the yellowish lighting which is so harsh but seems to illuminate almost nothing. Who paints a bathroom red? It’s suffocating. You feel like you’re inside an aorta.
Water runs cool over your hands as you sniffle, rinsing the bits of dirt from red indents made by pebbles and things, and the soap is too floral and powdery but you wash twice anyway. Maybe you’ll just stay in here and wash your hands forever.
There’s a light knock on the shiny wooden door and it makes you jump. Your name is muffled from the other side.
“You in there?”
Quickly you wipe under your reddened eyes in the mirror, trying to fix the slightly smudged makeup.
The door opens when you don’t respond, and there’s Spencer, looking weary and tense all at once. Is that your fault?
“Hey,” you sniff, trying to effect casualness, but it comes out too quickly and your posture is too stiff. Under his all-seeing gaze you cross and uncross your arms, look at him and look away. Your hands end up in your pockets. He’d say crossed arms are a sign of self-soothing.
“Hey.” His is more measured, and of course makes you feel embarrassed in comparison. The door swings shut behind him as he enters the small room and makes it feel that much smaller. “Are you… hiding from me in here?”
Yes.
The graffitied toilet stalls to your left suddenly look fascinating.
“Nope. Just washing my hands.”
This is not what Derek told you to do, you scold yourself internally. Stop being so scared. Be honest with him.
Silence rings. All the brutally honest things you’d like to say choke you until your throat hurts and your eyes get hot. Yet again you feel like a stupid little girl who’s too emotional to communicate.
You cross your arms. It’s an indulgence you feel you’re owed.
Spencer says your name again and it’s too much. He never says it this often. When he does it feels good but now it’s too formal, makes you too aware of your own inadequacy, and how he must be seeing you—a wraith of a girl in a dingy bar bathroom with clammy hands and smudged eyeliner, practically shaking with fear under an unforgiving light. Someone who is too scared and much too sensitive.
Spencer attempts to speak again.
“What I said before, it was—”
“Can you just take me home?”
It comes out on one exhalation and seems to stall him with all the effectiveness of a slap to the face.
You don’t know where it comes from, either.
Easier said than done, you’d thought a few moments ago. All the bravery Derek had tried to instill in you is gone, swallowed down the drain like soap scum. And now you’re choosing to let your fear win—because at least that’s a known quantity. The fear will never reject you. It will always be waiting with open arms.
Too scared.
The end feels imminent. You try to press yourself back together, fingernails biting into palms, trying to make something feel more tangible than the terrible knowingness that you’re careening toward an end which was supposed to be a beginning. It’s stifling and you wonder if Spencer is breathing it too.
You can’t look at his face, but you watch him pocket his hands in his pants and there is so much impossible space between you in such a tiny room.
“Yeah. I can.”
Something breaks. It’s small, and without fanfare. But it feels final.
It’s just a ride home. Just a ride home.
That’s all you have left, and you don’t know how you know it but you do.
Something so important is being left in this stupid, dingy bathroom. Something that was at one point beautiful and shiny and so arrogant in its newness that it seemed it would never become ugly. And now you’re abandoning it without dignity on the chipped tile floor and in the cobwebs on the walls. It was bigger than you, it was you—and now it’s going to be nothing.
A vehicle honks on the street. A boisterous group laugh explodes somewhere beyond the door. Water drips from a faucet.
“I’ll… I’ll bring my car around.”
“Okay.”
But he just stands there for another moment. Like he can’t get himself to move.
If only time would freeze before he could walk away.
But it doesn’t.
He sucks in a decisive breath.
“Okay,” he murmurs.
It’s that fucking phone call all over again.
Then he spins on his heels and leaves you there.
Your time is up.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid smut#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine
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decode (pt. 5) - toji f. x reader
masterlist
part four | part six
you and toji fushiguro have been in an on-again-off-again relationship all throughout high school. over the summer break after graduation, you find out you're pregnant. too bad toji has already skipped town after your last breakup.
tags: fem!reader, americanized setting, non sorcerer universe, 00's setting, reader is megumi's mom, exes to lovers (eventually), their relationship is toxic rn, not beta read we die like toji :(
wc: 2.9k
Present
“Please make your decision quickly. I think the fuckin’ cops are looking for me.” He says. His voice sounds deeper than you remembered. You thought you had imagined it in the diner, or that his change in tone was a consequence of his anger toward his brother, but there was no denying it here. You glaze over that comment about law enforcement apparently searching for him.
He was leaning slightly out the window of his truck, etching toward you so that you could hear him over the sound of the surrounding traffic. You feel Megumi tug on your jacket, so you look down at where he’s tucked in.
You always knew he looked just like his father, your mind tormented you with that fact every waking moment, but it was hitting you now. Here you had the framework to sit and compare their faces from more than memory alone.
Needless to say, all of the pictures you had of Toji had been destroyed after you found out he left town. All of the clothes he had given you or left in your room had been donated when you moved out of your mother’s house. You had no physical reminders of his existence aside from the child the two of you shared and the golden angel necklace that sat tucked away at the back of your dresser. It was sitting against the back of the drawer, tucked away in a pair of polka dot socks that you never wore. You couldn’t bring yourself to let go of that one.
“Momma, that man is swearing.” Megumi says in his sweet voice. You grimace. Is this how you wanted your son to meet his father? In response, you rub his back and try to muster a smile. “I know, baby.” You whisper to him. “We can talk about swearing later.” Megumi had taken “Don’t say ‘fuck’, you’re only four” to mean, “anyone that swears, including adults, should be chastised.” You would have to redo that lecture.
You really, really shouldn’t get in the truck. You should carry on with your life and pretend that all of this never happened. That Toji isn’t in the flesh in front of you, looking more handsome than you had ever remembered. Looking just like his fucking son. So much like his son that it felt like you were being taunted. He could never deny Megumi again once he saw his face. Even people who weren’t close to you could see the resemblance.
It’s cold, you justify to yourself as you adjust Megumi in your arms and stand up from the bench. We’ll get home quicker, you think as you round the front of his truck towards the passenger side. You’ve run out of excuses by the time you’re opening the door and sliding in his truck.
There are countless reasons why you shouldn’t have even looked up while you heard him call you. For starters, the fact that he just said law enforcement is allegedly in pursuit. He’s been back in your life for less than an hour and you’re already doing stupid shit.
What the fuck. You keep Megumi tucked into your chest tight as you sit down in the truck. Megumi is facing his father, trying to get a read on the man his mother had broken the rules for.
“Okay baby,” You had said to Megumi merely weeks prior, “If a stranger asks you to get in the car with them, what do we say?” You ask him, holding his little hand in yours.
“My momma said no!” He says. The two of you were sitting on your living room floor, with a blanket under you and watching The Little Mermaid on DVD. You had to save costs wherever you could, and those costs did not include cable. After watching Ariel go into Prince Eric’s palace-house within the first couple of hours being a human, you felt it appropriate to give Megumi the kidnapping talk. He takes a bite of the apple you had cut for him earlier.
“And what if the stranger said, ‘I’ll give you Pokemon cards if you get in the car’?” You ask him. “I don’t even like Pokemon anymore!” He says proudly, in response to the hypothetical stranger. “What? Since when?” You asked, slightly horrified that you weren’t as attuned to your 4-year old’s interests as you thought. “Since the stranger asked me, momma.” He replied simply.
This exchange must be very odd for Megumi. You had done your best to raise him right. The best that you could with the resources you had. You tried to teach him hard rules. Don’t talk to strangers, wash your hands before you eat, for the love of god please do not stick forks in the outlets. Now the ‘no strangers’ one was out of the window. It would be tough to explain this. Another lecture to redo.
Toji’s got his eyes on the rearview mirror, looking back at the diner. “Jinichi called the cops on me, the fucking asshole,” He mummers that last part to himself. “So where am I taking you?” Blunt and to the point like always. You give him your address before you could even think about it. Megumi’s tugging on you again to indicate he heard that comment, but you’re slightly out of it.
There’s a big tear that exposes the cushion of the seat you’re on. You had left that there a lifetime ago when you drunkenly stole Toji’s knife and acted out a confrontation between you and a random girl that was hitting on him. That was one of the many nights that ended in laughter instead of tears.
It smells exactly the same, he still uses the black ice scent for the little tree hanging from his rearview mirror. He’s still got his CD collection strapped to the sun visor on the driver’s side of the truck. It’s grown since the last time you saw it, expanding to the passenger side sun visor as well. There’s still a mysterious dark stain that you don’t feel comfortable speculating on the nature of in the floorboard. Evidently, he never managed to get it out.
It’s too much. You have to fight to hold back tears. You had told yourself to never give an ounce to this man again. No tears, no anger, nothing. You had broken that in the diner earlier. It would not happen again.
You should have told him to take you to your mom’s house, so he wouldn’t have any kind of access to you or Megumi. Why would you give him your own address? How fucking stupid.
It’s silent in the truck. You weren’t going to say anything, you might burst into tears if you opened your mouth. You had sat Megumi on your right side, away from Toji. He was pressed in between you in the door so that you wouldn’t have to be any closer to the man than necessary.
You still don’t know if Toji had gotten a look at him yet. You take a moment to study the man. He’s got both hands on the steering wheel, sitting pin-straight in his seat. His eyes are very pointedly on the road, as if he’s trying not to look over. If the whites on his knuckles were indicative, and after spending years with him, you knew they were, Toji had already figured it out.
After that call four years ago, you had a lot of time to ponder Toji’s reaction to you telling him about Megumi. Logically, you knew he was doing what he always did. Avoiding it because he didn’t wanna deal with the prospect of it. The same way he cheated on you to try and get you to run like you should have. The same way he used to pick a fight just to see if that would be your final straw. He denied Megumi because he had some weird psychological avoidance issue.
Emotionally, you couldn’t see it as anything other than him being selfish while you gave your life to your child. Literally, that’s what it was.
You were too busy looking at him to notice you had pulled into your apartment complex.
“Um..” He clears his throat. “Which building do I drop you off at?” Drop you off. You scoff out loud. Of course. He finds out the kid really is his, and he’s avoiding us again.
“The second one.” You say. You don’t know what you expected. For him to immediately pull Gumi into a hug and move in with you within the hour? Yeah fucking right.
“Mama, can I play with the Christmas tree when we get home?” Megumi had asked you as your apartment came into view. ‘Christmas tree’ was one of his favorite games to play, where he got all the pots and pans from the cabinets and stacked them on top of each other to make a “Christmas tree.” It was a very messy game that required you to rewash all of your dishes when you were done, so it was a rule that he had to ask for permission before playing. The game had started when last year, tips were slow and you were late on your electric bill. You had already asked your mom for help that month, and refused to do it again. This, of course, meant that there was no money for a christmas tree. After Megumi’s December birthday and the one christmas present you could afford, you had to find some way to explain to Megumi why he couldn’t have a tree like the one at grandma’s house. “We have a better one.” You had told him, “One that you can play with all year long.”
Needless to say you had cried yourself to sleep that night.
“We’ll see, Megumi.” You say. The truck comes to a stop in front of your building, and without a word you’re grabbing Megumi out of the truck and slamming the door shut. Not a word said to Toji, not even a glance directed his way.
It had started sprinkling rain on your drive over. This morning, your mom had called you to let you know there was a flood warning for the next city over. You usually didn’t take those entirely too seriously, waving her off when she had asked you to bring Megumi and spend the night at her house.
The apartment is two stories tall with stairs on the outside, so you hold Megumi’s hand in yours as you slowly traverse up the stairs. He was skilled enough to walk up them on his own, but after an incident where he took a small fall down them, you were slightly paranoid.
By the time you’re unlocking your apartment door, you notice that you hadn’t yet heard Toji’s truck pull away, so you glance back to see him still sitting there, waiting for you to get inside. For a moment, the two of you lock eyes. You can feel your heart drop as you usher Gumi in the house and close the door behind you. Don’t give him an ounce.
You hope and pray that that is the last time you will ever have to think about Toji Fushiguro. The last time until Megumi gets old enough to realize his last name is different from yours. The last time until he asks you why all his friends in school have two parents and he only has one. The last time until he gets old enough to ask why you and his dad never made it work. Until you have to hold him as he cries and wonders why Toji never wanted him.
You let Megumi play Christmas Tree so you can lock yourself in the bathroom for a moment to compose yourself.
By the time you get Megumi bathed, fed, and ready for bed, it’s eight at night, and the rain outside has been pouring heavily for a couple hours. Gojo had texted you to let you know that the tips had been good that day, but you had a feeling he was lying so he could slip a bit of his parent’s money into what he “owed you.” The diner was never busy on the Monday lunch shift.
