#I might move it up a line and start chapter 2 with the 'is that a tent' comment

[atlabeth]

family line

pt 2

pairing: spencer reid x gideon!reader

a/n: pardon the end where i just go into endless conversation for no reason but i cannot control myself. anyways thank you sosososo much for all the love on the last part and gideon!reader as a whole it makes me so happy!! enjoy some dad-daughter-spence car convos(arguing) and some elle time

wc: 3.8k

warning(s): the usual! r and gideon argue, gideon is not a good dad(but theres some reconciliation), angst, hurt/comfort, but some fluff between r and gideon & spence. more of a set-up chapter

The drive over to the safe house is a long one, and unfortunately, not a quiet one. 

Spencer takes the back seat, leaving shotgun for you with your dad. He spends the entirety of the drive briefing you on what living in a safe house will entail, all the things you can and can’t do. 

You can’t use your phone because it could be tracked. You can’t leave the place without Spencer because you are, in fact, being stalked. You’re not to reveal anything about your location to anyone—you’re basically shut off from the world until the unsub is behind bars. 

And once he’s done briefing you, he basically starts interrogating you. 

“Have you been contacted like this before in any way?” 

You huff a laugh. “What, with creepy pictures of myself? No.” 

“Anything unsettling,” he clarifies. “A text message, a call, an email— anything that rubbed you the wrong way that you might’ve just passed off as a joke or spam.” 

“No,” you repeat. 

“You’re sure?” 

“How many times do I have to say no?” You pull your phone out of your pocket and stare at your dad. “Go through it if you want. You won’t find anything.” 

He pauses, then he nods. “Reid.” 

You shake your head with a slight laugh, then turn it over as Spencer extends a hand. He flips it open and starts to go through it, and you just cross your arms and stare out the windshield. 

“We should really hand this over to Garcia,” he says. “She’ll be able to do a lot more than I can. I don’t really—”

“Like technology, I know,” your dad finished. “We will. Just trying to get all the leads we can upfront.” 

You sigh, but you keep quiet. You guess you can’t really consider it an invasion of privacy when there’s a stalker after you. 

“We typically talk to stalking victims for a while to figure out their lifestyle and possible suspects, as well as the type of stalker we’re dealing with,” Spencer says. “We don’t exactly have the time for that here.” 

“This unsub has already been watching you for a month, maybe more,” your dad says. “He’s made his first move by reaching out to me—that means he wants us to know about him, wants you to know about him.” He glances over at you. “He wants to scare you. You’re not going to give him that satisfaction.” 

“You’re jetting me off to a safehouse before you’ve even gotten the chance to look into any leads,” you say. “It looks like we’re pretty scared, Dad.” 

“It’s preparation,” he says. “The unsub has made his first move—I’m not going to wait around for him to make another and compromise your safety.” 

“This could also be a lot more dangerous than we think,” Spencer says. You still hear him clicking through your messages, and you’re beginning to regret your decision to turn it over to him. “Our unsub could be someone after Gideon using you as collateral.” 

Your heart stops for a split second and your attention snaps to your father. “What?”

“…It is a likely option,” he says. “Very few people know you as my daughter. Someone who wants to hurt me could try to use you to do it.”

“So I was right,” you say. “This is only happening because I’m your daughter.”

“Do you want me to say yes?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Yes— I want you to admit that I’ve missed out on all the positives of you being my dad and gotten stuck with all the negatives!”

“This is not the time,” he says. 

“How is it not the time?” you ask with a laugh. “You’ve said it yourself several times— my life is in danger. There’s someone out there that might kill me to get back at you. What is a better time than this to talk about how shitty of a dad you’ve been?”

“A better time would be when we aren’t this high strung,” he says evenly. “Neither of us are thinking as properly as we should be. We don’t want to say anything we’ll regret.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll regret any of this,” you say. “After all, I could be dead soon, right? I should get all those regrets out of the way.”

“Please stop arguing,” Spencer interrupts hastily. “This— this is very uncomfortable.”

You scoff. The flames burn just as bright, but for some reason, you decide to hold them back a bit. 

“I’m sure it’s real hard for you, boy genius.”

The silence lingers. You can tell he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. Your dad, to his credit, doesn’t stoke the fire.

It looks like you’re all capable of restraint today. 

“I— I went through all her messages,” Spencer continues. It irks you that he talks like you’re not here. “There’s nothing suspicious there, at least.”

“Good,” your dad says. “I’ll hand it over to Garcia after I drop you both off.”

“We’re not gonna have a car?” you ask.

“You’ll have this one,” he says. “That’s why Agent Greenaway is following us.”

“Elle’s coming?” Spencer asks, and you see him perk up. You belatedly wonder what that deal is. 

“Just so she can drive me back to the office,” your dad says. “She offered.”

“What’s everyone else doing?” 

“Garcia is digging through some of your personal records for the team,” he says, glancing at you. “JJ is in contact with the local police stations so they’re ready once we have a profile. Morgan and Hotch should be looking through every case I’ve closed to get a running list of suspects.”

“Great,” you say as you lean back in your seat. “Nothing like getting my whole life aired out and put under a microscope.”

“It already is,” Spencer says. “You’ve got a stalker.”

“Thanks, Spencer,” you mutter. “I forgot.” 

-

The rest of the drive goes by with ease—at least, relative to how difficult you’ve made everything else. 

You’re already sick of Spencer Reid by the time you get out of the car. You don’t know how you’re going to survive such close quarters under these kinds of circumstances. 

Another car parks next to you as the three of you get out, and your eyes are drawn to the woman that steps out. 

“Easy drive?” your dad asks. 

“I was right behind you,” Agent Greenaway says. “You drive like an old man.” 

Your dad just barely smiles. “Stay with her, Elle. Reid and I are going to check the perimeter.” 

“You can’t be serious,” you cut in. 

“I already told you I’m not taking chances with this,” he says, and he takes his gun out. “This won’t take long.” 

Spencer takes his out as well—he carries it with both hands, like it’s actually weighing him down, and it’s a bit ridiculous—and they split to cover both sides of the house and the surrounding area. You sigh and shake your head as you cross your arms. 

“He’s certainly spirited,” Agent Greenaway says. 

You huff a laugh. “That’s one way to put it.” 

“I’m Elle, by the way,” she says. “I know we haven’t been formally introduced.” 

You nod your acknowledgment and say your name. “Nice to meet you.” 

She turns to fully face you. “Do you mind if I say a few things?” 

“If it’s about my dad—”

“It’s not,” she interrupts with a wry smile, “I promise.” 

You shrug. “Then sure.” 

“First, I just want to ask if you’re doing alright,” she says. “You’ve gotten a lot dropped on you all at once.”

“I’m as good as I can be,” you say. 

Elle nods, and her eyes soften. “I’m not gonna tell you to take it easy on Gideon. He’s an incredible agent, but that makes it hard to be a good dad.”

You don’t say anything, and she continues. 

“My dad was on the force too. I resented him for a lot of my childhood because he was gone so often, but… then he was killed in the line of duty.”

You frown. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Elle nods in thanks. “I’m not trying to get sympathy. I’m just saying I know what it’s like.”

You shift your balance and sigh, glancing away momentarily. “Everyone here sees him as a hero, and— and he is. He started this whole thing and you all save lives every day, but it feels like he’s missed my entire life because of it.” You huff a bitter laugh. “I think you all know him better than I do.”

“I think you’re probably right,” she admits. “You deserve to be angry. And honestly, I think you deserve to hate him some for it.” 

You huff a slight laugh. “You’re the one person who hasn’t tried to make me feel bad for it.”

She shrugs. “You’re in an awful situation and it might be because of him. You don’t have to have endless grace.”

“Any chance I can get you to stay in here with me instead of Spencer?” you ask.

She smiles. “I don’t think Gideon wants to stick the two of us in a house together. But I am gonna make sure we catch this guy.”

“These kinds of assholes go after vulnerable women because it gives them the attention they crave,” she continues. “They worm themselves into their lives and disrupt it all and it makes them feel powerful—you have to play to their whims.”

“Sounds like you have a lot of experience with this,” you murmur.

“I have a lot of experience putting away sick men,” Elle says. 

“Do you have any advice, then?” you ask weakly. 

“I’ve only been around you for a few hours, but I already know you’re better and stronger than whatever bastard is after you,” she says. “He wants to control your life. Don’t let him.” 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “I’m… really glad you’re on my side.”

She smiles again. “Just doing my job.”

Your eyes latch onto your dad as he and Spencer come back around the front, and they both tuck their guns back into their holsters. 

“It’s all clear,” your dad says. 

“And I’m not dead,” you say. “Looks like we’re all doing good.”

He chooses to ignore you, instead looking at Elle. “Did you go over anything with her?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “Just gave some advice.”

“Great,” Spencer says. “Just what I need.”

“Oh, get over yourself, Reid,” Elle says. “You’ll be fine.” 

You don’t miss the look he gives her, and your dad clears his throat. “Can you take her inside and check everything? Reid and I need to talk.” 

He frowns. “We do?” 

“Sure,” she nods. 

You stare at your dad this time, and he doesn’t entertain your annoyance with some of his own. “We’ll be in soon.” 

“Sure,” you repeat. 

You follow Elle in—you don’t feel like getting a lecture on safety just yet—and when you pass a glance over your shoulder, you meet Spencer’s eyes. He was watching you. 

His eyes dart away just as quickly, and you huff the slightest laugh. You don’t know if he’s scared of you or just tired of you already, but whichever one, you don’t really care. If you have to be stuck in this house with him, he has to be stuck in there with you too.

Elle shows you around the place, and it’s nothing special—a one story house with two bedrooms and a noticeable lack of windows, furnished plainly with a couch and a few chairs, a small kitchen table, a television. You’re honestly surprised at how nice it all is. 

But as she takes you on the impromptu tour, you can’t stop thinking about her words. You can’t stop thinking about all of it, honestly. 

A month ago, you were driving home in silence after your dad forgot about the plans you made. A week ago, you were out for drinks with friends. 

Today, you’re hunkering down in a safe house because there’s a stalker after you, and you have to do it with your dad’s stand-in kid. 

That’s what gets you, you think. That you know more about Spencer Reid than anyone at his job knows about you—that your dad ignores you in favor of his work, and instead of trying to fit you into his life, he finds an FBI replacement.

Your jaw clenches. It takes a few seconds for you to realize you’ve completely tuned out Elle, only really coming out of it when she says your name.

“Sorry,” you say. “I was distracted.” 

“I don’t blame you,” she says wryly. 

You’re about to respond when Spencer walks in with your dad. His face is slightly flushed and, as opposed to all the other times, he won’t make eye contact with you. You can only imagine what your dad decided to talk to him about. 

“You showed her around?” your dad asks. 

Elle nods. “The basics. She and Reid can figure out the rest.” 

“Thank you,” he says. He looks at Spencer, who has his hands stuffed in his pockets and is very intently focused on the wall behind you. “Help Elle get the rest of the things out of her car.”

He frowns. “Elle doesn’t need my help.”

“Come on, Reid,” she says as she starts to walk. 

He blinks and nods. “Oh. Uh— yeah.” 

You feel his eyes on you as he goes, but you don’t meet them. You just stare at your father.

“Is it my turn for a lecture?”

His eyes soften as he says your name. “This isn’t how I want things to be between us.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, “it takes a decade or two of neglect to get here.”

“You’re right,” he says. “You wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for me. But I’m going to get you out of it.”

“I hope so,” you say. “Because I don’t really know how Doctor Reid is going to help.”

“Don’t take it out on Reid,” your dad says. “Hate me all you want, but leave him out of it.”

“You’re the one that pulled him into it,” you retort. “He’s more your kid than I am.”

“And I regret it,” he says. Your eyes widen a bit, and it actually gets you to shut up. “I regret that it took something like this for me to be a part of your life again. But I don’t want our last interaction before you’re sequestered for the indefinite future to be a fight.”

“That’s all I’m good at when it comes to you,” you mumble. The wind has been taken out of your sails considerably. 

“And I want to change that,” he says. “But first, we have to get through this. And we’re going to get through it together, sweetheart.” 

The term of affection feels strange coming from him. Ever since your teenage years, he’s felt less like your dad and more like some estranged cousin. You hate it. You hate how unfamiliar everything feels with him. Jason Gideon has been a profiler longer than he’s been a dad and it shows in your every interaction with him. 

But still, your heart aches. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“You promise?” you ask. You feel like a kid again. 

“I promise,” he says. 

Then your dad pulls you into a hug, and for a moment, you freeze. You can’t remember the last time he hugged you. 

Despite the anger inside of you, the bitterness built in your bones, you can’t help it—you hug him back. You practically melt into his arms as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stop the sudden threat of tears. 

Because deep down beneath it all, you’re scared. You’re fucking terrified, actually, and right now you’re just a girl who wants comfort from her dad. 

“I love you,” he says. 

“…I love you too,” you mumble.

Neither of you pull away for a good thirty seconds. When you do, you turn around to wipe your eyes, not wanting him to see. You hear the door open and start, but it’s just Spencer and Elle with some bags and boxes. 

“Elle’s got some groceries,” your dad says, clearing his throat. “We’ll deliver more if necessary, but you’ve got the basics for a couple weeks, at least.” 

“And a whole lot of books and movies,” Spencer says, hefting the box in his hands. “Did you know that there have been approximately 122 million unique titles published since the invention of Gutenberg’s printing press in 1440?” 

“That’s less specific than usual,” Elle says. “You sure you’re feeling okay?” 

He frowns. “I couldn’t find statistics on the exact number.” 

“Why were you even looking at those statistics?” 

“I get bored sometimes.” 

Elle just laughs as they continue into the living room. You feel your dad’s eyes on you, and you sigh. 

“I’ll take it easy on him,” you say. “Mostly. Maybe.” 

And he actually smiles. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say offhandedly, but you find the slightest smile creeping on your lips as well. You kind of hate it. 

Everything else goes by relatively quickly now that you’re not arguing every single thing—you have to fight your instincts not to, but you manage—and eventually, after another lingering hug and some promises to be safe (and one from Spencer to your dad to keep you safe)—you’re alone in the house with him. 

“So,” you say as you settle on the couch, “this is what the indefinite future is going to be like.” 

“If it makes you feel better, last time we dealt with a stalker we caught them in a few days,” Spencer says. “She watched her for a good while, though.” 

“It doesn’t make me feel better,” you say. “Thanks.” 

“...Sorry.” 

You shrug your indifference and Spencer walks past you, focusing in on some of the paintings hanging on the wall. You’re sure he knows the artist, title, and meaning behind every single one, so you speak up before he can start.  

“What did you and Elle talk about?” 

“How this place doesn’t have a pool,” he says.  

You frown. “What?” 

“Nothing,” he says quickly. “What’d you and Gideon talk about?”

“We fought then made up,” you say. “It was… weird.” 

Spencer looks at you. “How?” 

You shrug again as you cross your arms. “You’ve seen how we are. We don’t exactly get along.” 

“Has he really been that bad of a dad?”

“It’s none of your business,” you say. “But… yes. He’s barely been a dad at all.” 

Spencer shakes his head. “I don’t get that. He’s so different in the field.” 

“That’s why he’s barely been a dad—because he’s so busy here.” You tilt your head. “Don’t you have some facts or whatever on the percentage of fathers that are workaholics?” 

“Well, 89% of dads work full time,” Spencer says. “And fathers typically work around 47 hours a week. But I don’t have anything on workaholics specifically.” 

“Great.” You stand up and walk over to the box of DVDs Spencer set down on the table, and you start rifling through them. “So, what’d my dad tell you about me?” 

Spencer blinks. “What do you mean?” 

“When I came in here with Elle and he kept you out there,” you say. “Did he give you the run-down? Warn you on how difficult I am to be around? Tell you that I hate you?” 

His Adam’s apple bobs. “Uh— no. He just… talked to me. Gave the rundown on everything.”

You hum. “You can tell the truth.” 

“I— I am,” he says. He’s clearly not. “He didn’t say anything bad about you. Promise.” 

“Whatever you say.” You land on a DVD and glance over at him. “How do you feel about Groundhog Day?” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t like Bill Murray.” 

You frown. “That’s ridiculous. How can you not like Ghostbusters?” 

“I love Ghostbusters.” 

“How can you like Ghostbusters but not Bill Murray?” 

“Because I like the concept more than I like him,” he says. “I love Halloween.” 

You shake your head and move on. “Who put these together?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Gideon? Or maybe some random BAU office worker.” 

“It’s an interesting compilation.” You look up at him again. “How about Dirty Dancing?” 

“No.” 

“No reasoning?”

“I don’t feel like dealing with a musical right now,” he says. 

“So you choose to deprive me of Patrick Swayze,” you tut. You grab one movie out of the back and hold it up. “If I put on Goodfellas, will you interrupt every five seconds with facts?”

“...I can push it back to every thirty seconds,” he says. 

“Five minutes,” you say. 

“One minute.” 

“Two.” 

“One forty-five?” 

“Two—take it or leave it.” 

“Technically I have all the power here,” Spencer says. “I can talk nonstop about anything. Putting down a movie narrows that down.” 

“...One fifty.” 

He nods, and you huff a disbelieving laugh as you put the DVD in the player. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re ridiculous?” 

“A lot,” he says as he sits down on the couch. “I usually get insufferable or weird or annoying, though. So ridiculous isn’t too bad.” 

“Well, you’re certainly something.” 

“That’s also not too bad,” he says. “I could even take it as a compliment.”

You sigh and pick up the remote before you sit back down. You look up at the clock on the wall and bite back a curse. 

“It’s only been ten minutes,” you mutter. 

“Ten minutes and thirty-four seconds, actually,” Spencer says. “Did you know that Scorsese actually cast real mobsters as extras? The cast members were told ahead of time so they could show the necessary respect to them while they were on set. There’s a whole mafia hierarchy, and only full-blooded Italians—”

“I haven’t even gotten to the start screen,” you interrupt in disbelief. 

Spencer shrugs. “You said every minute and fifty seconds. Not how long I could go on for.” 

You let out another sigh as he continues on. You bet Spencer could probably recite the whole movie from memory if you asked, but you honestly don’t know if you could take that. 

There’s one plus, at least. When you’ve got a human encyclopedia next to you that can spout off whatever information he wants any time he wants, you think you’re gonna have a hard time thinking too much about your stalker. 

You look over at Spencer when you finally make it to the opening scene, still talking but now about the different crime families in the United States. His eyebrows are surprisingly animated when he talks, going up and down depending on his inflection, and you find yourself thinking that it’s charming. 

It’s annoying how pretty he is, and it’s annoying how annoying he is. 

You look away. 

This is going to be a very long lockdown.

[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 2/?)

Do you know what the main problem with addiction is? It's that it always demands more. And unfortunately for you, Silco was an addicted man.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 5,2K

Warnings: smut, resolved sexual tension, oral sex (f!receiving), dirty talk, orgasm edging, overstimulation, you work in the brothel, Silco POV (when to start smut), Silco being the little control freak that he is. Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 1

Okay, I didn't expect the previous chapter to be so successful, so thank you to everyone who read it. Just a few warnings: Silco's actions can be quite controversial (you'll understand at the end), he's an antagonistic character and we have to recognize that he's not a saint. If you came here expecting something like "love at first sight", I'm sorry to tell you that there's going to be a long road to that. Remember, there's a fine line between love and obsession.

The month had flown by too quickly, and you barely noticed Silco's absence from the brothel. Since that night, he seemed to have vanished, and the days resumed their usual rhythm. With the generous bonus he had left, you managed to cut back on your workload, bringing a sliver of relief to your otherwise exhausting routine. Today was one of those calmer days. Your last session hadn't been physical; your regular client, Kate, a young woman with stunning green eyes, just wanted to talk.

You spent the time discussing her recent achievements. She had been clean from shimmer for three months and, with visible excitement, shared her plans to become a designer. She had even landed an internship at a boutique in Piltover. Despite being a paying client, your relationship with her felt closer to a friendship. You genuinely cared about her progress and rooted for her, even though you knew the harsh world of Piltover could extinguish the dreams of Zaunites as easily as a gust of wind snuffing out a candle.

The brothel had this misunderstood duality. It wasn't just a place of pleasure and debauchery, as many thought, but also a refuge for the lonely, even if those moments were as rare as fresh air in Zaun.

After the session, you sat at the vanity in the dressing room, touching up your makeup. It was a moment of pause, preparing to finally leave for the night. That's when hurried, hesitant footsteps reached your ears. Through the mirror, you saw Babette enter, her yordle face pale as if she'd seen a ghost.

"What's wrong, Babette?" you asked, frowning.

"He's back," she said in a hurried whisper, and you froze. There was no need to specify who. His name hung like a curse that no one dared to utter. "And he asked for you... in the same room."

A sigh escaped your lips as you nodded, trying to mask the storm brewing inside you. Your body moved automatically, brushing past a Babette who looked almost regretful on your behalf.

The conflicting sensations within you were hard to define—a mix of nerves and something akin to excitement. Part of you was eager to see him again, while another feared what this meeting might bring. It was a wave that swung between the warmth of reunion and the chill of apprehension. It was impossible to predict Silco's intentions with you.

Yet, despite the uncertainty, a part of you relished the idea of facing him again.

The curtains parted just as they had during your first meeting, and you stepped into the room with hesitant steps—but firm enough to mask the storm raging within you. There he was, Silco, seated on the sofa like he owned the world—or at least your little corner of chaos. This time, a cigar rested between his fingers, its smoke spiraling lazily toward the ceiling. A bottle of amber liquor and two glasses were set before him on the table.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you regarded him, trying to keep your expression impassive. "Miss me?" The provocation slipped out in an almost sweet tone, but the mockery woven into the edges of your words was there for anyone sharp enough to catch. And, of course, he did.

His eyes lifted to meet yours, and the smile that formed on his lips was... unsettling. A slow, predatory smile that made your entire body tense, unsure whether to prepare for a fight or flight. But running from Silco was never really an option, was it?

"Miss you?" he repeated, his voice low, almost a dangerous purr, as he brought the cigar to his lips and took a long drag. The smoke escaped in a deliberate exhale as he leaned back even further into the sofa. "I've been rather busy, dove. Running a city isn't exactly a part-time job."

His voice carried an intensity that seemed to cut through your skin and lodge itself directly in your nerves. His eyes were a weapon all their own, assessing you with clinical precision as though he could decode every emotion you tried to hide. Frustration? Undoubtedly. Curiosity? Perhaps. And something else... something you refused to name but which made your stomach churn and your breath quicken.

"Ah, of course... I forgot you rule Zaun. I thought it was just a hobby of yours." The words left your mouth dripping with sarcasm, a smirk tugging at your lips. You knew exactly how to provoke him, even if it meant walking a tightrope with Silco.

But he laughed. Not a short or biting laugh, but a rich, full chuckle that echoed through the cramped walls of the room. His reaction was almost disconcerting, as if he were genuinely amused by your defiance.

"I prefer to think of it as a calling. Someone has to keep these streets in line, after all," Silco retorted, bringing the cigar back to his lips and taking a deep drag. "Drink with me." He gestured casually toward the empty glass beside his with a flick of his hand, as if this were the most normal thing in the world—as if he hadn't disappeared for an entire month and was now acting as though nothing had happened.

You blinked once, twice, frowning at his offer. Surprised was an understatement. Even so, your feet carried you to the sofa, where you sat down beside Silco. Your gaze drifted to the glass placed in front of you, but you made no move to pick it up.

"Drink something from you? I thought I'd made it clear I'm not naive." Your voice was sharp, cutting, and you made no effort to hide what you thought. The accusation lingered in the air, but Silco seemed unfazed. On the contrary, the smile on his lips deepened, as though your suspicion was yet another point in his favor.

"Relax, dove." He set the cigar in the ashtray and leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on yours. "I may be many things, but I'm not the type to drug my... companions. I prefer them fully aware of what's happening."

Before you could respond, you felt his hand rest on your thigh, his fingers drawing lazy circles over the fabric of your skirt. The touch was too light to be casual but confident enough to show he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Besides," he continued, leaning in a little closer, "I don't need tricks. You came to me willingly last time, remember? And I'm certain you'll do the same again."

You held your breath for a moment—not out of fear but from the tension building in the air. It had been mere minutes, and already you were spiraling into this dangerous, sexual dance. When he reached for the bottle and poured two glasses, the sound of the amber liquid filling the glass seemed to fill the charged space between you. He slid one of the glasses in your direction, his fingers brushing against yours briefly, and that fleeting touch was like a surge of heat, reigniting memories you'd rather not dwell on now.

The cold glass against your fingers was solid, tangible, but the same couldn't be said for Silco's intentions. Swirling the liquid in the glass, you watched its viscosity under the light, searching for any sign of hidden betrayal. You brought the glass to your nose, inhaling deeply. Nothing unusual. No suspicious scent. Just the strong, familiar aroma of an expensive drink.

"Now, don't be rude. It's a rare vintage, and I insist," he said, his voice dropping a few tones, more of a command than an invitation. "Or are you afraid you can't handle me after a drink?"

He raised his own glass to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours, taking a long sip and savoring the warmth the liquor seemed to bring. He was testing you, and you knew it.

"Oh... I can handle more than you think." You let the double meaning linger in the air, noting how quickly Silco caught on from the faint curl at the corner of his mouth. Then, your gaze shifted back to the drink in your hands.

A sigh escaped internally. Damn it. Against all your instincts, you decided to trust him—at least this once. Bringing the glass to your lips, you took a small sip.

The flavor was unexpected, complex. First, a gentle warmth spread across your tongue and slid down your throat, followed by a hint of sweetness that balanced the burn. You licked your lips, savoring the woody notes mingling with a subtle touch of caramel. It was... different. Something you'd never tasted before.

You almost let out a surprised sigh but managed to hold it back. However, you knew your expression had betrayed you. Worse still, you were certain Silco had noticed. His sharp gaze seemed to miss nothing, and he'd been watching you the entire time. Quickly recovering, you masked your face with indifference, though the effort felt pointless. Pretending nothing affected you had always been one of your sharpest weapons for surviving life in Zaun, but it seemed to fail irritatingly often when it came to him.

"So, tell me..." Silco resumed the conversation, his tone adopting a casual air, as if you were merely chatting. "What have you been up to while I've been away? I hope you haven't been entertaining any other clients in my absence."

"Well," you began, leaning back on the sofa, mimicking his casual tone while swirling the glass in your fingers, watching the liquid sway with the motion. "As far as I know, we're not exclusive."

You let your words hang in the air for a moment before taking another sip of your drink. This time, you kept your eyes fixed on the glass, pretending Silco's presence was just a shadow at the edge of your awareness. "So yes, I've been with other clients."

When you finally lifted your gaze, you met his eyes. They glimmered with something between amusement and danger, and the smile you offered Silco was anything but innocent. You knew you were playing with fire by provoking him so openly without any idea how he might react, but as the damned gambler you were, you could never resist a risky game—even if it meant losing your winning hand.

"Why?" you asked, your voice dripping with audacity as you calmly placed your now-empty glass on the table. "Are you jealous?"

"Jealous? No, I wouldn't say that." He paused, taking a slow, deliberate sip from his drink. "More like... protective. You see, dove, once I set my sights on something, I have a hard time sharing."

He set his glass down on the table with a faint but deliberate thud of glass against wood. You had pressed his buttons, that much was clear, but he didn't seem annoyed by your bratty attitude.

Silco settled back into the sofa, mirroring your posture, but with an air of authority that seemed to dominate the room. He leaned back slightly, his legs spreading just enough to make a point, the motion causing his coat to fall open. The glimpse of what looked like a holster at his hip seemed accidental—perhaps he didn't even remember carrying it. It was as natural to him as breathing.

He turned to you, his hand moving to your chin, tilting your face so your eyes would meet his. "But I'm a reasonable man," he continued, his tone soft, almost comforting, yet carrying an intensity that made your skin prickle. "I understand the nature of our... arrangement. You're a courtesan, and I'm merely a client. Nothing more, nothing less."

His thumb brushed against your lower lip, the touch as light as a feather, teasing. "Which is why I think it's time we renegotiate the terms, don't you?" His voice dropped a few tones lower. "I'm willing to pay for your exclusive services."

You couldn't deny the tension rippling through your body as Silco leaned in further, narrowing the space between you until his presence felt like the only thing that existed in your world. His touch on your chin was firm but not rough, a silent reminder of the absolute control he maintained over himself—and, in some ways, over you.

You allowed him to guide your face upward, a silent concession that you were willing to play along—at least within the rules that suited you.

His eyes were both an invitation and a threat, a contrast that should have been intimidating. But, to your surprise, you felt something else entirely.

It wasn't fear.

It was pride.

There was an unexpected, almost visceral pride within you, knowing that he wanted you—and made no effort to hide it. It was both unsettling and... perversely satisfying.

When Silco moved again toward you, the motion caused his coat to fall open further, fully revealing the holster strapped to his hip. The metallic gleam of the pistol's barrel caught the dim light, and your eyes lingered on it for a moment. The sight evoked a disconcerting mix of emotions: fear and excitement, battling for dominance within you.

You knew the gun wasn't there merely for protection. It was a silent statement, a symbol of power—and also of control. Silco didn't make empty threats, and the presence of that weapon made it abundantly clear. So classic, so predictable, you thought, though you couldn't deny there was something undeniably alluring about the image: danger so blatant yet so meticulously restrained.

That contrast was almost suffocating. The implicit threat of the weapon combined with the soft, almost intimate tone of his voice stirred something deep within you. It was a brutal reminder of the risks of being this close to him, but also irrefutable proof of the kind of power he wielded—not just physical but psychological.

This is not good, you told yourself, suppressing a shiver that could have been apprehension—or excitement. You knew how dangerous it would be to let Silco see you as his. The words you had spoken the last time you met applied to him perfectly, and to your misfortune, Silco was possessive by nature, his ambition only amplifying that trait.

But it was too late to turn back. You had already captured his attention once, and here he was again, returning to your arms like an addict seeking his next fix. And it was clear he wouldn't stop until he had you entirely.

"This negotiation..." you began, your voice lower, tinged with something that could have been scorn or desire, even you couldn't tell. "Isn't open."

The silence that followed was heavy, every word hanging in the air like a scale about to tip. There was refusal in your voice, but despite your efforts, there was also a trace of something else... something that could easily be mistaken for lust. And his gaze caught every nuance of it.

Slowly, your eyes drifted from his to his lips, but not before letting him see the small detour they took back to the pistol. As though you were weighing your options, calculating the risks, even though you knew all of them ended with him.

It was like walking a tightrope over an abyss, and both ends led directly to Silco. Two different fates, equally perilous.

"But," you continued, and your voice was almost a whisper now, deliberately laden with heat. Your mind screamed at you to stop, but the words had already taken shape. "You can try to convince me." It was a dangerous strategy, and Silco was toxic in every sense. But just like an addict depended on their drug, perhaps you could turn that dependence into an advantage for yourself.

Silco's eyes darkened, a fierce hunger burning within them as your defiant words left your lips. A low growl reverberated in his chest, heavy with intensity. He noticed the way your gaze roamed over him, like a flame consuming everything in its path. He also noticed—with dangerous satisfaction—the subtle quickening of your pulse, visible in the delicate line of your neck.

You were playing with fire, and Silco was more than willing to let you burn.

Before you could react, he moved with the swiftness of a serpent, pinning you against the couch. In one fluid motion, he seized control, trapping you beneath the weight of his body. His hands captured your wrists with firm precision, raising them above your head as he positioned himself between your thighs.

His hips pressed against yours, a slow and deliberate motion laden with intent. Your body acted before your mind could comprehend, arching to meet the contact.

"Oh, dove..." he murmured, his voice low and rough, each word caressing your skin like silk. His lips hovered near your throat, and you felt the warmth of his breath against the exposed skin. "I intend to convince you, and I think you'll find I'm quite... persuasive."

His lips found the curve of your neck, skimming over your skin with a dangerous blend of gentleness and possessiveness. When his teeth grazed your flesh, they didn't break the surface, but the implicit promise in every touch made your heart race. You knew he could, and you also knew you wouldn't fight him.

The control he exerted over you was intoxicating, but it wasn't just physical. There was something about the way he read you, how every sigh, every tremor of your body seemed to fuel him.

When his fingers released your wrists, you didn't move your hands from where he had placed them, as if the freedom he had given you was an illusion. Instead, you closed your eyes, feeling his hands glide down your body, his fingers tracing an almost lazy path that ignited every nerve in your skin.

His fingers reached the curve of your waist, pausing just long enough to apply a slight squeeze—a possessive touch that sent a shiver down your spine. He followed the contour of your hips, his movements as subtle as they were provocative. Then, with a deliberate motion, he tugged the hem of your skirt upward, revealing your skin inch by inch, as if each bit was a gift to be uncovered. The air grew heavier, each second stretching into eternity.

"You have no idea what you make me feel," he murmured, his voice a mix of confession and temptation, perhaps more to himself than to you. "The things I want to do to you..."

His breathing grew uneven, heavier, and before you realized it, your thighs tightened around his hips, as if to hold him there, in that exact place where the world seemed to have stopped.

"Then do them," you murmured, your voice hoarse, barely a whisper. This moment was his. And somehow, it didn't feel wrong, even though part of you knew you might regret it later.

But right now, in this instant, regret was the furthest thing from your mind.

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━━

"Careful what you wish for, dove..."

Silco's eyes darkened with lust as he watched her writhe beneath him, her body arching into his touch as if she were starving for it. He could feel the heat of her core pressing against his cock, even through the layers of clothing that separated them, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to rip them off and bury himself inside her right then and there. To feel that warm feeling that had been trapped in his mind for that damn month of being away from her. But he held himself back, it wasn't about him this time, as he would have other opportunities. He wanted to savor every moment of her surrender, to engrave the memory of it in his mind for years to come.

Slowly, teasingly, he trailed his lips down the column of her neck, his tongue darting out to taste her skin before sucking on her pulse point, leaving a mark. Relishing the way she gasped and writhed beneath him, her hands finally moved to tangle in his hair.

He leaned back, standing erect with his gaze fixed on that which he now coveted. He hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and pulled them down her legs, exposing her to his hungry gaze. This was something he had wanted to do since their first meeting.

Silco settled between her thighs, his breath ghosting over her slick folds. He looked up at her through his lashes, his eyes glittering with dark promise. "Look at you, dove. So wet for me already... Such a needy little thing." he murmured before dipping his head and pressing a kiss to her clit.

He started slowly, his tongue lapping at her slit, savoring the taste of her arousal. He traced the seam of her lips, teasing her entrance before flicking his tongue over her clit, again and again, until she was writhing beneath him, her hands fisting in his hair.

He slid a finger inside her, then two, pumping them in and out of her tight heat, at first slowly. He curled them just so, searching for that special spot that would make her see stars. Silco felt her inner walls contract and vibrate around his fingers. He could tell she was getting close to her peak. Leaning down, he sealed his lips around her throbbing clit and sucked hard, flicking the sensitive nub quickly with the tip of his tongue.

At the same time, he pumped his fingers faster, rubbing mercilessly against that specific spot. Her thighs trembled and tensed on either side of his head as he took her right to the edge... then pulled back a little, wanting to prolong her torment a little longer before finally pushing her over the edge of blissful oblivion. He heard her whimper his name, her voice sounding tearful and frustrated. Then her little fingers tried to pull his face back into place between her thighs: "Easy, dove." He let his fingertip slide over her clit, circular motions that drove her to the edge, but weren't enough to give her what she wanted. "Silco..." her voice escaped in a hoarse moan, filled with a mixture of need and desperation. Sounding like a melody for Silco. "Say 'please' and I might let you cum." Silco's voice left no room for reply and this only made her even more frustrated. Her back arched and she tried again to pull Silco towards her. Her attempts failed. Silco then sped up the movement of her finger, noticing how easy it was to bring her to the edge again... and just as easy to slow down.