You had made spaghetti that night, a common occurrence in your home and something you were grateful Megumi hadn’t gotten tired of yet. Occasionally, you would get the kitchen guys to sneak you a meal in a togo box to offset grocery costs and eat something different every once in a while. Nanami was one of the cooler managers, which was why you were more comfortable asking that Megumi sit in the diner while you worked that day, but he was not one to let free food slide.
The night was surprisingly peaceful once Megumi was distracted by his toys and tonight’s DVD movie, Toy Story, which Shoko had gotten him for his birthday. You were distracted by cleaning every single pot and pan you had after Megumi was done playing with them.
Once the two of you sat down for dinner, the inevitable questions came, and Megumi had asked you about the encounter with Toji earlier that night.
“Mommy, why did those two guys at your job,” he took a breath in between his sentences and spaghetti, “start hitting each other, and then why did you got in one of their cars?”
That was a long conversation about how some brothers (you had let that slip), don’t get along, and how you had already known Toji, though you didn’t say from where or why. Thankfully, Megumi was more curious about why brothers and sisters fight than why his mother got into this random man’s truck. You would definitely have to revisit the “stranger danger” talk.
It’s about 11 at night when you hear a booming knock at your door. It had pulled you out of your “almost-asleep” daze on the couch. You had already put Megumi to bed by then, and were taking a couple hours to yourself before you went to bed too. You prayed the sound hadn’t woken him.
Whoever it is knocks again, this time harder and faster. Now that you have more mental capacity to process that, someone uninvited is knocking at your door at an inappropriate time of night for a single mother, you dash across your living room to grab the baseball bat you keep by the door. You’ve never had to defend yourself and your son in this capacity anymore, and suddenly the adrenaline kicks in, and you squeeze the wooden slugger to center yourself.
The only light in the room is coming from the TV, playing the play menu of Clueless on repeat. You must have been asleep longer than you thought. Hoping not to be seen through your shadow by the window, you slowly crane your neck up toward the peep-hole of your apartment door. What you see is the last thing you expected.
Of course it’s Toji. Of course he wouldn’t just leave you alone. You’re such a fucking idiot.
For a second you contemplate on whether or not you should open the door, but when he bangs again, somehow even louder, you fear that he won’t only wake up Megumi, but the entire apartment complex.
You put the bat back down and unlock the door, pulling it open slowly so that he would only be able to see half of your body from the angle he’s positioned at. He has his hand leaning on the doorframe, and his figure is hunched over to the point he has to lift his head to look you in the eyes. When he does, you realize what this is. He’s drunk.
His eyes are bloodshot red and watery. He’s soaked from head to toe, he had clearly walked through the rain from wherever he was coming from, or stood out in it for so long that he was drenched. He had a bottle of vodka in his hand that wasn’t against the doorframe, hanging precariously from his grasp like he would drop it at any moment. You couldn’t see how much was in it from here, but you knew he had to have drank quite a bit for him to be in this state.
It’s only when he looks you up and down that you realize you’re only in an old t-shirt and underwear. If this were anyone else, you would’ve squirmed under their gaze, maybe ran to go throw something on, but with Toji, as dumb as it sounded, you couldn’t care less.
“What are you doing here?” You ask him.
He says nothing, just looks you up and down again and takes a shot from the bottle.
“Did you drive here?” He nods. Well that’s not fucking good.
You wait for him to say something, to explain why he felt entitled to knocking on your door in the middle of the night soaking wet with nothing to say. Or maybe you’re waiting for him to explain why he left you in the first place without saying a word. Maybe you’re waiting for him to explain why he never even felt the need to come check if Megumi was his. You’re waiting for a lot of explanations? But you don’t get a single one.
In a voice that can only best be described as broken, he softly slurs out, “You… you named him Megumi?”
very... very sorry for the wait. that semester ended up kicking my ass. no excuses i am very sorry D;
if you wanna be off the taglist lmk
comment to be added to the taglist
taglist: @mechalily @nialiuwanderlust @xo-evangeline @ilovebattinson @cherrypieyourface @amaiyasha @erensslut @heyauntieeee @verypeanuttrash @vlsquuu @ryuv1i @tqd4455 @blkmystery @planetlina444 @mimiemie @queendessi24 @just-pure-trash @baji-keisukes-wife @sylvermoon
#jjk x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#toji x y/n#toji x you#toji fushiguro
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idk Just like if all you want to do is replace the current violence of the state with your own then what's even the point lmao
if your vision for society is one in which there would still be cops who still beat the shit out of undesirables then why should I give a shit about the new prison you're building to replace the old one
I would prefer it if society became tangibly better, odd concept I know
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thank you, m'lady, the peasants have been fed well (maybe a bit sour from the recent mamaguro angst, but we'll ignore that).
i hath brought forward a kind request
prison bf toji? (beggin on my knees, with guilty toji next to me)
-👺
KDNKFFJET GIGGLING RIGHT NOW RUBBING MY RAT HANDS TOGETHER PLEASE Y'ALL ARE NOT PEASANTS ME LOVE YOU LONG TIME ahhhh the mamaguro one yes lmaoo
tags: fem reader + long distance relationship + sending erotica/love letters
Despite his guilty sentence, you stood by Toji through it all.
When he went to jail you both were beside yourselves, and you knew that going there was something he deserved after getting caught trying to pickpocket someone after a dare by a drunken friend.
Toji tried to play the he was drunk card but the video feed in the casino showed that he never ordered an alcoholic drink and the bartender told the cops that only his friends got booze seeing that he didn't like alcohol and drank water throughout the night.
He liked to demonstrate he could do it until he was caught.
Now his side of the bed was cold and empty, it had a dip to it that you now curled up in clutching his pillow trading his scent for yours slowly but surely as the pillowcase soaked up your tears.
You missed him dearly and he missed you too.
The both of you wrote each letters and called each other as much as you could. Every time when you'd get off work you'd wait for his call.
It didn't matter how much you got charged to answer you did anyway. "Toji, hi baby. How are you? I miss you so much. Maybe soon I can come to see you." You told him as you laid down in his spot.
He leaned against the wall wishing he was with you instead of standing in front of a group of men, the whole joke went south and Toji was sure to replay it over and your voice too.
"My darlin', I miss you too somethin' fierce. I'm fine, how are you?" He asked imagining you curled up in his lap scratching his scalp softly.
His voice was rougher around the edges making your insides melt into goo. Tears welled up instantly and you tried your best to hide it.
However, it was too late when you sniffled softly. "What's the matter sweetheart?" Toji proded gently wanting to be there himself.
It killed him every second he wasn't with you but he knew it was his fault. "I miss you! And I'm angry that you got caught!" You blurted out loud as you sat up and wiped at your tears with your palm.
The truth would always come out and you couldn't hold it back anymore.
"I know, I'm mad at myself enough for the both of us. I miss you too, come by next week?" It was a plea that you couldn't ignore.
Your heart felt like it shriveled up as you thought about having to wait to visit your man inside the jail cell. "Okay, I'll be there. I gotta go, I love you." Before he could even reply you hung up on him and sighed before grabbing your notepad to write him a letter.
Tears spilled over the ink smearing it on the white paper as you poured out your thoughts, anger and resentment fueled your fingers to write out your true feelings. Once it was done you stared at the words and decided to rip it up knowing it would do more damage.
While Toji did mess up you knew it wouldn't be helpful to hold it against him but it didn't lessen the need to have him next to you.
On another page, you wrote about the first time you both had sex going into vivid detail about it hoping it would help aid when he masturbates, something he's told you about every time he calls.
The next day you filled it up with things on your current to-do list as Toji filled your mind, he is supposed to be here with you doing all of this and it brought forth more anger and guilt.
It weighed on you all day as you bounced back and forth between going to visit him, and as it grew closer you found yourself packing a bag to make the hour journey to go see him for less than the ride.
Friday afternoon after getting patted down and leered at by the men you passed by the holding cell until you reached the meeting room where Toji sat looking around sensing you hesitating by the door.
A loud buzz filled the air before the metal door rolled open then you met Toji's gaze and hurried over to him not caring that the guards watched him grab a handful of your ass when you kissed him deeply.
Your tongue stroked along his as you wrapped your arms around his neck pecking his lips a few times before pulling away to pat his chest. "I miss you more than anything, I hate having to see you like this."
His words made your heart hammer in your chest as you took the spot across from him holding his hands and kissing his scarred knuckles as tears smeared your mascara. "I miss you too baby."
Toji wiped away your tears with his thumb feeling the guilt eat away at his stomach. "You're gorgeous as hell darlin'." He whispered.
You held his gaze and pulled your hand away to grab the letters in your purse to hand them to him. "I added a few pictures too." You whispered softly and cupped his cheek gently.
He pulled your hand away and kissed your open palm. "I'm a lucky man."
"Something like that. I know I can't stay long, I'll be by next month."
You knew you only had twenty minutes which were spent talking about everything going on before you kissed him goodbye to go home alone, once again.
#💌incoming#toji x reader#👺anon#toji x you#fushiguro toji x reader#toji x y/n#toji fushiguro x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x you
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Warnings: talks of a toxic relationship, fighting(screaming)
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Change
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“She deserves better, but I can’t see her with anyone else, so I became better.” -Hardin Scott
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Jack Hughes sat on the couch ready to get interviewed. It was most likely going to be about hockey or him getting back with his now girlfriend y/n. They were toxic in the beginning and throughout their first relationship but Jack had changed for her. He had known she deserved better but he didn’t want her with anyone else but him so, he became better for her and only her. He then smiled to Y/n who was behind the cameras watching as the interview started and so far there was only questions about hockey not y/n. “So, Jack, everyone’s been wanting to know.” The interviewer started and he internally groaned. “Why did you and y/n get back together? Weren’t you guys super toxic?” She asked and Jack grimaced thinking back to how their relationship used to be.
Flashback
The apartment was filled with screaming so loud you’d be shocked if the neighbors didn’t call the cops. “Why, Jack?! Why?!” Y/n screamed angrily with tears pricking her eyes but not falling. Jack had gone out drinking with his team and had been flirting with other girls from what Luke and Nico had told her. He didn’t directly cheat but still. They were in a relationship and he shouldn’t have been doing that. “It was only flirting! I didn’t actually cheat!” He screamed back as they were now getting into each others faces. “That doesn’t matter! You’re in a fucking relationship with ME Jack! This has happened so many times before!” Y/n yelled getting more pissed off at the fact that Jack was trying to play it off. “Well maybe I don’t want to be tied down to you!” Jack yelled and Y/n stood there in shock tears now falling. Jack regretted what he said instantly. He didn’t mean it. He loved her with all his heart he just had anger issues. That wasn’t any good excuse though.“You know it’s bad when Nico tells me but worst when Luke, your own brother tells me. So, I’m done Jack.” She whispered crying but Jack could hear her all too well. He wish he couldn’t hear what she had said. The girl then left to their shared room packing the absolute essentials and calling her best friend to pick her up. Once her friend got there she got up to leave. “Please, y/n. Don’t leave. I need you.” Jack had begged her almost crying which she ignored walking out the door. She didn’t need him. Atleast that’s what she was trying to convince herself. From that day Jack tried and tried to make himself better for her and she would decline him asking her out again every time until she didn’t and saw he actually had changed.
Now
“Jack? The question?” The interviewer asked grabbing his attention again. He must’ve been thinking for too long cause he looked over and saw Y/n’s worried face. “Oh, sorry about that.” He apologized to which the interviewer said it was fine. “I know she deserves better, but I can’t see her with anyone else.” Jack started then looked over to Y/n again and smiled. “So I became better. Now we’re not toxic anymore.” Jack said and Y/n mouthed an ‘I love you’ to him. “I love you too.” Jack mouthed back then looked to the interviewer. “That’s sweet. Well, we’re glad the power couple is back together despite the past. But that’s our interview today. Thank you for coming!” The interviewer said to Jack and he nodded saying you’re welcome. Once the cameras stopped recording he went over to Y/n hugging her. “That was real sweet what you said Rowdy.” She told him and he smiled pecking her lips. He would never treat her how they used to be ever again.
#jackhughes#new jersey devils#newjerseydevils#hockey men#hockey#hockey imagine#nhl hockey#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes x y/n#nhl imagine#imagine
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HIII if you’re able to do it can you make headcannons on what Simon would do if he saw the reader hurt
Also if you want can you also make some if he saw the reader severely hurt?
Thank you!! I hope you’re having an amazing day, I love your work❤️❤️❤️
Thank you so much, friend! I'll split this into two "portions", as it were, one for just a mild injury, and one for a more severe one.
Minor injury:
Kind of depends on the circumstances, really.
Granted, he doesn't like seeing you hurt no matter what, but if it's from something like you wiping out like someone from those "fail compilation" youtube videos, he's probably gonna laugh at you for a bit before he helps you up lmao.
Probably a quick "y'alright, love?" in between some chuckles.
He'll help you up, get you patched up, and let you be on your way.
Don't let him fool you though, he does baby you a bit when you're dealing with anything more than a scraped knee.
Fond of forcing you to just sit back and let him take care of everything in those circumstances, really.
Sprained ankle? Bedrest. Broken wrist? Bedrest. Slept wrong and now your neck's sore? More bedrest.
With anyone else, he's a big fan of the "rub some dirt on it and walk it off" approach, but he tends to favor you. (Gee. Wonder why lmao)
Major injury:
Everyone in the immediate vicinity had better get the hell out of his way if they know what's good for them, because he's hauling you to the hospital.
No, he's not waiting for an ambulance. He'll get you there faster than an ambulance could, anyway. Even if he has multiple cop cars on his tail as he gets there.
He tries to turn on the autopilot in his brain, tries to let his basic medical training take over so he can at least stabilize you somewhat before he takes you. But it's hard when you're lying there, unconscious and bleeding out.
Simon is a wreck as he waits for any word on your condition. Plenty of pacing, with an incredibly short fuse to match. He'll probably call one of the 141 to let them know what's going on, and with a thinly-veiled plea for them to come to the hospital.
A lot of guilt eats at him. Guilt for not being there when it happened, or for not protecting you from it if he was in attendance.
Doesn't matter if it was just a very unfortunate accident, the shame still wracks him.
He thinks back to his family. His mum, Tommy, Beth, Joseph. He couldn't protect them, either.
It'll take some time for him to accept the notion that whatever happened to you wasn't his fault.
Once you're awake, he's... quiet. Contemplative. Spends a lot of time just sitting by your side, holding your hand and rubbing a thumb along the skin there.
He gets a bit more overbearing after you're home. Won't really let you do much for yourself, insisting on helping you with just about everything.
#ghost scribbles#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader
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You're absolutely right, Eric Winter is the Godfather of sexyness🔥
Anyway, I hope you don't mind that I came up with with a The Rookie idea 🤗 hear me out my love hear me out:
Reader is a cop. Tim and her secretly harboring feelings for each other but they would never admit it
Everything was fine until one night when they were out with the others to celebrate and then they had a drunken one night stand
The next day Tim tells her that it was a mistake and they should forget about it. Reader is heartbroken and devastated.
Tim is also sad about the situation but he thinks it's for their best, so he even tries to avoid reader at work and she him
Until one day they have to partner up and go on patrol together
Above this uncomfortable situation reader is also feeling under the weather and feeling ill, but she doesn't want to show weakness towards Tim. So she tries to live trough the day despite her beginning to burn up and feeling weak
They got called to warehouse but it's a trap and they got captured
Tim finally starts to talk to her but notices how pale and sick she looks
He goes in full worried Tim mode
He tries to keep her calm and help her in her sick state
He apologizes for his behavior and they talk about their feelings
Reader is starting worsen, Tim holds her
With a lot of drama, sick reader, worried Tim until they're found
What do you think?
Have a nice day 💕💐
Intoxicated
Tim Bradford x reader
Warnings/Tags: 18+, mdni!, smut, unprotected p i v (wrap it before you tap it!), slight praise kink, hell of a lot angst, fluff
Word count: 4.939
Authors note: Hello love, thanks for the request! I absolutely loved it and I hope you'll like the way I wrote it! I don't know how, but somehow this ended up in present tense, not past tense. It's like my brain was offline when I started to write.
Anyways, I hope you don't mind!
Im pretty sure I switched somewhere between the tenses, and haven't corrected it yet, so please let me know!
Enjoy!
You can't help the giggle that escapes you, when you try to open your door. Tim giggles along with you, his smile being so much more intoxicating in this moment, than you remember it.
Even though he's just waiting for you to open your door to bid you good night, before he would continue on to his own house, you can't help the exited feeling that's cursing through your veins.
You'd give more than everything to have him stay over. But that's just a fantasy - a very good one, but still.
You are colleagues, nothing more. Good friends, maybe, but that's it.
You're just coming home from a night out with your friends and other colleagues, having had a drink too much.
Tim had to hold you up all the way to your house, or otherwise you would have stumbled and fallen most of the time.
His hands had felt wonderful on your waist, a feeling that would surely burn its way into your brain forever.
When you finally hear the familiar click, you look up at him in triumph. He cocks a brow, huffing a laugh at your proud smile.
Heaving a sigh, you push the door open, turning back around to him. He's still looking at you, his face adorned by a warm smile though his eyes seem darker in the light of your porch's lantern.
The atmosphere prickles like electricity, it's thick - at least it is for you, as you inhale shakily.
He swallows thickly, taking a step closer.
"Are you sure you can take it from here?" he rasps, his voice suddenly hoarse. "Or do you need any help?"
He can't deny that he secretly hopes you would want his help. You had been intoxicating the whole evening, catching his gaze more than once with the way you looked and carried yourself that night.
His fingers feel numb, as the electricity shoots through them, his heart beating unsteadily.
Yours does the same, eyes locked onto his, as you search your mind for an answer.
"Some help would be great." you finally breathe out, watching his adam's apple bob, as he swallows again.
Nodding, he bites his lip, before you walk inside backwards, placing your keys on the dresser beside the door.
Once he crosses the threshold, he pushes the door closed with one hand, gaze still locked on yours.
Your breathing becomes shallow, heart pumping in your throat, as you anticipate his next moves.
Would he really just help you, so you'd be tucked in bed safely, before he left? Or would he help you in the most delicious way, the one you secretly yearn for?
Once the door clicks shut, he closes the distance, his hands grabbing your neck, as he pulls you closer. His lips meet yours like a starved man, not sweet, but hungrily and demanding.
Butterflies erupt in your stomach, his sudden boldness leaving you dizzy.
Your hands interlock behind his neck, one of them brushing though his hair, as you tug him even closer.
His tongue brushes over your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You give in more than willingly, sighing into his mouth, as his hands find your waist.
His touch almost burns you, the intensity of his kisses soon leaving you breathless. It's a sensation you're sure you'll never forget.
He pushes you against the wall behind you, hands wandering further down, before they grab your thighs, letting you know that he wants you to jump.
And so you do.
As he walks you towards your bedroom, you can't help but sigh dreamily.
This is all you had silently wished for.
Even though you are drunk, you suddenly feel sober again.
As he lies you down on your bed, his lips leave yours, sucking on your neck instead. You moan as he finds that sweet spot that has your toes curling, causing him to suck even harsher.
His hard-on presses against your thigh, giving you a hint of what lies beneath the jeans - it was a lot.
He grabs the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head, before discarding of it on the floor. His lips greedily trace every inch of skin he exposed, kissing his way down the valley of your breasts, fingers fumbling for the clip of your bra.
Once he opens it, he lets it join your shirt on the floor, one of his hands grabbing a breast, kneading it. It makes you moan, arching your back into him.
It doesn't take him long to move further downwards, getting rid of your pants and underwear, after removing his shirt. He tugs you closer to the edge of the bed with his arms wrapped around your thighs, breath ghosting over your heat.
You are a whimpering mess under him, only growing louder, as his mouth attaches to your clit, sucking and licking, his hands firmly holding you in place.
Your sounds spur him on, his name on your lips; his hips frantically rolling against the bed frame in search for some friction. He hums at the taste of you, the sound vibrating through your cunt, eliciting another string of moans to fall from your lips.
He alternates between licking and sucking, tongue circling your entrance, before he slowly pushes a finger inside. He curls it just right, hitting that spongy spot that has his name cried into the night.
In a matter of minutes he has you coming on his tongue and fingers, riding you through your first orgasm of the night, as you continue to whimper his name like a mantra. He takes everything you give him, greedily lapping at you.
You can taste yourself on his lips, his tongue licking into your mouth. When he pushes inside it causes you both to groan, and he hisses as you grip him so tightly.
Panting, you try to calm your racing heart, as he pulls off his pants, before joining you on the bed again. His lips entangle with yours, as he aligns his cock with your entrance.
Falling into a steady rhythm, your legs wrap around his waist, granting him even deeper access. You can't help but gaze down at where you both are connected, moaning at the sight.
His lips find yours again, before they brush down your throat, kissing and sucking, stars appearing behind your closed eyelids, as your head tilts back.
You moan loudly, when he hits that sweet spot, cock softly kissing it. He does it again and again, hitting it so good.
"You're so tight." he grits out and you whimper in return. "Takin' me so good."
His words send shivers down your spine and you clench down on him. He hisses in return, smirking to himself. "You're doing so good for me, gripping me so deliciously." he praises, drawing a strangled moan from you.
"I'm close, Tim!" you breathe out, gazing up at him through hooded eyes. His meet yours and he nods. "Me too, baby." His lips graze your cheek, brushing up to the shell of your ear. "Come for me." he demands, hips snapping against yours. "Come all over my cock for me."
You cry out his name, following his demand as you come hard, squeezing him and he follows, stilling balls deep inside you, as he paints your walls with his cum.
You pant, shivering as he fills you up, his cum slowly oozing back out of you.
You swallow, heart pounding violently against your ribs. Tim slips out of you and you shudder at the sudden emptiness.
Sitting up, you watch as he collects his clothes, putting them back on. Suddenly it's awkward as you're sitting there, unsure of what you should do.
Scrambling for your own clothes you mimic his actions, until you're standing in front of each other, fully dressed again.
He seems hesitant, not sure what to do or say either.
"I'm gonna head home." he then says, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "See you tomorrow."
You just nod, eyes following as he walks to the door, eyes meeting yours for a split second, before he leaves.
You feel like shit.
Used, that somehow sums it up.
Walking into the bedroom you shed your clothes again, before stepping into the shower and turning the water on.
Trying to forget the gnawing feeling in your stomach, you scrub at your body, trying to wash him off of you.
His touch, his kisses, his scent.
But it doesn't work.
Not even the saltiness of your tears gets the feeling of his lips off your skin.
When you're lying in bed, wide awake, you try to think of anything other than him.
But nothing works.
_____
When the alarm goes off the next morning, you groan, rolling over to shut it off.
You haven't slept much, barely able to slip into the darkness without his face behind your closed eyelids.
Getting ready for work, you drag yourself around the house, before gathering your keys and heading to the station.
Somehow it feels strange, everyone seems to stare at you, like they know what you and Tim did last night.
But they don't, and they're not actually staring at you, barely glancing your way as you bid good morning.
Tim is already there, you've seen his truck when you parked. Dread is eating at you, not sure if you want to see him at all.
Walking into roll call, taking a seat at your usual spot, your eyes scan the room. He isn't there yet, but as you realize he'd sit right beside you - like he usually would - your heart picks up its speed.
Panic suddenly floods you, as you consider if you should go sit somewhere else.
But as the room slowly fills with people, your chance at another seat reduces more and more. When Tim enters the room, you stiffen.
Missed your chance.
He avoids looking at you, only mumbling a good morning, as he takes a seat beside you. Your arms brush against each other, and you flinch back involuntarily.
His eyes find yours at the motion for the briefest of moments, before they avert. Shrinking into your seat, you bite you lip, arms pressed to your body to avoid another touch.
Suddenly, you regret what you did last night. It seems to have changed everything - how could it not, right?
What else do you expect?
Sighing quietly, you wait for Grey to begin, so you could concentrate on him instead.
He assigns tasks, before he dismisses you.
Breathing a sigh of relief, you get up hastily, but Tim has the same idea.
You bump into each other like two teenagers on the run, before he takes the lead, walking out of the room in front of you.
"Tim!" you call out after him, before you can stop yourself, flinching internally.
He stops in his tracks, biting his cheek, before he gathers the courage to turn around to you.
"Yeah?" he asks, taking a step closer. You search his eyes for any indication of regret, unfortunately finding it.
He looks pained, like he wants to get away from this conversation as fast as possible.
"Can we talk?" you ask, voice lowered so other colleagues wouldn't hear. His eyes swipe through the room, before he nods once.
You follow him into the empty break room, stopping when he does.
"What do you want to talk about?" he wants to know, like he doesn't already know the answer.
"Last night." you press out, fighting to keep up the eye contact. He nods, biting his cheek again.