The second denied orgasm drew a reaction from her. "Please! Fuck.. I beg you... please!

He smirked as she begged so sweetly, the word "please" falling from her lips like a prayer. Oh, how he adored when she got like this - pride and poise cast aside in favor of raw, aching need. Silco was more than happy to oblige her, diving back in with renewed fervor. He savored the taste, groaning low in his throat as he feasted on her like a starving man, his fingers pumped steadily, curling just to brush that spot inside her. He felt her thighs clamp down around his head, heard her screaming his name as she came undone, her release flooding his mouth.

But Silco didn't stop. He kept going, riding her through her orgasm and straight into another, his tongue lashing at her sensitive flesh, his fingers pumping in and out of her clenching heat. He could feel her fighting it, her body tensing, trying to pull away from the too-much sensation, but he held her in place, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from her.

He felt her come again, harder this time, her body convulsing beneath him, her hands fisting in his hair so tightly it bordered on pain. He swallowed every drop of her release, groaning at the taste of her, the feel of her coming apart for him.

Only when she went limp beneath him, her body spent and trembling, did Silco finally relent. He pulled back, licking his lips as he admired his handiwork - His sweet dove sprawled on the couch, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat. She looked utterly debauched, and fuck if it wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen. A sight that had to be for his eyes only.

"Perfect." He whispered to the void as you seemed to be passed out. Nothing could take away his sense of pride in having reduced you to a limp body lying on the couch, although a part—the one deep inside him—was irritated by the mere idea that someone else could do the same to you. "We can't let that happen, don't you think?"

A rhetorical question to which he already had an answer.

━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━━ 

You blacked out for a second. You'd like to say you lasted longer after the first, but that would be a blatant lie. With Silco consuming you completely—in presence, touch, scent, and the rough sound of his voice—it was impossible to resist. He pushed you to the edge once more, and when you finally fell, the orgasm that crashed over you was even more devastating than the first.

You collapsed onto your side, utterly boneless, as though every bone in your body had dissolved. The exhaustion was so overwhelming that the line between consciousness and unconsciousness blurred with each passing moment. Every muscle in your body screamed in surrender, yet you still found enough energy to let out a soft whimper as you adjusted your legs, trying to ease the discomfort.

Your body was in a state of hyperawareness. You could feel every little detail: the slow but persistent throbbing between your legs, the sensitive, swollen ache of your clit, both painful and pleasurable as the pressure of your thighs shifted.

The heavy silence of the room was broken only by the sound of your ragged, uneven breathing. Each breath felt like an effort, but you began to relax, letting your muscles go slack against the couch. And then you felt it.

His gaze.

Even with your eyes closed, you knew Silco was watching. It was impossible to ignore. Those eyes had the power to strip you bare, as though he could see beyond flesh, directly into what you tried to hide—vulnerability, desire, surrender.

Opening your eyes slowly, you blinked a few times, dislodging the tears that clung stubbornly to your lashes. Your lips curled into a trembling, tired but genuine smile as your gaze found his face. Silco didn't look away. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—dangerous and tender all at once—that made you shift uncomfortably, even in your exhaustion.

"That was the first time..." you began, your voice breathless, your chest still rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. "By Janna... twice in a row... How is that even possible?"

The words came out in an almost incredulous tone, with a hint of exhausted laughter. You didn't know how he did it, but it seemed Silco knew exactly what to do with your body. Where to touch, what to say, which buttons to press... absolutely everything.

"Give me a minute," you continued, your voice strained with fatigue. "I don't think I can do anything else right now. My body has officially shut down, and it's your fault."

Despite the exhaustion, there was a note of humor in your voice, something you knew he'd pick up on. But it was the truth. Every fiber of your being felt like it had been pushed to its limit, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you had no urge to fight it.

Silco leaned over you, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face with a surprisingly gentle, almost reverent gesture. The touch was a stark contrast to the roughness of his calloused fingers. "Don't worry about me, dove," he murmured, his voice low and smooth, like a whispered melody in the darkness. "I'm more than satisfied with how the night turned out."

He then pressed a light kiss to the corner of your mouth. The fleeting touch was almost contradictory, an unspoken promise hidden behind the faint, teasing smile that played on his lips. "Now, catch your breath. Compose yourself."

He moved away with his usual natural elegance. As he adjusted his clothes, straightening his suit with meticulous care, smoothing out his trousers; taking more careful care of this part for obvious reasons, and running his fingers through his slightly disheveled hair, you watched him silently. He seemed lost in his own world as he tidied himself.

Silco then turned his attention back to you, extending a steady hand to help you sit properly on the couch. With surprising care, he adjusted your skirt, a gesture that felt almost chivalrous coming from the same man who had undone it in the first place. But what truly caught your attention was the way he picked up the garment he had removed from you earlier—your underwear—and slipped it into his trouser pocket without even attempting to hide the act.

You opened your mouth, perhaps to protest, but before you could utter a word, he had already shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. The weight of the expensive fabric pressed against your skin, warm from his body heat, carrying his unmistakable scent: lingering tobacco, worn leather, and a metallic note that reminded you of burnt gunpowder or rust. It wasn't necessary—you knew that—but he seemed to relish the idea of covering you, marking the moment with a gesture that was as possessive as it was protective.

"In any case," he said, his voice taking on a teasing tone as his hand rested firmly on your shoulder, the touch deliberate, "You can return the favor next time."

"So that's your excuse to come back to this brothel?" you replied, your tone laced with sarcasm as one eyebrow arched slightly. A sly smile curved your lips as you looked at him. "How predictable, Silco..."

"Oh, I assure you, dove," he murmured, his voice laden with a dangerous softness that made every word sound like a promise. "It's not the only reason I'll return. But, I must admit... it's a rather tempting incentive."

Yet, as he spoke those words, something shifted inside him. A dark and familiar shadow rose, staking its claim on his mind. Suddenly, Silco pulled back. His face, previously brimming with desire and mischief, turned into a mask of indifference.

"I need to go," he said abruptly, the tone of someone ending a conversation with no room for argument. "There's something I need to take care of."

And with that, without another word, he was gone.

Leaving you behind, confused, and his jacket.

[...]

The days following Silco's visit were a series of unsettling events. The changes came slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, but you had a knack for picking up on nuances. You were a survivor, and survival meant knowing when something was wrong before it became a bigger problem.

First, there were the furtive glances. Your colleagues at the brothel seemed to watch you with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. There were hushed whispers and abruptly interrupted conversations whenever you walked by. That wasn't new—gossip was as common as the smell of cheap perfume in that place. But this felt different now. Heavier. As if they knew something you didn't.

Then came the anonymous donation. A substantial amount of money, accompanied by a short and direct note, unsigned. Just three words: "For your comfort."

You found yourself staring at the note longer than you should have, the paper trembling slightly in your hands. The tone of the words seemed polite, even kind, but in context... there was no comfort in them. Only confirmation that someone was meddling in your life.

Finally—and perhaps most disturbingly—was the sudden drop in the number of clients. At first, you thought it was a coincidence, something seasonal. The brothel's clientele had its ups and downs, after all. But as the days went by, the reality became unmistakably clear.

The few men who still requested your company exhibited strange behaviors. Gone were the hungry gazes, the invasive touches. They were stiff, as if walking on eggshells, and most seemed incapable of relaxing in your presence. They didn't want closeness, avoided more intimate advances. Instead, they merely asked for your company, remained in an awkward silence while sitting far from you, and left far more money than necessary.

It was disconcerting. The break from routine, the absence of the predictable... it was almost worse than dealing with the unwanted touches you'd learned to ignore.

And then came the confirmation you didn't want. It arrived through a conversation you weren't invited to but overheard from the other side of a door: the men who had been appearing and specifically requesting you, were none other than subordinates of a certain chemical baron.

Silco. Part 3

[gia-d]

Back in October last year, I started reading This is an Adjuration by @not-freyja.

By the time I had made it to chapter 5, I had already started typesetting this story as I read because I knew this would be one of those stories that I needed to have on my shelf.

When I finally caught up to the story at chapter 31, I begged the author to let me bind this when it was finished.

Nearly a year later, and what is probably the most important bind of my life is finally finished. Check out these glamour shots, and if you want to hear more about the actual binding process and about how this fic actually changed my life, see below.

So funny story, before I get into the technical side of this bind, but this fic actually changed my life. Not as in I was greatly emotionally moved by the story, though don't get me wrong I absolutely was, but genuinely this fic introduced me to some of the best people I have ever had to privilege of knowing (Hello Class, you know who you are 🩷), and also, it introduced me to Freyja, the incredibly talented author, who, as I type this, is curled up in bed next to me fast asleep after flying half way around the world to go on a two week long date with me.

Moral of the story folks is comment on the fics you like. You might accidentally meet the love of your life on, and I can't believe I'm saying this, AO3.

Anyways, about the bind!

This bind was a challenge from day 1. I had to do the typeset for this 300k word fic 4 times, and had to split it across 2 volumes. This was the longest fic I have ever attempted to bind, and it was so thick I couldn't get it in the paper trimmer.

To make this book as durable as possible, I attempted a few techniques. I secured it with 3 tapes, I made an Oxford hollow, I rounded the spine, I made a slipcase and I used 2.3mm boards where normally I use 1.8mm.

The slipcase is covered with embossed faux leather, buckram and plain ribbon, and lined with gold satin fabric. I've never made a slipcase before so this was an experience.

The books are covered with an emerald green silk finish bookcloth which really gave the books the luxury they deserved. I foiled custom end papers as well as every chapter title page using heat reactive transfer foil on toner ink (never again I am never doing that again omg it took days). Huge thank you to @la-sera for letting me use her artwork which helped inspire this fic!

The grey flashback chapters I had to use HTV for the border decoration and I'm very happy with how that turned out because it was so easy and straight forward, unfortunately it just wasn't viable for the whole book.

It feels weird to finally have these books done. They have my blood, sweat, tears and my heart poured into them, and I've been working on them for so long that it's odd to actually have them finished. I'm so proud of this bind, and feel like I've grown so much as a fanbinder by making these.

Anyways, if anyone has any questions about the process, please don't hesitate to ask!

(and if you are an Linked Universe fan and haven't read Adjuration yet, this is your sign!)

[see-arcane]

See Arcane's Scribbles Substack

Do you like classic horror literature? Do you have a below-average fear of disembodied eyes staring at you from the screen while you try to read? Then have I got the Substack for you!

Mine. It’s my Substack. See Arcane’s Scribbles is where I’ll be compiling a number of preview chapters for works-in-progress as well as a few other eerie odds and ends that might not end up on Tumblr. It’s a hell of a lot easier to scroll through and you can chuck a little support my way too. Hope you’ll give it a gander! Likewise for my official author site.

The Vampyres and Harker

The Vampyres (novella)

Set in the modern day, one very practiced bastard of a bloodsucker realizes that his fellow undead have started disappearing. All suddenly gone to dust and decay. Which would hardly bother him, except the entity responsible is now on his track. The eponymous Vampyre finds himself caught between a desperate investigation to uncover what this impossible psychopomp really is and making moves on an enticingly oblivious new victim he can’t wait to drain…supposing he keeps his head on his shoulders long enough to get a taste. If you're interested in a copy, check out the following links:

eBook - Print

Or to search by ISBN:

eBook: 9798218374594 - Paperback: 9798218374587

Preview Chapters

Chapter 1 🩸 Chapter 2 🩸 Chapter 3

Harker (WIP)

Jonathan Harker opens and closes the story of Dracula. He is the character who spends the most time with the dreaded Count in person. He is there for the torturous stay in the gothic castle, he is there when the monster preys upon his beloved, he is there at the very end of Dracula's vicious undeath. And yet, so many questions are left unanswered about Mr. Harker and what he endured between the lines. What happened in those missing dates within Castle Dracula? What happened as he ran through the Carpathians? And what was the source and result of that eerie change that came upon him on the 3rd of October? It’s about time we found out.

Preview Chapters

Chapter 1 🩸 Chapter 2 🩸 Chapter 3 🩸 Chapter 4 🩸 Chapter 5

Ko-Fi

In case you want to drop me a buck or commission some art.

Playlists

Some tunes for your contemporary or classic undead horror of choice:

The Vampyres 🩸Harker 🩸Was Frankenstein Not the Monster? 🩸 Nosferatu: Death and the Maiden

Also I'm on Bluesky if you want to say hi. 🦋

[mionemymind]

Chapter 3: Choosing for You

My Rival Series

Series Summary: The time where Y/n Y/l/n and Wanda Maximoff were academic rivals that fell for each other.

Chapter Summary: The competition is here. Who will be the winner?

A/n: This was a long chapter, honestly might rewrite it, but here it is with all its mistakes and glories. And I'm sorry if you've asked to be tagged and wasn't included in this post, I'm posting this from work because I promised to give y'all something. (Gif credits to @elizabetholsens)

Warnings: Rivals to Lovers, Obvious Feelings, Stubborn Reader, Cursing, Alcohol, Mentions of Puking, Memory Loss, Panic Attack

Word Count: 7.2k

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Fall Semester - Freshman Year

“Why does winning matter so much to you?” Winning hardly had rewards in life. Sure, there was sometimes money involved on the line but other than financial gain, winning was mainly there to feed the ego. For Natasha, she never viewed Y/n as someone that cared about being number one in life. Based on the few phone calls she overheard, the university felt like a getaway from troubles at home. So why did Y/n even want to win? 

The brown eyed girl sat in confusion. Her pencil was still as she wracked her brain for an answer. By all means, winning is fun. Back in high school, Y/n would naturally win things that being number one felt like home at that point. But having moved on from that mentality, winning wasn’t quite the same in Evergreen University. Well, it’s not like she had a chance to feel it when Wanda Maximoff was around. 

“If I’m being honest…I don’t think I’ve ever worked for a win in my life before.” The two locked eyes as Y/n softly confessed what was long on her mind. She placed her pencil down and gave Natasha her undivided attention. “Studying has never been my thing before up until now. Don’t get me wrong, I quite hate it, but it feels different now. Like if I just beat her once, then that high will be like nothing ever before.” 

“Does she really challenge you that much?” The question sunk into Y/n’s brain and into her deeper subconscious. She sat quietly, overthinking her answer. 

“I think…she’s the only one that ever challenged me at all.” 

Competition Day - Spring Semester - Junior Year 

‘Why does winning feel so wrong?’ Y/n looked in the mirror, splashing small bits of water on her face to help wake herself up. Rolling her neck, she could feel how stiff her bones were from last night. Unfortunately, the bus was no help at all, only providing mild comfort on their four hour journey. 

Stepping out the bathroom, Y/n wore the tightly pressed and cleaned uniform as Wanda started her speech for the group. “I want to thank you all for joining us today at this competition. For some of you, this is your first time ever attending the conference while for others, you are returning. Regardless, you’ve all earned your spots on this team, so congratulate yourself for that.” 

A couple of applauses were heard as Wanda smiled at the team. She briefly glanced to Y/n who was sitting all the way at the back of the bus. “I know that this bus is carrying some of the brightest minds that Evergreen University has to offer. Without a doubt in my mind, I know we can win this competition.”

Y/n looked away to the view of the hotel where the conference took place. The turmoil in her gut was hard to ignore as she focused on other things besides Wanda’s eyes. ‘Winning is a must. If I want to come back to her here, then I need to win.’ 

“However, winning is not always the priority. Overall, I’ve been more than happy to see everyone grow into their strengths and even improve your weaknesses. Your efforts have been highly noted by both of your captains.” Y/n looked back at Wanda, her stare as confident as ever. 

“We want to thank you all for all the nights, practices, and energy you’ve committed to be in this competition.” Wanda looked over as the bus entered the garage of the hotel. “Okay, everyone come in for a quick send off.” 

Everyone gathered into a huddle, placing their hands in the middle. “On three - one - two - three - Evergreen! Fight! Fight! Fight!” Their hands lifted into the air as Wanda looked at Y/n with a determined smile. 

‘I’m going to win.’ The brunette thought as she stared into those brown eyes, but little did she know the costs of this win.

The hotel was massive. It was honestly a surprise at how many schools can fit into one place. Some had to fly in, having been more than five hours away. The group followed Wanda to the selected tables meant for Evergreen University. 

“Break into your groups, Y/n and I will be investigating the brackets to see who we will be versing first. We have about an hour before round one is officially called. If you need to change or use the bathroom, this is definitely the time to do so. If you have any questions or concerns, please let Y/n and/or I know immediately.” 

Doing as told, the members immediately broke into their four person group and discussed strategies for round one. When no one came up to ask any questions, the pair walked off out of the conference room, and into the large hall that had many posters hung up with all the different brackets. 

There was a small but comfortable silence as Wanda walked slightly ahead from Y/n, focusing on finding out who they were versing first. While Y/n was also thinking of the competition, she wondered if they were ever going to talk about last night. 

Walking up to the first bracket they could find, Wanda took a picture of it and sent it to the math club group chat for everyone to see. “Princewell University, Maroon State College, and Gale College, not a bad start. Looks like we’re going to easily make it into the second round.” 

Since Y/n was unable to sleep last night, she made use of her time by looking over the bracket. Going over the many possibilities, there was still a high chance of her group making it to the top five. Round one was thankfully full of easy opponents having judged their previous matches with other schools. 

“I agree. Looks like our main trouble is with Harford University. But they’re all the way at the otherside. I’m hoping Legacy College takes care of them so we don’t have to,” Wanda comments. She turned to face Y/n, taking a good look at her clean uniform and brushed hair. 

“I need you to be on your A-game today.” Unsure of where Wanda’s seriousness was coming from, Y/n nodded in understanding. “If you can give me that, I’ll overlook this morning.” 

Puzzled by her statement, Y/n asked, “What are you talking about?” Wanda crossed her arms, trying her best to be level headed at the moment. 

“You wreaked alcohol. Last night was a supposed to be a get together, not an opportunity to get drunk.” The judgment coming from Wanda’s tone felt like a slap in the face as Y/n took one step back. 

“Are you kidding me? I took one drink. I wasn’t the one that was drunk last night. Are you seriously remembering the same night as me?” The small moment with Wanda was all that Y/n replayed in that moment. 

‘Apologize and I’ll forgive you for everything - apologize and I’ll let go of this whole feud.’ Whether Y/n was going to loudly admit it or not, the small ounce that she saw of Wanda’s true personality changed her view of the brunette. Even if the conversation was small, even if Wanda didn’t hear her response, even if it was a drunk confession, Y/n was going to cling to it. 

Wanda was always the girl that was number one but in that small moment, Wanda was just a girl who wanted to win for the sake of not disappointing her father. Because God, how could someone ever be disappointed in Wanda Maximoff? And how could they not see just how amazing she was? 

But as Wanda rolled her eyes, and hardened her stare, Y/n knew none of that moment mattered to Wanda, not when her green eyes still showed some form of hatred. “I remember last night clearly. Everyone in the group arrived and managed to say check in with me. You were the only one in the group that I didn’t even get to see. Once it was late, I went back to my dorm and slept. But it’s obvious why you avoided me - you were too busy drinking rather than focusing on the competition.”

“That’s not-”

“I don’t want to hear your explanation. Your team deserves a good leader and if you can’t provide that, I’ll make sure that math club will be looking for a replacement captain next semester.” The pounding in Wanda’s head was hard to ignore as she walked away from Y/n, not even bothering to hear her side. 

‘Focus. Everything will be alright if you just focus.’ The ringing in Y/n’s ears was louder than the judge in front of her. The question left his lips almost slipped past the girl but thankfully her teammate, Luke, was paying attention, easily answering the question. 

“Another point for Evergreen University, which solidifies their victory for this match!” Cheers erupted from the crowd as each group got up, giving the other members handshakes for the great match. 

‘I can’t fucking focus.’ Y/n wore a fake smile as she congratulated the other captain on the team, quickly walking off the stage. Ever since her interaction with Wanda, her nervousness and anxiety came back in full throttle. Her mind went from completely tired to panic. And while her drive to win increased, it came with overthinking as well. 

“That was a great match everyone! I’m so proud of you all for being so great for these four rounds that I haven’t had to worry one bit.” Well Y/n did worry, just not for her team’s sake. “I’m going to go ahead and let the staff know about our victory. In the meantime, go ahead and relax at our table. After the fifth round, let me know if y’all want snacks. I can go ahead and purchase them for everyone.” 

“Thank you Y/n. We appreciate it!” Luke stated, he was a returning member of the competition, one that Y/n knew well. Letting the group walk away, Y/n finally brought her guard down as she walked out of the conference room and to the direction of the staff booth. 

‘I can’t believe I fucking froze.’ Y/n knew the question was for her, yet she had to rely on her team member for something she could’ve easily answered. Wiping her frustrations off her face, Y/n tried to compose herself before she approached the staff. 

“School, team, and placement?” The lady wore rectangle shaped glasses. She offered Y/n a kind smile, ready to write the results. 

“Evergreen University, team two, and we won our match.” Y/n peeped her name tag, Laura, as she wrote down the results. 

“Looks like you’ll be versing Apollo College next in conference room seven.” Laura handed Y/n a slip of paper with the information before calling next. 

Shoving the paper in her pocket, Y/n walked past several conference rooms, their doors open for anyone to watch their matches. None of them interested her, but her voice certainly did. Stopping at the entrance of the doors, Y/n watched Wanda flawlessly answer the question. 

The bright light focusing on her group amplified her natural beauty. Y/n could pick up on every single detail, something she already knew like the back of her hand. Her jaw clenched as she noticed Wanda's smile, the same type of smile she had when she got hundreds on tests. 

The anger inside Y/n manifested once more. She could legitimately feel herself start to boil the more she stared at Wanda. It was dangerously coming close to the anger she felt when she lashed out at Natasha that one night. 

Clenching her fists, Y/n walked away from the match, unable to stand Wanda any further with thoughts of winning in her mind. 

‘You’re making mistakes.’ Wanda stood in the crowd with her arms crossed. The displeased look on her face was hard to miss as she witnessed Y/n make her third mistake of the match, causing another precious point to be missed. Her brain rushed through many thoughts of disappointment towards the girl she used to hold to a high regard. 

‘This isn’t like her.’ But the frown on Wanda’s face deepened, did she really know Y/n at all? Yes, she can admit that Y/n was smart. Smarter than a lot of people at their university. But other than that obvious characteristic, Y/n was admittedly someone she only knew at surface level. They’ve hardly spoken outside classes or math club. Essentially, she was just a stranger that was smart. 

Shaking away the sadness that was snaking through her, Wanda watched as Y/n sat back in her seat. 

The shame that Y/n carried on her shoulders felt massive along with the anxiety that continued to paralyze her more and more. The brown eyed girl was certain of her answer, so when the judge loudly announced that she gotten it wrong, embarrassment flooded her senses knowing that Wanda was in the crowd, silently judging her every move. 

It all came down to the final question of the match. Whoever answers correctly will have to verse Wanda’s team. Luke, once again, got up, ready to answer the question. All eyes were on him besides Wanda and Y/n. 

As the two finally locked eyes, Y/n couldn’t help but drown further in Wanda’s rage. ‘Forget everything I ever said - I do fucking hate you, Wanda Maximoff. And I hope you never forget that.’

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

“We need to talk.” Celebrations for Evergreen University were deaf to Wanda’s ears as she held Y/n’s wrist. Quickly, she led them out the crowd and through the near empty hallway outside the conference room. Dropping her wrist, Wanda stood there fuming with anger. 

“What was that?” Y/n didn’t want to speak, unsure of what would be the ‘correct’ choice of words for the brunette. And by the looks of it, nothing was going to satisfy her. Choosing to be silent anger Wanda ever further. 

“This isn’t the time to be childish - you’re making mistakes and if it wasn’t for your team, you wouldn’t have had this spot in the finals.” Y/n clenched her jaw as she bit her tongue. Sure she made mistakes, but it hurt Y/n to realize that Wanda didn’t even care for the ways she did contribute to the team. 

Mistakes were permanent for the girl that was always perfect. That was something Y/n realized now more than ever. 

“Can you not let go of three mistakes, Captain?” Y/n continued to stare off at the other side of the hallway, refusing to make eye contact with Wanda. Her words sneered off her mouth, feeling disgusted at the way Wanda ridiculed her every move. 

“Un-fucking-believable. Dean Holloway was right.” At the mention of the Dean, Y/n’s blood ran cold. Her eyes locked with Wanda’s, as the brunette stood there. “You take everything as some type of joke. And to think I stood up for you.” 

Y/n’s mind scrambled on what possibly happened between Dean Holloway and Wanda. ‘Does she know about my scholarship?’

But why on Earth would Wanda assume such things if she knew about her scholarship? Pressing for more information, Y/n asked, “What did he say?”

Wanda rolled her eyes. ‘Of course that’s what she would focus on rather than her own mistakes.’ Looking at the time, there were twenty minutes left before the final. The brunette should have been using this time to help practice with her team, yet here she was arguing with Y/n. 

“Last week,” Wanda sighed. This all felt pointless to admit but she felt that Y/n needed to know. Maybe this could be what straightened up her act. “Dean Holloway asked me to reconsider your place in this competition.” 

“What?” Y/n took a step back at the confession, feeling more hopeless at how rigged everything was. ‘How could he do this to me?” 

“I told him that I could trust you - that you were the only person besides me adequate enough to lead the math club. Somehow, he managed to let me know that you were slipping in classes. No longer being at the top.” Wanda looked at Y/n. She focused on all the minor details of the face that haunted her mind. But upon seeing how hurt those brown eyes looked, Wanda couldn’t help but falter slightly. 

“I wanted to believe that it was all wrong, but now…” Y/n silently pleaded as her mind went into overdrive. Couldn’t Wanda see how innocent she was? How she had been studying day and night for weeks just to make it another year at Evergreen? Couldn’t she see that this was all for her? 

“I think we should go back to our groups. We need to prepare for the final. But Y/l/n…after this competition, we might have to reconsider your place as captain for math club.” 

How cruel the world must be for the universe to deal Y/n such a bad draw? And how awful it must feel to know that Wanda was the one that delivered the final blow? 

‘I have to win for me.’ Water dripped down Y/n’s face as she stared at herself in the mirror. There was five minutes left before she was expected to take the stage. Currently, Y/n was in the bathroom, hoping to subside the panic attack that was itching to come out. 

‘Even if the school doesn’t want me, even if Wanda doesn’t want me, I want this more than anyone.’ Gripping the counter for stability, Y/n slowed her breathing down, hoping it would be enough. She wasn’t going to let the world decide her fate even if it had cheated her of a fair opportunity. 

“Welcome everyone for the final match for the annual math club state competition. I’m thrilled to announce that this year’s top two teams both come from Evergreen University!” Applause rumbled throughout the large conference room as the rest of the school's watch in anticipation. 

Wanda sat in her seat, overthinking her conversation with Y/n earlier. ‘Did I go overboard?’ Sneaking a glance at Y/n, it was hard to get a read of what the brown eyed girl was thinking. ‘Whatever, she needed to know.’

Pushing her thoughts to the back, the brunette focused back on the competition. It was finally her turn to go up as well as Y/n’s. 

“Please find the inverse of the following equation.” Like a switch, everything in Wanda’s mind grew silent as she focused on the question on the screen. In seconds flat, she hit the buzzer to submit her answer. 

“And the correct answer choice was…C, point goes to team # 1.” This was Wanda’s element - this was her reason for being. Glancing at Y/n, Wanda knew her purpose. She was number one and god forbid anyone that stood in her way. 

The competition went by like a blur. In the first quarter of questions, Wanda’s team led with a gap of seven points. However, after a couple small mistakes by her team members, Y/n’s team was able to catch up and shorten the gap. 

Right now, there are only five questions left. The score remained tied as Y/n tried her best to remain perfect. If things were to continue the way they were, the last question would determine the winner. 

Before she knew it, it was finally her turn. Standing up to take the podium, Y/n glanced at Wanda accidentally locking eyes. ‘I will be the one to defeat you, Maximoff. I will make sure of it.’

Fall Semester - Freshman Year 

“I’ve never seen you study so much before. It’s kinda freaky.” The two roommates sat around the small circular table in the middle of the room, enjoying a couple of drinks and snacks. Natasha begged for Y/n to stop for at least a small break, having missed talking to her roommate. 

“Trust me, I hate it just as much as you do.” Y/n stretched her legs at her sat position. Rolling her neck around, a couple of pops and clicks could be heard. 

“Why do it? Your grades are fine the way they are.” Y/n looked back at the pile of books on her desk. She never really recalled studying this much before during her high school days. Heck, she’s been able to get by this whole time just by how naturally smart she was. So when she looked back at Natasha, there was this ‘ya know’ look in Y/n’s eyes. “Does it have to do with Wanda?”

Y/n smiled at the mention of the brunette. It was odd at how many classes they were in together even though their majors were entirely different. There was something about Wanda that caught Y/n’s eye. She didn’t quite know what it was and didn’t quite want to delve too much into it. 

“And if it does?” Y/n sipped on her drink, a smirk on her face as she avoided Natasha’s question. The red head shook her head, grabbing a chip.

“Well - you speak of her like she’s a God.” Eating a couple more, Natasha watched as the glimmer in Y/n’s eye brightened every time the brunette was brought up. Like the simple mention of Wanda could make Y/n smile instantly. 

“Wrong, Wanda’s not a God. Gods make mistakes,” getting closer to Natasha’s face, the red head could smell the faint of alcohol on Y/n’s lips, “and Wanda Maximoff does not make mistakes.” 

Y/n leaned back, still drinking the rest of her drink as Natasha looked at her roommate with a puzzled look. “Whatever you say. Just try not to make this a habit now.”

Y/n shook her head, feeling optimistic that she’d beat Wanda soon enough. Probably in the same semester. “I won’t. Promise.” 

“Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in our state’s history the competition’s fate lied in the last question.” The crowd applauded for the accomplishment as the judges beamed in smiles towards Evergreen University. “.As your judges, we believe this calls for a special problem. We’ve rewritten the last question to make it a more challenging problem.”

“With one point in the lead, if Wanda answers the question correctly, her team will solidify the win. If Y/n answers the question correctly, this competition will proceed to overtime.” 

Y/n and Wanda stood at their podiums, anticipation both killing them. “Here is your question.” 

As the screen showed off the problem, Y/n could feel herself standing tall as she looked over the problem. It was a multistep calculus problem that involved finding the inverse of a 3x3 matrix. Essentially, a problem that would require two pages of work just to find a solution. And by the looks of it, Wanda was already finished with the first quarter of the work. 

Calming her breathing down, Y/n cleared the noise from her head.  She looked back at the problem, digesting all of what it told. ‘This is just another problem, Y/n.’ Thinking lightly back to the days where math was just a fun activity to do, Y/n finally smiled, remembering the feeling where math naturally came to her. 

Letting the feeling sink in, Y/n started to solve it. The crowd waited with whispers and talks of who was going to win. Many people in the crowd believed Wanda would secure another victory as she did in the past. Very few people cheered for Y/n, simply wanting to believe in the underdog. 

A few minutes later, Y/n approached the final bits of her answer, immediately eyeing the answer choice on the screen. Her heart skipped a beat realizing that she could do this - that she could win. 

Before she could reach out for the answer, Wanda had buzzed in first with her choice. Suddenly, everything inside Y/n shut down as she saw Wanda smile once again. It was that infamous smile that she grew so used to. 

‘This can’t be it. This can’t be the end.’ Feeling herself lock up again, Y/n didn’t dare to look at the screen, hoping to save some of her dignity that was barely left. 

Believing the world to be crashing in front of her, she failed to realize that Wanda had made a mistake. The screen glowed in bright red as her answer choice was incorrect. “Y/n, looks like the question is left to you. You haven’t locked in your answer, so what will it be?” 

Y/n looked up, unable to digest that Wanda actually messed up. The Wanda Maximoff made a mistake. Fighting back the smile on her face, Y/n reached out for the correct answer choice, her finger tips grazing answer choice B. 

The smug look on her face was hard to miss. Everyone on her team knew they would come home with the victory. Wanda’s team sighed in defeat knowing that Y/n would answer correctly. 

So why did everything change when Y/n glanced at Wanda? Why did her heart hurt at the sight of Wanda spilling angry and frustrated tears? Why did her breathing stop? And why did all thoughts consume her? 

Wanda never cried or at least in front of Y/n or anybody. She was always the strong and confident girl that knew every answer for every question. She walked like she was untouchable. So how did she mess up? 

‘Please stop crying,’ she thought. Her heart constricted knowing she was the reason Wanda was crying. Yet every ounce of her brain yelled for her to press the damn answer, to finally prove to Wanda that she could be defeated, to finally get the win that she had been craving for since freshman year. 

So why couldn’t she just fucking press it? Looking back at the crowd and at the answer written down on her paper, her free hand crumpled the sheet as her heart overtook what her mind pleaded. 

Feeling like time stopped, Y/n held her breath when those green eyes locked with her. ‘I want to win…I want to stay…but at the cost of this…this isn’t a win.’ 

Beyond logic and reason, Y/n pressed her answer. Confetti blew in the air as the judge announced, “And the winner is team # 1 with Wanda Maximoff as their team captain. Congratulations to Evergreen University!” 

Regardless of what Wanda had ever done, said, or thought, Y/n knew that today was all because the school wanted to so badly pin Wanda against her. But Y/n finally knew better. This will not be the day she wins. This will be the day she was finally okay to be second to Wanda. 

Many cheers and laughter filled the bus as the group celebrated the Evergreen University win. Wanda had been smiling so hard since the award ceremony that her cheeks started to hurt.

As she looked over the trophy, her eyes couldn’t stop looking at the sleeping figure near the back of the bus. ‘I almost lost it,’ Wanda thought. It was unlike her to make a mistake and if she was being honest, she didn’t know what to blame. 

As much as she wanted to overlook her work, she wanted to leave that mistake in the past and enjoy the win. But as she kept looking back to Y/n, who hadn’t said a word to her since the final match, Wanda couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. 

Regardless, the drive back to Evergreen was filled with joy as Y/n finally slept after a long exhausting day. 

Finals Week - Spring Semester - Junior Year

Wanda loved winning…but lately, it had a sour taste in her mouth. Finals week came in full swing, giving zero time for Wanda to dissect this weird feeling in her chest. She had helped some of her friends and classmates with studying, making her even more busy than usual. 

By the time she was done with tests, the sour feeling still sat in her chest. With only two days left, Wanda couldn’t help but lose some sleep over this feeling. Why was winning suddenly so bad? When did it become something she felt guilty for? 

Subconsciously, her mind gravitated towards Y/n. In her dreams, the moment before Y/n answered the final question replayed constantly. It was as if her mind took a vivid recording of the whole interaction. And as she replayed the moment she locked eyes with Y/n, Wanda couldn’t help but feel like the trophy wasn’t meant for her. 

Of course she downplayed the scenario, believing that this was another mistake that Y/n had made for that day. And the words of Dean Holloway, this was something Y/n never took seriously. So why did she vividly remember how Y/n’s eyes looked the moment she had chosen her answer? Why did Y/n look so accepting of defeat? Why was there no anger or thrive behind them? 