"Look, I know we... had sex, but it was a mistake, okay? It won't happen again." he says, all the while keeping a straight face.
Your heart crushes, but you won't let him see it.
You can't.
Not when he had you moan his name so often last night, that you aren't able to think anything else other than Tim.
Not to mention the way he talked to you. Or more like praised you.
A cold shiver runs down your spine, as you gape at him like a fish.
Cheeks flaming up, you look away, jaw ticking as you try to suppress the tears.
His face contorts, pain flashing through his eyes. He hates doing this to you, but he has no other choice.
Thankfully, you don't see it, as he steels himself, before you look back up at him.
Before you can say anything, someone enters the room, seemingly in search for some bad coffee.
Without another glance, you turn around, leaving him behind to find your rookie, his carefully put up mask crumbling with a pang in his heart.
Finding your rookie - or rather John's, but yours for the day, considering John isn't at the station until tomorrow - you send her a small smile.
"Celina." you greet her with a nod, motioning for her to walk towards the already prepared war bags, gathering them along with the guns.
She carries them towards the shop, storing them in the back, before heading to the passenger side.
"What's up with you?" she asks, sending you a worried glance. Brows furrowing, you get into the shop, buckling up. "Don't know what you're talking about." you give back, starting the engine.
You have been talking to her a lot since she started as a rookie, getting along pretty well.
That she can seemingly read you so well, has you swallowing.
This shift will be a stressful one.
_____
And it is.
You swear at some point Celina's stares have begun to burn holes into your skin.
"What happened?" she asks for what feels like the hundredth time, barely two hours into the shift. "I'm sensing strong discomfort."
Sighing, you grumble her name, though you know she probably won't stop. With Nolan she wouldn't be this forward, but you two had become sort of friends over the past few months.
"Okay, yes something happened." you finally give in with wide eyes and a motion that said 'happy now?', before carefully scanning your surroundings, as a sigh leaves your lips.
"With Tim?" she asks, still looking at you, even though you refuse to meet her gaze. "Did you sleep with each other?"
"No!" you respond a little too fast, eyes widening even more, causing her to tilt her head at you with a cocked brow.
"...maybe?"
Her own eyes widen as well, not having expected to be right with her assumption. "Wait what?" she gasps, leaning forward in her seat.
Rolling your eyes, you silently hope for a call, something to get you out if this situation.
And you're prayers are heard.
_____
It has been a week that feels like a whole month.
Tim avoids you whenever he can, and you do the same.
You should have known it would ruin everything.
Waiting for Grey to finish, you squint your eyes. Everything has been blurry since the morning, your body heating up slowly as time passes.
But you didn't want to call in sick, so you pushed through and to work with a sigh to yourself. You aren't one that gets sick fast, so you intended for it not to stop you.
"Bradford, you're with Y/L/N today." Grey's voice rips you out of your thoughts, gaze snapping up. If he sees the look of disbelief and panic on your face, he doesn't show it.
Or he simply doesn't care, as your watch commander.
Standing, your eyes hesitantly meet Tim's, who's across the room. You had switched seats with another colleague, so you wouldn't be sitting beside Tim anymore.
Sighing, you follow him, as he leaves the room, heading for the shop.
When you both stop behind it, his brows furrow. "Where are the war bags?" he wants to know, and your brows furrow as well. "Thought you'd get them." you mumble, avoiding eye contact.
He groans in annoyance, the sound making you feel worse, before he leaves, going to gather the things you need.
Fumbling with your body cam nervously, you wait for him in the shop, glancing into the side mirror, when the doors slide back open. He stores the bags and guns in the back, before getting into the drivers seat.
You don't talk, as he leaves the garage, driving out onto the bustling streets of Los Angeles.
Sighing to yourself, you adjust in your seat, back aching. His eyes drift over to you for a brief moment, taking in your appereance.
You are looking uncomfortable, but not only from the current situation. There are bags under your eyes, indicating that you didn't get enough sleep. The slightest bit of sweat makes your forehead glisten, and he wonders if you're feeling ill.
But he holds his tongue, not saying anything.
Your heart races, only adding to the uncomfortable feeling creeping into your bones. It isn't only Tim's presence, but whatever you might have caught, as well.
Coughing quietly, you lean forward in your seat; inhaling deeply, when you can breathe again. Yesterday you were feeling good, so why are you getting so sick now?
Tim's eyes wander back to you, brows furrowing, before he looks back out of the window.
The silence is deafening, tension palpable. Your tongue feels like lead, your feelings making it hard to speak.
"Can we stop to get more water?" you ask hoarsely, not daring to look his way. He nods, the crease between his brows deepening, as does his worry for you.
He can't deny that he's worried, not sure what you are going through that has you looking so pale. He's sure it's not only his presence, though.
When he parks, he motions for you to stay in the car, getting out, before you can protest. Huffing, you lean back in your seat, silently grateful that you don't have to go yourself.
Eyes closing, you breathe in deeply, trying to relax and lessen some of the pain in your back. But, when the door opens and Tim gets back into the shop, all relaxation goes out of the window again.
"Are you okay?" he wants to know, handing you two bottles of water. You nod, taking them without really looking at him, shivering as his hand brushes yours.
"I'm fine." you assure him, trying to sound stronger than you actually feel.
His teeth grit, but he doesn't push further - he doesn't have the right to, not when he's possibly responsible for how you're feeling.
With a nod, he buckles up, starting the engine and driving south, when the radio comes to life.
"7-Adam-100, we have a reported dispute, possibly armed, at a warehouse, 5601 Pico Boulevard. Do you copy?" "7-Adam-100, dispute, possibly armed, at 5601 Pico Boulevard." Tim speaks into the radio. "Copy, we're on it."
You rub your temples, clearing your throat, as you try to clear your head as well, shaking off the uneasy feeling.
The drive is quiet, except for the sirens, adrenaline pushing through your veins, alleviating some of the pain and aching. When you arrive, you draw your gun, hopping out of the shop and quietly following Tim.
Heading inside carefully, you start to clear the place, brows furrowing at how quiet it is.
How odd.
That is, until something heavy hits your head, and all you suddenly see is darkness.
With a groan you startle awake, sight blurry, as you try to make out your whereabouts. The air smells dusty and bad, brows furrowing. Pain shoots through your head, and you groan again.
What happened?
Blinking, you try to clear your vision, slowly making out another silhouette. "Tim?" you breathe out, once you're able to make him out in the light above.
He grumbles something, before his eyes meet yours.
"Hey," he brings over his split lips, blood already drying. "You're awake, thank god." You try to swallow the dryness in your throat away, but it makes you cough.
You feel feverish, body aching to the bones. You swallow again, in desperate need for some water. Sweat trickles down your neck and forehead, hair sticking to your skin.
You feel like shit.
"I'm not feeling good, Tim." you mumble, head lolling to the side. "Hey, stay awake!" Tim demands, causing your eyes to snap back to him.
He's bound to a chair, diagonally sitting beside you. Eyes widening, you realize you've been captured.
"Either they hit you real hard, or somethings up with you." he speaks, trying to analyze you from his position. "Either way, you're not looking good."
You huff, anger bubbling up beside the sick feeling in your stomach, vision lightly turning, but you try to keep it together. "As if you care."
He looks genuinely taken aback, forgetting he's being held captured for a moment. "Why wouldn't I?" he wants to know, leaning forward as best as he can.
"Because you refuse to even look at me." you retort, looking away, trying to inspect your surroundings instead. It's dark, except for the lamp dangling above you. "Because you refuse to engage with me no matter how."
You hear him swallow, as he licks his lips.
"That's not true." he mutters, inhaling shakily. Your gaze snaps to his, disbelief painted on your face. He holds your gaze, his own hardening slightly. "I do care. I care enough to end things before you can regret them."
You laugh dryly, anger seeping through.
"And what's with fucking me?" you ask, biting your cheek. "What about that?"
He flinches, swallowing again, as his gaze wavers. "We were drunk." he tries to play it off, shaking his head with a frown. "We weren't that drunk." you give back, leaning further back in the chair.
It's quiet for a while, your body growing hotter, the more time passes. You cough, groaning at the sick feeling that's making your stomach turn like a washing machine.
"You're sick." Tim realizes, eyes widening and you chuckle coldly. "No shit, Sherlock."
Someone chuckles behind you, causing you to jump in your chair, the wood scraping over the floor angrily. Heart racing, you try to catch your breath, head turning to watch the man come up in front of you.
"Well, that's the wonders of our chemical knowledge." he speaks, his accent thick. It sounds Italian, you think, as your brows furrow, same as Tim's.
"A bit of this, a bit of that, and you have a potent poison that makes you feverish, nauseous and sick."
Breath fastening, you swallow thickly, glancing at Tim. He fumes in his seat, eyes shooting daggers at your captor, who seems unfazed by it.
Panic grips at you with its iron claws, shivers running down your spine.
"Don't worry, it's nothing too serious." the man explains, grimacing. "Wouldn't want a dead cop on me, no. It'll wear off, but it gives me the perfect opportunity to tell you-" He cuts himself off, a sick grin splitting his lips, revealing pearly white teeth.
"Whups, maybe it is deadly. Should have read the description better, I guess."
Tim leaps forward, only held back by the thick ropes around his wrists. Fire spits from his eyes, and something tells you he'd kill the guy, if he wasn't restricted.
You try to focus, failing as you begin to hyperventilate.
I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die.
You hear the man laugh heartily, like he just heard the best joke on earth. Tears well up in your eyes, and you can only partly make out the mans frame slowly stepping back into the darkness, eventually slamming a door behind him somewhere down the warehouse.
Tim yells after him, tugging on the binds, the chair scraping over the floor with the sheer force of his tugs.
When the tears start to fall, you hear a crack, followed by a grunt.
Tim has managed to tip the chair over, bringing enough force with him to break a part of it, using it to free himself.
"Hold on Y/N." he says, working on the rope with the wood. "I'm here with you."
You sob, dread eating you alive. You are gonna die, and you didn't even have a chance to really live your life.
Another grunt, and he has freed himself.
Making his way over, he starts to untie the ropes around your wrists, but the fever burning your whole body blocks the feeling of his skin on yours out. When he's kneeling in front of you, his hand softly connecting with your forehead, you flinch at how cold he feels.
"Fuck." he mumbles, knowing that your skin was way too hot.
He helps you down from the chair onto the cold floor, fishing for his back up phone, that was clipped to his body, where your captor didn't find it.
He dialed the station, calling for an ambulance.
Breathing heavily, the tears run down your cheeks in cold tracks. When he ends the call, he brings you into his arms, embracing you in a hug.
"I'm so sorry." he mumbles into your hair, his breath cooling your burning skin. "I'm so sorry."
You sob, choking on your tears.
"Don't be." you whisper, hands fisting his shirt. "It's not your fault." But he shakes his head, something cool hitting your skin - a tear.
"I shouldn't have distanced myself from you." he speaks, tugging you even closer. "I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry."
Shaking your head, you rest your forehead on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. "You didn't want to be near me after what happened, I don't blame you." you tell him, swallowing, but he shakes his head frantically.
"That's not true."
Your brows furrow, lips trembling. "What do you mean?" you rasp out, coughing once. "I mean that I didn't want to distance myself." he explains, a shaky hand brushing through your sweaty hair. "You have no clue how badly I wanted to be near you. But I didn't want to ruin what we have, I didn't want to face the possibility that you'd regret what we did. So I tried to give you space, telling myself, that it was the right thing to do."
A sob racks through your body, shaking him with you.
"But I don't regret it." you tell him, more tears falling. "I don't, because I love you."
It's now or never.
He stiffens, before he's the one shaking you now, with a sob of his own.
You are in his arms, dying, and you just told him what he was wishing to hear from you for god knows how long.
But you are dying.
"I love you, Tim." you tell him again, lifting your head to rest your cheek on his shoulder, nose brushing his pulse point. "And I don't regret it, not for a second."
He breathes out shakily, holding you against him. "I love you too, Y/N." he rasps out, smiling despite the situation you were in. You breathe a sigh of relief, and it let's you see a light at the end of the tunnel, if even for just a moment.
Black splotches obscure your vision, the world around you slowly fading. But you don't care anymore, not when you are held by the man you so deeply loved.
"Hey, hey!" you hear him say, his face coming into view, as he pats your cheek. "Stay with me, Y/N." You nod, trying to follow his demand, but it gets harder with each passing second.
You hear sirens in the distance, shouting, as Tim rocks you in his arms, after pulling you back into them.
As your world slowly turns black, you can't help but smile.
He loves you.
_____
A strange sound wakes you, it's steady rhythm calling you back into consciousness. Bright light blinds you, as you try to open your eyes, making you groan in discomfort.
Something beside you shuffles, a chair being moved closer.
"Hey." you hear him say, before your vision slowly clears and his handsome features come into view. Sighing dreamily, you try to sit up and he helps you, moving the bed up so you can sit more comfortably.
He holds out a glass to you, moving it to your dry lips so you could take a few much needed sips.
"How are you feeling?" he wants to know, putting the glass back on the table beside him. "Like shit." you mumble, sighing again. He nods, biting his cheek. "But at least I'm alive, right?"
He huffs, elbows coming to rest on the bed. "They arrested the man, Damiano- I don't know what, and he's in custody right now." he tells you, hands wiping over his face.
You nod, relieved. "That's good." you say, sending Tim a small smile. He nods, barely registering. "He almost killed you." he mutters, frustration and anger clear as day on his face. "We barely managed to get here in time, to give you an antidote. And all just to teach the police a much needed lesson."
Carefully taking his hand, you give it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm alive." you remind him, and his gaze turns to you. "But-" "I'm. Alive."
He halts, swallowing, before he nods slightly.
It's silent for a moment, as you tug him closer. "Please tell me I didn't dream all of that." you tell him, trying to avert his attention. He huffs, a small smile gracing his lips. "No, you didn't." he assures you.
Your smile widens, tears burning in your eyes.
"Can you say it again?" you ask him quietly, sitting more upright. He chuckles, leaning more towards you. "I love you." he says, and you chuckle in glee. "Again."
He huffs playfully, scooting closer, so his face is inches from yours.
"I love you."
Pushing forward, your lips graze his. "I love you, too." you say, before he closes the small gap, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss, a silent promise.
He'd never distance himself from you again.
Not now, not ever.
He simply couldn't.
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#the rookie#the rookie imagine#the rookie x reader#the rookie x u#tim bradford#tim bradford x reader#tim bradford x you#tim bradford imagine#imagine#tim bradford smut#multi
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First off thank you much for the lovely response to my last thoughts. I was very nervous about posting and got a lot of good replies, notes and reblogs. This fandom is the best. I think it's important to see both sides and I wanted Tim's to be represented in a way that gave insight without condoning what he'd done. (Cause our boy done messed up.) So giving a little of myself achieved that I believe.
I didn't know a ton about this ep cause I’m a square who stays away from spoilers haha So let’s get started.
6x08 Punch Card
Ugh my heart Tim got a reminder for Lucy’s Bday. Instant heart stomping already….I love that he had a reminder set up though. Making sure he would't forget. I’m crying already. Even though I'm so very sad. I love that he had this setup. When the elevator opens the amount of tension is palpable. Something felt very wrong. Good thing Tim was lost in his Lucy moment or he would've picked up on this sooner.
Poor Tim just wants to explain himself to Mad Dog. To explain what happened. The man is not in a place to receive it and we see later why. That look said it all though when Mad Dog departs. When Dr. London said she just took the wrong elevator my red flag gut was going off.
Now that I've see the episode as a whole I can see Dr. London's play here. She seems to use flirting as a defense mechanism all her own. To protect herself and manipulate those around her. I mean they brought her flirt fest with Aaron in the recap back for a reason I think. She's worried Tim read into something about her interaction with Mad Dog. I mean Tim is clearly upset about seeing him and she uses that to deflect attention off herself. My off meter definitely was kicking on with her. Especially with how flirty she was being I didn't like it.
Now some may see Tim's response as him flirting back but I think he's investigating her. Also he's being a little sassy because he's not comfortable with her doing therapy outside the office. I mean his face when he leaves that elevator is not of a man who just flirted. It's one who is one still hurting and two his cop gut is going off but he isn't sure why....He seems conflicted by what just went down in that elevator. Just like us he was feeling off about her.
This scene was very cute with Grey. I loved him anointing her to be a T.O. LOL Also once again showing the faith he has in Lucy. To train Celina and know she would do a good job. I was excited for this opportunity for her. For her to tap into leadership. Honestly it shouldn't have taken this long for Lucy to get to show her chops with this.
Tim is so busy trying to delete his Lucy reminder he runs into the physical version of it without realizing. Andddddd it’s still awkward af between them. How could It not be? No communication between them so naturally it is. Stilted awkwardness. Lucy got out of there so fast. Even with Tim making the all powerful joke. Trying to make it less awkward. Ow. Couldn't get away fast enough. The way he watches her go. *sigh* Like he's watching his entire heart depart the room.
This hurts you guys. No matter how much I know it’ll be ok at some point this hurts to watch. Grey not pulling any punches noting how very awkward that was. Tim telling him that's actually better than it's been....Makes me wonder how much time has passed between 6x07 and now. Wade not caring that's progress to Tim. He is not messing around....
Just wants Tim to fix is ASAP cause of the team dynamic. He's not wrong. Man isn't wrong. Rarely if ever is. Saying if Tim can't there’s gonna be a transfer and it won’t be Lucy….I mean I LOVE Grey siding with Lucy on this one. Not a doubt in his mind if it shakes out that way it'll be Tim. That being said just hearing that. Ugh. Deep anxiety pit of my stomach. And of course it would be friggin North Hollywood. That damn station been haunting them since S2. Looming over them ready to take one of them away.
Lucy being Celina’s T.O .for the day I love it. She is so excited to be her leader even if it's just for this shift. Just wants to 'Invest in her success.' You know Lucy's leadership is pretty damn identical to how I am with my team. While I am mostly Tim there are pieces of Lucy in me as well. I related to her style of leadership quite a bit.
Aaron and Tim in the surveillance van is hilarious. Their dynamic has always entertained me. I truly adore these two goobers together. Tim is trying so hard to keep his shit together. Aaron dying of ask him if he finds it hard to surveil his old team for an OP? Tim of course gives him the company line. Doing what he is told without complaint. Pulling out some S1 Tim with that reply my love.
Tim then telling him he needs a stronger deodorant LOL It's too funny. What a boring assignment for them both. Tim went from running that entire team. Doing ops and making decisions on the fly to this….Also Aaron being too distracted by his deodorant comment to pay attention is the most Aaron thing ever haha
What I love the most about Lucy with Celina is her correcting without crushing her confidence. Once again reminding me of myself when I'm correcting my work kids on stuff. She is kind but confident in her assessment of what she did wrong in this moment. Celina receiving it well because she handles it this way. Lucy out here crushing it already with zero T.O. training. Just going off instinct and what she would want if she was a newbie still. Once again her and I very alike.
Oh Tim getting that reminder again. *heart clutch.* Sigh my boy. Aaron offering to turn it off for him. I love that he was gonna have it remind him through out the day. Pre-breakup Tim clearly didn't want to forget. Wanted to make sure he not only knew it was but to make sure to make a big deal of it. That's just an assumption on my part but man would've wanted to do that. it's the way he has 'TOMORROW.' Wanting to make sure he didn't forget such an important day. *screams into a pillow.* Aaron asking if he’s gonna get her anything? I’m sure he had stuff in mind. But yeah bad form indeed…
Tim’s sweet smile when he finds out what Aaron got her. Knowing how perfect of a gift that would be for her. That sweet knowing smile makes me wanna weep a bit. He knows his girl so well. Lot of sadness attached to the smile though. 'Can I ask why ya’ll split up?' 'No.' LMAO Took it too far Aaron....You're lucky you got that much good sir.
This scene with Mad Dog hurt my heart for Tim. No matter how wrong he was for what he did I still hate seeing this. This was what I was worried about with him working with Metro. Picking at the wounds he hasn’t even begun to heal about how he left. I knew him making notes on the OP was going to come back and bite him in the ass. Watching all his repercussions is painful to see I have to say. Knowing what we know about Mad Dog later I think that's part of why he goes off on Tim. Doesn't make it any easier to watch though...
Friggin Love Lucy being a BAMF in this episode. Especially in this moment. When she once again corrects but doesn't crush Celina about her gun. It's the way she guides Celina and has control over every situation they encounter in this ep. Proving herself a worthy teacher and leader. Also she was a better teacher to Celina in one episode than Nolan has been her entire career. Dude is a stinker of a T.O. It shows in how Celina makes basic mistakes Lucy had down pat long before this time in her rookie year.
Too bad Lucy can't finish out her training and Nolan is booted. But that'll never happen nothing sticks to that man. Not since S3 premiere. The rules and repercussions are rubber and he's glue. What doesn't stick to him does to everyone else... Grey should really evaluate his teaching skills. But that'll never happen. But she deserves a better teacher than him.
From the minute Tim entered the room something seemed very wrong. From the way Mad Dog was just expecting Tim to flog him. Like he wanted Tim to ream him out for how the OP went down. Also how Mad Dog seemed nervous af to see Dr London. I mean look at that man above. He is scared shitless she is there to see him. The way he watches her though out the scene. Especially when she leaves.
Tim's cop gut is going off like crazy when she enters the room. Wondering how the hell she even know about this? He seems to take her answer at face value because honestly its pretty good considering it's a bold faced lie. Tim once again feeling like something is very off but isn't sure why.
First let me say once again I feel personally attacked by the choice in song once again. lol I couldn't find the song to save my life. The lyrics are *chef kiss.* They're painfully accurate for them both. Think they've been very intentional with their ending music and just in general this season. These lyrics filled me with some hope as well. Jotted down the lyrics since couldn't find the song.
‘When the sun won’t shine and the words don’t rhyme. And there’s mountains you can’t move. Somethings on your mind and it’s been some time-since you felt like you were you. When it all caves in feeling paper thin. And the pain might cut right through.
Oh child, Lift up your head. All this trouble's only gonna last for awhile.’ Yeah we’re gonna be all right oh child. Lift up your head. And the light's gonna find you. When you feel like you ain’t got a friend. And you’re wondering if you ever gonna smile again. Every little thing gonna be ok. I know that you gonna see better days.’ *heart clutch.*
Damn smart of Tim saying happy birthday from Kojo and not him. I’m not crying you are. This was so so sweet. Lucy's reaction to Kojo got me all in my feels. She's so excited to see him. Then that excitement melts into sadness. Because he's an extension of Tim. The way she pet's him and says how much she misses him ugh.
Seems there is a double meaning going on there. We all know despite the hurt how much she misses her person. Tim just standing there only imagining her reaction when Kojo makes his way back. What a way to bring that sweet boy back in. I'm so happy about it. Tim is respecting her space but couldn’t let her bday go without doing something. Had to let her know her was thinking of her still. The fact that it’s happening in the hallway where so many seminal moments have played out for them.... I wanna cry.
I LOVE that Tim got Kojo to put his little paw in ink for the card. It is so sweet. Their fur baby. He put serious thought and effort into this. This was so well done. Only Melissa and Eric could have chemistry without even seeing each other. This is the first time we've really seen Lucy cry about them. 6x06 she was in complete shock. 6x07 was her processing her thoughts/emotions. She was on the verge of tears but we didn't see her cry. This was first time we've seen her shed tears on screen at least since the break up. Wanna hug her so much. She deserved this card and more. Like a real conversation with him but this is a good start.
She knows this is Tim reaching out without physically doing so. Showing her he still cares. I mean he clearly very much does. You don't put thought and effort in like this if you don't. It's a huge thing for him to do right now. Lucy recognizes the effort in this adorable act. Tim's face after she reads the card. Ripping my damn heart out. The absolute regret splayed all over it. Like it’s finally hitting him what he’s done to her. What he’s lost in the process. He gave up his favorite person. His happy place and just it’s hitting him square in his chest.
Like a freight train that’s run him over. It's the way he shakes his head. Kicking himself. Knowing he hastily threw them away. What a mistake he’s made in his irrational decision making. It’s written all over his beautiful face. He may not fully understand yet why he did it but the regret is evident. Eric be killing me. His face screams all that. Knowing he should’ve been with Lucy for her birthday. Hell probably sharing that bath bomb she brought up with her. Killing me softly. Hurts so good. Damnit writers... This is being handled so well though. So hats off to them. They both needed this moment more than either of them knew.
Mad dog killing himself....jesus H Christ. Poor Tim the last thing he needs is this. It explains why he was extra nasty to Tim though. Tim saw the flaw in his play and freaked the hell out. Also for Tim to see someone he once trusted with his life compromise themselves. Compromise the safety of their own men. Gut punch. And for what? Money? Power? We won't know till more of this unravels. Whatever it is won't be for a good reason. I know Tim hates himself for his mistakes. But those mistakes always had some form of honor attached to them.