And the more she thought, the more she realized how little she saw of Y/n during the whole week. Friday, the last day of the semester, came around. During the test, her mind suddenly diverted to her. So when Wanda looked up and found Y/n in the crowd, she couldn’t help but want to talk to her, to see what exactly happened in that moment. 

Was it something she made up in her head? Was she feeling weird for actually making a mistake in front of people? Was this blown out of proportion? 

Regardless, Wanda didn’t dare describe this feeling as part of missing Y/n. Cause if she had, maybe she would have realized sooner that winning felt wrong this time. Because maybe, just maybe, it had pushed away the person that actually understood her better than anyone else. 

Last Night - Spring Semester - Junior Year

Y/n Y/l/n,

We regret to inform you that your scholarship has been revoked for the following 2019 fall semester. This decision was not made lightly as the board is aware of the accomplishments you’ve brought to Evergreen University. Nevertheless, the requirement to place #1 in the most recent STEM competition was something we could not ignore. 

We do hope you decide to enroll for your senior year. For further information on financial aid or loan applications, please visit the Bursar’s office. 

Dean of the College of Arts & Sciences

Cedric Holloway 

Evergreen University

The letter sat on the Y/n’s near empty desk as she continued to pack in preparation for tomorrow. It was the last night on campus for every student. While many chose to celebrate it with a party, Y/n chose to spend it alone. 

The silence of her room provided some comfort as she cleared her bookshelf. “Why must I have so many books?” 

While Y/n never imagined this would be where her college career with Evergreen ended, she certainly never regretted her choice. Then again, she hadn’t been home in forever, so that may change soon once she goes back. 

Looking back at Natasha’s fully furnished side, Y/n could feel some guilt rising to her chest as she hadn’t broken the news yet to her best friend. Not wanting to burden the red head with a sad night, Y/n remained silent, hoping tomorrow would be best to break the news. 

As for Y/n’s group, none of them were particularly angry about her mistake. Everyone tried their best to cheer their captain up, providing some comforting smiles and words. None of it truly mattered though. This was Y/n’s choice to make and she fully knew the consequences of it. 

So for the first time in a while, Y/n was actually alone and not studying. That was until she came. Wanda stood in the hallway, thinking of how she would talk to Y/n, to hopefully apologize. She carried the trophy that was mailed in from the conference, one that actually had her name engraved on it. 

But the trophy felt heavy and awkward in her hands, but it was the closest thing Wanda could think of as a conversation starter. Pushing her anxieties away, Wanda walked to Y/n’s dorm, surprised that the door was actually opened. 

The first thing she noticed was the pile of boxes that almost blocked the doorway. Looking past it, Wanda couldn’t help but notice how bare Y/n’s side looked. 

“What are you doing?” Y/n jumped from the corner of her room, hand on her chest.

 “Jesus Christ, Maximoff, can you give a girl a warning?” 

Wanda placed the trophy in the hallway, and walked around Y/n’s room, not caring for an invitation inside. Thinking back to the dorm setup, Evergreen University typically had students stay in the same dorm assigned to them from freshman year all the way to junior year. During senior year, students would be upgraded to bigger dorms. 

“I thought you couldn’t transfer dorms till senior year was closer?” Wanda turned around to face Y/n, the empty side didn’t make sense as juniors typically left their items alone throughout the summer. 

Y/n’s eyes glanced at the letter on her desk. “I’m moving to a new scenery.” She picked up the box with her knick knacks and placed it on top of the letter, hoping Wanda didn’t notice. The brown eyed girl leaned against her desk. She tilted her head noticing the shiny object in the hallway. 

“Is that the trophy?” Wanda looked back, almost forgetting what she came here to do. She walked back to the hallway and grabbed the trophy. Their fingers brushed as Wanda handed it to Y/n. “Wow! It’s…it’s really beautiful.” 

Y/n rubbed her thumb across Wanda’s name. Wanda Maximoff 2019 Champion. “Congratulations by the way. Sorry I wasn’t able to say it back on stage.” Y/n handed the trophy back to Wanda. If the girl was paying attention, she would’ve noted the odd look Wanda gave her. 

Something was different and Wanda hated it. Winning always gave her a high but something about this interaction increased the bittersweet feeling in her chest. “What dorm hall are you relocating to?” Wanda placed the trophy on Y/n’s desk. “I could help you out if you need it.” 

Already ready to help out, Wanda lifted the box of knick knacks, her fingers brushing over the letter. “Wanda-,” Y/n startled herself, not expecting to nearly yell at Wanda, “I- I -” 

No words left Y/n’s mouth as those green eyes stared back at her. Suddenly, all those times where they yelled in each other's face came to mind. How close were they to ever…? 

Y/n sighed, there was no use hiding from the truth now. “I’m actually going back home.” Wanda placed the box back down, still not understanding why Y/n’s things were packed. “I’m-” 

Y/n scratched the back of her neck, avoiding Wanda’s stare. “I’m transferring to Langford University.” An eerie silence settled in Y/n’s room. So when Y/n got the courage to look back at Wanda, she hadn’t expected the teary eyes and offended look on Wanda’s face.

“You’re transferring? Why?” Moving off the desk, Y/n sat on her bed as Wanda leaned back on to the desk. “It’s - complicated. I really don’t want to go into it.” 

Wanda’s hand balled up into a fist. The lack of details pissed her off. “You’re seriously not coming back?” Wanda hated how bitter everything tasted. The sight of her trophy pissed her off even more. 

Y/n opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. She didn’t know what to say. She was leaving what she called home for the past three years. Not only that, she was leaving the girl that has been there since her first day. What could she even say?

Before she could admit anything, Y/n’s phone rang, breaking the tense atmosphere. “Sorry, let me take this real quick.” Y/n walked out to the hallway to answer her phone. 

Wanda sighed with her head hung low. What was she going to do now? Being #1 was something her parents always pressured her to do. But ever since she met Y/n, #1 was something that motivated her to get out of bed and start the day extra early. Meeting Y/n meant countless hours studying just to make sure she knew the lessons by heart. Meeting Y/n meant her life revolved around beating the girl in every single thing. And as harsh as it sounded, it was the only way Wanda knew to get closer. 

She turned around and glanced at the open box. There was a various amount of figurines, crystals, and journals thrown in. Wanda picked up a green crystal, one that almost matched her eyes. She remembered the day back in freshman year where Y/n had admitted she recently got into collecting crystals. Wanda thought at first it was a waste of money until she stopped by a local shop. 

The red head could see why it was intriguing to buy them especially when you believe the auras and specialities that a certain rock can bring to your life. So in secret, Wanda bought a sphere of rose quartz and placed it in her room. She didn’t notice anything different in her life but then again, all her thoughts already surrounded Y/n. 

Wanda looked back at the hallway and could hear Y/n still talking on the phone. It felt wrong to steal, especially since that was a no no in the crystal community. But the idea of Y/n leaving her without a single thing to keep for herself felt cruel. So when she slipped on the necklace, as if it already belonged to her, she could feel her heart skip a beat at the thought of Y/n giving it to her. 

Wanda tucked the crystal under her shirt when her fingers brushed the letter once more. The school logo printed on the top right called her name. It felt wrong to intrude, but the more she reminded herself of the situation, the less she cared about her morals. 

Gently sliding the letter from under the box, Wanda quickly read it. Eyebrows furrowed, Wanda read “We regret to inform you…”

Y/n shuffled back into the room causing Wanda to straighten up. “Sorry about that. I need to get Natasha. She’s stuck at some frat party without a ride back home.” The brunette crumpled the piece of paper and tucked it into her pocket.  Y/n was too distracted to notice. “Again, I’m really sorry but congratulations on the win Wanda.” Y/n looked at Wanda with the most sincere eyes. “Incase no one has told you, I’m really proud of you.” 

With one last look, Y/n left her dorm, hoping the Wanda would be decent enough to lock it up for her. And all Wanda could focus on was the sound of her name leaving Y/n’s lips. ‘You never call me Wanda.’

‘Like hell I’m going to let this happen.’ Wanda stormed into her father’s office, knowing he would be working another late night. The clear warm glow from his room indicated that he was there. 

Storming through the doors caused him to look up from his computer, clearly unexpecting guests at that moment. 

“Give her scholarship back.” Wanda slammed the letter onto his desk, crossing her arms hoping to show that she wasn’t messing around. The brunette couldn’t think straight about anything after she fully read the letter, and by now, she didn’t know whether to strangle Y/n for not telling her or for her father to even approve such decisions. 

“This decision was not made lightly.” Wanda could read past her father��s sentence and she was not going to take no for an answer. 

“Then clearly you’ve made the wrong decision.” Eric sighed knowing just how stubborn his daughter was. It was unfortunately a trait she got from him. Knowing fully well just how smart Wanda was, explaining this decision was going to be a disaster and a headache away. 

Looking past the letter and into his daughter’s eyes, he’s never seen her be this angry. Sure they’ve had arguments, but they’ve subsided ever since she started to attend college. Eric was hoping it was because Wanda was getting older and more mature. 

But as she stood there, eyebrows furrowed with a frown on her face, it felt like she was 16 all over again. Not wanting to beat around the bush, Eric figured to cut to the chase. 

“She’s a threat.” He didn’t like to admit it, but there was hardly anyone on campus that could match his daughter’s intelligence. This was something Eric wanted to keep. But the more he noticed Y/n move up on the Dean’s list, the more he feared Wanda’s spot would be threated. While he was confident in his daughter’s ability, he simply wanted to keep her spot safe. And that meant dealing with Y/n.

“She’s my equal.” All the guilt from the competition finally made sense. And as more things continued to click, the more Wanda stood in horror at the things she said to Y/n. This was all starting to become a nightmare, one that Wanda prayed to go away. But the look on her father’s face pissed her off even more. “If you don’t, I’m transferring. And there’s nothing you can do that will stop me.” 

Giving him no time to respond, Wanda walked out of the office. There was no time to think about her ultimatum, not when all she could think about was Y/n. 

‘Say something to her, Wanda, for fucks sake.’ It was finally the last day of the semester. Every student was mandated to leave by a certain time. While there was a large crowd of kids with their backpacks and suitcases, all Wanda could focus on was the goodbye happening between Natasha and Y/n.

The brunette had stayed up all night figuring out ways to get Y/n’s scholarship back. At one point, she even considered paying for Y/n’s tuition herself if it meant getting her to come back. But her father would immediately block her allowance if he caught wind of this. 

So far, she hadn’t gotten a response back from him. ‘Maybe he needs more time.’ But time was running out as Natasha helped Y/n with the last box. Percy was already in the driver seat, ready for the long drive back home. 

She could overhear their goodbyes and that Natasha would visit soon to hear the full story. But still, Wanda stood paralyzed, unable to move. ‘What if she doesn’t want to see me? What if I was too mean to her?’ 

And as Y/n got into the car, waving her goodbyes, Wanda stood behind the tree, clutching on to the only thing she had of Y/n. Tears quietly fell down her cheeks, a lingering question on her mind. ‘Did I push you away when you needed me the most?’ 

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[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 2: He's not yours to keep

genre: more angst than fluff, but I swear fluff is coming up next!

word count: 5562

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you are trying to make sense of all this mess, but it's time to learn that, sometimes, things are just messy and chaotic and you have to learn to look for the silver linings.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

author's note: I am absolutely over the moon with the response I've gotten on this series and I'm really thankful for all the love and support <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments!

You don’t usually dream. 

Well, actually, if you tell Spencer that, he will say that you’re wrong– you do dream, you just don’t remember it. It’s common, not really recalling the scenes your brain conjure, Spencer would say; it can be due to a series of factors including high levels of stress and poor sleep. He would then tell you to stay home for a day, read a good book, and drink one of his fancy teas Penelope got for him a long time ago. 

But the thing is, Spencer can’t really tell you any of it. 

Not when you seem to be avoiding him even inside his own home. 

It starts after you wake up still in his armchair, feeling exhausted and disgustingly sticky, you finally have a couple of moments to yourself. Spencer is still sleeping, and you’re actually surprised to see him stretched out on the couch– his tie is throw on his coffee table, the purple colour suddenly too bright in the dim apartment, but otherwise, still wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday. You don’t understand why he didn’t change into pyjamas, but then again, you don’t understand much of anything right now. 

So you go through the facts. 

One by one, you list them in your mind– and little by little it dawns on you just how bad this really is. It’s hard, conceptualising that this is reality; that you really do have a psychopath targeting you. It’s the kind of thing that you only saw in those TV shows you loved to binge on late night, the kind of thing you read on the newspaper, happening to other people, but never really you. Except, it is happening to you, and you are not sure what to do next. Do you just sit and wait for her to make a move? Do you continue to live your life normally? How? How are you supposed to ignore the fact that a, as Agent Hotchner had described her, ‘prolific serial killer’ might know who are?

“Oh my god,” You whisper to yourself, head falling in your hands. The watch on your wrist, an old, analogue thing your mom had given you before you left New York, is pointing to a time you would never have been awake before. 5:23 in the morning. The sun is not even up yet and you have hours before you have to open the store, but then again, you have to clean the mess that was left behind due to your rushed departure from it. You wince, disgusted at the thought of having to clean old vomit from the floor, and disgusted with the bitter taste it left behind. Right now, you are a shell of a human being and you need to get yourself back together. 

You follow a familiar routine of recovery. It’s something you’ve done before and something you will surely have to do again, and it all starts with a simple list. 

Firstly, you need to get up. You need to stretch your legs, throw them to the side, and stand. You need to walk, remind your self that you can still make your own path even if it’s only to the bathroom down the hall. 

Then, you need to brush your teeth. The bitter taste stuck to your mouth makes you wince with memories that you want to bury. 

Showering would be your third step, but this is not your home. This is not your space, and these are not your things. 

A pettier side of you, one that is bothered and angry and irritated in a superficial level, wants to march back out to the living room, as loudly as you can, and shake Spencer away. You want to wake him up at the crack of dawn and make him share your torment, because in some level, even if you try to push against it, you blame him. Deep inside, you know that there is a big difference between the two– between blaming him and it being his fault. One is purposeful, conscious; it’s a decision you take and lay on his head. If you blame him, you commit yourself to hate him. The latter, however, is a fact. It’s irrefutable and immutable as the fact that you need air to live. It is his fault, but it was not his goal. 

“He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault,” You whisper to yourself, pushing yourself off the sink to try and figure out his shower. It is his house, that’s a fact. But you also deserve a nice, warm shower, and that is another fact. He pushed you to come stay with him, so you need to also push yourself to feel comfortable in this space that feels so foreign to your senses. “He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault.”

The words become your mantra. He didn’t mean it, but it’s still his fault. Somewhere in you, you know you have what it takes to forgive, but you just don’t have what it’s needed to forget. By repeating those words, you allow your brain to slowly process this situation as what it is– something that happened because of him, but not by him. As much as you want someone to blame, someone to scream at, Spencer Reid just isn’t that person. 

It takes you a moment to realise you don’t really have a towel or any of your products here, and using Spencer’s shampoo just feels… odd. Like an invasion of his space almost. “Oh thank god for you, Spencer,” You sighed, happy to see the pairing of shampoo and conditioner sitting perfectly on the corner. His hair had been one of the first things you noticed about him, all chestnut and shaggy and longish, but you are aware that not every man knows the basic of self-care. There is something about the way his smell takes over the bathroom, floating with the evaporation of the warm water hitting your skin, makes you smile. You feel closer to Spencer than you’ve ever been, and that is when your sense of danger hits. Your heart starts speeding, and your breathing is suddenly really shallow, and you’re trying to come out of the shower, to breathe in cold air, but all you get is humid mist and you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe at all, you can’t–

“Spencer!” You gasp, eyes wide in desperation once your legs feel like they might just give out. Scrambling to hold yourself up, your hands knock over some things in the counter, making more noise on top of the running shower. “SPENCER!” 

“What? What? What– oh my god,” The door slams against the wall and back, almost hitting him on the side when he crouched down next to your naked, curled up body. It’s quite unnatural for you to witness, him jumping into action so fast, like he is trained to make these decisions in a split second. But then you remember that he actually is trained to make these quick choices– like grabbing the towel before anything else, covering you without a single quip about your nakedness; like sitting you up and putting your back against the wall; like turning off the shower and sitting back down right next to you, breathing deeply and loudly. It’s unconscious, how you let your breathing fall in line with his, and it takes a moment to realise he’s doing this on purpose. “Y/N, are you okay?” 

“No,” You whisper, shaking from either the cold or the nerves or both. There are goosebumps all over your legs, the towel not covering you much from the top of your thighs down. “Spencer, I’m not okay. I’m… Until yesterday, you were just the adorable guy who shared my love for books. Y-You’d come into the store smiling and we’d talk and talk and– and now I have a serial killer possibly tracking me. How am I supposed to be okay? I’m so scared… oh god, I’m so scared, Spencer…” The one thing you are proud, amidst your utter embarrassment, is that you are not crying anymore. You still sound a bit rough, throat tired and hurting, and there is no energy left in you and he can hear that, you know he can, because when your voice echoes in the silent bathroom, kicking from wall to wall, you hear it too– the exhaustion and the numbness and the emptiness left behind. 

“I-I’m still that guy,” He stutters, head falling down in shame but voice still twinged with something resembling hope. “I love books. I love talking to you about books, I love going to your store first thing in the morning. I’m still this guy, I just… I just happen to work for the FBI.”

“Yeah, but I… I think that after having my life turned upside down because of a serial killer who has a crush on you, I’m just not that same girl.”

That is the last time you talk to him that day.

—————————————

Actually, that was the last time you talked to him that entire week. 

After he dropped you at the store that day and you were forced to face the embarrassing remnants of your lowest moment in life, moping old vomit from the floor, that feeling of turmoil in your chest died down. It settled. And it hardened. 

He tried making conversation on the walk back to his, but you’re clearly not up for it, so his voice slowed down, getting lower and lower, until it stopped altogether. This time, you shower before bed and make a beeline to the armchair again, letting Spencer’s begs and pleas for you to sleep on the bed fall in deft ears.

For five days, you two don’t talk. 

It’s a dance of chaos, how you step around each other at the apartment, and seeing him biting his words back or catching a glimpse of the bags under his eyes makes you feel guilty; of course it does. But you know that you can’t help him right now. Even if you were to forgive him, to force your mercy onto the situation, it wouldn’t be genuine. It would give him a false sense of relief while you’d forever be uncomfortable next to him, and you don’t want that. You don’t want to feel on edge next to Spencer, you don’t want to feel nauseous and scared when you’re with him. You want to talk about books and coffee and favourite places to order take out from. Instead, all you get to do is talk about her.

It would be a lie to say you don’t feel slightly jealous with the way that his mind seems to be so wrapped around Cat Adams. The imposed talking ban is hard on you both, that much you know, but the more Spencer let it happen, the more he let it stretch out and continue, the more you feel like maybe he doesn’t care that much. Maybe what is hard for him is the awkward tension trapped in his own apartment, rather than the pain of seeing each other so close yet not being able to laugh like you used to. And you know– you know how ridiculous your thought are, how childish you’re acting, but you can’t really blame yourself for being so on edge lately, not when your emotions are so zip and zapping through your body like thunder and lightening. 

There are exceptions, though. In this case three exceptions, three moments in a day in which he brakes the ban, and you, for once, allow yourself some weakness. 

“Good morning,” Is moment one. He says that every day, when he blinks himself awake on the couch. Ever since you’ve been there, a total of six days now, Spencer has slept on the couch, right next to the armchair you’ve claimed as your own. For these, you meet his eyes and nod, as if saying same to you.

Breakfast is quiet. He makes coffee and you make eggs, because despite you being there under forced circumstances, you are not going to be ungrateful and so you pay him back by getting groceries and cooking most meals. Which leads you to exception number two– the moment when he drops you at the bookstore.

You two walk there at 8 and he’s gone by 8:07, giving you enough time to mumble a “Be safe,” and give him his lunch for the day. He tried telling you that you didn’t have to cook for him, but you don’t really listen. As pathetic as it seems, this is the one way you’ve found to keep what you two had before, alive. 

The third exception is the one that truly breaks your heart, again and again. It’s when he gets home, and he looks exhausted, and his hands fidget with the files he holds close to his chest. You are the first thing he looks for, and you almost melt at the way his shoulders visibly relax when he spots you– always ready for bed, always in the armchair. He stopped trying to come get you at the bookstore at night once you’ve agreed to let the officers walk you home. The spare key he added to your keychain should hold a bigger meaning than it does, though it feels like it does hold a bigger weight. A means to an end, you tell yourself every time you unlock his front door. This is just a means to an end. “Thank you,” he will then say, before he even moves to the kitchen to see whatever it was on the plate you had made and set in the microwave for him. “And good night.” By then, you’re already semi-asleep and you don’t really say anything. 

You never thought you would miss these forbidden exceptions when they’re gone. 

You know that travel is a big part of Spencer’s job, but with all that is going on, you never really considered the fact that he might need to leave for a few days. At least not until he calls you, right before you lock the store. The irregularity of it all has you scrambling to pick it up. “Spencer?” You barely whisper, voice cracking in half as little by little, you freeze up. The sensation is like ice running through your veins, burning it’s way to your heart until it makes it stop. “Spencer? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” He quickly answers, voice rushed in a way that makes you relax. He always talks fast and you find it incredibly endearing, even during these times apart. “I’m okay, it’s okay. I’m calling because we got a case.”

“Uh, okay?”

“Y/N, that means they need us in Ohio. Today.” He seems almost hesitant to tell you he needs to leave the state. 

And you are as hesitant to accept it. “Oh,” You mumble, suddenly needing to making sure the officer assigned to you is still outside and ready to go. “Okay. Do… Do you need clothes or something?” 

Spencer’s chuckle almost makes it all okay. Almost. “No, thank you. I just– I want you to be comfortable, okay? Feel free to sleep in my bed and do anything you want to do, I don’t mind! Feel at home! Just… be comfortable.” 

For a second you nod, forgetting he can’t see you right now. “Okay. Thank you.” 

“And Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You started biting your nails when you were twelve and middle school was kicking your ass. To this day, right now, you still bite them when you’re nervous. 

“It’s good hearing your voice.” 

Going home and knowing he won’t be there is not as comforting as you thought it could be. The two of you are not speaking and the constant walking on egg shells does get tiring, so you try to rationalise this as something that is just not that bad. Maybe Spencer going on his mysterious trips is not that bad anymore. Before, your curiosity was your downfall– you worried he had gotten sick or worse. However, you don’t think knowing the truth is much better. The nature of his job is incredibly dangerous, and you don’t even know much about it. Now, you still worry, that much hasn’t changed. What has changed, though, is that getting sick would be considered lucky. Right now, you worried about the ‘or worse’. 

Your mom’s voice fills the empty space for a while. She texted you a couple of days ago and you just now got around to calling. “Sweetheart, how do we switch to video again? I want to see your face.” Alarm bells sound off in your mind and you immediately shut down the idea. “Sorry mom, I can’t right now. I’ll video call you tomorrow, okay? I’m cooking dinner right now.” Her worry is that of a mother, comforting like a blanket and familiar like a home. It is not, though, the worry you want. 

For obvious reasons, you don’t tell her what’s going on, much rather preferring to tell her about the mundane things that keep you going. “And I sold out of the book!” You say, a short-lived excitement running through you. “It’s quite exciting, mom– since I opened the shop I have never sold out of anything! This is a first!”

“That’s amazing, sweetie!” She says, and you can’t help but wonder how Spencer would’ve reacted to the news if he was there. It’s only then that you realise you’re halfway through making him a plate for when he comes home, except he won’t be back until the case is complete and you gulp, too aware of the common noises you hear around you. 

This is when you realise how much you miss you Spencer. And how much, even if unconsciously, he makes you feel comfortable and safe. You thought it was the apartment, but now, by yourself, laying on the armchair yet again, you feel vulnerable and exposed. Footsteps can be heard from time to time, neighbours getting home or leaving for the night, and every time, without a fault, you hold your breath and wait. Maybe the door will open and she will be there, or maybe it will be another delivery. God, it could be anything– a letter, flowers, another box. Knowing that Cat Adams had such easy access to Spencer’s apartment is enough to get you up and running to his room. 

Green. The walls are green, muted and cozy, and you smile even when your eyes sting with tears. There is a hole in your heart right now and it’s Spencer shaped. “God,” You groan, rubbing your tears clean so aggressively that it hurts. “When did things get so fucked up?” 

There’s no real answer to that, and you if you think any longer about this, your brain might just implode. For now, all you need is to sleep, but that won’t happen for a while; not with the way your heart speeds up at every crackle coming from his old, metal heather. Still, the chill air of Autumn seeps in through the walls, and you shiver. I want you to be comfortable, Spencer had said before leaving, and you might be crossing some boundaries right now, but you need him close to feel comfortable. You might not be able to get him, but the next best thing you have right now is one of his sweaters, and you have no qualms about opening his wardrobe and grabbing the first thing you find. Ironically enough, it’s an FBI Academy hoodie, though you can’t really imagine Spencer and all his formal glory in a hoodie. You put it on, nonetheless, shutting the door with your foot and just as you turn around, your eyes catch sight of something. Something big, and beige, and bone chilling. 

The box. 

In the heat of the moment, you simply thought he had throw it away. Hell, it would’ve made sense to throw it away! What the fuck was that box doing there…? With a shaky breath, you open the wardrobe door again, hoping, praying, that you were actually hallucinating and that what you saw was nothing but a shoe box or a bag. “God, please, be a bag, be a bag…” Safe to say, your words are in vain. “Fuck, Spencer, what is wrong with you?”

You’re shaking when you pull the box out of its hiding place, breathing shallow and fast. Reason escapes you as you quickly open it, not worried about how it was or even about putting it back in place; if it was up to you, this box would’ve been gone a long time ago. Clearly, it had not been up to you. “Oh my god, I’m going to be sick.” 

Expectations are a tricky thing to deal with. When it comes to your life, you never expected anything big. You know your limitation better than anyone and the largest you’ve dreamt before was the store. You didn’t expect an FBI agent. You didn’t expect a serial killer. And you certainly didn’t expect a box full of sex toys. “What the…” You don’t want to touch them, not with your bare hands, but it looks like there are tens of toys in there, varying in shapes and sizes and colours. It makes you wonder… last he told you, her games are psychological and manipulative. From what you are seeing, though, this is incredibly physical. This is about touch and intimacy and… fuck. This is about connection. You don’t have to be a profiler to know that, not when you are so secretive about your own toys, hidden in the back of your besides drawer away from unwanted eyes. It’s a private thing, and only people you trusted, people you let into your life, knew about them. 

Before you know what you’re doing, you rush to find your phone. It’s somewhere in the house, and you need to find it, you need to call him. “Pick up,” You whisper when you finally find it in the living room, under your favourite blanket on the chair. Even your fingers are shaking, vision a bit blurred from the adrenaline rushing through you– you feel like you’re in danger, and you don’t know what to do. “Spence, pick up, pick up, please pick up–“

“Hello?” You almost cry when you hear his raspy voice on the other side. It doesn’t make you feel any better to think that you might just have woken him up.

“Spencer,” You whine, embarrass with how needy you sound. The nice officer that brought you home is standing outside the door, and you could’ve gone to him– could’ve opened the door, asked him to stay inside, talk to him a little. Or you could’ve called Penelope. She had given you her number with promises that more often then not, she stayed behind to work from the BAU office. There is no place safer than my office, she had promised you, but how do you tell her that the problem is not your environment, it’s not where you are or what you’re doing… how do you tell her that the problem is you? She might not understand it so you don’t even dare try to explain it. You don’t dare to give her and the team this part of yourself too and you shut your mouth with a firm hand over your lips. 

Memories of a life you left behind flash behind your eyes, and you whimper, hugging your knees to your chest while you hear him desperately calling for you. As far as you can, you kick that godforsaken box away from you. “Y/N?! Y/N, say something, please! Are you okay? Y/N!”

“I’m here,” You whisper, pushing your hair away from your face. “I’m here.’ 

“What’s going on?” 

“Spencer, I–” A moment of regret and hesitation makes you pause. What can he even do all the way from Ohio? “I want to go home.” 

You’re not his priority. 

You’ll never be his priority. 

There is no point to this.

“…did something happen?” This is the Spencer you know– voice soft and guarded– and for a second it feels like you two are getting to know each other all over again. “Did officer Kaper make you uncomfortable? I’ll ask for a change of guard, I’ll–“

“N-No,” You cut him off with a shaky exhale. Your head falls on your free hand, finger tangled with your messy hair, and you tug on it. Sharply, the tingly pain on your scalp grounds you for a second, brings you back to this situation you created. “No, Spence, no no no, I just want to go home, I need to go home, I–“ 

“Y/N, breathe,” He coaches you as gently as he can, voice stable and strong, everything you seem to be lacking. “You’re going to set yourself off in a panic again if you don’t breathe. You’re safe in my apartment, okay? I know it’s not the same as being home, I know, but you’re safe there!”

“You’re not here, Spence!” 

There is a moment of silence for both of you. “You’re not here and you didn’t throw that fucking box away,” You whisper, keeping the moment something in between just the two of you. It’s enough that you are falling apart like this in front of Spencer, you don’t need officer Kaper bursting in the door to witness this too.

“You found the box,” He sighs. This is the first time you notice just how tired he sounds.

“I found the box,” You confirm, sniffling in a stubborn attempt to not start crying all over again. 

“It’s evidence. I can’t throw it away, Y/N.”

“Why is it here?”

“I’ve been working on the case on my free time and it just made sense to keep it at home…” 

“Spence, I want to go home. I don’t feel safe,” You admit, shaking your head. “I don’t feel safe here when you’re not here, Spence, I want to go home.” 

“I thought you hated me.”

“Spencer…” He has a point, though, and you know it. This is the first time you two speak in days, the first time you experience this type of comfort again, but it’s still not enough. He’s still not here, next to you, watching over you. He’s still not with you. “Spencer, I’m sorry.” 

“Silly girl, why are you apologising?” He asks, chuckling on the other side and you can picture him– you can see him shaking his head, hair falling around his pretty face like a perfect picture frame when his eyes, pure honey with specks of green, search for yours. Yeah… you can imagine it to perfection, almost like you are the one with eidetic memory. “This is all my fault. And I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N and I’m trying to protect you, so I need you to stay there, okay? I need you to stay in my apartment, please.” 

You don’t know what to tell him. Your eyes wander around the room, looking at all the details he left behind without even noticing. There is a copy of Dostoevsky on the bed side table. I hate Russian literature, you remember telling him once. He was in the shop, bringing you coffee, when you caught a glimpse of a book you certainly didn’t sell him. And I’m appalled you’ve been buying books somewhere else. The way he laughed then, like his biggest problem in the world was explaining to you that this had been a gift from a friend and that he would never betray your trust like this. What do you hate so much about it?, he had asked, leaning over the counter and into you, eager to debate this topic he loved so much. I hate that it’s all about suffering. Even the moments of realisation and self-improvement, they are all through suffering and misery. And of course he had a retort to that, fingers twitching with his enthusiasm. But it’s contextual, you see! Those were written in time of civil unrest and political chaos, and it makes sense to have characters and plot lines that revolve around suffering when that is all you know from the world around you. To this day, your answer paralyses you. I’m a believer in silver linings and happy endings. And not because I’m naive or ignorant, but because the world around me has made me believe that there must be something better out there. Isn’t that nicer?

“Y/N, please tell me you’ll stay there, I need you to stay there.” 

His words almost escape you, but you catch them in the very last minute. It gives you a glimpse into a side of him he has yet to show you, and it absolutely shatters your heart in bits. I need you to stay there, he had said. Not you need to stay there, but I need you to stay there. Suddenly, you realise that this– all of this, the relocation, the involvement of the FBI, the dropping off and picking up– is not just for you. 

“I’ll stay here,” Whispering with him like this helps. “I’ll stay. I’m sorry I woke you up.” 

“Don’t be. I’m happy you called.” 

“I’ll let you go back to sleep, but Spence?” 

“Yeah?”

“Be safe. I need you back here.”

“I’ll be home in no time.” 

For a second, you trust him. You trust everything will be okay, that you can make everything okay until he gets back, and then you’ll pass the responsibility onto him. For a second, you trust him, but you also trust yourself. 

Everything will be okay. 

Everything will be okay. 

Everything will be okay. 

You fall asleep like this; wearing his hoodie and hugging your phone, nose buried on his pillow in hopes to dream of him. The sun wakes you up, and there are birds chirping at your window. Despite the heaviness you feel in you and dooming headache you know will settle soon, the romantic in you believes that today will be a good day. That today will be an okay day.

“Miss Y/L/N? It’s officer Kaper.” 

The knock doesn’t scare you anymore. On days one through three it had you jumping on air, heart about to stop from how fast it was beating. Days four and five were easier, less scary and more anxious, waiting for the punctual 9AM knock. From day six onwards, it was a welcome start to your day, knowing that someone is looking after you. 

You check the fisheye like Spencer told you to, and then you open the door only when you recognise the face on the other side. “Good morning, Officer,” You smile, nodding at him a bit stiffly. The two of you had been formally introduced by JJ, but it didn’t make this any less awkward for you. “Would you like some coffee?” 

“Sure,” He nods, smiling as he comes inside with his usual stack of mail. Everyday, without fail, someone picks up your mail and brings it to Officer Kaper. “Here’s your mail for the day, ma’am.” 

“How was the night shift?” It’s almost like a scripted conversation, these back and forth questions you throw at each other, and you’re finding that you hate this. You hate the stiff conversations and the self-imposed bans. But this is day two, and in just more two days, Spencer would be home. And you would talk to him, just like you used to before, just like you did over the phone. Nothing will change; you’re not going home any time soon and Cat Adams isn’t going to just magically disappear. It’s time to accept it and learn how to live with it, as hard as that sounds. 

Sifting through your mail has to be your favourite part of the day. It’s normal, slightly boring, and a peek into the routine you used to have and love. No one ever sends you letters, so it’s just bills. “Water, electricity, marketing, marketing,” The coffee is brewing in the background and Officer Kaper is telling you about his daughter. She’s a tiny girl, just two and very, very shy, but apparently, she loves stories. “I might have a book for her,” You get distracted from the letters for a second, smiling at the kind officer. “I’ll bring it to you later tonight!” 

When you look back again, it’s the one on top. 

The envelope is white, like any other letter, and it has no thing in the back but your name and address scribbled in red, a big heart right next to it. “Uh, Officer, this is… this is weird.” You’ve been instructed to let someone know if you received anything unlabelled or unexpected. This letter is certainly unexpected. “It has no return address.” 

“May I open it?” He asks and you nod. He opens it with a knife, pulling a small piece of paper inside. “Okay, it seems like a normal letter. There is no signature of any kind.”

“What does it say?” You’re nervous now, walking around Officer Kaper to read over his shoulder. “Oh my god.” 

“Does this mean anything to you?” 

Nodding, you’re dialling Spencer’s number already. “It means I’m fucked.” 

On the table, laid a message you’d never forget.

He’s not yours to keep. 

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

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[kentoxo]

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt.4

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: i apologize as ill be working through this weekend so the next chapter might take a day or so. thank you for your patience <3

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Friday

It still felt fresh, despite a whole day having passed. 