He may not see that but I do. Now the op where he got his men killed no but what he did after was honorable. What he did for Mitch came from a honorable place. I just wonder how seeing Mad Dog doing something so very un-honorable is gonna affect him moving forward...Oh my lord I’m so mad about Dr London not because I liked her. But because I didn’t want it to derail Tim’s therapy in any way. The man needs it. Here’s hoping he continues in s7 with someone better.
Everyone was right she’s a dirty birdy. I was just hoping she wouldn’t be. But my ick and uncomfortable factor went WAY up in this ep with her. I knew it was inevitable. It's not that I didn't want to be wrong about her. It's the fact I didn't want this to hurt Aaron and I definitely I didn’t want her to be dirty for Tim that was it. For his therapy and the progress he's made. I hope this doesn’t affect his therapy journey and he can find someone not compromised in S7.
That promo for next week oh my lord….the hug! The hug! "This doesn't change anything." Then pulls him right in like nothing's changed. I will be living there from now on. Or until next week lol Love the Finale being a 2 parter as well. Phew this is gonna be an intense ending to this season. Gonna be chomping at the bit for S7 once it's done I know it. Like the song stated we're gonna see better days. I truly believe that. We got this my lovely fandom. Thank you for always being so wonderfully receptive of these reviews. Appreciate any likes, comments or reblogs that come my way.
~~~
Side notes-non Chenford
Angela shooting Monica down with Wesley. She's an Epic Queen and I adore her.
Dr London is in alliance with Monica. That's super great….cool cool cool……I have a feeling and D and I discussed this earlier. Reminds us of Armstrong. This feels more like a she's been forced into it a situation. Because its obvious she's good at her job.
But the way she freaked out about the cops being hurt clearly shook her. She looked on the verge of tears in Mad Dog's room. So do I think she's a bad person? Unsure at the moment. Do I think she was once a good person who was manipulated into whatever this alliance is? I do. Be interesting to see how her SL unfolds.
#Caitlin's Mini reviews#chenford#s6#6x08 Punch Card#the rookie 6x08#tim x lucy#lucy x tim#tim bradford#lucy chen#eric winter#melissa o'neil#otp: doing my job#otp: unless it is
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AITA for not giving my girlfriend enough attention?
This will be long, there's a lot to put and I don't want to miss anything, sorry if anythiny isn't important, just trying not to miss anything. I want to start this off by saying it's been many years since this happened, I'm past this whole thing, but curious as to what others think because I've gotten mixed answers. After reading the reactions to the jar of pickles story, I have a feeling I'm going to get a lot of ESH and I understand lol.
I (15f at the time) was in my first relationship with a girl I'll call Elle (16f at the time). Now I had a really bad childhood, this is important to the story because I spent most of my life in foster homes and it definitely affected our relationship. This all happened right after I moved to a new state (so long distance relationship). Elle and I never really had any big issues in our relationship before this (besides the one time I was "kidnapped" and I'll get into that later). We ended up staying together for 2 years. We talked daily and very often, before school and after school, sometimes during school. All this to say we had a very good relationship (Extra: I was 13 to 15 during this relationship, she was 14 to 16 during it)
With all that out of the way, here's the story. I had met Elle right after I was moved back in with my biological mother, my mother was not in a good place at all, she moved us to a new state to start over, I met Elle because of this move. We stayed for a while before my mother got back into bad habits and moved us to another state. My communication with Elle dropped around 2 months after this move. My mother fell back into bad habits again and it caught up to her. I was removed from her care and placed in another foster home, they took my phone and I didn't have a way to contact Elle for those 2 months. Elle knew about this, I warned her when my mother ran away and when the cops showed up that I wasn't sure what was happening but I might not be in contact.
After those two months, I got a phone from my foster family and was able to talk to Elle again. We went back to talking daily for another year before the communication dipped a bit. I once again had warned her that this might happen as I was moved to another home with stricter rules. I fought to get back in contact with her again, it only took a month this time. A few months later, I was going through the process of being adopted, if you've ever been adopted, you know how much there is to do and how stressful it is. I could've pushed through and just talked to her daily but I was 15 and I was stressed and needed time, so I told her I'd be offline for a bit again. I had lost my sister, mother, and home less than a year before this and I was not ready to be adopted. (You don't have to agree with my choice, I don't know if it was the right or wrong one but it was what I picked to do)
I was offline for a month, when I came back we talked like normal. Everything was fine for a week, then she told me she felt like I was neglecting her. I would take months offline and refused to give her attention and she couldn't vent about it to anyone because she wasn't ready to tell her family about us and our friends all thought she wasn't being understanding enough. I tried to explain that I was in a bad spot and anytime I wasn't giving her attention was not my fault (I shouldn't have phrased it like that when talking to her but again I was 15). Most of them had been due to me having no way to contact her, once was me needing time to myself because of everything going on in my life, and once was because I had been "kidnapped" by a family member and wasn't allowed to be online (which she was upset with me for because she couldn't understand how family can kidnap you or how I couldn't just take their phone and contact her). I don't blame her for not wanting to be in a relationship like this, it was only her second relationship and it definitely wasn't the type of relationship any 16 year old wants. However, she blamed me for not giving her attention when she needed it and blamed me for not finding other ways to contact her. She then dumped me for being a bad girlfriend. I did later vent to many of our friends about her blaming me for what I couldn't control. So, Tumblr, aita for not giving my girlfriend enough attention?
(Please don't bash either of us too much in the comments, we were dumb kids in our first and second relationship and I'm sure we've both grown up a lot since this. I don't blame her for being upset, I wish things had gone differently. I've aged out of the system now, I'm an adult and in a healthy 4 year long relationship.)
TL;DR I wasn't able to give my (15f at the time) girlfriend (16f at the time) enough attention because I was moving states and homes due to foster care and had a month to two months every now and then that I couldn't contact her, she felt neglected in the relationship and broke up with me. Aita?
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Let it Be Close-watch
Paul, sweety, it's beautiful, but it's killing the vibe.
Ringo looks like a very old, very tired lab rat whose been put through the maze a few too many times
Somehow the air-brown mostly eaten apple is very appropriate.
She looks far too sweet here to ever let John down. Yoko has very kind eyes.
I love how it makes it seem like Paul and John are calling Maxwell “the corny one” but really we know from Get Back that they're talking about a particular arrangement they were trying out for Don't Let me Down.
I swear he's saying “John” there, not “Joan” and also he said “came down upon His head” so… Oh! And Max died in the end in this version? “Sure that Max was dead” Okay. So Paul kills John and then himself. Murder suicide story. Yeah, Paul, you're doing great mentally, we can all tell.
I love how George getting electrocuted was important enough to make the cut for both films. Poor baby. “If this boy dies you're gonna cop it” from the guy who was just singing about a serial killer.
They're so silly
Yoko does not agree with me
Paul: stealing your man, sweetheart. John: oh no I'm being stolen teehee!
They're so silly
Oh wait, were those bitchy looks at George??? Because there he is. Idk could easily be him or Yoko.
this poor autistic baby trying to use words (not his language) to explain music (his language)
“Good MoOornin! Wooah!” I think I just … You know how Mike said people were booing Paul in the theater watching this? Yeah it's because they were pissed he didn't step out of the screen and onto their necks.
Oh Michael put himself in his own movie too? Huh, cool.
They are always in my heart
The way Paul says “get on the mic” to John??? I would've thrown something, that was so fucking bossy! Just his tone and his face and his angry pointing fingers. So mean. And John just goes “okaaay”. Oof.
Ringo covering his eyes like a little kid watching a scary movie during the orange sweater fight. Same, babe.
Sounds like the original lyric John's going for is something long “All I want is you. Nothing else is gonna do.” But that obviously didn't fit with the tune. I wonder if there was a particular conversation with Paul being controlling that made the “everything has got to be the way you want it to” line click in.
Oh my gosh! So George is showing I Me Mine to Ringo and Paul and he says the “I don't give a fuck it can go in musical” line before he even plays it. Not after John's making fun of him like he does in Get Back. Nagra reels experts: which one is correct??
George: it's a heavy waltz. Ringo:*claps hands angrily and punches the air to a ¾ beat. I love him, he's like the core of “Beatle humor” to me.
Woah there! Okay this is the John/Yoko pda Peter Jackson cut, I see. I wonder if there's a lot more footage of them swapping spit that might make the “oh John was just so in love” theory more reasonable.
It's extremely impressive that George just wrote this whole thing last night. You know? John and Paul have brought in all fragments from what I can tell. He's the only one to come in with a basically finished product.
LMAO and we're just going to Apple now. No reason. Nothing happened. Nothing to see. Moving on.
Ringo is so so cute pretending to hide from the cameras. Really he should've been the cute one.
Is it just me or does Paul drop the sillies and get sad when he sings “always be mine” at John? It's his regular voice, too, for a minute, if I'm not mistaken.
Silly cuties. But John's grin and little sexy tongue action happens the second time Paul sings always be mine, so…
What friendly artistic collaboration looks like when it's not psychosexual
Paul: have you played the dubs? George: yeah. Terrible. Paul: Great! Ringo: terrible. John: laughs Paul: (sarcastic) oh, so dreadful. …. John: where's my guitar? Paul: (still sarcastic) well we're just the greatest band ever. Idk I just like this dialogue. It's very them, you know?
This is adorable.
But I also love how they're already communicating with eyebrows, you know? They just bonded so fast and I find that beautiful.
And then Heather ups their game from taking turns going “chchchchch” into the mic to meowing into the mic. She looks at Paul like “okay your turn” and he sets her down lol he's thinking ‘if I meow into the mic right now after John already had a sex dream last night about me, he might actually cream his pants and we can't have that on camera’
Lol Billy just magically appeared!
Paul you're literally so annoying. You started the goofing off and now you're like “alright lads, that's enough.” Mkay.
He is unbelievably sexy and talented though so you know he does have those little things going for him. Someone write me a Paul/Billy fic please!!
Kinda crazy how they all four just slide straight from “Kansas City” to “Miss Ann” to “Lawdy Miss Claudy”. Makes me think of something they might've done in Hamburg.
I'm sorry but Paul finishes “please don't excite me baby. I'm down in misery.” And John's immediate answer is, “well you can get it if you want it, and if you want it you can get it!” And Paul ends up singing “I want it I want it I want it I want it”. Nice. Very subtle, boys. And that's before John gets kinky.
I love how Heather just forces a hug from George and then immediately runs away. What a cutie.
But really. How did anyone watching this get the idea that John hated Paul? Just confirmation bias I guess?
All the cut off conversations kill me but especially the one where John's working though Paul's anxieties. They're just in the middle of it and then cut. “two of us Sunday driving…”
Someone should do a study of whistling in their songs. I feel like it's another one of their tip offs that “hey this one is about us” Anyway I love John's whistling here. He's so good at it. I can just imagine him as some farm boy picking apples, you know?
Imagine booing this poor stay puppy though, like. What? I mean, what if Johann Weiner was wrong and John wasn't crying at the sight of him and Paul playing triumphant together on the rooftop, but at Paul playing his little heart out about their doomed love. Idk it's probably both. Let's be real, John was bawling through the whole thing.
What is George laughing at? Picture quality is garbage because evil corporations don't let you take screenshots of their content, but he looks like that one kid in your elementary school class that just dumped Cheetos all over his crushes desk and thinks he's a criminal mastermind.
Also I do appreciate all the attention given in the chosen shots to the musicianship. I bet they liked that at least if they had the heart to like anything about the movie at the time.
I'm sorry but I love how in sync Mo and Paul are. With this ducking and later the shimmying. I know it's wrong to ship Ringo’s wife with one of the Beatles she didn't sleep with, but… idk I really want her to have bedded all four at one point, you know? She deserves it, being an og.
Okay but yeah I'd be having a public meltdown if I fumbled that too holy fucking shit
Ringo feeling himself as he should
George just looks like he smells nice. Unlike the others. You know?
John has such a beautiful smile. If somebody looked at me like that I'd put him up on a giant screen behind me on my world tour after he'd been dead for forty years too.
That pleeeaaaheeeaaase though. Looking at Paul. How did he survive I'll never know.
The cut from screaming Paul to grouchy nap lady is extremely painful.
John was so cool in this concert. Like the epitome of cool.
Kevin, my love, thank you for your service
I love Yoko leaning so far and craning her neck. She's like a mom at a school talent show. Like “I only came to see my baby.” Type vibe. Which is exactly what she's doing, unlike Mo, and honestly I find both of them extremely valid
You know in movies where the romantic leads are never looking at each other at the same time?
I think I watched George and John switching back on their amps like fifty times because I just love it so much. And from this angle, you can see John's saying something to Paul about it. He looks serious and he's shaking his head. I wonder what he's saying.
Mal Evans I love you forever for this. Look at his hand on the rail, just blocking them off completely, so protective.
Them turning to each other at the end always gets me. It's automatic, like second nature, and it's the last time ever. They deserved better.
Oh Darling duet in the credits are you fucking kidding me??? Was that in the original? “Believe me, when I tell you.” “Oh I do.” That's the second time that they gave away in this footage that they know they're talking to each other in their music.
Alright, that's it, I guess. And then MLH is haunted by this experience for forty years until he makes Two of Us to purge the demons.
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Homestuck Mythical Creature au / Cryptid Au
Very tempted to make an ask blop :p need to see if anyones inch rested
thought processes under the cut (bc some choices are wild)
Johns a pooka, an irish fae trickster who shapeshifts into animals. his favorite form is the bunny. john and jane are both fae, so their pranks range from harmless to mentally scaring to life altering. absolute chaos grimlins. dirk is also an irish myth, so he knows them well and is often trying to get them to not ruin the local population of humans. so they do pranks on him insted. john loves to steal dirks head and hide it places.
rose speaks to the eldritch horrors and is slowly becoming one herself. she wants to become a litch.
Dave is a harpy! a very chill one who doesn't tend to sing with his full chest, so people dont start crashing into his doorstep. dave dies in some magic accident that caused davesprite to rise up from the ashes. but dave harpy is ALSO fine no ones really sure how. may have been roses doing.
Jade is a werewolf obv. but shes also a witch and has formed a coven with rose and roxy.
Jane is ur avrage fae faerie/sprite. her favorite fae rule to get people to break is "dont eat their food."
Roxy is both a cat who is also a wizard i need not elaborate
Dirk is a headless horseman. not to be confused with THE headless horse man. thats another dullhan with a well paying halloween gig. dirk is often subject to losing his head, so he made a magic pumpkin to pilot the body when this happens. he does have a very large and scary but beautiful horse.
Jake is the bigfoot. and one of the most well hunted (and well travled) cryptids. thus, his friends often make jokes of not ever seeing him except in blurry images. its not his fault hes very large and loves to travel! and is also not very photogenic...
Aradia is a monthra!!! however she made a deal with a devil and became a ghost... not sure WHY yet or why it kills her. but it does. its all in her plan or smth, but that doesnt stop sollux from being very upset that hes the one that has to take and keep her soul. she is reserected later by the coven, still soulless but it doesnt matter bc her soul is in good hands and thus she still feels it. shes much happier now.
Tavros is a minotar self explanatory he is a small minotar, tho. a mini minotar if u will.
Sollux is ur run of the mill soul for potato chip demon. an excuse to give him twin tails and horns. him an kitkat gave me the most trouble! but then i went with a solkat devil angel motifi and im kinda attached t9 it now. even if its sorta a cop out. i simply couldnt find twin creatures that werent gods or children of gods. nor any crab creatures...
Karkat is an angel. he WAS human notably he was human for awhile even good friends with kanaya before he died. he never found love but helped so many with theres that he became an angel that was a lot like cupid. thus he was a small angel incharge of match making and also likened to a baby and hes very much NOT happy about this. it pisses him off, solluxs often gives him a hard time. about it. (extra angst is that kitkats also really fucked up about never knowing what love felt like but having to give it to others. and he has it in his head that that means he never will know, bc no ones matchmaking the matchmaker. but theres a song he hears everyonece anwhile by a stray harpy that makes him feel a lot lighter.)
Nepeta is my go to cat creature a nekomata. a two tailed cat yokai.
Kanaya is a vampire. obviously.
Terezi is a dragon! still blind! still licks. but can now transform and has wings, very scary. shes basiclly just her lusus lmao.
Vriska is a spider lady. i have arachne here bc its similar, but shes not arachne the myth proper. shes just a spider with the top part of a woman at the head. A Jorogumo a spider lady yokai and is basically actually what im picturing.
Equius is a centar and fuck if i ever have to draw him....
Gamzee is a clowwwn, just a clown, just a silly lil guy. What do you MEAN clowns arnt mythical creatures??? what do u mean u saw him under ur bed when you were a child? u must be mistaken. as a nod to ICPs boogieman. when gamzee is not high as a kite and is just a clown, he is one of the most terrifying and unkillable creatures known to children kind.
Eridan is a selkie. basiclly a mermaid but part seal. personally, I'd like to make him part seahorse. but not in the hippocampus way. i chose this bc he can shapeshift, thus he pretends to be a high elf sorcerer, yes he does get dunked on about this.
And finally, Feferi is a siren! who happens to be able to become very VERY **VERY** BIG. she doesnt lure people to drown them but she DOES love to keep live captives in cages :)
#homestuck#homestuck au#mythical creature au#homestuck cryptids#cryptid#john egbert#rose lalonde#dave strider#jade harley#jane crocker#roxy lalonde#dirk strider#jake english#aradia megido#tavros nitram#sollux captor#karkat vantas#nepeta leijon#kanaya maryam#terezi pyrope#vriska serket#equius zahhak#gamzee makara#eridan ampora#feferi peixes#holy shit#cannot believe i taged everyone#lmao#au
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Stories about prophecies have always bugged me because they never adequately explain WHY the universe works the way it does, WHY specific events are inevitable. "It is your destiny," the fuck does that even mean? Says who? Which metaphysical/eldritch entity wrote this prophecy? How do they enforce it? If an Oracle says something, was it always going to be true or did they change the future? Is there only one future? Is the world deterministic?
Well, I've started thinking about it through a scientific lense. In a world where magic exists, it is simply another fundamental force of the universe. It can be studied and understood, and, most importantly, predictions can be made based off it. Before chemists discovered specific elements they'd look at where it would be on the periodic table, they'd look at all of its neighbors, and they would be able to accurately predict certain properties about it. "It'll be this color, this density, it'll have these stable isotopes, and'll form these types of bonds," etc. They aren't prophesying willy-nilly, they are making informed hypotheses.
An astronomer can give you the exact orbital periods of planets many lightyears away based on the mass of their host star; Kepler's Laws ring true no matter where you look. They can predict the exact time and location of eclipses a thousand years in advance. I don't know what a Higgs Boson is, but physicists knew it existed long before they ever actually observed it.
Prophecies are magical hypotheses. Prophets aren't just granted foreknowledge out of nowhere for shiggles, they simply observe the current state of the universe and extrapolate forward. If souls and chakras and mystical energies exist, their influences on the material world can be measured and accounted for. I don't understand quantum mechanics or general relativity, but I trust that scientists aren't just making shit up. I don't understand magic, but wizards aren't just making shit up either!
Some prophecies are wrong. Many, in fact. There are just too many variables, too many unknowns. Schrödinger's cat, Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, the Butterfly Effect, Chaos Theory, there would be magical equivalents. Meteorologists can tell you what the weather will look like tomorrow, but nobody knows what it'll be like in a month, a year, a century. They can tell you that Hurricane Season will have higher or lower activity than average based on ocean surface temperatures, the El Niño/La Niña cycle, etc., but they can't give you the exact dates of storm formation, strength, or duration.
I really like the idea of prophecies having varying degrees of certainty. Lines like "it is your destiny" or "it has been foreseen" aren't cop-outs, they're just predictions. If I drop a rock, it WILL fall towards the Earth; it's not destiny, it's gravity. Magic works the same way.
TLDR: prophecies are like election forecasts!
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NURSE!!! NURSE!!! SHE BROKE OUT OF HER CAGE TO POST MORE- Dad!Carmy brainrot for you all 😉🫶
— so I Imagine him getting a call in the middle of the night, you’re heavily pregnant with your third. His Apple Watch thankfully woke him (you’d be worried for him to get a call so late). He gets up without waking you going into the living room and answering to hear your teen daughters watery voice at the end of the line and she’s all “Daddy promise you won’t be mad at me” (more below)
He’s immediately grabbing his keys, putting on his shoes and brown plaid coat that he’s had longer than she’d been alive, or then he’d even been knowing you for that matter - his heart thumping in his chest and throat tightening. “Sweetheart why aren’t you home right now?! are you safe? Tell me wha’s wrong- what happened- I won’t be upset honey” he assured her, his stomach clenching at the thought of her hurt.
“P-paisley wanted me to go t’this party with her and - and the police came daddy and she left me there alone- and I got arrested. Come get me I don’t wanna die in hereeee” she sobbed dramatically. He sighed gratefully, starting the car.
“You aren’t going to die princess. Give me 20 minutes mm? And we can talk ‘bout y’punishment w’mommy t’morrow” he said and she huffs
“You’re gonna snitch on me T’mommy?! Daddy you’re being so unfair! “ she whined
He chuckled a bit, “I’m bein’ very fair. I love you babygirl I’ll s’ya soon” he said and hung up. He knew if he’d have woken you, you would have freaked out and panicked at the thought of your little girl drunk and scared and alone. Considering how far along you were currently the stress could most definitely cause early labor and he did not want to deal with that tonight.
He’d make it to the police station fast bc ofc when he was picking a home for his family it would be super close to one for safety reasons and when he walked in and saw his baby sitting in a holding cell with other adults being held on misdemeanor charges, his heart would break.
She would be curled into herself on the bench, knees flush to her chest hugging herself, cheeks tear stained, big blue doe-like eyes puffy and red with thick tears that were still falling. He wanted to pick her up like she was 2 again - even though the top of her head hit his shoulder now, and cradle her like the baby he couldn’t help but see any time he looked at her.
“Oh princess” he said softly and she looks up, quickly standing up and she couldn’t help but burst in to sobs as relief washed over her when she finally saw her dad, who had never let her down from the day she was born - he was always there for her, as were you, but Carmy was always softer on the kids then you were because his dad never showed any of his siblings softness, so he wanted to be sure the kids always trusted him in that way
“Daddy you came! I’m so scared please please I’ll never do it again please get me out of here dad I’m so sorry I’m so so sorry daddy” she broke down and he felt tears pushing at the back of his eyes he could only swallow back because they were in public.
“You- hey-“ he snaps his fingers and the cop standing outside the holding cell door finally acknowledges him “I’m her fuckin father- let ‘er out. Now.” He said annoyed with the man’s lack of attention for his own job.
“She’s unable to be released until her fine is paid” he said and shrugged “it’s the law”
Carmen dug the stupid reciept paper he’d shoved in his pocket that he’d paid the front clerk when he got here, pushing it to his chest “open the fucking door, jagoff. Shes 16 the fuck is wrong with you she’s a baby” he said angrier, voice getting louder.
“Sir I’m gonna need you to calm down.” He said and Carmen rolled his eyes, 2 words he hated hearing even more than anything when put together.
“Look at the fucking paper. And let my daughter go” he snapped, holding his baby’s hand through the bars gently and rubbing a soothing thumb over her knuckles, she was shaking like a leaf.
“Mmm” the man grumbled, opening up the door and she rushed into Carmen’s arms. He kisses the top of her head tenderly, wrapping her in a tight bear hug.
“Y’never allowed t’scare me like that again angel girl” he mumbled into her hair, breathing in her scent that he could pick out even in his sleep as his baby girl.
“I’m sorry daddy I’m so so sorry” she mumbled over and over, tears soaking his shirt. He hushed her how he did when she was just a baby and rubbed her back soothingly.
“S’okay babygirl I think y’learned y’lesson mm? Y’think you wanna go out drinkin again before y’21?” He teased lightly and she sniffled, shaking her head lightly. He didn’t care that she was getting snot all over him, or that she was staining one of his near $80 white shirts with her mascara and eyeliner she’d gotten with a Ulta gift card ‘Santa’ had gotten her, since Carmen couldn’t bare the fact his baby girl was growing up.
“No- no daddy I promise. I promise I’ll never do it ever again. Please don’t tell mommy” she pleads and looks up at him with big watery eyes. He carefully thumbed away the large rings of black under her eyes and cups her face tenderly.
“Sweetheart I am not in control of what mommy does. You know this, and I can’t lie to mommy. Are you asking me t’lie t’mommy? M’already riskin’ my spot in bed by not waking her up t’tell her ‘bout this” He asked sternly, she knew that lies were a big boundary in your family - they just hurt people unless they were ‘happy lies’ aka surprises like gifts or sweet things, but withholding information from each other in fear of making someone upset was a big no no in your house.