Unlike the day prior, you moved slower than usual. You got not a wink of sleep, and that reflected in the death of your eyes. Sluggish hands prepare your cup of coffee, but you forgot to add sugar so your first sip made you regret everything. Everything was suddenly out of tune, and you were losing your inner rhythm. The worst part: it was reflecting your work. 

Nanami noticed when you forgot to email an important document that you specifically got sealed by the board a few days prior. 

He also noticed that you forgot almost every meeting you had planned for him today. Luckily you had it synced to the cloud calendar, and Nanami had his alerts on for them. 

He finally realized you were off your game when you couldn’t recite the numbers from last year around festive time. Those numbers usually remained right behind your hand at all times. 

“Y/N, are you well?” Nanami asked in the video call you both were in. Despite working remotely, Nanami preferred having the two of you on video call at all times unless there were meetings to attend to, or independent work that didn’t require one another's presence. “You don’t seem 100%.”

One again, Nanami was in what looked like a comfortable sweatshirt. His light pink lips were straight, with a dew of coffee hanging from the right side of his bottom lip. His eyes were imbued with exhaustion, but it seems he had a fine rest last night. Those blond locks were now completely dry, and looked like it was styled by just flipping his hair to the side with his fingers. Slightly dented lines define his collarbones, jaw, and cheekbones. 

Fuck. 

“m’okay,” you lie casually, leaning back into your couch. You, in contrast, have your video off. You made no effort to beat your face with makeup, nor did you even run fingers through your hair to fix it up a bit. Your heart was wounded, and your mind was disinterested in everything. “I didn’t sleep too well, that’s all.” 

“Mm,” Nanami hums. His eyes dart towards something, and you hear his click clacks of his keyboard. “Since you let me into your home yesterday, why don’t you take the rest of the day off? I’ll pay you for the remaining hours.” 

You quickly sit up and put your hands back on the keyboard, “no, that’s not right. It wouldn’t be fair to everyone else if I left early with pay just because I was a little restless last night.” 

“You do the work of 5 of your coworkers,” Nanami jokes lightly. “I’m confident nobody will say a thing regarding you taking a bit of time to rest more.” 

They were willing to spread true rumors about your crush, though. 

“You might need me,” you persist, “I don’t want to risk my absence when something important arises.” 

“I’m glad you know your worth, but I insist that you sit this one out and just rest. Consider this a head start on your weekend,” Nanami insists curtly. “Before I let you rest however, I do have something to make you aware of.” 

“Yes?” You slouch a bit, but your ears remain sharp and attentive. 

“I’ll be returning to my actual office next week, just for the 3 days that we are in-office,” Nanami begins. He stops his typing and weaves his hands together before resting his chin on them. “We have a few important clients coming in, thanks to Haibara’s persistence. So, I’ll need to be back in my office for just a bit. For that time, you will be working more independently.” 

“I understand,” you concur. “But, will you not need me during these meetings?” 

“Confidentiality,” Nanami reasons, to your dismay. It’s never a big deal, but you always liked to join Nanami’s meetings. Not only to document important points for him, but to remind him to bring things up during these conversations that he might forget to do otherwise. “These clients are a bit… different than what we’re used to. But we need their company’s marketing in order to resume flourishing here.” 

“Understood,” you reply. 

“For the time being, please refer to Haibara for anything I might need from you. From how it’s looking,” Nanami hums. He brings a hand down to his mouse and starts to share his screen. You watch intently as he opens a calendar of his work schedule for the mentioned Monday-to-Wednesday. “I’ll be booked from morning until punch out. Haibara will be joining me for a good chunk of these meetings, so I’ll be sure to have him give you the download on what I’ll need from you.”

You nod to nobody, “copy. I’ll be sure to continue doing my best.” 

“Anything less is impossible from you, Y/N,” Nanami says sweetly. There’s something stale about his flattery now. “Go ahead and rest, Y/N. You deserve it. Thank you for your work today.” 

“Thank you, and I’m sorry,” you murmur. An aggressive yawn escapes your lips, and you rub your face a bit to try and waive the exhaustion. 

“Nothing to apologize for– I’m the one sending you away,” the hazel-eyed man hums, slightly amused at your mannerisms. “I’ll put your time in right now, so just approve it upon receiving the notification.” 

“I will, thank you.” You were itching to end the call and decay in your bed. “Have a fruitful rest of your day, Nanami kacho.” 

To your surprise, Nanami held a sudden distasteful expression on his face. You watch as his face softens, but his hazel eyes seem… perplexed. As though you said something wrong, or rather; offensive. He casually tugs at his right ear before clearing his throat through a scratchy cough. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” Nanami lets out, his voice slightly less monotone. “Rest well.” 

With that, you hang up the call, slam your laptop shut, and rush under the covers of your bed. You find solace in the softness of the cotton, and the weight of the quilt itself. You rub your face once more, but this time feeling the burning of over-cried eyes. Your eyes were tissue-abused, as the tears felt endless yesterday after Nanami left. It was scary how upset you were about this. 

Fishing your phone from the sea of sheets, you quickly dial Haibara’s number and wait with the phone against your ear. After a few rings, he answers, “Y/N?” 

“Hi, Yu,” you say quietly, your head melting into your pillow. “How are you?” 

“I’m well,” Haibara begins, “but you sound horrible, what happened now? Did he say something mean again?"

“m just tired,” you say simply. And it was true, you were. But Haibara already knew the reason why, and ensured that he would avoid mentioning it. “Nanami let me clock out early. I wasn’t really myself today.” 

“Ah, Y/N, please,” Haibara urged with worry on his tongue. He knew it was inevitable. He didn’t warn you because he didn’t want you to date his closest friend. But rather, he knew his close friend so well that you would end up heartbroken no matter how it went. “I’m glad he noticed and sent you off to rest. But please… don’t let yourself fall like this. We just went through this yesterday."

You could feel the tears working their way up again. “Yu, I just… I’m just so upset, and I can’t do anything about it.” Your words slur, your voice being altered by your emotion. Tears well up in your eyes, spilling out and splotching your pillow case. “You were right, I know you were right, I just… it was completely out of my hands after a while.” 

“It isn’t just you, Y/N,” Haibara says in a soft voice, “Kento has always been like this. He’s not interested in anything but work. He’s a novice in that regard, so don’t cry so hard for a dork.” 

“I understand,” you croak, “but I didn’t even get to properly confess. He didn’t get to hear my piece, but was actually happy in believing it was a lie. He sighed like the weight of the world was now off his shoulders!” You brought a hand to your chest, feeling your breathing go unsteady. 

A desperate sigh comes through the phone. “Kento has been like this since we were younger. He has never been interested in anything else but getting good grades and working,” Haibara says quietly. You could hear him typing away on his computer. “But… honestly, you are the first person to ever get something different from Kento.” 

“Hm?” Tears began drying from curiosity. 

“This isn’t to get your hopes high or nothin’, but he has never had a woman as an assistant,” Haibara notes. “Before you, it was me until I got promoted. Then, it was just a few of the other guys within our department helping out upon Kento’s request. He continuously rejected female assistants in the past. So that’s when Takada shacho decided to force an assistant on him: you.” 

“R-right,” you hum, “that’s when I was transferred from Sales to Finance.” 

“Correct. Kento wasn’t… super happy about it, but Takada sang your praise,” Haibara continues. “And I guess whatever you did truly changed something. Kento would never let anybody drop honorifics on him. The most I’ve ever seen him smile is with you. He’s noticeably more patient and willing with you than anybody else in our department– not even me!” 

You giggle weakly at his playful envy, “I think you’re giving me too much credit. We work closely together, so of course he’s going to be nice to me.” 

“Sure, but he’s never been open to being addressed casually,” Haibara argues, “he also always used to prefer eating by himself during his lunch time. He would have never let me leave early today. I could be on the floor dying, and he’d just tell me to suck it up and calculate numbers.” 

“It’s because you suck at your job, Yu,” you joke. 

“I do not!” 

“You totally do.” 

“Anyways!” He huffs. “Point is, you’re definitely different. He may not share the same feelings as you, but you’ve definitely left an impact on him.”

You let out a sigh. Haibara was right from the start, and truly, it wasn’t even Nanami’s fault. You broke your own heart the day you decided to pursue your crush on him. He’s infamous for being disinterested in anything besides work, and you’ve witnessed the proof since your transfer. Perhaps you looked beyond his consideration, seeing it through rose colored lenses. 

But if Haibara has noticed these changes in Nanami, then maybe you weren't just an assistant to him.

Don't bring your hopes up, though, chimed Haibara's voice in your head.

You lay on your back, an arm covering your eyes in embarrassment, “I’m so lame.” 

Haibara chuckles, “you’re not lame, don’t start with that–” 

You eye around your ceiling upon Haibara’s sudden silence. “Yu?” You chime. “Are you there?” 

“Let me call you back,” Haibara says before the call ends. You let the phone slide from your hold, your body melting deeper into your bed. It didn't fix your broken heart, but Haibara's words definitely lifted your spirits a bit.

Haibara's mischievous smile took center stage of his face. He pulled back his dark locks, leaning comfortably into the back of his seat. With both earbuds on, he accepted the video call coming from the man himself.

"Haibara," Nanami begins quietly. Haibara could tell he seemed a bit off, as he wasn't exactly looking at him but rather something else on the lower right of his screen. "I have a question."

"I may have an answer," Haibara replied, "what's up?"

"Has... Y/N recently addressed you differently?" Haibara's eyes widen from Nanami's hesitance in his question. His mind was quickly trying to put 2 and 2 together.

"Differently how?"

"As in, using your name with honorifics," Nanami spewed out, his voice still quite reticent.

"Man, Y/N hasn't used any honorifics since we met honestly," Haibara recounts, "so if recently means ages ago, then sure. What, did she address you as 'kacho'?"

"Yes, she did," Nanami immediately lets out, almost with a touch of torment in his tone. "This morning, before I let her take the rest of the day off, she called me kacho."

Haibara pressed his hand against his lips, trying desperately not to laugh. This is new. "I mean, she used to call you by that for a while when she first became your assistant, no? It's not shocking if she occasionally says it."

"She hasn't said it since her first month as my assistant," Nanami informs. "Why would she start saying it again after we've stopped?"

Haibara shrugs, with a grin threatening to dance at his lips, "who's to say? Did anything happen when you went over to her place yesterday?" Haibara knew, but he enjoyed toying with Nanami's aloofness.

"Nothing noteworthy, I'd say," Nanami begins, genuinely mindless. But his face then expresses a moment of pensiveness. "Well, we worked but she was surprisingly much more quieter than usual. She also didn't finish her breakfast, and went on the rest of the day without eating anything else. I even offered to buy her something."

"That's not like Y/N at all," Haibara comments in a murmur, "if it was me, she'd make me buy her breakfast, post-breakfast, pre-lunch, lunch, and dinner."

"What is post-breakfast?" Nanami asks with confusion in his furrowed brows. He was also curious about the depth of your relationship with Haibara, but that was for another time.

"I'm making a joke," Haibara whisks back to the conversation. "Did she address you as kacho yesterday?"

"No," Nanami quickly recalls, "in fact, she didn't really say my name much since I got to her house."

This is getting too good. Messing with Nanami like this is rare, and Haibara lives for it. "Does it bother you that she's been calling you kacho?" Haibara found himself sitting up straight when he noticed the uncomfortable look on Nanami's face. His question made Nanami feel unsettled for some reason.

"I don't think it bothers me per say," Nanami begins, his eyes still distantly looking elsewhere. "It's just a bit weird that she's been addressing me as such again. It came out of nowhere."

"You're literally her boss," Haibara pointed out dully, "just because you two are more casual doesn't eliminate the fact that you're the one who signs off her payroll."

"W-well, yes, but we've long established that we can be casual within our platonic work relationship," Nanami says in his matter-of-fact voice. "It feels as though our work relationship has changed a bit. It makes me wonder if it was a good idea to go to her house."

"Did you make a mess of her house?"

"No."

"Did you offend her?"

"I don't believe so."

"So why does it feel like it changed?" Haibara inquired strategically. He knew the answer, of course, as he was the first person you confided in. But fishing it out of Nanami would be more insightful, and more hilarious.

"Well, I..." Nanami begins, bringing a hand to the back of his head. "I may have mentioned something that I shouldn't have heard, nor repeated to anyone-- less so, to her."

"Hm?" Haibara hums for him to continue.

Nanami hesitates, but remembers that it's Haibara he was speaking to. His long time, childhood friend turned most trusted coworker. "I overheard two of our colleagues talk about Y/N... having certain feelings for me."

"What, like a crush?" Haibara helped him. Nanami finally meets Haibara's eyes and nods slowly. "Well, what did she say?"

"Well she concurred that it was just a silly rumor," Nanami coos, "it was extremely relieving to know that those rumors were not true at all. After that, we both got swept with work."

"Kento, you are the weirdest man I know," Haibara leans back in his seat again, resting his face in his hand. "Anyhow, better that she doesn't have feelings for you, right? Maybe they meant to say that she has a crush on someone else?"

"Oh no, they were very specific on the fact that she is my assistant, which would explain why she could have developed feelings for me," Nanami quickly defends. "Even then, who else would she have a crush on?"

"O-hoh! Cocky, are we?" Haibara blurts out. "Y'know, you're not the only bachelor in our department."

"Of course not," Nanami quickly remedies, "but I do believe that Y/N and I are very similar. We're both single and dedicate ourselves to work. I'm sure we both have the same view on dating coworkers, too."

"You two aren't the same person, though," Haibara points out. "You think she's like you, but you don't know that for certain. It's like accepting nobody's home without even trying to knock the front door."

"Quite the analogy," Nanami responds dully, "very profound."

"Listen, my point is you're accepting something as fact before you ask," Haibara urges, "what if she doesn't mind dating a coworker?"

"Then I'd be severely disappointed," Nanami puts simply, "she's bright. It would be a shame if she risks her career by pursuing love in our office."

"Who's to say?" Haibara mutters, giving up on the conversation. To argue with Nanami this early is to lose a few years in ones lifespan. "Lets not talk about this anymore, yeah? What was the reason for your call?" Haibara didn't want to admit it, but he was actually a bit annoyed by his friend.

"A-ah, right," Nanami exclaims, falling back into his usual sharp, calm demeanor. "It's to discuss our game plan for Monday, if you have the time to pencil this conversation in."

"Go on," Haibara sighs, giving him the green light. He didn't get everything he wanted to within this conversation, but it definitely gave him some insight in his dear friends mind. It was clear that you weren't just some person to Nanami. But to what extent was the mystery that Haibara was more than happy to figure out.

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[millenianthemums]

Chapter 2 of Mabel’s Guide to the Power of Friendship is here!!! CW for bugs, injuries and a dog attack. and for Bill being miserable. i might be having too much fun bullying him

Ao3 link here

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Chapter index

When Bill’s senses returned, it was like being knocked over by a tsunami. A thousand physical sensations slammed into his brain all at once. Way too much information for his mind to process. For a moment his awareness was totally blank as his frantic synapses tried to sort through all the new stimuli they were being hit with. When his mind returned, he realized he was kneeling on dry grass, gasping for air like he’d just been drowning.

He squeezed his eye shut, already overwhelmed by the sudden brightness. Everything hurt. Every joint and muscle creaked like a rusty hinge when he tried to move. It was like he’d been holding one stiff pose for ages. There was a sharp spike of a headache growing behind his eye, and a nauseating pain deep inside the core of his body. A churning emptiness. It took him a moment to recognize it, and another to push through the denial and accept that he knew what it was. Hunger. He was deeply, painfully hungry.

He opened his eye, trying to tamp down the sudden rush of horror. It had been a trillion years since the last time he’d been this kind of hungry. Not hungry in an “I could go for a snack” way; hungry in an “if I don’t eat something I will actually die” way. He’d been right to find the Axolotl’s wording suspicious. He’d been too eager to make the deal and leave that dark place; he didn’t read between the lines. And now he had his body back… but that was just it. He had his body, his weak, fleshy physical form he’d started his life with, and everything that came with it.

Very slowly, he raised up a hand. The joints inside it creaked painfully as he bent the fingers one by one, then pressed the thumb and pointer together. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to know for sure, but he didn’t have a choice. Fire, he thought, focusing as hard as he could. Make fire.

He snapped.

Nothing.

“GOD DAMN IT,” he said. The voice that struggled out of his throat was downright embarrassing to hear. It was a weak, crackling groan, the sound of vocal cords that had long since gotten used to never moving, and now suddenly had to function again.

Reluctantly, he looked himself over, examining his hands and the small bit of his front that he could see. He didn’t look that different than he’d made himself look during Weirdmaggeddon, but there were differences. His gold bricks had a bit less luster, for one. The leathery skin on his hands and arms was less soft, the small sharp claws less well-maintained. And, of course, he was basically flat. This body had been adjusted to be able to exist in a 3D space, but it hadn’t been upgraded at all. It was every bit as underwhelming as his vague memories of it suggested. His hat and bow tie remained, at least, reduced to plain black cloth again.

A sudden memory shot through his head. He grabbed his hat and turned it over frantically, looking inside, rifling a hand through the inner lining. Panic tugged at his chest, growing stronger and stronger as his fingers met with nothing, until finally he felt it. With a shaking hand, he retrieved the object, holding it carefully over the brim of the hat, unwilling to risk it falling into the grass. The tiny round speck was barely even visible in his hand, and he couldn’t make it levitate to get a better look. He risked holding it just a tiny bit higher above the hat to let the light catch it. A beam of sun danced through its surface and it gleamed just the way he remembered. Still there. It’s still there.

He let out a long, heavy sigh of relief as he returned the speck to its hiding place in the lining of his hat. Then he coughed. His throat was unbearably dry. He needed to drink something soon, or this whole situation would be over before it started. He definitely didn’t remember how long it took a shape to die of thirst, but he didn’t have any desire to learn through experience. And he shuddered to imagine the embarrassment of ending up back in that blank void so soon. The Axolotl waiting with that smug little smile on their face. “So? How’d it go?”

Or worse, no one waiting at all. Just him alone in the void, no more chances left.

He placed his hat back securely on his head and staggered to his feet. What would be around here to drink? Water? Sap? Squirrel blood? Water should be easy. He just had to find some water.

It took a while to get a handle on walking again. After countless eons spent floating around weightlessly, he’d often forget he even had legs, much less how to use them. Once he could keep a steady rhythm without wobbling too much, he allowed himself a closer look at his surroundings. Pine and birch trees towered around the forest clearing, blotting out all but a few narrow rays of golden light. It looked like the sun was low in the sky. That was probably bad news, but at least it wasn’t as bright as it could be; his eye was already aching bad enough. Through a gap in the canopy, he caught a glimpse of heavy clouds hanging overhead, all lit up orange and purple. This hopelessly boring planet’s sad attempt at putting on a show.

He sighed. He could do so much better than this. If he was still in charge, those clouds would be writhing tumorous blobs strobing in every color on the visible light spectrum, with a few of those imperceptible ones that cause mania thrown in for flavor. Hell, make ‘em rain wasps while we’re at it. He could go on and on… his creative vision was wasted on this world.

He was getting sidetracked. He tore his eye away from the sky and returned to scanning his surroundings. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was, but unfortunately, he had a pretty good guess. All these trees looked irritatingly familiar.

His hunch only grew stronger as he headed deeper into the woods. Catching sight of a particularly large birch tree in his path, he instinctively tried to look through one of its eye-shaped markings for a glimpse above the canopy. All he got for the effort was a stab of pain in his head and a sinking feeling in his gut. He’d forgotten for a second. He just had the one eye now.

Bill tried to stamp out the twinge of fear that tugged at his brain with that thought. Everything was fine. This “no powers” thing was a roadblock, a deeply annoying, humiliating setback and a very dirty trick from the Axolotl’s side of things, but it wasn’t the end of the world. He could live with it. In a very literal sense, it was why he was alive right now. And it wouldn’t be forever. The source of his powers resided in the Nightmare Realm; once he got back there, this whole mess would be a funny memory. So he wasn’t going to freak out about it.

He kept trudging down the narrow, overgrown path between the trees. He tried not to think about how his legs were already starting to hurt. Between this and the dual aches in his head and stomach, he was quickly realizing that pain was a lot less funny when it was happening to a body he lived in.

It was fine. It would just take some adjusting, that’s all. Sure, he’d spent a trillion years using his innate magic for literally everything, but he’d been mortal once before, and he’d spent plenty of time possessing mortal bodies. He just had to relearn some habits, and soon he’d be used to this. It would be like riding a bike. Nonstop. Forever.

He walked faster, trying to ignore his screaming muscles. Every part of this body seemed to be screaming, in fact, for some kind of fuel or maintenance he couldn’t provide right now. He didn’t think about it, though. He didn’t think about how he didn’t actually know where he was going, or how long he had until this body gave out, or if there was actually any water around that he stood a snowball’s chance in Hell at finding before he died again and ended up stuck in that void forever…

He slapped both hands across his face. “STOP IT,” he snarled. “STOP FREAKING OUT. IT’S A FOREST. THERE’S BIRDS AND SQUIRRELS AND ORANGUTANS OR WHATEVER OREGON HAS. THERE HAS TO BE WATER SOMEWHERE, OR ALL THE ORANGUTANS WOULD BE DEAD. YOU JUST NEED TO FIND IT. YOU’RE NOT GONNA FIND IT IF YOU JUST STAND HERE PANICKING AND TALKING TO YOURSELF, SO JUST SHUT UP AND WALK.” Chastised, he sighed roughly and started walking again.

It took about ten minutes for the pep talk to start wearing off. There was still no sign of anything other than trees, and some of them were starting to look distressingly similar. There was no way he was walking in a circle, right? That wasn’t a real thing people did without being ensnared by a fae creature, was it?

He picked up the pace again, eye darting around frantically, Was it getting dark already? It was definitely darker than before. How long did the sun take to set on Earth, again? It took like three days during Weirdmageddon, but he stopped time, didn’t he? He really ought to know this, with how long he’d spent spying on and possessing things on Earth. But throughout all those countless eons, he was always just popping in and out whenever, letting months or years pass in between tiny little check-ins. When was the last time he’d spent a full day on Earth? It had been at least decades, and even when he was sticking around for long stretches, it wasn’t like he was keeping track of the position of the sun all day, he’d had more important stuff on his mind! Maybe he could remember if he tried hard enough… but how trustworthy was his memory now, really? His consciousness, once a font of pure, infinite, unconstrained psychic energy, had all just been stuffed inside an oozing hunk of meat inside his head. Which was something he should definitely not be thinking about right now, he reminded himself. This was no time to panic. He needed to lock in on the present moment, the present task, he needed to focus on his immediate surroundings…

His foot missed the ground.

For the next several seconds, all he could process was a blur of spinning lights, pain, and crashing noises. Then he regained the ability to parse his surroundings, and realized he’d just rolled down a steep hill that had been hidden in shrubs and bramble right up until he’d stepped off it. He had left a trail of torn-up dirt and ruined foliage from where his sharp angles had slammed into the earth. The hill had gotten its payback, though. The few golden scales that hadn’t been caked with dirt were scraped half to hell, along with a million little cuts and scrapes on his arms and legs all leaking silvery blood, and his body hurt worse than ever. All his bones (he gagged at the reminder that he had bones now, and probably not even cool ones, not that he could check) felt like they’d been put through a hydraulic press. How had pain ever been funny? This was a nightmare. He put a hand to his head, trying to prevent a stress headache on top of everything else, and his heart dropped ten feet when he realized his hat was gone.

His vision went black with terror for an instant, then blinked back in when he saw it lying on a patch of gravel ahead of him. He lunged forward, snatched it up, and rooted frantically through the lining again until his fingers brushed the tiny, precious speck still hidden inside. His heart started up again and he slammed the hat back on his head, securing it as tightly as possible. Whatever happened, he wasn’t letting it fall off again.

While he was at it, he brushed himself off a bit and readjusted his bow tie. Sure, things weren’t going great right now, but he still had his dignity, damn it.

Once that was dealt with, he took a second to actually look around. With a start, he realized the gravel his hat had landed on was actually a shore. In the chaos and panic of falling, he hadn’t even noticed the sound of water, but sure enough, he was standing on the edge of a rushing creek. Finally, something was going his way! He wasn’t wild about the idea of drinking creek water, but he’d take it over dying of dehydration.

He scurried forward and dunked his hands into the water, scooping greedy handfuls into his eye/mouth. Soon the rasping pain in his throat had faded. In fact, it was shocking how much better he felt. Even mentally. He was calmer, less panicky, and his train of thought was no longer hitting a penny on the tracks and exploding every few feet. He realized it had been a crazy long time since he’d had water. He drank other things all the time, but almost never water. He’d always been more of a martini guy, and after the fifth time he’d set the bar on fire out of boredom, the Henchmaniacs had stopped asking him to be the designated driver.

Anyway, water was better than he remembered. It was crisp and cool, and it tasted like…

He paused, remembered some of the things that lived in creeks, and decided not to think about what it tasted like. He also decided he was good on water for now.

So that was one problem solved. He was still hungry, but he could hold out a bit longer, and his brain was refueled and running smoothly. It was time for step two: revenge.

First things first: obviously he had to get as far away from Oregon as possible. Those flat-brained yokels in Gravity Falls would definitely not take kindly to seeing him again, and there was no way they’d see a golden one-eyed triangle walking around and not assume it was the same one who turned them into furniture once. They were stupid, but no one was that stupid.

He began trudging along the shore of the creek as he ruminated. He vaguely remembered something about water usually leading to civilization? Maybe? This would definitely lead somewhere, anyway. All paths lead somewhere. He felt his eye start to crinkle with a smile at how charmingly useless that phrase was. Sounded like something humans would print on a cheap t-shirt to fool themselves into thinking they’re insightful.

Anyway. He needed to find a town. A town other than Gravity Falls, where nobody knew him. Surely the Weirdness Barrier that had trapped him before wouldn’t still hold him if he didn’t have his magic. It was worth trying to leave either way. Once he had a new base of operations, he could start making connections, calling in old favors, looking for a portal he could use. He’d be back in business in no time.

Just as that thought was starting to reassure him, one of the rocks on the shore decided it didn’t feel like staying where it was when he stepped on it. Instead it rocked to one side and rolled into the creek, taking Bill with it. He barely managed to keep his hat from flying off again as he was swept downstream, before managing to sit up in a spray of water, sputtering and shouting ancient curses. Not, like, “summoning plagues of locusts” type curses. Just words a few dead civilizations would’ve censored on TV.

He tried to stand up and climb back onto dry land, only to find that the rocks on the bottom of the creek were perfectly flat and covered in slippery algae. This lesson was drilled in by falling hard on his kneecaps and getting swept several more feet downstream as he struggled to right himself. He had to resort to crawling across the creek bed and grasping at sticks and reeds near the shore to pull himself free of the current. The water was too shallow to properly swim, and he doubted his flat, narrow body would be suited for swimming anyway. Or for any water-related activities other than getting swept away by currents and drowning.

He stumbled onto shore through a mess of weeds and mud. Swaying on his feet, he tried to catch his breath and brush himself off a bit, to at least pretend his last shreds of dignity were still intact. Just as he realized the only thing he was accomplishing was smearing more mud across his bricks with his mud-caked hands, he felt a sharp twinge on his arm and flinched as something buzzed right past his eyeball. Looking up to follow it, he realized his disturbance of the plants had stirred up a cloud of mosquitoes. And it seemed like they’d all just discovered the thing full of blood right below them. Like the world’s lamest zombie hive mind, they all swarmed after him at once.

Bill swatted and clawed at the air with a furious snarl, but it was instantly clear that intimidation wouldn’t work. He backed away from the water, slowly at first, then faster once he realized he was their preferred beverage now. Soon he was full-on running in an effort to lose the little creeps, until they finally seemed to decide he wasn’t worth the trouble and fell back one by one. Slowing to a stop, Bill shouted in victory as he managed to smash the last holdout between his palms. The noise died as he looked up and realized he had no idea where he was.

Now he was considering the locust curses. He only held off because more bugs were the last thing he needed right now.

Leaning against a tree stump, he reassessed his options and tried to ignore how horrible his body felt. Had running always sucked that much? He was gasping for air, and the rhythmic pounding of his heart was almost deafening. He could actually feel the blood rushing through his veins, a constant pressure that only increased the more he thought about it, about all the pulsing, oozing, hideous tubes and growths and fluids inside this meat prison he was trapped inside…

Stop. Stop thinking about it. The creek had been flowing north. He could just keep walking that way, and eventually he’d reach… something. If not the next town, then maybe a road. He could hitch a ride with some random sap and end up in some faraway city, someplace he could lay low for awhile and figure out the next step. There was no point getting further ahead of himself than that just yet. Right now, all he could do was keep walking.

He kept walking. This time making sure to keep a close eye on the ground ahead of him. After a little while passed without further disasters, his mood started to improve again. This really wasn’t that big a deal. He was Bill Cipher. He’d seen horrors no creature on Earth could ever imagine. He’d caused horrors even worse than that. Of all the weird, scary, unsettling situations he’d been in, this little forest stroll didn’t even rank. He could get through this. He’d bounce back in no time, and never have to think about any of this ever again. The sun had almost set by now, but he wasn’t worried. He always did his best work at nighttime.

A low rumble from the clouds above caused his eye to drift up. A quick flash of lightning split the sky. Bill stared and watched as the thunder rolled again and another bright splinter cut through the clouds. He squinted a smile. Earth weather was still boring as hell, but he’d always had a fondness for a good thunderstorm. Might not be great to get caught in one, but surely–

His foot missed the ground again. He fell hard, pain biting deep into his ankle.

“AUGH! WHAT THE– ARE YOU SERIOUS?!” he roared, seeing the gopher hole he’d just stepped into. He tried to pull his ankle in close to inspect it, but just moving it caused another burst of pain. Would he even be able to walk on this?

“THIS KINDA THING NEVER HAPPENED WHEN I COULD FLOAT,” he growled to himself, looking around for a stick to balance with. “ALMOST LIKE WALKING IS A COMPLETELY STUPID, INEFFICIENT WAY TO MOVE OR SOMETHING! ALMOST LIKE I WAS RIGHT TO GET RID OF GRAVITY, BUT DID ANYONE THANK ME? OF COURSE NOT!! ‘NOOO, BILL, WE NEED GRAVITY! IT’S THE RULES, WE CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT RULES! HELP, I’M FLOATING INTO THE SUN!’ BUNCHA INGRATES! DON’T KNOW WHY I EVEN TRY…”

By this point he’d found a suitable walking stick and was limping forward again, but he was still too mad to stop ranting. “THEY’VE GOT NO IMAGINATION, THAT’S THE PROBLEM. THEY CAN’T EVEN IMAGINE A WORLD THAT’S NOT THE ONE THEY LIVE IN, WITHOUT ALL THEIR PETTY LITTLE PROBLEMS KEEPING THEM DOWN, SO TRY TO ACTUALLY IMPROVE THINGS AND THEY TREAT YOU LIKE A WHAT WAS THAT”

Something had landed on his arm. At first he thought the bugs were back for him, until he noticed the last bit of sunlight reflecting off a droplet of water.

“COME ON,” he groaned, just as the downpour started.

—

Sheets of rain drove up clouds of dust as they struck the parched earth. Bill had been completely soaked within seconds; by now, he was more rainwater than triangle. He raced around as fast as possible with his injured leg, looking for cover. For a moment he tried to shelter under an oak tree, before another lightning bolt lit up the sky and he remembered trees and lightning storms didn’t mix. Luck was clearly not on his side today, and he was not about to tempt fate.

He needed some actual shelter, he thought as he hobbled through the storm with his stupid stick. Last thing he needed after all this was to die of exposure. Forget hitching a ride far away, he’d take any kind of roof at this point. Anywhere enclosed. He’d had more than enough nature for one day.

As night fell, he noticed what looked like lights gleaming through the rain up ahead. Electric lights. He hadn’t been this excited to see a sign of human civilization since 2600 BC.

He raced toward them, and soon the trees fell away around him to reveal the docks on the shore of Lake Gravity Falls. He might have been furious that he hadn’t even made it past the city limits, if he wasn’t laser-focused on the bait shop at the far end of the beach. The lights were on in the living area upstairs, and he thought he saw movement inside, but it didn’t matter. He’d deal with it. It didn’t matter what he had to do or who he had to kill, he was getting in there. He clutched his walking stick and strode forward.

A massive dark shape lunged out of the rain with an unholy roar. Bill shrieked and fell backwards, yelling more extinct swears and brandishing his stick like a sword. Then his eye focused on the thing and he froze. It was a dog. A big shaggy dog, looming over him with a blank expression.

He laughed, harsh and manic. A dog, of all things. This was Gravity Falls, there could be literally anything wandering around in these woods, and he’d just been scared by a dog. One of the least scary animals on the planet. “YOU’RE LOSING IT, BILLY,” he muttered, trying to walk around the stupid thing. But as soon as he took a step, it jumped in his way and let out a deafening bark. Bill started to realize this might actually be a problem. All the noise might alert what’s-his-name, that guy who lived here. Whoever he was, he’d probably remember Bill just fine and be keen for some payback.

“OKAY, BIG GUY, SIMMER DOWN.” Bill stepped forward and waved his hands broadly, trying to shoo the dog away like a cloud of flies. It didn’t have the effect he wanted; if anything, it simmered up, bristling the hair around its neck and shoulders. Bill didn’t have time to wonder if those were its hackles, if that was what “raised hackles” was supposed to mean, before it was growling and baring its teeth.

For a second, Bill had the good sense to be nervous, but then he shook it off. This wasn’t a mountain lion or Fresno nightcrawler or some other bloodthirsty predator, this was a dog. Everything he’d ever heard about dogs went on and on about how loyal and subservient they were. You just had to be firm with them, right?

“THAT’S ENOUGH. BACK OFF!” He jabbed his stick at the dog reproachfully. It flinched back for half a second. Then it was advancing again, angrier than ever. It was snarling and snapping its teeth at him, ears pinned back against its head and almost all its fur raised up like spikes. As it stalked toward him, Bill made another, sharper jab with the stick. It just barked again, even louder and angrier. This was like throwing water on an oil fire, he thought, but now his hackles were raised too. He’d be damned if this mangy thing was going to out-intimidate him . He stomped closer and raised his stick above his head. “ALRIGHT, I WARNED YOU–!”

In a blur of wet hair and fury, the dog lunged at him. Jagged teeth clamped down hard on his arm. Pain ripped all the way through his skeleton and into his brain, and he forgot his pride instantly. He screamed. It was a scream of confusion, fury and fear as much as pain, and those all tripled when he tried to get away and found his arm wouldn’t budge. The dog jerked its head side to side and yanked Bill right off his feet, dragging him across the wet grass. There was no chance of finding a foothold; even throwing all his weight against the dog didn’t do a thing. It just kept shaking him around like it didn’t even know he was alive. Its jaw might as well have been an iron shackle for all his efforts to free himself were getting him. He had dropped the stick in the chaos and lost track of where it landed. He tried to flail around for it, or anything else he could use as a weapon, but between the darkness, the driving rain, and the racket of his own screaming, he couldn’t focus on anything. He tried clawing and punching, but the dog didn’t care. It felt like he wasn’t even breaching its thick fur.

In a last ditch effort to get away, Bill decided to just pull on his trapped arm until it either broke free of the dog or came off. He managed to get pretty far– turned out his arms were incredibly flexible, even without his powers– but then the dog shook its head again and discovered its new favorite toy had a rope attached now. With a few more shakes, it launched Bill off his feet again and sent him sailing through the air, end over end, and the next thing he knew he was snagged in a low tree branch like a poorly flown kite.

Dignity be damned, Bill was glad to be up there once he realized the dog had lost its grip. It was standing with its paws on the tree trunk, barking up at him and wagging its tail as Bill slowly retracted his stretched, shredded arm. With a surge of fury, he realized this wasn’t about self-defense anymore; the dog thought they were playing. It was literally toying with him.

On impulse, he grabbed a pine cone off the branch and launched it at the dog’s face. It flinched back and started snarling at him again, fury renewed. Bill laughed wildly and snarled back. It didn’t matter how angry it got, it couldn’t climb a tree!

Then a swell of rain sent all the trees quavering in the wind, and Bill stumbled and slipped, and before he knew it that goddamn animal was latched onto his ankle, and then he was flat on his back in the mud just barely holding a pair of snapping jaws away from his eyeball, and then…

And then the dog’s head whipped around to look behind it, and then it was bounding away, out beyond the tree line. Bill leapt to his feet to try and run the other way, but his vision went gray as he stood, and he tumbled forward onto his knees. He sucked in heaving, ragged breaths, blinking rain and dog spit out of his eye. Ahead of him, he heard cheerful yapping and a high, affectionate voice. A familiar voice. His eye shot upward.

A few dozen feet away, that murderous, bloodthirsty sadist of an animal was being petted and hugged by a kid. It kept trying to jump up and put its paws on her shoulders and she kept trying to gently push it back down, probably rightly worried it would knock her over and crush the life out of her. As she rubbed her hands through the thick fur on the dog’s neck and behind its ears, she kept trying to brush its muddy paw prints off her sweater. Her bright pink sweater. With a glittery, colorful shooting star emblem on the front.

Bill stopped being able to see anything but red. He lurched to his feet, and in a voice so packed with rage that it creaked at the seams, he snarled “YOU.”

Her head whipped toward him, and the sheer disbelieving terror on her face almost made him feel like himself again. The dog went stiff and bared its teeth as it stepped in front of the kid, trying to herd her away. Bill didn’t care. Not about the dog, not about the pain searing all through his body, not about the deal or the void or any kind of plan. All he could feel was anger.

He staggered toward her. “YOU DID THIS… YOU AND YOUR FUCKING FAMILY, YOU ALL DID THIS TO ME–” he was pointing at her, aiming a clawed finger at the star on her chest, willing a bolt of fire to punch right through it with every cell in his broken body– “BUT YOU DON’T GET TO WIN. YOU DON’T GET TO KILL ME. NOT THIS TIME. YOU TOOK AWAY EVERYTHING I WAS, BUT YOU WON’T– I WON’T–” his vision was swimming with hate. His arm was shaking, his whole body was shaking. He blinked hard and his vision cleared just enough to see her face. It was pale with fear, but there was something else now. Something that sent fury surging through his head so hard that his vision grayed out again. Pity.

He was done talking. With a primal roar, he charged forward.

His ankle turned under his weight. He started falling.

Everything went dark.

[it-was-summer]

Video Killed the Radio Star - Tape #1 (Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader)

A/N: After being dead on this account for years, like Christ (or bread?), I have risen (I'm not religious). The point is, if you are new to this series, welcome! I am rewriting this series for myself (and anyone still reading after all this time). It is something I want to see through and that I loved re-reading all these years later. The original reception was so warm and lovely, sometimes making me feel guilty for leaving so abruptly. I loved every reblog, comment, tag, and like for this series. I hope that if you're still here, you like the remake. This series DOES contain sensitive matters such as kidnapping, death, torture, sexual themes, and more. If you struggle with this material please know you are not alone and always reach out for help. I will be making a new masterlist once I have more chapters out. Please let me know what you think and enjoy! - Much love, Em <3

Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist

Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star

Next Chapter: Tape #2

WARNING: stalking, mention of kidnapping, blood, cursing, and sensitive material ahead.

Tape Contents: You start recording videos for the BAU once you find out you have a stalker.

Word Count: 2,196

Tape #1- December 29, 20XX

Your face looks a little apprehensive as you move away from the webcam on your computer. Your eyes flick off the screen, leaning forward to read something as if you had planned out a script for yourself. You wave at the camera, offering the lens a weak and shy smile. Your posture slumps for a second, letting out a prolonged sigh. “I,” you frown at the camera, “I’m not good at talking to myself on video, it seems.” 

“I guess bluntness might be a saving grace for both of us,” you whisper as you play with a ring on your middle finger, sliding it up and down your finger, “You know that feeling you get when you’re driving home late at night and you think to yourself, ‘Oh my god. I think that car behind me is following me.’ I think it all started with that.” A hand reaches for your hair, and you timidly move a stray strand away from your eyes. 

“I tried everything I could think of and kept turning randomly, but it was too late. I would rush up to my apartment, and across the street would the same red van every fucking weekend. I tried to get the plate one day as I watched them leave from my window, but no such luck.” You swallow thickly, your voice suddenly full of emotion. 

A sad smile crosses your face as you shake your head, “Fucking dumb, this is so fucking dumb.” you cry softly as tears dance along your lash line. You take a deep breath and push your shoulders back in a desperate attempt to regain your composure. 

You hold up a wilted, purple rose. Loose petals fall as you twist the stem between your thumb and index. “Got this last night, just on my windshield.” You mutter with a tone of disdain. “Don’t even like roses.” you joke lightly as you set the rose on your desk. 

“I’m going to the police tomorrow. I just… thought maybe doing this would make me feel better,” you pause and let out a bitter laugh, leaning toward the camera, “It hasn’t.” 

Then the screen goes black. 

Tape #2- January 3, 20XX. 

Your eyes have bags under them, and you gently rub the bridge between them. “So, got told off by the police.” 

You lean back in your desk chair and shake your head before pointing accusingly at the camera. “Went to the station, brought my stupid fucking rose and everything. They told me they would patrol the area. Of course, what car do I not see across the street anymore? That fucking red van. Guy told me that I was just imagining things.” 

You relax for a second before speaking again, your shoulders squaring defensively. “And! And, the second they leave, guess who is back again. Every single weekend, 7 pm to 11 pm.” You let out a weary sigh and rest an arm on your desk, staring directly into the camera. 

“The Police said they couldn’t even do anything until something boarding physical assault happens.” You trail off with a sideways glance away from the screen. 

“I’m not going to just sit idly by waiting to get assaulted.” You hiss out, leaning forward and stopping the video. 

Tape #3- January 14, 20XX 

You’re playing with the edges of your sweater as you lean back into your chair, rocking slightly. “Got another love present today,” Your voice distant as you pull a Polaroid from the desk, holding it up for the camera to see. 

The Polaroid was of you at the library where you worked. You were sitting in a striped sweater, your hair down. You were smiling at one of the volunteers who works ‘story hour.’ You threw the picture back on the desk with a grimace. 

“No one told me that my sweater that day looked so hideous.” You croak out in a desperate attempt to make yourself laugh in the moment, and for a second, it works. You start with a slight chuckle, but it quickly takes a sharp turn for the worst and becomes a full-on sob. 

“I’m sorry,” you choke out before you wipe tears from under your eyes, “I’m just scared. My mom and I talked about it, and she said that maybe it was a ‘secret admirer,’ which… does not make it any better. I feel like everyone thinks I’m fucking crazy.” Your voice raises before you cut yourself off and look down at your sweater again. 

“I’m not,” 

Camera off.

Tape #4- January 17, 20XX

You smile at the camera and scoot a little closer. “Hey,” you say with a gentle sigh of relief, “Great news—I’m organized!”

You lean back and relax in your chair slightly, “So I’m Y/N L/N. I work as a librarian here in Richmond, Virginia. My apartment will be in my records, I’m sure.” You laugh out softly, holding up a photo of a tattoo that seems to reside on your lower collarbone. 

“I didn’t want to flash the camera, so I took the liberty of taking a photo of this lovely tattoo of mine,” you say, glancing at the photo of the line-art floral tattoo next to your face. “If you think this doesn’t seem like me… well, you’re partially right. I was drunk in Vegas for my twenty-first birthday, and then I woke up missing a good chunk of money and a tattoo.” You shrug as you slowly set the photo on your desk. 

“I’m not trying to freak anyone out if they do see this. I just…” you pause, releasing a slow and controlling breath, “I want to be found if I do go missing. I want to be easily identified if I’m not alive. I want people to know I was a person and not just a body, you know?” You let your lips grow into a weak smile, nodding slightly, seeming to agree with yourself. 

“I’m making these to help myself, to feel like I have more control. The presents stopped recently, but they’re still watching me every weekend. It feels like it's about to get worse. I can’t explain it. I’m not trying to make the police feel bad. I just… don’t like going down without a fight.” 

“Speaking of not going down without a fight,” You reach over to grab a photo and proudly turn it over to the camera. “You know who this is?” You ask your silent audience. “This is the lovely Jennifer Jareau.” You answer with a weak smile, feeling strange as you talk with yourself. 

“I decided to beg the police to email this video folder to her. Currently, just the police have this, as I’m annoying and persistent but also very charming. That’s a lie. My coworker's boyfriend’s friend works at the station. Hopefully,” You swallow gently as the photo slips away from your fingers. “Hopefully, they won’t have to send it to her and the BAU team, but in the unfortunate case, she does see this.” You smile, wave a little, mouth a soft ‘hello,’ and lean forward—screen black. 

Tape #5- February 10, 20XX

You’re wearing a red, pink, and white striped sweater with a white headband pushing your hair back as the camera focuses again on you. “Happy Early Valentine’s Day to everyone who got a gift from their stalker on the top of their car today,” you say with mock happiness before your smile falls, and you hold up a copy of Wuthering Heights. 

You flip through the pages before stopping on one and facing it toward the camera, trying to get it to focus, but you quickly find the task irritating. You groan and decide to read the line, “Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad.”

“That's one of the lines circled, underlined, and highlighted…” You say, flipping through more pages slowly. 

“The only scenes highlighted seem to involve Heathcliff and Catherine, which are romantic scenes, of course, but just that one quote is emphasized.”  You say, shaking your head, and you laugh a little, setting the book somewhere outside the frame. 

“What a shitty gift, I already have a copy.” You joke before the screen turns black. 

Tape #6- February 14, 20XX

Your face is flush red, eyes swollen and raw from crying as you sit in front of the camera, speechless for a short amount of time. You look positively catatonic for a second, unmoving. The sound of you raking in a shaking breath scares you as you bring yourself to speak. Your face doesn’t match your attire, as you sport a sweater with a giant pink heart in the center and small heart-shaped earrings hanging from your ears. 

“They were in here,” your voice is soft and hoarse. “They were in here, everywhere. They left roses everywhere. They were in here! They got into my apartment and left dozens of rose petals on my bed, floors, couch, and kitchen table!” Your voice raises in volume as you cut yourself off, a small tear rolling down your cheek. 

“Something isn’t right,” You were shaking your head and letting out fast breaths, on the verge of hyperventilating. “This is all getting so,” you raise your hands to run through your curls, pulling gently. “I need you to find me. I’m doing so much already. I went to the police station, and they searched everything: cameras, streets, but there was nothing! Just petals!” You yell softly, voice rasping softly at the end of your outburst. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” you mumble softly, tears filling your eyes. 

Tape #7- February 17, 20XX

You smile awkwardly at the camera and hold up Jane Eyre, opening it to a dog-eared page. “You are my sympathy --my better self --my good angel.” You read off the quote softly with a light sigh at the end of your reading. 

“Seems like we have a Brontë fan in our midst,” you try to be light-hearted as you set the book to the side. 

“I wrote down all my passwords, but it's not like you’ll need them. Nonetheless, you can never be too safe.” You quip the sentence in a soft voice. 

“I’m trying my hardest not to do anything crazy. I just, nevermind.” You say, annoyance thick in your voice as you shut the camera off quickly. 

Tape #8- March 2, 20XX

A terrible gnawing was growing in your stomach. Your hands clutched your waist gently as you leaned back in your chair. You felt like you might be sick as you stared off-camera toward your newest ‘gift.’ Your throat felt taut as you swallowed, a shaky sigh coming from your lips as your pale face looked at the camera. 

“I’m scared this might be my last video,” you say, your voice hoarse and tense, “It all just suddenly stopped. There was no more red van, no more gifts—nothing to write home about, but today,” 

You lean over to pull a pair of white, blood-soaked panties from a plastic bag into the frame. “These were on my door knob today when I got home. I tried not to touch it. I put it in this bag to ensure I didn’t contaminate it more. It doesn’t look like blood blood, more like period blood.” As you throw the bag back to your desk, your voice edges into an emotional tone, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

 “I think that they’re mine,” You cried softly, shaking slightly as you tried to control your breathing, “Th-the panties, not the blood. I haven’t, those can’t be from my period. Mine hasn’t come y-”

“I’m not going to be okay. I was stupid to think I might be, but I’m not!” You cry into your hands, and your shoulders shake as you let out a weak sob. “Please find me if I go missing. Please,” Tears fall on your cheeks as you lean toward the computer. 

“I need you to find me.” 

March 5, 20XX. 

A clicker is in J.J.’s hand as she turns off the videos. “Richmond PD sent this over this morning when twenty-eight-year-old Y/N L/N didn’t show up to her job,” She hands out folders as she speaks, “Her coworker called her mother to see if she had gone out of town when she said no. Y/N’s coworker’s boyfriend called a cop friend to check her apartment and found no trace of her or anyone else in her apartment. They sent this video folder over the second he called it in.” 

Spencer was frowning as he flipped through the pages of your file, hating the idea that you knew. He knew that dread, that feeling when something bad was about to happen to you. That innate and raw feeling that pushes through a person like a wave. He opens his mouth to say something, but Hotch is already speaking before he can get the chance to. 

“We leave here in ten,” He says before leaving the room, cutting everyone’s comments short in one small miraculous moment. 

Within ten minutes, the team finds themselves away from their jet, stuffed into groups in black SUVs, barreling toward Richmond. 

[darealsaltysam]

I JUST GOT BACK FROM SEEING DUNE PART 2 AND HOLY FUCK OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT HOLY FUUUUCK I NEED TO. I NEED TO. I NEED TO TALK SO BAD HOLY SHIT

below the cut because oh boy do i have a lot to say and i dont want my poor followers to suffer when i post this

oh my god okay okay where do i even start

opening with irulan's narration to mirror her notes in the openings of the chapters of the book. oh yeah baby. i ate that right up

watching paul get close with the fremen,,,,, fucking hell that hurts. dune really is a tragedy at the end of the day huh. they go from reluctant allies to friends but the whole time you know the switch will happen any moment now and they will be devotees and he will be messiah and that gap between them will never be as small as it is out in the sand. huddled in those tents. sharing drinks and laughs. im not doing ok

this especially hurts with chani. their love is so genuine and pure and she wears blue for him (which by the way sticks out so much more with how muted the colors of the rest of the movie are... i could talk about this all day) but she can see what he is becoming and he's trying to avoid it for her so hard but there's no avoiding fate. LORD ABOVE!!!!

i loveeee jessica being the manipulator thats pulling all the strings, urging paul towards becoming messiah. rebecca ferguson is such a talented actress she really understands the character so well. also as a hashtag certified alia atreides enjoyer her scheming with her unborn fetus might be the most unhinged thing ever but thats also so fucking funny aka its as dune as it gets. dune is WEIRD and im glad theyre not shying away from that. thank u denis

arrakis looks so much more beautiful in this movie like theres defo been some changes with how its framed and presented it feels so much grander and idk just ??? what it makes me think is that we're not seeing arrakis, we're finally seeing dune. we're seeing the land as the fremen see it as paul becomes one of them. i might be looking too much into it but who cares. god i love this movie

but yes more on the fremen in the first section of the movie. i like how there's this cluster of non-believers almost?? its a nice breath of fresh air. its hard to believe every single person would be just devoted to the prophecy and it adds some depth.

i will say the one thing i didnt like is the way stilgar is characterized?? i dont think he was so blindly devoted to paul in the books, and definitely not alia and leto ii after him as the atreides line went on. he's always been a source of small doubt towards paul but i think they're moving that element of him onto chani, so i think i can let it slide. i'd like to see him question alia more in the future though.

the scene where paul was named muad'dib and usul??? god it was so cute which made it so heart wrenching. all the fremen coming together and welcoming him into their lives. as a brother. as a friend. only for him to turn around and make them all bow before him. ohhhhh i cant do this

OH BOY THE WORMS THE WORMS AND THE WORM RIDING AND THE AHHHHHHHHH OH LORD

jesus christ. what the fuck. how is this allowed on cinema screens how is something so amazing allowed

the tension. the effects. the sound design. the sand rushing past the wind the worm moving forward paul struggling to hold on the fremen all watching and then cheering him on HOLY FUCKKKK HOLY FUCK I WAS HOLDING MY BREATH

all the worm riding scenes were so intense and so well done like. when i first read that stuff in the books i didnt think anything could ever capture how i imagined it exactly and yet. AND YET. DENIS!!!!!!!!

once more dune hits the idea of scale SO well everything is HUGE and they MAKE YOU FEEL IT. that shows especially with geidi prime but ill talk about that in a bit. but yes this applies to the worms too lord above them WORMSSSS ARE HUGEEEE AND I LOVE THEMMMM

rebecca ferguson put her heart and soul into that water of life scene and we all need to thank her for it

the way jessica is so quick to switch up and go all in on the prophecy. it makes me think of leto's "im not asking his mother, im asking the bene gesserit" like. the bene gesserit really come first for jessica and she takes her opportunity to fulfill her duties. to be the reverend mother. to rub it all in the faces of the other bene gesserit. she is the mother of the messiah and by god will she make everyone well aware of that

okay. okay okay. i think i said my peace on the early fremen stuff. i think. okay fuck okay SHIT fuck SHIT

FEYD FUCKING RAUTHA LADIES AND GENTLEMEN

oh my god okay. okay ill admit it. i doubted austin butler. i saw the cast list and i was unsure(tm). i saw him in the trailers and my faith was restored. and holy fucking shit did he DELIVER

stellan skarsgård's baron harkonnen is already such a threatening figure it feels like it would be impossible to make someone even more terrifying and yet. AND YET

just the way he's introduced. killing servants with zero remorse. LICKING THAT KNIFE THE WAY HE DID??? OKAY WHORE. I SEE YOU. GO RIGHT AHEAD. MAKE IT SLUTTY IN HOUSE HARKONNEN. I RESPECT IT

when the arena doors open and that loud ass fucking music BOOMS. makes the room fucking SHAKE. thats a PRESENCE right there. THATS how you introduce your antagonist.

the music playing as he fights being as fucking deranged as he is. chaotic and weird and unsettling. just. oh my god feyd had such a presence from the moment he showed up and he did not lose it for a single second. you could feel him LOOMING over the movie the whole time just as he looms over the whole book from his very first scene. oh my goddddd oh my godd

GEIDI PRIME. THE ARENA. THAT MASSIVE HARKONNEN PALACE. oh my god. once more. that sense of scale. the harkonnens love to flaunt their wealth so ofc they have huge fuck off arenas and castles where everything and everyone feels so SMALL in comparison.

dont even get me started on the black and white. the way it accents those coal black teeth and mouths. the way it makes everything look so much more inhuman and clinical and PERFECT because harkonnen power is so absolute and ruthless.

and the way the baron sits so so high above watching the fighting. literally impossible to picture his elevation above his people above the rest of the universe. the way feyd looks to him for approval after every movement. even as his uncle is trying to kill him they exchange those little looks and feyd knows hes getting his chance to show off while the baron gives him his "gift" what a fucked up family what the hell

speaking of fucked up family! wow! they are SO fucked up! there is something seriously strange being hinted at with feyd and the baron! feyd making his own brother bow and kiss his boot! those constant threats of death against rabban as if theyre nothing! this family is capital f FUCKED up. they hurt each other as much as they hurt everyone around them. theyre made of violence and blood and they could never show each other kindness because they dont know such a thing

what can i say about the feyd/margot scenes that hasnt been said already. like wow just unpack the boy's trauma like that. use him and then throw him to the wolves. once again the bene gesserit make it so clear this is THEIR empire and THEIR bloodlines and THEIR messiah. too bad jessica doesnt see that collective "ours" and instead settles for "mine" when it comes to the messiah

special shout out to dave bautista before i move on. just cause. his rabban doesnt get enough love. he really sells that balance of ruthless power but also incompetency compared to his brother so well. can you guys tell i REALLY like this cast

WE ACTUALLY GOT TO SEE GURNEY PLAYING THE BALISET WE FUCKING WIN Y'ALL

the paul/gurney reunion being the last shred of the old paul. how he gets so happy "i recognized your footsteps, old man" shoot me in the fucking brain stem it would HURT LESS

a bit off topic and it happened earlier (sorry my thoughts are so all over the place) but i like how they actually showed the process of how the water of life is made. it was actually exactly like how i imagined it when i read the books so thats neat !!

anyway. back to the horrors.

i already talked so much about feyd's presence so just another small note. that scene in sietch tabr. he is a MONSTER and i am EATING IT UP

i cant even begin to explain. how much it fucked me up. when paul took the water of life. i knew thats where we were going. i knew it was unavoidable. and yet still. when chani bent over him and screamed at everyone for making him follow this prophecy. when she was forced to shed tears to save his life. when she got him back only to realize she lost him and he wasnt the person she loved anymore. it broke me

chani's utter hatred for the prophecy and what paul is becoming added to it so much. i know some people are unhappy with how much shes been changed from the books but i think its elevated her character and all these scenes so much. and oh my god does zendaya DELIVER when the spotlight is on her. i never doubted her for a moment but all those changes to chani really allowed to let her shine. thats that euphoria acting coming out baby !!!!

SPEAKING OF GOOD ACTING

TIMOTHEE

FUCKING

CHALAMET

listen i hate the fact that he gets cast in everything these days as much as everyone but hes such a talented actor and i cant deny this anymore. the water of life scene really sold it for me.

he was such a perfect paul already in the first movie but this was the moment it really came out. the way he wakes up so calm and collected. lifeless. monotone. theres nothing theres literally nothing

paul atreides the boy who became duke far too young is dead usul who was the lover of chani is dead muad'dib the fedaykin fighter is dead only the kwisatz haderach remains and thats what the prophecy was always leading us to and yet the moment it happens its so haunting

like i cannot say this enough. that complete switch is so sudden but so subtle at the same time. its still paul technically but hes so different

what makes dune's weird concepts so easy to take in once you get into the book is all that internal monologue that really leads you through these complex concepts slowly. and yet in a few shots and a few lines of dialogue timothee chalamet somehow manages to express the idea of "i just learned the secrets of the fucking universe and im about to start a holy war" ???? HOW DO YOU EVEN DO THIS???? HOW ARE YOU THIS TALENTED???? OH MY GOD!!!!!!!! IT WAS A FEW LOOKS A FEW MOVENTS JUST THE RIGHT TONE OF VOICE AND THATS HIM!!! THATS HIM BABY!!!! THATS THE KWISATZ HADERACH AND THE UNIVERSE IS FUCKED !!!!!!!!!

also. anya taylor joy alia. we only had you for a split second but i cannot wait for you. im sure youre going to completely slay the third movie. give us our beloved tragic meow meow. alia is my fave character so i will be JUDGING HEAVILY. she better bring her a-game istg

when paul storms the war council and just completely takes control of the room so easily. thats the bene gesserit conditioning giving him his pedestal and he is making the most of it. he knows exactly what the fuck hes doing. and once more oh my goddddd all that shouting all that emotion and yet a complete lack of it. timothee spare a crumb of talent for the rest of us

also the way in that scene gurney is hesitant about it all until paul proclaims himself the duke of arrakis. and suddenly gurney has house atreides again and he doesnt care what chani does anymore. hes a follower to paul just as everyone else in that room. nothing changes. fuck me man i cant do this anymore

have i mentioned yet im so excited for chani in the next movie. her arc is so interesting. children of dune is defo not happening with the way chani has been set up so i doubt we'll see leto ii and ghanima but. lets hope we still get all the cool stuff wit alia at least. and maybe chani can be the one who leads the charge against her

okay i need to really fucking. get along with it im dragging this post on im so sorry this movie is eating my brain alive

chani still wearing blue during the final fight. im not saying more than that i might cry if i think about it too much

THAT. FINAL. FIGHT. OH MY GODDD OH MY GOD

IT ALL CAME TOGETHER SO SO WELL

THE WORMS

THE SENSE OF SCALE

THE FIGHT CHOREOGRAPHY

THE MUSIC HOLY FUCK THE MUSIC HANS ZIMMER YOU OUTDO YOURSELF EVERY TIME

THE SOUND

EVERYTHING FLOWING TOGETHER SO WELL

the way the fremen fight for their messiah but still fly the atreides banner. the way paul leads them as their messiah and as a "fremen" but always proclaims himself duke of house atreides first. oh lorddd im unwell

every time paul menacingly emerged from fog/sand/smoke my life was extended by like 10 years thank u denis

gurney killing rabban with as much ease as he did cleared my skin and watered my crops <3

the way the baron was literally dying and still crawling towards the throne.......... the way at the same time feyd ignored him completely and looked towards the doors reveling in the fight ahead..... if that doesnt tell u everything you need to know about house harkonnen idk what will yall

i also love how no one intervenes as paul walks in and kills the baron. not even feyd. feyd looks like he was a little TOO into it as paul killed him tbh. feyd u little freak. austin butler you talented talented man. im unwell

i AM sad we didnt get to see baby alia stab him but ah well. we got a bunch of other weird dune shit so ill let this one slide. the psychic toddler may be too much even for denis and everything he did give us. we'll always have our 1984 alia <3

OHOHOHOHOHOHOH. OH. HERE WE GO

HERE WE GO YALL

THE SCENE IVE BEEN WAITING FOR SINCE READING THE BOOK

THE SCENE THEY SHOWED BITS OF IN THE TRAILER AND THE SCENE IVE BEEN NON STOP YEARNING FOR SINCE!!!

THE DUEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh my god oh my god oh my goddddd where do i even start

okay so. the way theres no music. no fancy cuts no slow mo no over the top effects. its just the slashing of the blades and those BEAUTIFUL shadowed shots with the setting sun in the background. this really is the sun setting on the peaceful universe. just pain and suffering ahead marked with the blood spilled from the two who were meant to produce the messiah but who both got thrown off this path by the greed and selfishness of their forefathers. guys im normal about paul and feyd. definitely. i definitely have very normal thoughts about how they are foils and yet two sides of the same coin. yes guys

paul making the emperor kiss his ring is already such an insane fucking scene and it translated to the screen so well. amazing performances all around

i didnt talk much about florence pugh's irulan but she really didnt have much time to shine. im excited to see where she goes next and i definitely think shes a great fit but i need to see more of her to really be able to say more

i will say this. the way chani, irulan and jessica are the only ones who dont kneel for paul. the three most important women in his life who give him his power, everything he has. jessica made him and she made him the messiah. chani opened her life up to him, helped him become and in turn control the fremen, and she shed her tears for him and fulfilled her role in the prophecy against her wishes. irulan is his path to the throne, his key to being emperor. and none of them bow before him because why would they bow before a power they are responsible for, a power they own, a power they gave?

but for chani its different ofc. she also refuses to bow because she despises everything paul stands for.

oh my god i could say so much about the last scene being chani. not paul reveling in his victory. paul leaves for his next bloodshed and chani is left behind crying for the person she loves who she knows is gone. crying for her people, again enslaved. crying those same tears that brought the messiah back into this world.

theres a lot to be said about the role of gender in dune and how it hangs over every facet of this world but thats a whole separate analysis post to be had so ill just throw it down here in this little point

another thing chani does very well in the movies is she really makes paul's villainy explicitly clear. SO many people read dune and completely misunderstand it and walk away from it concluding its a "white savior narrative" and nothing more which. yes!! yes it is!!!! but thats not a good thing!!!! its never stated to be a good thing!!!!

this movie is not gonna let you misunderstand the message of the story no matter how blind you try to be to it. paul is not a good guy. hes never been the good guy. hes the protagonist, but hes not the hero. and chani allows that to translate from book to movie very well. have i mentioned yet i love movie chani

chani fills in the holes left behind by the narration and internal monologues of the book and, bonus points, she holds the people who dont understand what dune is about by the hand and tells them explicitly "PAUL IS A BAD GUY!!! DONT IDOLIZE PAUL!!!! DONT WALK AWAY FROM DUNE THINKING ITS PRAISING PAUL'S ACTIONS!!!"

i think thats pretty much all i had to say. i might reblog with additions as they hit me but yeah i. i enjoyed the movie. so so much. i think i might watch it again sometime soon while its still in cinemas.

sorry for being unhinged hope u enjoyed my rants. kiss kiss night night <3

[elliezato]

❀˙⋆Summer With You⋆˙❀

Pairing: Ellie x Reader

-Modern au!

Summary: You and your friends decide to rent out a cabin on the beach over the summer. This was your last summer before leaving for college, so you wanted to make it memorable. This summer was going to be perfect. You spent your days in the water, taking In the moments in the sun with your friends.

It didn't take long for you to realize your feelings for your best friend Ellie.

The way her wet hair drips down her shoulders as she gets out of the water. The way her fingers strum the guitar as you gather around the fire. The way the stars light her eyes during late night swims. The way her smile grows when she’s with her girlfriend… It's all too much.

Will these feelings ruin your friendship and the whole summer? What will happen when it's time to leave Ellie behind for college?

Word Count: 4.4k

⋆˚✿˖°

a/n: Im back!! I've been in the summer mood recently and I just need to be laying out by the lake rn. I recently read "SYNS" by carmellie and was inspired to make this! I've really been wanting to write a slow burn, angst fic so I hope this turns out good.

I will probably split this story into a few parts depending on how long I want this to be.

This will be my first real fic because honestly I've only written smut in the past and I'm not sure if I like writing stuff like that. I might add a little bit of it every now and then in my stories but it's not something I want to continue to write.

Anyway, I'm super exited for this story! Please give me ideas for future chapters! I love to hear feedback on how to improve or what you guys like.

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

Packing your bag was the only thing you weren't looking forward to doing on this trip. You always over packed and struggled to fit everything in your bags. Clothes and shoes were thrown all over your room as you pick out what you should pack. This trip is going to be 2 months long so you need enough clothes to last through the summer but not too much that your car will be over flowing.

"Eww, do not bring that" Dina says in disgust as you hold up an old one piece bathing suit from freshmen year.

You knew she was right, but you didn't have many options when It came to bathing suits. You packed it anyway, along with some other suits from the previous summer. The sun shined through your window, lighting up the room. It was almost noon and you needed to leave soon. The drive to the cabin would take the majority of the day so there wasn't much time to waste.

Dina helped you load your car with your bags. There wasn't a lot of room in the trunk but you two made it work. You slam the truck shut, making sure it wouldn't pop open from all the clothes. Your parents hug you goodbye in your drive way as you and Dina get ready to leave.

You get into your car and put the top of your convertible down. The breeze felt nice in your hair as you drove off. Music plays as you sing your heart out. This was going to be a good trip, you could feel it. Dina pulls out her digital camera and snaps a pic of you driving as your hair blows in the wind. Your sun glasses reflect the trees lining the road.

It's been a long time since you've been on a nice trip. Let alone with all your friends. Nerves start to build as you get closer to the cabin. Ellie and Jesse were supposed to meet you there. Recently it's been awkward with Ellie. Usually you two could talk for hours and spend every second together but things have been different.

⋆˚✿˖°

You noticed this sudden shift in your friendship during one of your sleepovers a few months ago. Ellie was sitting on the floor of your bedroom while you were getting ready for bed. She starts going on a rant about this girl she's been thinking about asking out. You don't know what happened but in that moment you felt this strange rage fill in your heart.

Ellie has always been open about girls she finds attractive but she's never made any moves. The thought of your best friend dating another girl upset you for some reason. You've never felt this before and decided to just let it go.

"She so pretty y/n! Like I really think I'm going to make my move" Ellie scrolls on her phone as she talks to you.

You look into the mirror while washing the rest of the soap off your face. "Go for it Els, you could probably pull anyone"

"Yeah, I know" Ellie says sarcastically, now putting down her phone.

She walks over to you and meets your gaze in the reflection on the bathroom mirror. Your eyes revert down to the counter. For some reason you felt your body tremble as she got closer. You couldn't understand why you were acting like this. You've known Ellie your whole life and never saw her as anything other than your best friend.

She picks up her toothbrush and you leave the bathroom. You lay in bed waiting for Ellie to finish in the bathroom. She noticed the sudden change in your demeanor. After a few minutes your friend turns off the lights and lays nexts to you in bed.

"You ok?" Ellie turns to look at you. Her hand rubs up and down your arm.

"Yeah, Im just tired" You lied. You were wide awake but the thoughts of Ellie swarmed your mind.

Things have been like this ever since then. Every time you guys hung out, you two always end up in awkward situations. You hated the fact that things felt like this. You almost convinced yourself that maybe your friendship isn't as strong and it use to be. Maybe you two are drifing apart. You prayed that this wasn't the case but it was the only logical way to explain the distance between you two.

⋆˚✿˖°

"Can we pull over? I have to pee and Im starving" Dina throws her head back into the seat.

"Yeah, I need to get gas anyway" You pull into a gas station and Dina runs in as you follow shortly behind her.

The area was very unfamiliar. There wasn't many people around. You walk inside the convince store and pick out a few snacks and your friend finishes up in the bathroom. You look over to pick out what you want and see a package of watermelon sour patch kids. These were Ellie's favorite. You guys use to walk to the gas station when you were younger and eat these on the curb in the summer heat.

You pick up two bags, one for yourself and one to give Ellie when you see her later tonight. Dina grabs her snacks and you pay. You quickly fill up your tank and get back onto the road. You put the top of your conferable back up now that it's getting darker and the air is cooling down.

The rest of the drive was quiet. Dina slept as you listed to music softly. Superache by Conan filled the car as your mind thought about Ellie. She was all you could think about for the rest of the drive. You were excited to see her, hoping she felt the same.

A few hours later you pull into the driveway of the cabin. You looked at the familiar car already in front of you.

"It looks like they're already here" You nudge Dina, trying to wake her.

You text the group chat, letting your friends know you arrived. As you get out of the car to help unload all your bags you hear your name being called out from a small distance. You look up and see Ellie and Jesse walking towards you to greet you and help with the bags.

"Y/N!! You guys took long enough." Ellie pulls you into a tight hug and then turns to Dina to welcome her.

Your eyes were glued to Ellie. She was dressed in a pair of jorts that ended a few inches above her knees. Her shirt displayed the album cover of her favorite band she took you to see last semester. She wore her old converse that probably need to be replaced sometime soon.

You guys walk into the cabin with all the bags. It was beautiful. Trees surround the land and fireflies lit up every now and then around the house. You could see a glimpse of the ocean from the front. You walk into the cabin and place your bags onto the floor.

"You guys have to see the view!" Ellie grabs your wrist to bring you to the backyard.

Dina and Jesse followed as Ellie opened the backdoor for everyone. As she opened the door you were met with the view of the beach in the distance. Lanterns lit the path leading down to a fire pit. Lights were strung across the yard, lighting up every inch. You closed your eyes and listened to the waves crashing in the distance and the bugs humming from the trees.

"Holy shit. This is insane!" Your eyes light up thinking about all the memories that are about to be made here.

"Lets go down to the beach!" Jesse says as he's already sprinting down to the sand.