She huffed annoyed, lip quivering and she nuzzled back into his chest “unfair. Mommy is gonna ground me forever” she whined.
“Mm - maybe she should ground you. What the hell is this outfit? She’s not gonna be happy ‘bout this, y’gonna get sick” he tells her. She was in nothing but a tank top dress, flimsy nylons, and a half cardigan. He wraps his jacket around her shoulders as they walk out to the car, of course he couldn’t care less about freezing his ass off because his baby needed to be warm even if it was a short walk to his SUV.
“It’s cute dad and m’not gonna get sick! All the girls were wearing dresses like this!” She snapped sassily as she buckled in.
“Mm cute - sure pumpkin. What were you even doin’ - what party was worth the rage of y’mother? Especially when you know she’s been in a mood lately” he asked. A mood was what he called it, you were really just overly hormonal and sore and giving birth within the next 14 days, so everything was ticking you off
“Hally Hawkins party dad. Only the coolest senior at school!! If I was the only one who wasn’t there how was I supposed to ever find a date to the winter ball next month?!” She huffed, crossing her arms
“Date?!” His eyes widen “since when did we say you could date?!” He asked quickly “you aren’t dating you- you can’t date until you’re married!” He said seriously to which she just giggled
“How am I supposed to get married if I don’t date daddy! I’m 16 now! I’m getting my license soon! I should be able to hold hands with a boy I like-“
“Hold hands?!” He exclaims “who the hell is holdin’ y’hand? No- no. No! I’m the only man that holds y’hand and it’s to help you across the street” he grips the steering wheel tighter “y’too little” he said and she whines
“Daddy I’m not little! I’m 16! You promised to stop calling me little” she pushes his hand away at a stoplight when he goes to fix the strap of her dress out of habit “daaaad!!!” She whines and he huffs
“Quit all the whinin’! Y’little as long as y’live w’me and that means that y’not dating and y’not holding hands” he pulls into your driveway, turning the lights off before as to not wake you. “And quiet comin inside- if you wake y’sister mommy is gonna be upset she’s been havin’ a hard time sleepin’ “ he opened her door, taking her purse and helping her out of the car.
“Is this mommy’s?” He holds up the purse and she takes it from him, holding it to her chest defensively.
“She never wears it anymore what- are you gonna snitch?! If you do I’ll tell her about you eating all her ice cream” she teased and headed to the door
He gasped, “you wouldn’t dare- you’d sell out y’own father?! After he just went and picked y’ass up outta the slammer. Maybe I shoulda let you stay there eh’? A night in jail may teach you some manners missy” he jokes as he unlocks the door, not seeing the kitchen light on.
“Where were you!” You were stood at the end of the hallway, fluffy robe and slippers on, hand over your bump as you stood there while nervously pacing. Carmy and your Daughter give eachother the we’ve been caught look before Carmy looks at you, as you narrow your eyes at your daughters arm adorning a very familiar looking black bag.
“Is that- red lipstick…and my purse?!”
#CapriCarmy Drabbles#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto#the bear fx#carmy berzatto#the bear fic#the bear#the bear hulu#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmy berzatto fanfiction#the bear fanfiction#carmen berzatto fluff#carmy the bear#carmy x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#the bear carmen#carmen berzatto blurb#carmen x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto the bear fanfiction#carmy x you#carmy x fem!reader
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So as of now, the four big complications to Team Porter's plan are: 1) they have the wrong name for the goddess, and even if they figure out they've been duped they don't know where to find Ankarna's name; 2) Fig has already laid claim to Ankarna's domain through Dawn of Justice; 3) if the Bad Kids can get the ballot boxes to Aguefort before midnight then KP can't become president; 4) Fig insisted on a join teacher evaluation for Porter and Zara and it'd be hilarious if Zara gets half of Porter's godhood.
Also, now that we know the purpose of the ambrosia, what do you think the point of the Devil's Honey is?
I think they kind of answered that in the episode. Porter was using it whenever he prayed to Ankarna to fake sincerity, right? Brennan did say that lying in prayer was the OG use of it historically.
Wouldn't be surprised if the Rat Grinders were also using it to an extent to get through whatever questioning with the cops about Lucy's death might have happened.
Also, lol yeah it would be really funny if Zara got wrapped into this because of Fig's insistence on this bit. She rolls in to her divine paramour's house like babe you're never gonna believe this.
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“Is that him there?”
Wind blasts through the train tunnel, past you and your Orc Boyfriend. Your Orc, raised an eyebrow and followed your finger pointed.
The person you were referring to, a human male with waterfalls of black hair, curling at his shoulders. His eyes were bloodshot and contoured with black rings, matching his dark hair.
The phrase, ‘Love, not hate’ tattooed above his left eyebrow. His scowling at passers by, wrinkled nose and judgemental stare opposed the important sentiment he decided to ink his face with. Sitting on the bench, he jogged his knee to an invisible jig, chain around his neck swaying.
Your Orcs’ eyes flicked from the phone screen in his hand, to the suspect and back to the screen. “Yup.” Tucking the phone away. “Now, let me handle this.”
“No,” you put a hand against your Orcs shoulder, stopping him from moving towards the subject. “We talked about this, you always come on too strong. And this isn’t too dangerous is it? It’s just an escort job.”
The Orc wrinkled his nose at you, “don’t say it like that, you make it out to be that we’re some kind of prostitutes.”
You rolled your eyes, “you knew what I meant. I’ll go and make contact, you hang back behind me and step in if it gets to be too much!” And without waiting for a response, you approached the man.
“Hey, Mr Mimac.” You started gently. The last time Mr Mimac had been seen was three months ago in Monaco… Snorting some kind of white powder, surrounded by Fae show girls and gambling away all the money his… ‘law abiding’ father had given him as a 21st birthday present.
God knows if he was on anything now.
But that’s why you and your Orc had turned up. Your duo went by many names in underground spaces: Good & Bad Cop, Brains and Brawn, Summer and Snow – fitting really, considering both of your conflicting appearances & approaches.
Orcs and Humans don’t normally get together like the two of you do. But it’s good to have a balance on perspectives, isn’t it?
Even if you disliked the brashness and ruthless behaviour of your boyfriend, you couldn’t deny that it paid off to have a scary guard dog with you wherever you went. It made you feel safer, especially when dealing with things like this.
Mr Mimac Junior didn’t even spare you a glance, eyes still glancing around the stations platform in the same critical gaze. “We’re here on behalf of your dad, he’s asked me and my partner to bring you back to him. He’s very worried about you.” You explained as delicately as possible.
“Fuck off…” The Junior turned to you, his scowl deepening. “I don’t care what my father asked you to do.” His voice slurred slightly, a strong chemical smell hit you like icy water.
You opened your mouth to respond, try to ease him into coming with you. But there was no time.
“Alright,” your Orc Boyfriend spoke up from behind you. “The lady asked quite politely.” He growled.
Still, Mr Mimac did not move. He sent a glare at your Orc, “so? I don’t take orders from anyone, do you know who I am?”
Uh oh.
“This is how it’s going to play out, hm?” Within an instance, your Orc was in front of you, hands leaned on the benches arm rests, bent down to the Juniors height.
The man’s eyes widened, leaning as far as he could before hitting the tiled wall behind him.
Any trace of irritation had gone from Mr Mimac’s face as your Orc continued, “My lovely lady may be polite, but me?” Your Orc Boyfriend drew a sharp breath, air between his large tusks. “I’m not so nice. You’re going to do what the lady says, otherwise your father is going to get a bloody pulp of flesh, and when he asks why you turned up in that state, I’m going to say that you were refusing to co-operate and I had to use some light force… I might just have to even break that pretty little necklace you have,” your Orc flicked a dangling diamond chain from around the man-child's neck.
You stifle a sigh, covering your forehead and blocking your eyes from the scene.
“Now, you’re going to apologise and come with us quietly.” Drawing himself back to you his full height, your Orc looped his thumbs through his belt loop, waiting for the Human to respond.
The man’s eyes darted to you, then back to your Orc. “’m sorry.” Mr Mimac squeaked.
“Better.” Your Orc jerked the Junior standing, the three of you marching out of the train station.
*
Mr Mimac Senior thanked you both profusely as his son was led away by his mother. Mimac Senior handed you a briefcase and sent you both on your way.
Getting back into the car, you cracked open the briefcase. Taking a stack of bills, you examined them carefully as your Orc Boyfriend turned the ignition and turned the car around.
After checking the bills authenticity, you snapped the case closed. The clicking of the cars indicator punctuated the air.
“I told you I could handle it.” You said, quietly.
“You did. He was just behaving like a jackass.” Your Orc replied, checking the lane before pulling out of the drive way. “I’m not going to let anyone talk to you like that.”
Despite the point being lost on your Orc, you couldn’t help the smile on your lips. “Thank you.” You meant it, how could you not? He was only looking out for you. “I feel bad, you’re always doing the dirty work. You should get some time to sit back and handle the easy stuff.”
“You shouldn’t feel bad. Remember what we agreed? I get my hands dirty, you keep yours clean and deal with business.” The car stopped at the traffic lights. "You’re smarter and better at negotiating.”
Engine humming, the streaking of red light illuminating his appearance, your Orc turned to you. “I love you, you know." He held his hand out to you.
You took it, intertwining your fingers with his. “I love you too.”
#monster lover#orc fiction#monster romance#orc boyfriend#monster x human#orc romance#monster x you#orc x reader#monster x female#monster x reader#bullet train inspired#love lemon and tangerine
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The Gang During Quarantine (the outsiders)
What the gang would’ve been doing during quarantine
(Thanks to my friend whom I collaborated with with for this and the projects like it)
ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺ ᴳ : Ponyboy
• scared as hell of getting the vid.
• refuses to go outside.
• hoards hugeee stacks of books, he stole darrys old dvd’s from when he was a kid.
• reads every single book he can get his sticky little hands on.
• shut in his room most of the time bc “everyone else is a ‘distraction’ to his peace…”
• Went through the E-Boy 2021 phase.. Got a nose ring out of spite, Darry got piiiiissed but oh well, it kinda suited him.
• bought a bunch of strawberry cow shit and now hides them in his closet out of shame, he’s still relentlessly teased by everyone but especially Sodapop
ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Sodapop
• tbh? He doesn’t really do much
• Just invites steve over and they get on everyone’s ass
• Sometimes when he’s really bored he’ll try on the clothes he doesn't wear much that sit in the abyss he calls his closet and pose in front of his mirror (Did I serve or did I serve?)
• Totally learned tiktok dances (still knows the renegade, even after 4 years..)
• Became one of the POV tiktokers like skyyjade but stopped in early 2023
ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Darry
• cooks sooo much more than usual
• he’ll literally take out cookbooks from like 3 generations back.
• Does the “aesthetic” workouts if he’s bored
• grocery shopping a lot because he’s the only one who responsibly does it, he likes when Ponyboy goes with him but he barely does since Ponyboy is terrified of getting sick now.
• Got a pair of airpods during quarantine and loves listening to music through them, they're glued to darry now.
• He is a god at baking.
ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Dally
• Ngl he didn't change at all
• sneaks out a lot though.
• darry knows but does not have any shits left to give.
• hates cops even more than he did before
• Would definitely go to the protests with a gun locked and loaded.
• Surprisingly he keeps a tidy space.
ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Johnny
• watches a lot of tv
• and listens to music a lot
• scared as hell of getting the ‘vid
• Locks himself in his room
• Probably had a slight depressive episode, i feel like his brain needs to stay stimulated or else he just crumbles.
• Had a gacha phase during quarantine and had a semi-famous YouTube channel (also gacha), he never EVER told ANYONE. Not even ponyboy
ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Two-bit
• very ecstatic because he can actually just watch mickey mouse clubhouse the whole day
• sneaks out sometimes to get beer and cancer sticks.
• if mickey isn’t on he’ll watch lilo and stitch
• eats like a goddamn pig, but everyone does so who tf cares
ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Steve
• He tries to be helpful because he knows darry isn’t just gonna keep baking all the sweets he makes.
• so he tries to learn how to bake
• Bad idea (almost burned everyone alive)
• apart from that he just fucks around with soda
• That's when they found resident evil…and all the leon kennedy edits…they have gotten into arguments over this man.
#the outsiders#the outsiders ponyboy#ponyboy curtis#ponyboy michael curtis#the outsiders darry#darry curtis#darrel curtis#the outsiders sodapop#sodapop curtis#the outsiders dally#dally winston#dallas winston#johnny the outsiders#johnny cade#johnny cake#steve the outsiders#steve randle#sodapop headcanons
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