"I'll be there in a minute, Im going to change into a bathing suit." You begin to walk back inside until you feel a tug on your arm.

"Come onnnn!" Ellie drags you down to the beach with everyone else.

There wasn't anyone on the beach. It was more of a reserved area for residents only. You kick off your shoes as you stumble down to the water. You watch as your friends run into the waves laughing and taking in the moment. Ellie looks over at you from the water smiling, motioning you to come in. You roll your eyes and walk into the water. It was oddly warm. You cringe at the fact you're still dressed in your clothes from the drive here.

You suddenly gasp as you feel yourself getting pushed into the water. "Hey!" You sit as waves crash over you.

Ellie looks down at you and laughs but it doesn't last long before Jesse pushes her in. "What the fuck!"

You're now laughing at the sight of her drenched in the water. She grabs your hand and helps you up as you two are now dripping wet. You look up and notice how bright the stars are here. Back home you can barely see the stars. The city isn't the best place for star gazing. You can feel your body start to shiver.

The wet cloths that cling to your body get colder by each second. Ellie notices and pulls you close. "Lets go back up and change"

You take your bag of clothes and bring it it your room. Your eyes widen when you realize the room you were sharing with Ellie only has one bed. You don't understand why you're in shock. You've shared a bed with Ellie many times in your life but for some reason you felt weird about it.

"Nice right?" She says as she walks past you into the room.

The room was nice. It was open and had big windows looking out to the ocean. You place your bags down next to the bed and pull out a pair of pjs. You feel her eyes on you as you walk to the bathroom to shower and change for the night.

You take your time getting unready. Turing on the shower as you slip out of your wet clothes. The water is hot and feels nice against your shivering skin. Fingers run through your scalp as you wash out the salty water, tasting it on your lips as it washes over your face.

You dry off your body and put on fresh clothes. You throw your wet hair up into a towel as you wash your face. As you exit the bathroom you notice Ellie is no longer in the room. You walk downstairs to the kitchen to see all your friends sitting at the island laughing.

"Were ordered pizza, I hope that's fine" Dina says smiling, then returning to her conversation

"Im literally starving, I could fuck up some pizza right now" You say as you sit and join them at the island.

"I think Cat is going to join us for a week. She's supposed to be here next Saturday" Ellie looks at you waiting for a reaction.

You immediately feel a frown forming on your face. You hated Cat. You hated how she practically stole Ellie from you, and now she's coming on your trip!? Ever since Ellie made her move on Cat they've been inseparable. She never referred to Cat as her girlfriend but you knew it was coming. The way Ellie looks at her. It hurts. You figured it was just because she doesn't spend all her time with you anymore. Maybe you're just jealous that Ellie's time is being taken up by someone else.

You were looking forward to spending time with Ellie on this trip and now she's inventing Cat? You felt your heart drop at the thought of Ellie spending the next week with her.

"That's exciting" You say as you force a smile but it's clear your upset.

Suddenly there's a knock at the door. "That's probably the pizza" Jesse gets up and walks to the front door.

You make your way over to the living room with a box of pizza in your hands. You place the box down on the coffee table next to the other boxes. Ellie hands you a glass of water as she takes a seat next to you on the couch.

"What movie are we watching?" You feel Ellie's body shift next to you as she grabs the remote to scroll through the options.

"Want to rewatch Bottoms? I don't think Dina or Jesse have seen it yet."

"YES!" She searches up the movie and hits rent without any hesitation.

⋆˚✿˖°

The night was nice. You rested your head on Ellies shoulder as you watch the movie. The boxes of pizza are practically empty except for the left over crust from Ellie that she refuses to eat. The movie was almost over and you could feel your eyes getting tired. You've already seen this move a million times so you decided to go ahead and go to bed.

"Where are you going" Ellie looks up at you as you remove yourself from her arms.

"Im going to head up to bed. Im tired from driving all day. I'll see you guys in the morning" You smile and say goodnight to Jesse and Dina.

"Okay, goodnight! I'll be up there right when the movie ends." She gives you a soft smile in return.

The bed was comfortable. It was easy to get settled in as you wait for Ellie's presence. Your eyes close as you wait for her. You could feel yourself drifting off until you hear the sound of the door opening. Your body turns towards the door and you open your eyes to see Ellie walking into the room.

"Sorry, did I wake you up" She quietly closes the door.

"No, I was still up." You watch as she pulls out her toothbrush from her bag and walks to the bathroom.

She eventually joins you in bed. Her body was close. You could feel her settling into the mattress. The widow was slightly open, allowing the sound of the waves crashing to fill the room. The fan kept the room at a cool temperature as you pull the covers higher up your body.

"Do you like Cat" Ellie breaks the silence and turns to face you in the bed waiting for a response.

Her face was close. You could feel her gentle breath on your cheeks as she waited for you to answer. You knew you couldn't tell her the truth. She's your best friend. There's no reason for you dislike Cat, but you did, but you couldn't tell her that.

"Yeah. Why?" Your response was cold and blunt.

"You just always change the subject when I bring her up or you just seem to always get upset." She frowns. "I just really want you to like her because I think I'm going to make things official with her."

You almost was to cry when you hear those words come out of her mouth. Your heart aches. You knew this was coming but you prayed it wouldn't happen. You wished things would fall through between them. You hated that you felt this way. You wanted Ellie to be happy. You really did but you've been letting your emotions get in the way.

"Do whatever you want Ellie" You turn to face the opposite way. You didn't mean for your response to come out as harsh as it did, but it was too late.

"This is exactly what I was talking about. I don't understand why you're being like this" Her voice is harsh. "Ever since I told you about Cat you've been so distant. I don't know why you're being like this but clearly you need space."

You feel her get up from the bed. "Where are you going?" You sit up and look at her.

"Giving you space. You obviously are upset with me and I don't know why." She gets up and leaves the room.

You lay back down on your back as the tears that formed in your eyes begin to fall down your cheeks. Her words stung but she was right. You feel bad for being so short with Ellie, she doesn't deserve it. Your whole life you and Ellie have been so close. You told each other everything. The reason your friendship is changing was because of you.

After tossing and turning in the empty bed for a while you look over at your bag and see the candy you bought for Ellie but forgot to give her. You decide to get up and find her, still feeling bad about earlier. The room was dark and hard to navigate but you found the door. You walk downstairs to see Ellie laying on the couch. She's wrapped up in a small blanket, sleeping softly. You sit on the edge of the couch and look at her with a feeling of guilt settling in your stomach.

"y/n?" She slowly opens her eyes and looks at you.

"Im sorry Els." You look at her with damp eyes. "Im sorry I've been so distant and I'm sorry for being rude." You wipe your tears trying to gain composer.

Ellie sits up and wraps her arms around you, bringing you close to her body. She wipes your tears as she holds you. "Stop crying. Im not mad at you, Im just confused."

"I know and Im sorry" You rest your head on her chest.

You eventually lay down on the couch with her. There isn't too much room but you make it work. Your bodies press against each other as you close your eyes. Her arms are wrapped around your waist, still trying to calm you down. You quickly fall asleep, feeling that your friendship is returning to what it once was.

⋆˚✿˖°

You wake up alone on the couch, hearing chatter from the kitchen. Sitting up and looking over you see your friends making breakfast. The air smells of salt and pancakes.

"Look who's finally up" Jesse says teasingly as he flips a pancake.

"You hungry?" Ellie asks as she holds up a plate of food she had already prepared for you.

You get up from the couch and sit at the table. The kitchen had huge windows that had the perfect view on the backyard and the beach. The cabin was so pretty during the day. The sunlight lit up the whole house. You look up as you see Ellie placing a plate in front of you. She sits down and joins you for breakfast.

"Do you have any plans in mind for today" She looks up at you as she takes a bite of pineapple.

"I really want to explore this area and go to the beach." You smile at her as you spread the butter on your pancakes.

You put on your bathing suit and then some shorts over as a coverup. The weather was hot but not humid. There was nice breeze outside. There were a bunch of beach bikes on the side of the cabin for guest so you and your friends decided to explore on them.

Wind blew through your hair as you rode down the dirt paths from the cabin to the nearest sidewalk. Music played through Ellie's speakers as you rode. You eventually came across a small beach town with restaurants and shops. There were people walking through with friends and family enjoying the start of summer break.

You tied your bikes to a post and decided to walk around. "This place is so cute!" You take out you phone to take some pictures.

Dina points out a small local coffee shop and starts walking towards it. You guys enter the shop and order coffees to start your morning. Ellie wasn't a huge coffee person so she got a refresher.

"Els you need to try this!" You hand her your drink waiting for her to take a sip.

"No thanks. I really don't like coffee" She pushes your drink away.

"Seriously Ellie, its so good, you have to try it" You push your cup back into her hands.

She hands you her drink so you can try it as she takes a sip of your coffee. "This is disgusting!" She cringes as the taste of coffee lingers in her mouth.

She takes her drink back and washes out the bitter taste of coffee from her mouth. The coffee wasn't even strong, it was mostly washed out with a sugary creamer. You laugh watching Ellie's reaction to the coffee and took it back from her hands.

The town was small so it didn't take long to explore it. You guys planned on trying every restaurant here over the summer. The breeze from the ocean felt nice. The air smelt of salt and coffee.

You and your friends got back onto your bikes and rode down to the beach. The weather was starting to get warmer as noon approached. You set you bike up again the beach entrance and step onto the sand. You take off your shoes and toss them into your bag and walk down to the water. Ellie follows shortly behind and sits down on the towel that Dina places on the warm sand.

You join Ellie on the towel as Dina and Jesse head towards the water. "Im sorry about last night, I was just tired. I don't even remember why I was upset." You say looking at Ellie as she takes a sip of her drink.

"Y/n, it's really ok, I'm not mad. I just want us to go back to how we use to be" She admits as she meets your gaze.

"Me too" You smile and rest your head on her shoulder as you watch your friends splashing each other in the waves.

⋆˚✿˖°

The first week was perfect. You spent your days at the beach and cooking out in the backyard of the cabin. Jesse and Ellie set up hammocks in the back, so you guys could star gaze and talk until the sun starts to rise. Things were going better than you imagined. Your relationship with Ellie was better than ever. You two did everyone together.

"Cats going to be here in a few minutes!" Ellie impatiently checks her phone waiting for Cat's arrival text.

You sit at the island finishing your breakfast. The windows were open, allowing the fresh air to calm you down. You've been dreading this since Ellie first brought up the fact that Cat was even visiting. The thought of Ellie spending all her time with Cat made you sick. You didn't want to lash out again so you kept your feelings to yourself.

A ding from Ellie's phone interrupted your conversation followed by a loud knock at the door. "She's here!" Ellie jumped from her seat and walked over to the front door.

Cat stood at the entrance with her bag. She was dressed in shorts and a tank top with an opened button down on top. You took in the image of Ellie's face lighting up as she looked Cat up and down. You watched as she pulled her into a tight hug. Ellie leaded her into the kitchen with everyone else.

"Hi guys! Thanks for letting me stay for a few days" She smiles and then looks at you.

You return the smile but its obvious you're annoyed. Cat takes the hint and turns back too Ellie. They walk upstairs so she could put up her bags.

Dina looks over at you with a frown. "You ok y/n?"

"Yeah... why?" You look at her with a confused and saddened expression.

Dina caught on to your feelings for Ellie a long time ago. You've never admitted to them because honestly you never thought of Ellie in that way. At least not until recently. It's all been so confusing.

"She's only going to be here for five days, it'll go by fast" Dina tries to reassure you but it just makes things worse.

"I know, I think we'll have fun. And Ellie's happy" You try to convince your friends you're ok, and maybe you're trying to convince yourself too.

Ellie returns downstairs with Cats hand in hers. The sight makes you want to cry but you suck in your feelings and try to avoid them. You knew these next few days would be hard. Not only did you have to watch your best friend fall in love with someone else but you had to get rid of any feelings you have for her.

You didn't even know you liked her but it makes sense now. It's all coming together. Why did you feel this way? You've known Ellie all your life. Why are you just now realizing these feelings? The way she makes you feel when her fingers are running through your hair. The way she holds you close at night. The way she immediately drops everything when you need her.

Your thoughts shatter in your mind when you see Cats lips against Ellie's. You can't help but sit and stare. Ellie never told you they were official yet. Why didn't she tell you?

Your emotions took over and you left. You didn't know where you were going but your keys were in your hand and you were already half way to you car.

"Y/n!? Where are you going?" Ellie follows you as you walk out the door. Cat standing behind. She stands at the door frame as she watches you pull out of the drive way.

The air was much needed. You drove down the roads of the beach. tears building up in your eyes. You had hopes that this drive would distract you but the only thing on your mind was Ellie. Why did you let your feelings get the best of you again. She clearly doesn't like you. She has Cat.

You find yourself sitting in a cafe looking out at the beach. The thoughts Ellie holding you floods your mind. You hate yourself for feeling like this. What would she think if she knew about how you felt? Would this ruin everything between you two? Would your friendship be over for good?

You immediately snap out of your thoughts as you look down and notice a text from Ellie.

⋆˚✿˖°

a/n: Thank you for reading!! Im already working on the next chapter. I hope my writing gets stronger as I write more because I feel like this could be more detailed:( Please, please, pleaseeee give me feedback! I love hearing others opinions! Im excited to continue this story because honestly I have no idea where the plot is going to go yet. The next chapters should be longer as they come out. Im not expecting this to be too long but let me know what you guys want for the future chapters!<3

[redflagshipwriter]

Red Hot Ghouls Chapter 13 part 1/2

masterpost

The next patrol night, Jason’s shoulder was still a little sore from how hard Jack Fenton had pumped it to say goodbye after they’d gone ‘ghost chasing- not hunting!’ in the family van. The van and the family were both growing on him. He was going to really hate it if he had to arrest either of the Fenton kids. It might damage his relationship with Jack and Maddie.

“How was your trip?”

“Might have gotten adopted but I’m not sure why,” Jason said. He shot his grapple and aimed to get a good view of the neighborhood. He winced as it reeled him up. It was a quiet night and cool air buffeted him hard from the side. He didn’t expect trouble. He’d been seen, which was the main deterrent Crime Alley needed at this point. “Did a bit of journalism. Had an impromptu refresher on tactical driving.” He hit boots-first with relief and immediately rolled his shoulder.

“...You’re doing that shitty thing where you make it sound like you’re blowing me off with lies, but then later I find out it was all true and you make some jackass comment about being an honest guy,” Tim diagnosed. He sounded cranky about it, too.

Jason just shrugged. “Did Gotham miss me?” Horns honked in the distance. He looked in that direction on reflex; but no explosion or crash followed. He relaxed again.

“Not even a little bit. But something happened while you were in the air, actually, that might be relevant. Have time to watch?” A little red cursor appeared on the feed inside his helmet.

Jason retracted his grapple and settled in on the ledge like a gargoyle. “Go for it.” He rested his elbows on his knees and crouched. Then he redirected his focus from the real world around him to the little screen that Tim was hijacking.

“Yeah, you’ll like this,” Tim said under his breath. “Just a sec. No theory yet, but check this shit out.”

Jason grimaced preemptively.

The shared screen switched to an Arkham security camera, complete with logo in the bottom right hand corner. It showed a single occupancy low-security cell at night. A man was sleeping in the bed. The quality was crappy enough that Jason doubted he’d be able to identify the prisoner if they looked directly at the camera.

“That Waters?” he checked.

“Sure is.” A button clicked. “Here we go.”

It was hard to tell that the video was playing, aside from the seconds ticking by on the display. Jason resisted the urge to fidget. Tim had selected this part for a reason. Maybe that reason was to be a dick, but probably he was serious.

The screen went black. Then static. Then the feed started wavering across the screen in lines.

“Huh.” Jason lifted his eyebrows. “Not great quality.”

“Reminds me of the quality of Jasmine Fenton’s phone calls,” Tim muttered. “But hold on. It’s hard to see, but-”

Waters was sitting up in one frame. In the next, he was scrambling out of bed and to the floor to prostrate face down in front of absolutely nobody.

He had to make a dry comment. “Wonder why he’s in Arkham.”

Granted, Jason knew the guy was kinda right about the afterworld. But he really wasn’t conveying ‘I am a stable member of society who won’t try any more human sacrifices in a community center rental room.’

Jason squinted. “Does it look like he’s talking to you?”

“Sure does.” Tim sounded frustrated. “No sound, and there’s no chance of reading lips on this even if the angle was better.”

Jason checked the full view of the camera angle again with a sharp eye for any anomalies. Lots of people had special powers that let them go unseen. There was usually some kind of sign, though. A shadow? Something small on the floor that was disturbed? An indication that something moved because someone touched it?

If there was anyone in that room, they didn’t touch anything, and they didn’t stay long. Waters wrenched himself up and threw a fit, hitting the floor and pulling at his hair. Jason watched impassively, waiting to see how long it took for something to happen.

“Response time isn’t too bad,” he remarked. Two orderlies appeared outside of the cell and began trying to talk Waters down.

“Over two minutes,” Tim said judgmentally.

Jason rolled his eyes, because he lived in the real fucking world where that was a short amount of time to notice and reach a cell at night. On the screen, Waters started to respond to whatever was being said. He uncurled from his ball on the floor. He gradually got up. He nodded a few times. The rest of the clip seemed utterly unremarkable and Jason had to assume they were only watching it to be certain they were thorough.

When it was finally over Jason leaned back and contemplated the night sky. “You think that Jasmine Fenton is connected?” he had to ask.

“She did look up when his cell transfer would be and this happened half a day later, the last night before he got moved. I can’t think of how she’d be connected, unless you believe- well.” Tim cleared his throat. “I looked up the Fentons. They say they’re, uh.” He sounded embarrassed just to say it.

Jason could have cut in at any time with ‘ectobiologists?’ Instead, he sat back and enjoyed how uncomfortable his shitty little foster brother was about mad science. Bit rich, coming from the mental breakdown cloning guy. But hey, free schadenfreude source.

Tim sighed so hard it sent static across the feed. Jason turned on the recording function just in time to capture Tim say, “They’re ghost hunters. Ecobiologists. Hey, you sack of-”

Jason ended the recording. “Imma trim that,” he muttered to himself, and saved the file where Tim couldn’t access it. “Gonna be my ringtone for you,” he lied cheerfully. He could think of much better uses for ‘they’re ghost hunters.’

But in the interest of fairness-

“They’re not ghost hunters,” Jason clarified. “They’re ghost chasers, now. Like storm chasers.”

“Wow,” Tim muttered. “I’ll take that note down for my diary.

Jason stood up and ignored the sarcasm. “You’re theorizing that there might have been a ghost in that cell?”

[meazalykov]

Could I make a request for Obi please?

They already have a established relationship.

With her recently getting injured, could it be something along the lines of Reader got injured a few months before the World Cup and had to miss it, but Obi mostly was there for Reader. Now with it being the other way around this time, Reader feels conflicted about going to the Olympics as see knows those first few weeks are the hard but she won’t be there to support Obi.

my home is with you

lena oberdorf x uswnt!reader (requested)

authors note: i'm sad about her injury :( I wanted to see her at the olympics and start with bayern soon.. I know she will come back stronger ❤️ here's your request! normally i wouldn’t decide to write about this because it’s so soon, but i do requests (unless it’s too dark & much) so i hope you like :)

warnings: many injury mentions, very long chapter.

being back in your hometown gave you a sense of peace and warmth.

you haven't stepped foot in washington dc since 2018. you left your childhood club to go play at gotham for a year-- before moving to lyon (2020-2022) and then bayern afterwards.

waking up in the morning, you wished obi the best of luck against her game against austria. yes, she will be your competitor in the group stages against germany, but she is still your girlfriend of 2 years.

afterwards, you put your phone on dnd and put it in your adidas bag that you will take to the audi stadium. on game days, the captain (lindsey) highly discourages the players being on social media before games.

as the second captain after her, you agreed to follow that rule. social media can be toxic.

if someone really wanted to reach out to you for an emergency, they can do it through lindsey, emma, or your sisters who came to the game to support your send off to paris.

that's exactly what happened. while you were getting ready in your hotel room-- lindsey got an emergency call from sara dabritz, her lyon teammate who played for the german national team.

sara isn't on the german roster for the olympics, but alex popp asked her to call lindsey-- since she needed you to know of the news as soon as possible.

"sara?" lindsey's eyebrows knitted together. sara calling her during international break and the off-season has never happened before.

"where's y/n?" sara asked, ignoring lindsey's confused tone.

"I haven't seen her since this morning, she might be getting ready now. what's going on?"

"the entire german team is trying to get ahold of y/n. lena went down pretty badly during todays game-- it was her knee." sara swallowed.

lindsey was sad to her about the news. nobody likes when another player goes down with a *possible* acl injury.

however, she was scared on how she was going to tell you the news.

hours later at audi stadium, you walked into the stadium alongside trinity and hal. both of them play on this field for washington spirit, and the three of you bonded over the last few days-- knowing washington dc so well.

trinity and hal stopped at a water fountain to fill up their empty stanley bottles with water. your owala bottle was filled with cold ice water already, so you continued on with walking into the dressing room.

as you turned the corner into the room, you hear your coach Emma, say something along the lines of "well we can't tell her until-" before lindsey stopped her with her finger pointing at your entrance.

you were the first to arrive before the rest of the team, surprising to the captain and coach talking in the room.

"hey!" you smiled, unaware of what they know.

"hey y/n, ready for the game!?" lindsey casually says with a smirk on her face.

the poker face of the lyon player is perfection. something could be wrong but as the main captain, she can't let her emotions take over her logic.

as the second captain of the team, you had every right to question what emma and lindsey were just talking about.

however, you didn't. you were too excited to play in your hometown again. many uswnt fans came just to see you play on your turf again.

"I'm so pumped! my family came just for the send off to paris. some of them talk about "oh we can't never see you play since you're in germany." but now they're here so-" you rambled as you giggled.

for a moment, emma frowned at your happy sight. lindsey turned around to look at the coach with a guilty look, hating that they both agreed to not tell you *that news* until the end of the send-off.

"that's exciting. I'm positive we have a great game ahead." emma says.

your happy mood became a miserable one at halftime. being nil-nil against costa rica was not motivating since you wanted to impress your hometown community.

in the 70th minute, you scored off of a set piece shot by mallory swanson. the crowd screamed as they've realized that it was you, their fellow dc native, that scored the goal.

the game ended with a 1-0. you knew that the team needed tons of things to work on if you wanted a chance at winning gold in the olympics, but that will come with time.

after the send off ceremony, lindsey asked if she could personally talk to you in one of the empty conference rooms.

you agreed. at first, you thought that she was going to discuss olympic matters and what will drive the team to win gold once you reach france. since she is the first captain and you're captain whenever she isn't-- along with alyssa naeher.

however, lindsey was very tense as you sat down beside her in one of the wheel chairs. she made sure to close and lock the door as well-- this is when your heart started racing.

she is your friend and hates to give you the bad news.

"I need to tell you this before you go on your phone and see it in the locker room in front of the other girls." lindsey speaks.

your eyes widened, confused.

"what's wrong?" you start to panic.

"alex-- alex popp-- said that lena went down during the game against austria. it's her knee, y/n."

your heart shattered into a million pieces. you looked away from lindsey as you took a few deep breaths.

the blonde understood why you couldn't say anything after that moment. you thought about lena having a possible acl injury.

you panicked knowing that you weren't there to help her.

"I need my phone!'" you jump up from the wheel chair.

"here." lindsey said, pulling your phone out of her jacket pocket. she made sure that she had your phone on hand-- in private-- so none of the other girls were alarmed about seeing you so upset.

after you switched your iphone off from dnd, you had nearly 200 notifications.

the first is lena's parents-- asking you to call them whenever you had time before or after your game.

others came from lea-- updating you on what's going on with obi. she understands you were playing a game and couldn't answer right away.

some messages were from other footballers in the community that you're friends with, asking you to send well wishes to lena on their behalf.

is this how lena felt back in 2023?

back in april 2023, you were a starter in the second game against Ireland.

you weren't feeling the greatest, your friend mallory suffered a bad injury in the first game and you knew she wouldn't see the pitch for a very long time.

in the second half as the ball was coming from the air, you jumped up to head the ball. at the same time, an Irish player's foot went up in the air to get the ball.

the sharp part of the boots kicked at your ribs extremely hard. your breath was caught in your throat and you landed on the ground-- injuring your ankle by landing awkwardly.

the irish player received a red card, but you were struggling to breath as you needed medic immediately. alex and kelley stayed with you as you couldn't even sit up without squealing in pain.

your ankle was on fire and your lung felt like it was beaten in. torture would've been an understatement.

lena finished playing the game against brazil when jule pulled her-- harshly-- to look at the tv in the dressing room.

the german girl watched in horror as she seen her lover on the grass, you were crying your eyes out as you balled yourself together.

she noticed your hands going back and forth between your torso by your right lung, and your left ankle, as the medics tried their best to figure out what's wrong.

"what the fuck happened?" lena said angrily, in english-- confused as she rushed to grab the remote and turn the tv up.

"this isn't good for the united states before the world cup-- mallory went down on the first game against ireland and now *reader's last name* can barely move without a reaction." a german commentator speaks.

the entire german dressing room looks in horror.

your bayern teammates looked horrified as jule tried her best to comfort a stressed lena.

a replay of the injury happened on the tv a second later. everyone could see quinn's cleat harshly kick your ribs-- the landing on your ankle afterwards made some of the dressing room cringe as if they could've felt it themselves.

"yeah, I don't think we will see her in the world cup after this one." the woman commentator on the tv speaks when a stretcher takes you off the pitch moments later.

lena was quick to immediately call your mom and sisters, since they were there and she wasn't.

she knew how excited you were to play in your second world cup after winning the first one at age 17.

when you got back home to germany, lena was there for you. you suffered with a broken rib and grade 2 ankle sprain.

obi helped you stand up most days and picked up heavy things, since you couldn't even breathe without feeling pain for the first three weeks. lena did your chores at home, helped you with showering (your ankle made that hard to do), she did your hair. she did everything to make sure that you were okay.

you couldn't go to the world cup and watch her play, but you were still so proud of her-- even if she got eliminated in the group stage.

the injury that happened to you made lena fully committed to wanting to marry you. even through your bad injury-- you were there to comfort her once she was back from australia after a failed world cup campaign.

back in the conference room in dc, you rushed to call lea.

she answered in a heartbeat, you were surprised since it had to have been 5:30am in germany while 11:30pm back in washington dc for you.

"lea?" your voice cracked. you hated this for lena, more than your own injury from a year prior.

"how was your game?" lea tried to calm you down.

"it was fine, now what happened?" you ask.

lea didn't take offense to you wanting to know what happened. this reminded her on how lena was with you.

being her closest friend at bayern, and the one that put lena onto you, she understands the bond you have with your girlfriend better than anyone else.

"lena tried to tackle and get the ball away from a player but her knee popped. I think you need to watch this for a better understanding." lea speaks.

on the FaceTime you can see lea typing on a few things on the phone.

you looked up at a confused, yet guilty lindsey. she felt bad for you since you were far from your home in germany.

the notification on your phone showed that lea sent a link to a twitter video. you clicked on it and watch the whole thing play out.

its hard to tell at first, but slowly you could see obi's knee pop out.

this made you sick to your stomach.

after talking to lea for a few more minutes, then waking up lena's parents to talk to them (they didn't mind, they really wanted to hear from you), then laura, then klara-- you were exhausted.

you were allowed to go on the bus early and choose if you wanted to sit alone on the way back to the hotel.

lindsey told all of the girls that something happened- she explained the situation which caused the girls to feel bad for lena and your situation.

you called lena, in private, once you were back in your hotel. she sounded so hurt which caused your eyes to let out tears (quietly) as she talked about her medical scanning tommorow.

many people would do anything to participate in the olympics. you were grateful to be a bronze-medal olympian already heading to seek gold-- but you wanted to go home to lena in munich.

the best player on the uswnt was you, no debate. after scoring in the 2019 world cup final at 17, winning two champions leagues with lyon, being the second best-player now in the bundesliga with bayern, and carrying the national team to bronze in the last olympics-- the team looked up to you.

the girls let you have your space for a while. even on the plane on the way to france.

tierna, your closest friend on the national team, sat beside you. she was quiet as she watched movies while you anxiously looked at your phone to receive some kind of news.

after the plane landed, the girls were quiet as they headed out. you realized that you couldn't sit in pain waiting for the day that you will get home to munich-- that will affect the team chemistry.

as you were in your hotel room, lena called you.

"hallo liebe." you spoke softly.

you heard lena cough before a few seconds of silence started.

the fact that lena called you instead of facetiming you, you knew it was bad. the three letter injury is something u feared for lena as your eyes widened.

"its both." lena mumbles.

"its both?" you question softly as you request to switch the call to FaceTime.

lena accepts and you see her in the hospital room, tears dried down her cheeks as her red face is covered by her hands.

"acl and mcl." she breathed out as she looked at you through the camera.

you frowned as reality hit.

lena couldn't start a bayern next month.

lena won't go to the olympics.

she will have to sit out for at least eight months.

you know she will be okay, since she has the team and medical doctors to help her heal.

however, you were sad that you couldn't drop everything to go back to munich.

"obi." is all you could say.

"I already know what you're thinking-- and don't." lena randomly says.

your eyebrows knit together in confusion as she looks at you with a unreadable look.

"don't leave your team just to come here. they need you-"

"but you need me a lot more." you cut lena off.

she knows you're right, but she can't be selfish-- even with her injury.

"you will be home soon liebe, I know you love me and will care for me as soon as you can." lena says.

"once I'm back in munich, I will be there for you. you aren't going through this alone-- we will fight through this together and you will be stronger." you gave a sad smile as lena smiles for the first time since she went down on that grass.

"Ich liebe dich" she whispers.

"Ich liebe dich auch" you say back.

"when is your surgery scheduled?" you ask.

"we don't have an exact date yet, but they said it might be the week of the 29th." lena says as she lays back in the hospital bed in her black shirt and black shorts.

you didn't respond as lena flipped the camera, showing you a closer look at her knee.

"I am so sorry." you say.

"its not your fault." lena says.

"I know- but again-- I just want to be there for you."

"and you will soon, don't abandon your team." lena made it clear.

"okay, I won't" you sigh.

of course you felt bad that you didn't want to be in france, but in germany instead helping lena. however, you were sad about the group stage match against germany.

lena and you talked about that match as being one of the last moments where you will be "rivals" before she joins you in the season for bayern. now, neither will happen.

days later, the united states plays germany in the group stage after beating zambia 3-2.

you were in the starting lineup. emma needed you for this match, making sure that you talked to a sports psychologist before this match-- just so you were mentally prepared.

you knew how the germans played, so you would be a key to winning the group stage match.

as the teams were going to take their starting eleven picture, you see the germans hold up a shirt in honor of sydney and lena-- who were injured and couldn't be in the olympics.

you sadly smiled at this, happy that they're remembering them.

however, you got your act together fast. lindsey wasn't in the lineup so you were the captain of the match.

at halftime, it was 1-1. trinity rodman scored a goal in the 10th minute but klara equalized in the 34th after an error from #3 on the USWNT.

in the second half, you scored a golazo in the 55th minute after dribbling around sara doorsoun and alex popp.

unfortunately, lea equalized in the 88th minute.

the game ended 2-2 and you weren't happy or sad about it.

all of the german girls greeted you immediately with hugs and kisses on the head. you accepted them. you missed them dearly and they were the closest thing you had to lena right now.

"lea love!" you sigh in relief when you hug her tightly for thirty seconds. the cameras capture the beautiful sight as most know the significance.

"I wish obi was here right now." you lean your head on lea's shoulder as she kissed the side of your head, above your left ear.

"I do too. I hate how fate works." lea speaks through her german accent.

"same." you roll your eyes. not in anger, but in disappointment for the situation and how things can play out for the worst.

"how are you?" lea asks.

"can I be honest?" you ask. lea nods her head.

"I want to be with her. I am so grateful to be here for a second time but I can't imagine her being alone without us." you whisper into her ear.

you didn't want any of your teammates to hear you. lea is your closest friend so you know she won't tell on you.

"she's not alone, she has her parents-- but I totally understand. she will be okay." lea smiles lightly as she pulls a piece of hair of yours behind your ear, a piece of hair that fell out of your ponytail during the match.

lea is right, lena's parents are staying with her at the new house you both own until you can go back to munich-- which could happen in a few days or weeks depending on the outcome of the olympics.

"I know. she's a fighter.' you smirk.

"and a lover." lea winked at you.

lea loves the way that you and lena respect and are in-love with each other. being the third wheel is annoying sometimes (when she has to hang out with y'all instead of her own girlfriend) but she is happy for the both of you.

after multiple matches of the olympics, the united states is awarded silver after losing against france 2-1 in the final.

you were the one that scored against france.

if you said that you weren't in a rush to get home to munich, you'd be lying.

lena's surgery was pushed back to this morning. so you took the uber straight to the hospital from the airport.

the taller german was asleep as you quietly walked into the hospital room. obi's parents hugged you and congratulated you on silver.

knowing that they've been with their daughter for many days, you offer them a break.

"you guys should go down to the cafe and grab lunch for yourselves, please don't take offense to this but ihr seht beide sehr müde aus." (you both look very tired) you whisper since you didn't want to wake lena.

they loved you like their own daughter, so it didn't take them much convincing for them to get a break-- knowing their daughter was in safe hands with you.

when they shut the hospital doors behind them, lena woke up from the noise.

you took out a blanket from your carry on luggage, your back faced towards lena so you didn't see or hear her wake up.

"liebe?" you turned around quickly when you saw lena awake.

she had the same tired look that you're used to seeing when you wake up beside her, but she was smiling at your sight.

you pout in happiness as you walked up to hug her upper body.

"my sunshine, I'm so happy to see you awake." you kissed the top of her forehead as her head pressed against your chest.

lena closed her eyes in comfort, she missed you the most.

"to see me awake? omg I didn't die." lena laughed.

"oh lena shut it, you know what I meant." you giggled back, happy to see lena cracking a joke through her pain.

you look down her body to see the scar on her knee peak out from her hospital gown.

on the inside, you felt terrible. you hated seeing lena in pain. you'd rather it be yourself than her.

on the outside, you looked at lena as she gave you a peak on the lips.

after that, you saw the ponytail of her hair tangled.

"hold on lena." you pull yourself away from her arms and reach into your tote bag.

"no don't leaveeee!" lena says

"I'm not I'm just going to help you with your hair-- it will help you relax."

you pulled out a soft brush from your bag, refusing to use a comb and risk pulling on her hair after she had surgery.

"you're so sweet" lena looks at the brush in your hand and turns her head to the side, so you have better access.

"anything for my baby." you tell her as you kiss the right side of her temple.

"i'm just glad to be back home." you mumble as you start brushing through obi's hair, getting the tangles out slowly and softly.

"isn't washington dc your home?" lena giggled, joking and teasing about the game you played in dc almost a month ago.

"nope, my home is with you."

I hope you're happy with what I wrote from this request! #comebackstrongerlenaoberdorf ❤️🙌

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔉𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔳𝔬𝔦𝔡

Mike Schmidt X male reader

For this I combined both a suggestion that I received and a request from two really nice person on tumblr.

-“Reader moving in with Mike, this contains Mike bridal carrying reader”

-“If you're willing. I was wondering about a baby making one? I know medically men can't get pregnant but that doesn't stop Mike from filling him up whenever he wants. We hardly see Male Reader and their family. Maybe they're at a gathering and his family is warm and welcoming towards Mike and Abby which is a complete contrast to his aunt. Male Reader is holding a baby from one of his cousins and Mike sees this and starts to think and even fantasize what their baby would look like and it just sets him off.”

Tags: Part 6 of this series of Mike Schmidt x male reader but can be read as a standalone eith no problems. Age-gap (5 years) between you and Mike. Male reader. He/him pronouns used towards the reader. Reader moving in with Mike. Fluff. Reader holding a baby. Smut at the end. Top Mike. Bottom reader. Reader being called “good boy”. Breeding kink. Handjob (M receiving). Anal sex. NO male pregnancy.

If you have an idea for a possible next part let me know, please. I love reading other people’s ideas and suggestions <3

Words count: 7000

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

Part 1-part 2-part 3-part 4-part 5-Part 7-Part 8-Part 9-Part 10-Part 11-Part 12

The day had finally come. After everything the two of you had been through, you were moving in with Mike Schmidt. It felt surreal, and your heart raced at the thought of starting this new chapter together.

You stand at the doorstep of Mike's house, a series of boxes piled up around you, some heavy with your belongings, others light but carrying significant memories.

Mike stands next to you, hands stuffed into his pockets as he shifts his weight slightly, his gaze flicking toward you every few moments. He's always been quiet, never the type to rush into anything without thinking it through, and now is no different.

His posture might seem relaxed, but you know him well enough by now to see the subtle signs of his own nerves: the slight furrow in his brow, the way his lips press into a thin line, and the tension that hums through his body like a drawn bowstring.

"You ready for this?" he asks after a long moment, his voice low, almost cautious, as if he's unsure whether you'll change your mind.

You hesitate for a fraction of a second, but then you nod, giving him a small smile. "Yeah. I am."

But there's a tremor in your voice that betrays your nerves.

Mike picks up on your hesitation, and for a brief moment, he looks concerned. His hand reaches out and gently rests on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your skin in a reassuring gesture. "Hey," he murmurs softly, "we don't have to do this if you're not sure. You don't have to rush into anything."

You shake your head, quickly dismissing the thought. "No, I want this, Mike. I want to be here... with you."

Mike's gaze softens, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. There's a vulnerability in his eyes that makes your heart ache. A part of him that's afraid you might still change your mind, that you'll decide this life with him is too complicated.

The weight of the decision you made pressed down a little harder than you had expected.

A life with Mike, with Abby, with all the struggles and responsibilities that come with it.

"It's just... new, I guess. Feels different now" you admitted, trying to shrug it off.

Before you can say anything else, Mike steps closer, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you effortlessly off the ground. You yelp in surprise, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he pulls you against his chest.

Though his previous jobs were short-lived, they left him with a physique that spoke volumes.

"Mike!" you protest, though there's no real objection in your voice. Your heart pounds in your chest, not just from the surprise of being lifted but from the way he's holding you, cradling you as if you're something precious.

He chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. "What? You're moving in with me. Gotta make it memorable, right?" He looks down at you, his expression playful but tender.

"Mike, you're going to destroy your back doing this," you laugh, playfully pushing against his chest. "I still need you fully intact, you know?"

He grins down at you, his eyes tired but full of that familiar teasing light. "Oh, is that so?" His voice is laced with amusement, and he shifts his grip on you, making sure you're comfortable in his arms.

"Yeah," you nod, biting back another laugh. "Who's going to deal with all the paperwork for Abby? I don't think I'm qualified."

Mike chuckles, glancing briefly toward the door before meeting your eyes again. "Well, good thing you're already taking care of me, huh?" His voice drops into a playful tone, his gaze warm yet sharp with affection.

The front door creaks open as Mike pushes it with his foot, stepping inside with you still in his arms.

You've been here so many times, but now the context is different.

Now, it's your space too.

The house smells like it always does. Coffee, faint traces of Abby's art supplies, and something distinctly Mike.

"I thought I'd show you around the place. You know, just in case you've forgotten where everything is."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head at his ridiculousness. "I think I can remember, thanks."

"Too late," he replied, carrying you through the front hallway. "This tour is mandatory."

He walked slowly, allowing you to enjoy the feeling of being held so close, the feeling of his chest rising and falling steadily beneath you.

"So, this is where we'll spend most of our time when Abby's not commanding our attention," he said, his voice rich with amusement. "TV, couch... you know, in case you forgot.

"I didn't forget," you said, rolling your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips.

He carried you past the kitchen. "And here's where you'll be the head chef."

"Head chef? Me?" You raised an eyebrow. "Pretty sure you're the one who does most of the cooking."

"Guess that's my way of saying I expect a few dinners from you every now and then."

The tour continued, with Mike stopping by random objects to remind you of things you didn't need reminding of. He was clearly enjoying himself.

As Mike carried you towards Abby's room, you could hear the soft hum of a pencil scratching against paper. He paused at the door, glancing down at you. "Ready to say hi?"

You nodded, feeling your heart swell as he opened the door. Inside, Abby sat at her little desk, surrounded by her favorite crayons and paper, deeply engrossed in one of her many creative projects.

When she noticed you both, she glanced up and froze for a moment, her eyes wide in mock horror. She quickly put down her crayon and scrunched up her nose.

"Ew!" she exclaimed, giggling. "Why are you carrying him like that, Mike?"

"Because he's moving in, and I'm giving him the royal treatment," Mike said, grinning.

Abby dramatically rolled her eyes, though the grin on her face betrayed her. "Gross," she teased, but you could see the amusement in her eyes, happy to see her brother smiling. "Are you gonna carry him everywhere now?"

"Maybe," Mike replied. "Depends on how much he likes it."

Abby went back to her drawing, still muttering playful disgust under her breath. "I don't get why grown-ups have to be so weird," she said, shaking her head like she was far wiser than her age.

Mike carried you effortlessly down the hallway, until he stopped at the familiar doorway that led to his bedroom—your bedroom now. His grip on you tightened just a bit, the playful smile never leaving his face as he nudged the door open with his foot.

Mike took a slow, exaggerated step into the room, still carrying you, his voice low and teasing. "And here we are... your new bedroom," he said, his grin widening as he glanced down at you. "What do you think? Fancy enough for you?"

You couldn't help but laugh softly, your head resting against his chest as you took in the space. It wasn't grand or overly elaborate, but it was Mike's room, the place you'd shared countless quiet moments together, and now it was yours too.

"Not too shabby." you teased back, though your heart swelled at the thought of this being your shared space.

Mike's lips quivered in a small, knowing smile, and he glanced toward the bed, his gaze lingering there for just a moment before returning to meet yours. He finally settled you down on your feet, but his hands lingered on your waist, keeping you close.

"Now that you're living here," he said, his voice low, almost a murmur, "there's a lot more we can do... together."

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. There was no mistaking the hint in his voice. You swallowed, feeling the flush of warmth creeping up your neck, but Mike didn't stop there.

He shifted closer, his body pressing lightly against yours, his hand sliding up from your waist to rest against your lower back, pulling you just a little closer, enough to feel the solid warmth of him. "Like..." he continued, his voice dropping an octave as he tilted his head slightly, "all those nights where you had to go back to your dorm. We won't have to do that anymore."

His thumb rubbed slow, teasing circles against your back, his breath warm against your cheek as he leaned in closer. "You'll be here, with me. In our bed. Every night."

The way he said it wasn't just about comfort, it was laced with desire, with a promise of something more.

"And that means," he continued, his lips brushing lightly against your ear now, "there's no reason to rush things anymore, is there?" His tone was teasing, but there was a clear, intimate edge to it. "No more sneaking around, trying to find time between your classes and Abby's naps. We can take our time... really take our time."

You shuddered slightly at his words, feeling your breath hitch in your throat as he pressed his body even closer to yours, the warmth of him wrapping around you.

Mike smirked, clearly noticing the effect he was having on you. "We'll have the whole night to ourselves," he murmured, his voice dropping even lower, rougher.

His fingers trailing along your spine, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake as they made their way up to your neck, cupping the back of your head. He leaned in closer, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a jolt of heat through you. "I could take my time with you. No rushing... just you and me.”

"But if it's too much for you," he said, pulling back just slightly so he could meet your eyes, a teasing glint in his gaze, "I could sleep on the couch."

You rolled your eyes, trying to shake off the heat that was pooling in your stomach.

"Mike," you started, trying to sound exasperated, but your voice came out softer than you intended.

His grin widened, clearly pleased with your reaction. "I'm serious," he said, his tone light. "If you're not ready to share the bed, I could crash on the couch. No big deal."

You laughed softly, remembering the last time he had fallen asleep on the couch while waiting for you to visit with his mouth wide open, completely knocked out.

"You probably wouldn't mind it," you teased, your cheeks still warm from his earlier words. "Considering how peaceful you looked the last time I found you there"

His face turned a slight shade of pink, and he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, God, you remember that?"

You laughed, nodding. "Yeah, I remember. I didn't have the heart to wake you up... until Abby started laughing and pointing at you."

He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at the memory. "She still teases me about that."

You grinned, leaning into him a little more. "I'm just saying, you seemed pretty comfortable."

He chuckled, his hands slipping down to rest on your hips again, pulling you flush against him. "Maybe," he said, his voice low, "but I'd much rather be comfortable here." He glanced toward the bed again, his meaning unmistakable. "With you."

Your heart skipped a beat, and the room suddenly felt smaller, more intimate. There was no more sneaking around, no more stolen moments. This was real, and it was yours.

The weight of your decision settling comfortably in your chest. Mike gives you a quick peck on the lips before the two of you start to haul the remaining boxes inside.

The evening light filters dimly through the thin curtains in Mike's room as you continue to unpack your last things, methodically folding your clothes and placing them in neat piles.

The scent of Mike's cologne lingers in the air. Every drawer you open, every corner you claim for your belongings feels like a small step toward the life you're building together.

As you place a few small keepsakes on the windowsill, trying to find just the right spot for each one, something outside catches your ear.

At first, it's just a low murmur, the sound of voices carried on the breeze, but then the tone shifts, and suddenly the voices grow louder. You pause, your hand hovering over the sill, curiosity getting the best of you.

An argument between two people

The words are indistinct at first, but there's no mistaking the sharp edges in the voices.

Before you even think about it, you find yourself crouching by the window, gently pulling the edge of the curtain aside just enough to peek through. The sliver of space allows you a glimpse of the scene outside.

Two neighbors, standing in their driveway, are engaged in what looks like a full-on shouting match. One of them, a man, is gesturing wildly, his hands flailing in the air as he yells something you can't quite make out.

The other, a woman, stands with her arms crossed, her posture rigid, and you can practically feel the tension between them, even from inside the house.

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the laugh bubbling up inside you.

This is better than reality TV.

You lean in a little closer, your breath catching as you strain to hear what they're saying.

The woman's voice comes through, shrill and unmistakably furious.

You can barely suppress the grin spreading across your face as you watch the man throw his hands up in exasperation, his voice rising to match hers.

He fires back with the same tone of the woman, telling her that he’s busy with work to deal with her constant complaining.

You snicker quietly, shaking your head in disbelief. You hunch down even lower, trying to keep yourself hidden while also desperately wanting to see how this all plays out.

The woman doesn't back down. She takes a step toward the man, her face red with anger as she yells back at him.

It's like they don't care who's listening, and you're absolutely living for it.

You didn't expect to get neighborhood gossip on your first day living here, but this? This is better than anything you could've imagined.

Her voice cuts through the evening air again, sharper than before, complaining about how he didn’t care about this family.

This poor guy, you think to yourself, imagining the years of pent-up frustration between these two. You can't help but feel a little bad for the man.

Just as you're about to settle in for more, something behind you shifts, a faint sound that barely registers.

But you're too engrossed in the scene outside to pay it any attention.

Standing in the doorway, Mike freezes for a moment, his eyes drawn to you. More specifically, his gaze locks onto your body, hunched down and perfectly arched as you peer through the small gap in the curtains. The way you're crouching, your hips tilted back, your jeans hugging every curve perfectly.

Damn. The sight of you like this is doing things to him. His eyes linger for a second longer than they should, taking in every detail.

He takes a few quiet steps forward until he is behind you, moving carefully to avoid making any noise.

Just as you're leaning in for more, your face practically pressed against the glass, you hear a soft creak behind you.

The curtains are yanked wide open instantly. Blinding light floods the room, and in a split second, your cover is completely blown.

Startled, you let out a yelp and immediately drop to the floor, sprawling out with a thud as you scramble to hide yourself.

"Mike!" you hiss, half-laughing and half-panicking as you clutch at the floor, trying to make yourself as invisible as possible. You can feel your face burning with embarrassment, but the ridiculousness of the situation only makes you laugh harder.

"What the hell?"

Mike's laughter fills the room, rich and amused as he stands over you. "You're unbelievable," he says, shaking his head, his voice filled with teasing affection. "Spying on the neighbors already? You've barely been here an hour."

You push yourself up slightly, still on the floor, and glare at him through your laughter. "I wasn't spying!" you protest, though the grin on your face makes it impossible to take yourself seriously. "It's not my fault they're having a full-on soap opera out there"

"I don't know what you were more focused on, what was happening outside or the fact that you were putting on a hell of a show for me." he says, his voice teasing as he raises an eyebrow

You blink, momentarily caught off guard by his words. "What are you-" But then it hits you, and your face flushes an even deeper shade of red. "Oh my God, Mike!" you exclaim, your embarrassment mixing with laughter as you finally push yourself up from the floor.

"Hey, I'm just saying. You were in a very... interesting position there."

You shake your head, still grinning as you playfully shove him in the chest. "You're terrible.”

"Am I?" Mike grins back, not the least bit apologetic. "You're the one spying on the neighbors."

"I wasn't spying!" you say again, though you can't help but smile at how ridiculous the whole thing is, taking a seat on the bed as you tried to control your laughter. "It’s like... catching up. I need to know what's going on. Gotta stay informed now that I live here again"

Mike chuckles and shakes his head, dropping down to sit next to you on the bed. "Well, if you're gonna live here, you'll definitely get to know the neighbors. Just maybe not like that."

You rest your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body against yours as the two of you fall together on his bed—now your bed—and lay there, staring at the poster about Nebraska that he had.

"I think I'm going to like it here."

Mike presses a kiss to your forehead at hearing this.

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the yard as you stood by the garbage bins, carefully arranging the last of the empty cardboard boxes.

You wiped a bit of sweat from your forehead, feeling the heat from the long day of activity weighing on you. Moving in had been more exhausting than you expected, especially with all the little details like fitting things into their places, deciding what should stay and what could be packed away for later.

Behind you, Mike was bringing out the last of the boxes, his sleeves rolled up and his hair slightly disheveled from the day's work. You didn't notice him at first, too busy focusing on fitting the flattened boxes together to make room in the bin.

But Mike noticed you, how you looked, standing there with your shirt clinging to your back, sweat running in small rivulets down your neck. He couldn't help but steal a few glances, his eyes drawn to the way the muscles in your arms flexed as you worked, the way your hair stuck messily to your forehead.

You looked good. More than good, really, and he felt that familiar warmth stir in his chest.

You were still focused on arranging the boxes, trying to make sure they fit just right. "I swear these things multiply," you muttered under your breath, unaware that Mike had been watching you for the past few moments.

He stepped closer, his gaze flicking from the pile of boxes to the sheen of sweat on your skin, unable to stop himself from appreciating how effortlessly attractive you looked.

"You need a hand with that?" he asked, his tone low and casual.

You turned your head slightly, offering him a small grin. "Yeah, if you're done staring”

He chuckled, stepping closer until he was right behind you. "Can't help it," he murmured, the warmth of his breath brushing against your ear. "You're kinda distracting like this."

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you finished the task at hand. "Just trying to make sure we don't drown in empty boxes."

Mike took that as his moment. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you gently against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses to your damp skin.

You laughed softly, the feeling of his scruffy chin against your neck tickling you.

"Mike," you chuckled, tilting your head to the side to give him better access. "I'm all sweaty."

"Don't care," he murmured between kisses, his voice low and slightly rough.

You leaned back into him, letting his arms tighten around your waist. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and it made your heart race in the best way. Turning around in his grip, you wrapped your arms around his neck, gazing at him with a teasing smile.

"You're making it hard to finish," you said in a half-hearted protest. He kissed the side of your neck, soft and lingering, his stubble tickling your skin in the best way as you tilted your head to give him more access.

Mike chuckled, his lips brushing against your cheek as he kissed his way up to the corner of your jaw. "You've worked hard enough for one day," he said, his voice low and affectionate. "Let me distract you a little."

Your fingers idly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, "I was thinking of heading over to say hi to my parents real quick. They know I moved in today, and I figured I should check in."

Mike's expression shifted, a mix of curiosity and interest. "You want company?" he asked, his tone genuine, like he didn't want to seem disinterested in your personal life. "I mean, it could be a good chance for Abby to meet some new people."

You blinked in surprise, not expecting the offer but appreciating it all the same. It was a thoughtful gesture, one that made you realize how much Mike cared about making this work. Not just between the two of you, but for Abby as well.

You smiled brightly and nodded.

"Yeah," you said, your voice soft but filled with excitement. "Yeah, I'd love that. I think they'd love to meet you both."

A small, affectionate smile tugged at the corner of Mike's lips as he pulled you a little closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. "Let's go, then," he said.

The drive to your parents' house was short, and before you knew it, you were pulling into the familiar driveway, Abby chattering excitedly in the back seat about meeting new friends. You smiled at her enthusiasm, glancing over at Mike as he parked the car, his expression relaxed but with a hint of nerves that only you could really see.

As you stepped out of the car, the familiar scent of home hit you. You hadn't been home in a little while, and the sight of your parents' house and the distant sound of kids running and having fun brought back a flood of memories

"Ready?" you asked, glancing over at Mike as he unbuckled Abby from her car seat.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile. "Yeah. Let's do this."

As you walked up the driveway with Abby skipping excitedly beside you, the front door opened to reveal your parents standing on the porch, their faces lit up with wide smiles.

Your mom was the first to rush forward, pulling you into a warm hug and exclaiming how great you looked.

You laughed, feeling a little flustered but happy to be there, and mentioned that you had just moved in today with Mike’s help.

Mike, who had been standing a few steps behind, smiled and nodded as your parents turned their attention to him. Your dad extended a hand, which Mike shook warmly, acknowledging that they had heard a lot about him.

Mike responded with a smile, his hand resting lightly on Abby’s shoulder

Your mom’s eyes softened as she glanced down at Abby, crouching slightly to be on her level. She gently introduced herself to Abby, who grinned shyly and hid behind Mike’s leg for a moment before peeking out to say a small but happy greeting. She reached out her hand, inviting everyone inside and mentioning that there were some snacks waiting.

Abby's eyes lit up, and she nodded eagerly, following your mom into the house, Mike and your dad exchanging small talk as they trailed behind.

You felt a sense of warmth flood your chest.

This was good.

This was the kind of welcome you'd hoped for.

Your parents' warmth and acceptance made you feel relieved, and you could see Mike visibly relax as they welcomed him and Abby with open arms.

Inside, the sounds of laughter and conversations from your relatives floated through the air as you made your way into the living room while you hugged all of them one by one.

You found yourself with Mike and your parents soon, the conversation flowing easily as they asked about your move and how things were going between the two of you.

Things went downhill, however, when they started to give advice for your relationship based on their own experiences.

You grimaced, already feeling the heat rising to your face. "Dad, come on," you mumbled, glancing sideways at Mike, who looked slightly amused but remained silent, one arm around your waist and the other hand tucked into his pocket.

But your father continued, undeterred by your embarrassment. Living together is a big step, and it was important for them that you communicate, keep each other in mind and, of course, take care of each other.

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your discomfort, but it was no use. You could already feel your face heating up as the conversation took a turn for the worse.

The last thing you expected, to your horror, was your father leaning in closer, as if sharing some grand secret. He reminded you, with an air of solemnity, that even though pregnancy wasn’t a concern, protection was still something to think about. The embarrassment washed over you, making you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

"Dad!" you groaned, feeling a wave of mortification wash over you. You buried your face in Mike’s neck, not daring to look at your parents at that moment.

Mike's body shook with laughter beside you, the deep rumble of his chuckles making your face burn even hotter.

He wasn't helping, not in the slightest.

His arm around your waist tightened, pulling you closer, while his other hand stayed casually tucked in his pocket. You could feel his chest vibrating as he laughed, clearly entertained by your parents' well-meaning but mortifying advice.

"Hey, they're just looking out for you," Mike teased, his voice filled with amusement as he tilted his head slightly to brush his lips against your temple. "Can't fault them for that." you could still hear the quiet laughter in his voice as he spoke.

You groaned again as Mike's words only seemed to encourage your parents. "Mike," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper, "you're not supposed to encourage them."

Your parents, oblivious to your discomfort, or maybe just enjoying it a little too much, laughed along with Mike.

It was clear that your family adored Mike, and the warmth of the moment settled deep in your chest, filling you with a sense of comfort.

The conversation eventually shifted to other topics, but the lingering embarrassment stayed with you for a while. Mike kept his arm around you the entire time, occasionally squeezing your waist or brushing his fingers against your side in a subtle show of comfort.

Later, you wandered over to where Abby was. She was bonding with the other kids while one of your cousins, who was sitting on the couch with her baby in her arms, was keeping an eye on them. She smiled at you when she saw you coming, a tired but happy expression on her face.

"Hey," she said, "do you mind holding him for a minute while I make something to eat for him?"

You blinked, surprised but happy to oblige. "Sure, I'd love to."

As she handed the baby over to you, you felt the warm weight of his little body in your arms. He was tiny, soft, and so incredibly fragile-looking, with big, wide eyes that sparkled with curiosity.

You instinctively began to sway back and forth, cradling him close. The soft sounds of his little gurgles made you smile, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how perfect he was. His skin was so smooth and his hair, though sparse, was as soft as down feathers.

“Hey there,” you cooed softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you ran your thumb gently over his chubby cheek.

He turned his head towards your touch, his big eyes locking onto yours with intensity.

The baby cooed softly, his little mouth forming an 'O' shape as he gurgled in delight. His chubby cheeks were slightly flushed, and his toothless grin made your heart swell with warmth. You couldn't resist running your thumb across his round face, gently tracing the soft skin of his cheek, marveling at how perfect he was. His little nose scrunched up in response to your touch, and he let out a tiny giggle, his toothless smile growing even wider.

"Hey, little guy," you whispered, your voice soft as you bounced him slightly in your arms. The baby responded with another gurgle, his fingers clenching and unclenching as he latched onto your shirt with surprising strength for someone so small. His eyes, bright and full of wonder, locked onto yours, and you couldn't help but feel a connection.

You rocked him gently, cradling him closer to your chest, and as you did, he let out a contented sigh, nestling into the crook of your arm as though he had found the safest place in the world. His small, soft fingers wrapped around one of yours.

The warmth of his tiny body against yours made you feel protective.

You continued to sway, humming a soft tune that seemed to calm him even more. His eyelids grew heavy, and you watched as he fought to keep them open, his curiosity battling with the need for sleep.

“You’re so adorable,” you whispered, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Across the room, Mike watched you with a kind of quiet intensity, his attention fully on you. The sight of you holding the baby, the way you cradled him so carefully, the soft expression on your face...

It hit something deep inside him.

Mike's heart thudded heavily in his chest, and before he could stop himself, his mind began to wander. He pictures you holding your baby—his baby. The thought sends a wave of emotion crashing through him, and he can't help but let his mind run wild.

What would your child together look like? Would they have your eyes? His dark hair? He pictured it so clearly: you, standing in your shared home, holding a child that was the perfect blend of both of you. Maybe with your eyes and his smile, or your laugh and his nose. He swallows hard, the fantasy setting him off in a way he hadn't expected.

You remain blissfully unaware, still cuddling the baby, gently bouncing him as he giggles in your arms. But Mike can't look away. He's utterly captivated by the sight of you, by the thought of what could be. He's head over heels for you, and in this moment, watching you hold that baby, he knows without a doubt that he wants to share a future with you.

The thought of you being filled with his baby, of sharing that kind of deep, intimate connection, lingers in his mind. The impossibility of it makes the longing more potent. And even though it can't happen, it doesn't stop the primal instinct inside him from craving that kind of closeness with you.

He imagines being with you, pressing himself against you, of filling you up until you were full of him, of having that closeness over and over again.

Those nights where he held you tight, feeling the warmth of your body beneath him, knowing that you're his. There's a primal satisfaction in the act itself, in knowing that you want it just as much as he does.

Mike swallowed hard, trying to rein in the wave of desire that washed over him.

Later, when your cousin returned to take the baby, Mike found his way over to you, slipping an arm around your waist as he pulled you close. His touch was warm, possessive, and there was something in the way he held you that made you look at him, curious.

You leaned into him without a second thought, resting your head against his shoulder.

"You good?" you asked, glancing up at him with a small, curious smile as you noticed the slight tension in his body.

Mike met your gaze and he smiled, a slow, affectionate smile that made your heart skip a beat.

"Yeah," he said quietly, his voice rougher than usual. "Just... thinking."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, but Mike never strayed far from you, his hand always resting on your lower back, his touch more possessive than usual. And though you didn't fully understand what was going on in his head, you were just glad to have him here with you.

The drive home had been quiet, peaceful even, with Abby fast asleep in the backseat, exhausted from the day. You and Mike didn't need to fill the silence with words; the weight of everything that had happened at your family's gathering hung comfortably between you, a shared understanding of how significant the day had been.

When you got back to Mike's house, Abby barely stirred as Mike carried her upstairs to bed, whispering soft reassurances as he tucked her in. You watched from the doorway, feeling the tightness in your chest. The good kind, the kind that only swelled when you saw how gently Mike cared for his sister.

By the time Mike came back downstairs, the tiredness from the day had settled into your bones, the heat of it still lingering on your skin. "I'm going to take a quick shower before bed," you said, running a hand through your hair. "Still feeling a bit gross from earlier."

Mike smiled, his eyes warm and soft as he brushed his hand lightly against your back. "Go ahead," he said, his voice low and affectionate.

The door clicked softly behind you as you stepped into the bathroom, the sound of the water starting to run filling the space around you. The warm spray of the shower enveloped you almost immediately, steam rising quickly, soothing the ache in your muscles from the long day.

You closed your eyes, letting the water cascade over you, washing away the exhaustion, leaving behind only a sense of deep contentment.

Your mind wandered back to the gathering, the easy laughter of your family, the warmth of the day, and how Mike had fit so perfectly into all of it. The memory of him standing beside you, holding you close as your parents offered their well-meaning advice, made you smile. You could still feel the pressure of his arm around your waist, the reassuring squeeze he'd given you as he'd chuckled at your embarrassment.

You hadn't expected it to feel so natural, but it had. Being with Mike, living with him, sharing these moments together, it was everything you hadn't known you'd needed.

The water did wonders for your tired muscles. Your skin still feels tender and fresh as the droplets trail down your back, and a light mist still hangs in the bathroom air.

Wrapping a towel securely around your waist, you glance down at your bare feet as you mentally kick yourself for forgetting to grab clothes. You check Abby's door, finding it firmly closed, and silently thank your lucky stars before you sneak into Mike's room.

You had expected to find Mike waiting for you, but the room is quiet, dim, and still. You shuffle quietly, hoping not to disturb Abby or alert Mike that you're padding around in nothing but a towel. Your mind is already preoccupied with finding your clothes, wondering where you stuffed them after the chaos of moving in.

You drop to your knees, carefully shifting through a half-unpacked box, fingers grazing over familiar fabric, but nothing quite what you're looking for.

You don't hear Mike step into the room behind you and before you know it, his hands reach out and grips your shoulders. He pulls you back gently, catching you off-guard as he hauls you from your crouched position to your feet, your back meeting his chest.

"You know," Mike murmurs into your ear, his breath brushing against your neck, "I'm starting to think this is going to be a thing. Every time I walk into a room, I find you bent down, doing something."

You laugh softly, your heart fluttering at the feeling of his hands on you, but you don't pull away. "I was just looking for something to wear," you reply, leaning back to rest against him. "You'd be amazed how great it feels to finally take a shower without a line of impatient people waiting outside the door."

Mike hums in response, his grip on your waist tightening slightly, his thumb brushing lazily over the towel where it's wrapped around you. "Yeah? Sounds like you're really settling in."

You nod, smiling to yourself. "Yeah, Feels nice to have some space that's just ours."

Mike's chest swells with warmth at your words. For so long, Mike has been stuck in survival mode. Working hard to care for Abby, fighting his aunt, dealing with everything that life throws at him.

But now, here you are, someone who's not just a temporary fixture but a permanent part of his world. Someone who's making this house feel like a home.

"Next time you take a shower," he murmurs, his voice soft but suggestive, "maybe I'll join you... you know, to save on water bills."

You roll your eyes, laughing softly, but there's a flutter of excitement beneath your breath. You know what he means, the playful tone in his voice impossible to miss. "Very responsible of you," you say, turning in his grip so that you're facing him now, your hands resting lightly against his chest.

Mike smirks, his gaze dipping down to the towel still clinging loosely around your hips. "You need help finding something to wear?" he teases, though his eyes are filled with something darker, something more primal.

You blush slightly under his gaze, but you play along, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his chest. "Actually, yeah," you say, your voice soft and playful. "Do you have any idea where I put my comfortable clothes?"

Mike shrugs, his grin widening. "I dunno... but I'm not complaining if you don't find them."

You turn to face him fully, your cheeks heating up at his words. "Oh really?" you ask, trying to match his playful tone. "You'd be okay with that?"

Your heart races in your chest as you bite your lip, your fingers tugging at the knot holding your towel in place. Mike's eyes follow the movement, and when the towel falls away, pooling at your feet, you hear him let out a quiet, surprised laugh, the sound filled with admiration and a hint of disbelief.

His hands immediately finding your bare skin, tracing the familiar lines of your body as if he's memorizing you all over again. His fingers are gentle but firm and, at first, everything was innocent enough.

Just the two of you staring at each others in a loving gaze. Quiet conversations about the day, the warmth of his body against your skin.

Mike's hands moved casually at first.

He started off slow, his hands sliding over your back, his fingers grazing the lines of your muscles. His hands became more deliberate, more confident, as they moved down your sides, feeling the heat of your skin under his fingertips.

His lips graze the side of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, and you can feel the heat of his body pressed against yours.

You steady yourself against the cold wall, the surface cool beneath your hands, while his lips continue their path along your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses against the sensitive skin.

His hand moves almost unconsciously, tracing the line of your waist before resting against your bare skin. His thumb moves in slow, lazy circles, the motion intimate but unhurried. He leans down slightly, his lips brushing against your ear.

"You look so good like this," he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with a quiet intensity. "My sweet boy..."

The words sent a surge of heat through your body, and you couldn't hold back the soft moan that escaped your lips. You leaned into him, your head resting against his shoulder as his hands explored your body, tracing slow, deliberate lines down your chest and stomach. The sensation was overwhelming, and you felt yourself growing harder under his touch.

His hands eventually drifted lower, and you gasped softly as he wrapped one hand around your growing erection. He stroked you slowly at first, his grip firm, his breath hot against your neck. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure through your body, your legs threatening to give out under the intensity of it all.

"Mike..." you gasped, your voice trembling as his pace quickened slightly

He loves seeing you like this, completely undone by his touch, by the connection between you.

You're perfect. You're everything he never thought he'd have, everything he didn't even realize he wanted until now. And as he strokes you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, all he can think about is how much he wants to thank you for being here, for being his.

The kiss that follows is soft at first, innocent. Just the two of you sharing the warmth of each other's presence.

His need for you is growing with every passing second. His tongue slips into your mouth, teasing and exploring.

He's still fully clothed, the hardness in his jeans rubbing against your bare skin. His hands squeeze your ass, pulling you closer as he grinds his hips against you, a grunt rumbling from the back of his throat. The tiredness from the long day adds a roughness to his movements.

His thoughts, though, are anything but tired. They're racing, filled with images of you from earlier today, holding that baby in your arms, cradling him so gently, so perfectly. He can't stop thinking about it, about how natural you looked, how soft and loving you were.

The image of you with his child has been stuck in his mind all day, and he can't shake it. The thought of leaving a part of himself inside you has been driving him wild ever since.

His hands slid deeper, his fingers brushing against your entrance, making you shudder in response. He teased you, his breath hot against your ear as he pressed a little harder, pushing just enough to make you gasp and buck against him. "You want this, don't you?" he whispered, his voice low and full of need. "Tell me you want me."

You could only manage a shaky nod, your breath catching in your throat as his fingers moved in slow, torturous circles.

Then, he turned you around so that you were facing him.

His lips crashed into yours with a hunger that left you dizzy, his hands gripping your butt with enough force to leave marks.

The kiss was desperate, full of raw need and passion, and you could feel the tension in his body as he pressed himself against you. His fingers dug into your skin as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth and you found yourself melting into him, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

He pulls you to the bed, unable to wait any longer. He doesn't even bother undressing, too desperate to feel you, to be inside you

Mike's breathing grows heavier, his lips grazing your ear as he whispers something low and unintelligible. His hands slide lower still, resting on your thighs before he gently urges you to widen your stance. You comply without hesitation, knowing exactly where this is going, and the anticipation coils tighter inside you, your heart pounding in your chest.

His fingers slip between your legs, moving slowly at first, easing you into the sensation. Each stroke is careful, deliberate, as if he's savoring every second, drawing out the pleasure with practiced ease.

You took a right hold of the sheets to brace yourself as his fingers work deeper, prepping you with a slow, steady rhythm. His other hand slides up your back, caressing your skin as he presses closer, his breath warm against your neck as he leans in.

Mike's fingers move with increasing confidence, the steady pressure and rhythm sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body as his fingers stretch and prepare you, ensuring you're ready for what's to come.

He took his time, making sure you were comfortable, that you were ready, before he added a second finger, then a third, each one stretching you further.

You could feel every nerve in your body alight with pleasure.

His lips move to your neck, kissing and biting softly as he preps you with care. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts. He pictures you in his bed every night, in his arms every morning.

"Mike," you whisper, your voice breathless, filled with need. "Please...I want to feel you now."

Mike let out a low, approving growl, clearly pleased by your words. The sight of you, flushed and wanting, drives him wild, and he can't hold back any longer.

His hands fly quickly to unzip his jeans and free himself, the head of his length nudging at your entrance. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you steady as he pushes forward, sinking into you inch by inch. The sensation is overwhelming, your body stretching to accommodate him as he fills you completely. The pressure is intense, but there's a delicious heat that spreads through you, making you gasp as he bottoms out inside you.

Mike groans softly, his forehead resting against the back of your neck as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling of him. His mind flooded with thoughts of how perfect this is, how perfect you are.

Slowly, Mike begins to move, his thrusts deep and steady, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body. You can feel the tension coiling tight in your core, your body responding to him with an urgency that makes your mind go blank. All you can focus on is the sensation of him moving inside you, the way his hands hold you, the way his breath sounds as he presses himself deeper into you.

As he began to pick up the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate.

His breath came in ragged gasps as he buried himself inside you, again and again, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. His lips found yours once more, kissing you hungrily as his pace quickened, the desperation in his movements unmistakable.

You moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled by the intensity of the kiss, your body arching into his as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level.

His hands slid up your sides, his fingers digging into your skin as he pushed deeper, his body moving with a rhythm that left you breathless.

The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mingling with your quiet gasps and his low groans. The heat is unbearable now, the need to claim you overwhelming every other thought in his mind.

And then, finally, he feels it. The tension snapping, the pleasure cresting as he reaches his release. His hands grip your hips tightly as he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you as he spills himself into you, the sensation making his whole body tremble.

As the pleasure slowly ebbs away, Mike's grip on you softens, his breath still coming in heavy pants as he pulls you back against him. He presses soft kisses on your collarbone, his hands tracing gentle patterns on your skin as he holds you close.

You're his partner, his home, his future.

Note: If you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 2

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 2

Word Count: 4816

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: Here's chapter 2! We're still setting up the stage to more exciting events coming up! It's time for Shanks' surgery now.

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555

Masterlist

|Chapter 1| | |Chapter 3|

“What do you know about Dr. Law?” Sipping your coffee you stare at Nami, trying to hide the curiosity gnawing at your brain. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about the handsome dark-haired doctor since the appointment two days ago. When you slipped him your number, you unconsciously hoped he would send you a text or give you a call, but then again, why would he? You gave him your number for professional reasons and, despite all the fun teasing when you were with him, you know he’s very professional at his job. 

Also, you knew Kaya would be able to answer any and all lingering questions you might have about him, but Kaya was too invested in trying to set you up and, as attracted as you felt to him, you didn’t really want to act on it.

It was just curiosity.

Right?

“Dr. Law? From the clinic?” Nami placed a finger on her chin as her eyes wandered to the ceiling. “Well, he’s a very good doctor but he’s not very sociable. I think Luffy knows him and they get along well. But he doesn’t party very much. He drinks a lot of coffee - I think Sanji can vouch for that - but he doesn’t hang around coffee shops. He keeps to himself, mostly.” She sighed. “Maybe you should ask Kaya? She sees him on a daily basis! Oh, Robin might answer some questions for you too, they worked together on some paper for a science magazine a while ago.”

Damn it. Not one drop of interesting information. Only that he wasn’t a social butterfly. Shrugging, you nodded and were about to change the subject when Nami’s brow rose. “Why?”

You tried to hide your blush behind the coffee mug. “Oh, no big deal! He’s my dad’s doctor and he’s going to be the one performing his back surgery, should he agree to it. I just wondered how good of a doctor he really was. He seemed professional but you never know!” She was still watching you closely. You were rambling, so you shut up with another sip of coffee. 

“Riiiight.” Her smirk grew. “I’ll pretend to believe you. But I want all the information when things progress between you two!”

-*-

Another two days go by without any exciting news and, somehow, you manage to push Law to the back of your mind, what with the constant scolding of your father’s terrible seating habits, all the helping around the property, and a part-time job Nami had recommended to you at her firm. It was basically sorting files and organising old data and, despite Nami’s assurance that it was mind-numbing, boring work, you secretly loved it.

Because, as Law perfectly diagnosed, you are a bit of a control freak. 

Now that you are back to thinking about him, you remember him telling you that he had a few tips for you to let go and relax. Was he talking about everyday tips or… intimacy tips? Because his tone of voice had suggested something else. 

You are wound up so tight that the thought of relaxing in someone’s care is-... exhilarating. 

Fortunately the buzz of your phone wakes you from your reverie and, patting the cow in front of you on the hind, you walk away from the barn while picking up the call.

“Hello?”

The deep voice calling your name on the other side brings shivers down your spine. It’s Law. “Is this a good time to speak?”

“Yes!” You shake your head and inhale deeply. “Sorry, I was doing some chores for my dad. It’s fine, I’m fine. I mean… yes, you can speak.” Fuck. Once again you wonder what is it about his voice that makes you weak in the knees and dumb in the head?

The vibrato of his chuckle doesn’t have the same effect on you over the phone, but it’s still very endearing. “I’m calling because I’ve managed to check your notebook and I would like to arrange a house call so we can surprise your father.”

Ah, the ambush! You are ready for that. Shanks isn’t.

“I think he will be working around the property all day this week. I won’t be available in the mornings, though. If you can manage a visit in the afternoon, it would work best.”

He hums on the other side and you sit down on a hay bale. Can there be a way to avoid being affected by a tone of voice? Would online research help? “I can make it tomorrow, if that works?”

“Yes! I’m open for you.” You almost bite your tongue as your hand slaps your head. “My schedule is open for you! My schedule!” You bet that if you could see his face, the man would be smirking.

There’s definitely amusement in the tone of his voice. “Tomorrow it is, then.” 

You say your goodbyes and put the phone away as you groan in frustration. How dumb can you be, really?

-*-

When you get home from your part-time job, your organisational needs fulfilled for the day, your father tells you that Ace had come by to help and all the chores were taken care of, so he’s heading out to Beckman’s for beers and to watch the football game.

“No! No, no!” You quickly grab your phone and text the number from which Law called, hoping it’s his personal, or at least professional phone and that he’s carrying it with him now. You quickly say your dad is about to leave and he needs to come ASAP.

Then you turn to Shanks with a pained smile. “Dad, the car is giving me trouble again and I need your help. Teach me how to get it to work effortlessly every time!”

Shanks sighs and looks at his watch. “Fineee. The game doesn’t start for another four hours anyway.”

Placing your hands on your hips, you scrunch your nose. “Four hours? Then why the hell are you going there so early?”

Shanks guffaws. “Pre-game drinks, bug! Why else?” Rolling your eyes to the back of your head, you make your way outside to your car. You keep pestering Shanks about different things, trying to buy your time and, slowly, pissing him off inadvertently, until you spot a fancy car coming up the driveway. 

“Oh, thank God.” You mutter, having exhausted all your car-related questions in your arsenal. 

“Thank God, what? Who’s that?” Shanks closes the door of your car and tilts his head sideways. Once he sees the driver, he groans. “An ambush?” His glare could almost burn holes into you.

“Sorry, Shanks. It’s the only way you’ll speak with Dr. Law! You will undergo that surgery. It’s for your own good!”

Your dad still tries to escape, but as soon as he witnesses the scowl on Law’s face, he stops trying to struggle and resigns himself to the situation. Law is dressed casually without his doctor’s coat on: black t-shirt and again with those cute, spotted jeans. He’s so tall and lean, with defined muscles, but nothing too big. And the tattoos… paired with the earrings and the rebel goatee, they almost make you want to squeal. This man is too damn hot to be walking around.

He says your name as he leaves the car with a sly smile and then turns to your dad. “Mr. S. Hi. So sorry for the ambush, but you wouldn’t come to me, so I had to come to you. I’m told we’re going through with the surgery and I’m here to explain everything.”

Shanks groans and you chuckle. “Let’s go inside, I’ll make coffee.” 

Law’s ears perk at that, as you knew they would, and now you’re feeling the pressure of making a good cup of coffee. Fortunately, you’ve just stocked up on some amazing roasted coffee beans that Sanji recommended, and they truly make a delicious brew. 

-*-

Two and a half hours are all it takes for Law to go over the questions in your notebook. He compliments your organisational skills with a slight smirk, and a teasing remark about you trying to control everything, but you try to ignore his tone and he continues. 

He also answers all of your father’s sillier questions, even the one where he asks if he would lose function of any necessary limbs - you know what he’s referring to and you just shake your head at him - but Law handles it very professionally.

By the end, Shanks seems to be a bit more at ease with the whole process - and frankly, so are you - so he agrees when Law says he’ll schedule all necessary pre-surgery exams and the surgery itself.

Shanks leaves in a hurry to go and meet Beckman because the game should be starting in under two hours and he’s not nearly tipsy enough to watch his team lose. Thanking Law, he leaves you two alone telling you not to wait up for him.

Sighing, you get up from your chair to collect the empty coffee mugs. “That went well!” You can’t hide a soft smile from gracing your lips. Law gets up too as he helps you by grabbing his mug and a plate with cookies you had set out, and follows you to the kitchen.

“It really did. I’ll let you both know when the exams and the surgery are scheduled. His jitters will come back, but, if we’re lucky, only on surgery day. He’s going to be fine.”

You finish placing the dirty mugs in the sink and turn to him, leaning on the counter slightly and nodding your head with a weary smile. “Yes, yes, I know. He’s in good hands.”

Law approaches and, reaching behind you, places his dirty mug in the sink, his body a breath away from yours. You can almost feel his own breath in your ear, just for a moment, before he pulls back and steps away from you.

You release the breath you barely realised had been trapped as he keeps eye contact with you. “Thank you for the coffee you made for me. It was delicious.”

“I…” The praise! The damned praise! It turns your legs into jelly and leaves your tongue tied. You have to clear your throat before you manage to utter a full sentence. “Thank you. Sanji said it was a very good quality bean and I followed his instructions.”

His smirk disarms you as much as his praise and he partners it with a slight chuckle and by crossing his arms over his chest. “And do you always follow instructions that well?”

Oh… cheeky.

“Not always. It depends on the instructions. I tend to be a bit of a brat, sometimes.” You respond in kind to his teasing and, as you notice the glint in his eyes and the slight bob of his throat, you don’t regret it one bit. 

“Interesting.”

The look you give each other feels charged with tension, electrical, almost. Again, this was supposed to be a professional visit. Why do the two of you keep playing this dangerous game of teasing each other?

Are you willing to push the game further?

You wouldn’t mind trying a few naughty things with the doctor, but then again, you came to the Calm Belt to get your mind off romantic affairs and help mend your broken heart. 

But then again… this wouldn’t be romantic… just a bit of fun. And don’t they say that rebound sex is good for broken hearts?

Your wandering thoughts are cut short by an insistent beep from Law’s pager. He grunts and grabs it, glancing at it before sighing. “It’s the hospital. I have to go. We’ll keep in touch, okay?”

Yeah you wouldn’t mind that… keeping in touch…

“Yes! We’ll wait for the exam confirmations. Thank you for all your help.” You say while accompanying him to the door. 

As he descends the steps of the porch, he glances back to give you one last smirk, the tension of your previous moment still hovering above you both. “You did very well with that notebook. It was very thorough and neatly organised.” 

Your breath hitches and you feel your cheeks flush with colour. Law opens the door to his car and gazes at you, burning you with his stare. “I can’t wait to witness how you act when you stop trying to control everything and just… surrender.”

His voice is low, teasing and commanding. Laced with a promise of something more, something else, a not so subtle invitation to a very enticing what if. As his car rides up the driveway, you’re left standing in the doorway, your pulse quickening, even though he’s long gone. 

-*-

The day of the surgery finally arrives and you’re sure that your father didn’t sleep a wink. And neither have you. You shower and get dressed and when you get downstairs, he’s sitting by the kitchen chair looking very pale and worried.

“Morning, dad.” Shanks can’t eat or drink anything pre-surgery so you fill your coffee cup and stuff an apple in your purse for later. “How are you feeling? Get any sleep?”

Shanks groans. “I’m terrible, bug. I didn’t sleep a wink.”

You smile as you reach and hug his shoulders from behind. “It’s okay, daddy. You’ll sleep under anaesthesia.” He doesn’t laugh as you hoped he would, so you try to reassure him. “Dr. Law is very good at his job, dad. You’ll be in and out in an instant. Everything will be alright! Plus, I’ll be there waiting for you, okay?”

You asked for days off work to help a family member and arranged with Ace to feed the animals on the property, so you’re covered. All you have to do is worry nonstop in a hospital waiting room while your father is being operated on. 

Nothing too serious. 

Everything passes in a blur after you both leave the house. Shanks is feeling more and more anxious and you aren’t faring much better either. By the time you reach the hospital - in the next town over, where Law performs surgeries on his days off from the clinic - you are both very pale and nauseous. 

You check him in and, as he’s being taken to a room to get prepped for surgery, Law appears and asks you to come in so he can speak with both of you. He reviews the process step by step as you nod along - having studied the procedure from front to back, as the little control freak you are - assures you both that he will be there the entire time, reassuring you that it’s a routine procedure and everything will be alright. 

Shanks feels better once the nurses start to apply drugs to the IV, but you’re still wound as tight as a rope, so Law gently grasps your arm, leading you to the room where you will be waiting for the surgery to be over. He seats you in a chair and fills a cup of water from the dispenser.

“Drink.” He uses the commanding tone you’re slowly getting used to, and you do as you’re told. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of your father. He’s a strong man and this is routine. He’s got this.” Your eyes fix somewhere in front of you, staring into a void as your heart thumps against your eardrums in a deafening rhythm. Law’s firm hand captures your chin as he tilts your head up to meet his amber gaze. “I’ve got this. I won’t let anything happen to him. Do you trust me?”

It seems like such a charged question. As if he’s asking this and meaning so much more than the hours he’ll spend operating on your dad. Yet, you have no doubt about the answer.

“I do.” You whisper softly. 

Nodding, he turns to leave. “It will pass in an instant, okay? Try not to worry.” He leaves you alone, feeling the weight of fear crushing you and pressing down on your back. You feel helpless, impotent about what you can do to help, to make sure the outcome is a happy one.

But everything feels too out of control. 

Half an hour passes. The clock ticks relentlessly, and you still haven't moved. You brought a book and your cell phone is fully charged, yet you haven’t even taken your purse off your shoulder, your fingers still clutch the plastic cup that Law filled with water for you.

Your throat is dry yet you can’t find the strength to get more water. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps, and your legs are restless.

Another ten minutes pass before you feel a light tap on your shoulder, pulling you back from the stress of the unknown, the unplanned, and the endless possibilities of what can go wrong.

“Kaya?” You whisper, your voice hoarse and ragged with fear.

Your friend smiles at you as she sits down by your side. “Dr. Law called me. He said to leave the clinic to the two morons - Penguin and Shachi are some of his closest friends, did you know that? - and said that I should come to you, immediately! Leaving no chance to argue back. He said he would pay me extra, but I told him to shove the berries in his back pocket because I’d gladly help you without any coercion.”

You blink slowly, your mind still too deep in the fog of uncertainty to really focus on Kaya’s words. Besides, she just dumped a lot of information on you, though one thought lingers front and centre: Law told her to come to you.

“Wait, Law told you to come here?”

She squeals excitedly while nodding with vigour. “He did! He said you looked scared and on the verge of a panic attack and he didn’t want you to be alone in the waiting room for two to three hours. How romantic is that?”

You take a deep breath and, finally, lean back in your chair, removing the strap from your purse and drinking the rest of the water. You already feel more at ease. Kaya’s presence is already reassuring you and easing your fears. “Not as romantic as you make it seem, since I’m about to shit my pants with fear.”

Kaya chuckles and takes the empty cup from your hand, throwing it in the trash and sitting back down. She takes your hand in hers in a reassuring way. “Honey, there’s no need to fret. Dr. Law is the best. You really don’t have to worry. You have no idea how many awards he has! And he’s still so young! He’s not even thirty yet, the man is a medical genius or something!”

She chuckles again and you stare in awe. You had no idea. Kaya sees your reaction and continues. 

“He even skipped a few grades in school. He took advanced classes and entered university two years early! He managed to finish his degree in half the time. He’s really smart and diligent.”

“Wow…” You say dumbly. “I didn’t know that. He did seem very professional and young, but I had no idea he was so good.”

“Honey, he’s much better than just good! I guarantee you that!” She giggles one more time, certainly already adding another chapter to her imaginary novel of your romance. “Did you know he comes from money?”

Raising a brow you turn fully to her, waiting for her to continue.

“He’s related to the Donquixotes. They’re filthy rich.”

Oh, you know damn well who the Donquixotes are. They’re close friends of the Vinsmokes, your ex’s family. You know they have loads of money, influence, power, status… you name it. You never made official acquaintance with them, but you glimpsed the head of the family, Donquixote Doflamingo, at some important parties, and the whole demeanour of the man demands respect. 

You had no idea Law was related to them. 

“I had no idea, Kaya. I know who they are. My ex’s family was very influential and they often frequented the same social circles.”

She’s just about to retort with some more gossip - you assume - when the staff door opens and a slightly frazzled nurse comes to speak with you. Immediately standing, you hope to hear her say that the surgery’s over, but her countenance tells you otherwise, and her words confirm it.

“There was a slight complication with your father’s procedure. There’s some unexpected swelling and inflammation in the tissue surrounding the herniated disc. Dr. Law wanted me to reassure you that all is well, and the only thing this means is that the surgery will be prolonged since he needs to proceed slower and with more caution.” The nurse gives you a strained smile. “He was very adamant that I make sure you understood that he would never let anything happen to your father and to confirm you were already accompanied by Nurse Kaya.”

You nod as you slump back down in the chair, all words stripped away from you, leaving Kaya to answer instead.

“Thank you nurse. Please assure Dr. Law that I’m with her and she’s very grateful for his help.”

The nurse nods and goes back inside while you review the surgery procedure again in your head. You remember reading something in the complications section about tissue swelling. Going back and forth on your mental notes, you don’t think it's something to worry about, but that means that Shanks is going to be under anaesthesia for at least one or two hours more than originally planned and-...

“What? Sorry!” You answer, as Kaya had been repeating your name for a while, trying to ground you back in reality. 

“I said he’s going to be fine! It’s a very normal thing to happen in these procedures. Dr. Law is perfectly equipped to handle it! Remember? He’s a genius!”

You nod vigorously. You know he’s going to be fine. You just know. 

He has to.

-*-

Five hours and thirty-three minutes.

That is the total amount of time that your father stayed in the operating room. But now that a nurse has come by to tell you the surgery is over and they are moving him to the recovery room, you can finally breathe. 

Kaya has stayed by your side the whole time. You received a bunch of phone calls from your friends and neighbours and time passed. Sometimes slowly, other times in a blink. But now everything is fine.

And the man you have to thank for that, has just opened the door to speak with you. His eyes seem weary and tired, the bags under them a bit more pronounced, but he has a reassuring smile on his lips as he approaches you.

He says your name and you get up to meet him halfway. “The surgery is over, Mr. S. is fine and will recover from the anaesthesia in one or two hours. After that he’ll be transferred to a room where I specifically said that you were allowed in, at any time of the day during how long you wish to remain.”

Your eyes feel wet and prickly as the lump in your throat tightens and makes it hard to breathe. Kaya squeezes your hand and Law continues.

“Despite the unexpected complication, everything went according to plan. The hernia was removed and, after appropriate recovery time and some physical therapy, your father will recover perfectly well.”

You are so grateful that you have to fight the urge to wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you, Law.” The sound that comes from your lips is a mere whisper. 

“I told you to trust me, didn’t I?” His smile deepens and you hear a muffled squeal coming from Kaya, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Law. “Nurse Kaya, thank you for being here.”

She nods and grins at him. “I would never leave our girl alone and afraid, Dr. Law!”

Our girl? You raise an eyebrow at her expecting Law to make some stern remark, but he just chuckles and nods. “Right.” He says. “Thank you. I will check on Mr. S. in a couple of hours.” Then he stares straight into your eyes, his amber gaze full of care and assuredness. “If you need anything at all, you have my number.”

-*-

Kaya wants to stay with you until you are allowed to see your dad, but you tell her to go home. Usopp, her fiancé, has already called her because she’s usually off work by now, and you don’t want to impose.

Besides, there’s nothing else to be scared of. The surgery is over and Shanks is fine. 

She finally relents and leaves you alone and you barely have to wait another hour before the nurse summons you and takes you to your father’s room. He’s lying in bed with a very tired look on his face.

“Dad!” You exclaim as soon as you enter.

“Bug, I thought you were home.” His voice seems very hoarse and you can see he’s making an effort, so you sit down in the chair next to the bed and take his hand, squeezing it tightly. 

“Don’t speak, dad. Just rest. I’m so happy you’re okay. Law said I was allowed to stay in your room for as long as I wish. I’ll stay here with you!” You eye the couch set in the corner of the room. It seems perfectly comfortable for you to sleep on. You just don’t want to leave him.

You forced him to undergo surgery, so you feel responsible for his well-being and want to be there to cater to his every need. 

He nods and closes his eyes. “Are you in pain? Just nod or shake your head, don’t try to speak.” He shakes his head and you sigh. “Okay daddy.” You lean in and place a lingering kiss on his temple. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

“How are we feeling?” Law asks from near your chair and you jump. You didn’t even hear him enter the room. 

Shanks opens his eyes but doesn’t speak, instead, he raises his thumb to give Law a thumbs up, making the doctor chuckle lightly. 

“Alright, Mr. S., I’m going to do a quick check-up before leaving you to rest for the night, okay?” Shanks nods and you get up to give Law some space. After he finishes the exam, checking the drugs in the IV bag and his charts, Shanks is already snoring, so he beckons you to follow him outside the room.

“How is he?” Anxiety laces your question as you wring your fingers together. “From what I’ve read, there can be about a 10% chance of post-surgery infection, so we need to watch out for any redness or swelling, and maybe some fever. Though since he’s under a lot of drugs, we might not spot a fever right away. And, oh! There’s also a supposed 3% chance of blood clots occurring -...”

“Relax.” His hands rest against your shoulders, pressing firmly while his thumbs draw soft circles against your shirt. “I told you I’ve got this. Your father’s in good hands. You said you trusted me.”

You open your mouth to speak, clearly still meaning to add more information about post-surgical statistics you’ve been reading about since Kaya left, but one of his hands climbs up your shoulder and rests on your cheek in an affectionate gesture, much more intimate than you were expecting. 

“Relax. There’s no need to be in control now. I’m in control here. Okay? Just let go.”

All the breath leaves your lungs at once. The firmness of his touch and the assuredness of his voice make you nod and comply, your shoulders slumping forward, immediately relaxing your posture.

What the hell?

You have suffered quite a bit in the past with anxiety and stressful situations, often finding yourself spiralling because you couldn’t control a specific situation. You had never managed to calm down so easily, so effortlessly. Ichiji only made it worse, so you never really had an anchor to ground you. But Law… he did it in the blink of an eye. With a touch and a few words.

This is a first.

Surprise is still etched on your face when he steps back, leaving only a cold void within you. “His vitals are all stable and he’s not in pain. The night nurse will keep monitoring his condition. You’re welcome to stay by his side or go home and rest. He’s in good hands.” 

You nod, still too stunned to speak and exhaustion is beginning to take its toll on your body and mind. “I’ll… I’ll stay. My brain is too numb to drive home now.”

He nods in understanding. “I’ll be here around lunchtime to check on him again. Try to rest. Everything’s alright now.”

Once again, his words stir something within you, a feeling of safety, and you nod in agreement. 

It will all be fine now.

|Chapter 3|

[thebunnednun]

You're my Coffee

Shouta Aizawa x Pro hero/Teacher! Reader

Summary:

After a distressing call from a Japanese hospital, you learn your friend Nemuri Kayama (Midnight) has briefly awoken from her coma and is desperately screaming for you.

She makes a final request: take care of her students if she doesn't survive.

So you pack your bags and move to Japan, only to find the students at U.A. High School traumatized by the Hero War. Aizawa is struggling to help them, and Nezu is overwhelmed trying to find therapists while managing international scrutiny over the students' involvement in the war. Aizawa panics when Nezu informs him of your arrival, as your hero profile is so blank he can't find decent information about you, despite your international headlines.

Your start is rocky, worsened by your initial deception of pretending to be his new student. The students are unsure what to make of you, but they’re drawn to their new pretty art teacher and soon so is their handsome grump of a teacher.

With the media down his neck, Nezu offers you a deal: Get the kids to seek therapy, you to graduate with your psychology doctorate. Aizawa’s catch: If you fail or harm them, you walk away from being a therapist and hero altogether.

All while facing your own trauma, and the affections of those strange cats...

Tw: PTSD and mentions of violence and mental distress.

Song: SZA - Good Days

----------------------Chapter 1: Who are you?------------------------

The day had been a rare opportunity for the new Class 2-A to unwind and explore the vibrant shopping district surrounding U.A. Academy. With a Saturday all to themselves, students scattered across the mall, relishing the chance to indulge in personal interests and bond outside the confines of their classrooms.

In the heart of the bustling mall, the comic store beckoned with its colorful displays and eager customers. The windows were adorned with colorful posters of heroes in dynamic poses, and the entrance was flanked by life-sized statues of popular heroes. The air inside was thick with the scent of new books and the faint buzz of fluorescent lights overhead.

Izuku Midoriya, his face lit up with joy, led a group consisting of Ochaco Uraraka, Tsuyu Asui, Tenya Iida, Shoto Todoroki, and himself towards the store's entrance. They were drawn by the promise of hero memorabilia and the back to school discounted prices plastered all over the building.

Hey, kids gotta ball on a budget!

As they entered, the store buzzed with energy. Fans of all ages flipped through graphic novels, their fingers brushing the glossy pages, while others scrutinized shelves stocked with hero-themed merchandise—action figures, posters, and keychains, all meticulously arranged to catch the eye. The walls were lined with shelves, each packed to the brim with comics, some new, others worn and well-loved. A few children darted between the aisles, their laughter mingling with the murmur of conversations.

Izuku gravitated towards the section dedicated toToshinori, his eyes wide and scanning for any rare collectibles he might have missed. The rows of action figures stood proudly, their detailed designs catching the overhead light. Posters of All Might in his prime covered the walls, Izuku's gaze lingered on each one, and his eyes softened.

"Hey, Izuku, check this out!" Ochaco's voice rang out, pulling him from his reverie. She held up a keychain featuring a miniature All Might in his signature hero pose, the small figure almost glowing in her hand. "Isn't this adorable?" She smiled brightly, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy.

Izuku's face brightened, his eyes widening as he stepped closer to examine the keychain. "That's awesome, Ochaco! I wonder if they have any figurines or posters I haven't seen before." He began to peruse the shelves again, his fingers trailing lightly over the edges of the boxes as he searched for something new. His gaze darted from one item to another, his excitement slowly giving way to disappointment as he realized there were no new All Might items to add to his collection.

Izuku sighed softly, the sound almost lost in the ambient noise of the store. His rewards points burned a hole in his pocket, the card resting in his hand as he glanced around the store, hoping for a hidden gem.

The sweet old lady store clerk noticed his dilemma and smiled warmly at him. "Can't find what you're looking for, young man?" She had allowed the Izu-crew to browse before offering her assistance. 

Izuku shook his head, feeling a bit crestfallen. "Not this time, Mrs. Sakamaki. All Might stuff tends to sell out quickly." He shuffled slightly, one hand slipping into his pocket as he spoke, the other still clutching the rewards card.

Mrs. Sakamaki, was a sweet old lady store clerk with a kind smile and gentle demeanor. Her silver hair was neatly pinned back, and she wore a cozy cardigan that seemed to match the warmth in her eyes. 

Mrs. Sakamaki's eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Well, how about considering something new? Have you heard about Charge Bomb? She's quite the rising star, you know." She leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret, her voice full of enthusiasm.

Izuku's head tilted slightly, curiosity evident in his tone, and interest piqued, " Charge Bomb? "

Mrs. Sakamaki nodded enthusiastically, her smile widening as she reached behind the counter. With a practiced hand, she retrieved a medium-sized figurine of Charge Bomb, complete with her signature explosive star emblem and perching pose. 

The figure was expertly crafted, capturing the details of the hero’s ebony mask and cloak. "She's gaining quite a fanbase lately. People say she's as electrifying as her powers!"

Izuku hesitated for a moment, his eyes tracing the details of the figurine in his hand. The weight of it was reassuring, and he could feel the craftsmanship in every groove. "I've heard a bit about her. She seems really strong." He turned the figure over, examining it closely, the gears in his mind turning as he considered adding it to his collection.

Ochaco teased him lightly, nudging Izuku with a playful grin. "Come on, Izuku. Even if All Might isn't here, you can expand your horizons a bit!"

Tsuyu ribbited in agreement, her lips quirking up in a small smile. "Ribbit. Midoriya, you might discover a new hero to admire." Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she watched Izuku's inner debate unfold.

Izuku chuckled sheepishly, feeling the support of his friends. "Alright, alright. Charge Bomb it is. Thank you, ma'am." He offered Mrs. Sakamaki a grateful smile as he handed over his rewards card, the anticipation building within him as he added the figurine to his growing collection.

"This Charge Bomb figure is incredible," Izuku exclaimed, his eyes wide as he examined the action figure in his hands. He was doing that mumbling thing and they were happy to see him geek over something other than All Might. It was good to see him like this. 

He needed this. 

"Yeah, but she seems so distant, like she's always avoiding questions in her interviews," Ochaco remarked, her gaze shifting to a nearby display of hero-themed posters. She reached out to adjust one that had slipped slightly out of place, her fingers brushing the paper lightly.

"She's probably just focused on hero work," Shoto chimed in quietly, his eyes scanning the shelves with detached interest. He reached out to pick up a comic, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. "I've seen her in action in some civilian videos. She doesn't waste time or energy." He placed the comic back, his expression thoughtful.

Tsuyu, standing beside Shoto, nodded in agreement. "Ribbit. Maybe she prefers a direct approach, focusing on getting the job done without unnecessary risks." She leaned over to pick up a comic featuring a leapfrog character, holding it up with a teasing smile before lightly punching Shoto in the arm for showing it to her.

Iida, who had been diligently scanning through hero strategy books, joined the conversation with his trademark earnestness. "Indeed. Charge Bomb's reputation stems from her precise tactics and adherence to hero regulations. She's a model of efficiency." His posture was as rigid as ever, but there was a spark of admiration in his eyes.

Ochaco nodded knowingly, a small smile playing on her lips. "That's part of her appeal. Charge Bomb is known for her no-nonsense attitude and her skill in taking down villains efficiently. But when it comes to interviews, she's a bit elusive. Always dodging personal questions with a touch of humor. I would love to get away with that! Those interview questions always make me so nervous." She glanced over at Izuku, her expression softening as she saw the thoughtful look on his face.

Izuku's brows furrowed slightly, a mixture of disappointment and fascination crossing his features. "It's amazing how she manages to stay mysterious even with all the attention she's getting." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, still holding the Charge Bomb figurine as he contemplated the enigma that was this new hero.

Tsuyu, always the voice of reason, chimed in to lighten the mood. "Maybe she just wants to keep her private life private. It adds to her mystique, kero. Don't you think?" She tilted her head slightly, her wide eyes filled with understanding.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Izuku agreed with a small smile, his shoulders relaxing as he let go of his earlier disappointment. ‘ She's definitely someone I want to learn more about.’ He glanced around at his friends, grateful for their perspectives.

Their conversation was interrupted by Iida, who had found a stack of hero biographies nearby. He straightened up, holding one out to Izuku with a determined look. "Have any of you seen this? It's a comprehensive guide on hero rankings and strategies. We should study this for our next training session." His enthusiasm was contagious, and soon the group was huddled around the book, discussing its contents with renewed excitement.

Meanwhile, nearby, Eijiro Kirishima trailed after Katsuki Bakugo through the bustling mall, his grin wide and infectious. The air was thick with the mingled scents of food and perfume, and the cacophony of shoppers' chatter created a lively atmosphere. Kirishima's energy was palpable as he practically bounced on his heels, his excitement barely contained.

"C'mon, bro, let's hurry up! I wanna check out those romance novels you were talking about," Kirishima urged, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. His red hair caught the overhead lights, giving it an almost fiery glow, and his broad smile seemed to brighten the entire aisle.

Bakugo grunted in response, his usual scowl softened slightly by Kirishima's persistent cheer. He had a reputation to maintain, but Kirishima's unwavering smile always managed to crack through his tough exterior.

The corners of his mouth twitched as if resisting a smile, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of amusement. They navigated through the maze of aisles, their footsteps echoing against the polished tiles. The aisles were lined with displays of books and manga, with colorful covers vying for attention. Bakugo’s eyes darted toward a stand of novels, his expression turning contemplative as he contemplated a particular title.

Nearby, Mina and Aoyama were in their element, quoting vines and hunting for discounted products, their vibrant personalities on full display. Mina's laughter rang out as she twisted open a bottle of lotion, the fruity scent wafting into the air. 

Her pink skin seemed to shimmer under the store's lights, matching the lively energy she exuded. Aoyama, ever the picture of elegance, carefully examined a row of lip glosses, each one sparkling under the lights like miniature jewels. He held one up to the light, admiring its glittering hue with a flourish of his hand.

Being a crusty bitch is a crime in their book. 

"This one captures my essence perfectly," Aoyama declared with a dramatic flair, his voice lilting with confidence as he made his selection. Mina chuckled, shaking her head in amusement as they made their way toward the counter.

Denki and Sero, not far behind, were engrossed in a lively debate over their favorite music band. Their voices rose above the ambient noise of the mall, attracting a few curious glances. Denki gesticulated animatedly, his eyes bright with passion as he defended his choice. "I'm telling you, their new album is fire! The beats are insane!"

Sero countered with equal enthusiasm, a mischievous grin on his face. "Si, pero like , the lyrics in their older stuff hit harder. You can't just overlook that!" His arms crossed over his chest, a challenge in his posture as he awaited Denki's rebuttal. Their exchange was playful, filled with an easy camaraderie.

Not far off, Jirou sat quietly with Momo. Jirou’s earbuds were plugged in, the faint sound of music just audible as she perused a rack of graphic tees. Her expression was thoughtful, her fingers brushing over the fabric as she considered her options. 

Occasionally, she glanced over at Momo, who was absorbed in selecting art supplies from a nearby shelf. Momo's concentration was evident in the way her brows furrowed slightly, her lips pursed in determination as she compared different shades of sketch pencils.

Near the food court, Sato and Koda were in their element, sampling soft pretzels from a nearby vendor. The aroma of freshly baked dough filled the air, mingling with the scent of warm butter and salt. Their faces lit up with delight as they bit into the savory snacks, the crunch of the pretzel giving way to soft, chewy perfection.

"I’m gonna make this back at the dorm!" Sato declared, his eyes wide with pleasure as he took another bite. Koda nodded in agreement, his usually shy demeanor momentarily forgotten as he enjoyed the treat.

In the midst of the mall's eclectic offerings, Toru and Ojiro found themselves browsing through racks of matching T-shirts and pajamas. Toru's laughter was infectious, her voice light and bubbly as she held up a pair of pajama pants covered in cartoonish animal prints. 

"These are so cute! Ojiro, you should totally get a pair to match!" she teased, her invisible form barely discernible except for the clothing she held.

Ojiro chuckled, his tail swaying behind him as he examined the T-shirt in his hands. "Sure thing, these tees would look pretty cool on you," he said, holding up a shirt with a simple yet striking heart design. His expression was relaxed, content in the easy banter they shared.

Further down the mall, the Hot Topic store exuded a darker, edgier vibe. The walls were adorned with posters of alternative bands, horror movie memorabilia, and gothic accessories that attracted a certain crowd. 

Fumikage Tokoyami and Mezo Shoji were drawn to the store's unique collection, their interest piqued by the array of darkly themed merchandise. Tokoyami's eyes gleamed with approval as he browsed through the selection of black hoodies and band T-shirts, Dark Shadow flickering in and out of view as it reacted to the ambient darkness.

Shoji, towering beside him, was more methodical in his approach, carefully examining each item before making a decision. His multiple arms moved with practiced efficiency, picking up and setting down items as he weighed his options. There was a quiet intensity to his movements, his nature calm but intensive.

Hitoshi Shinso, the newest addition to Class 2-A, stood nearby, quietly observing the array of mystery novels lining the shelves. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a spark of curiosity as he reached out to pull a book from the shelf. The cover was dark and foreboding, promising a tale of intrigue and suspense. Shinso flipped through the pages, his mind already piecing together the story within.

As the afternoon unfolded, the tranquil atmosphere of their shopping expedition was abruptly shattered by a sudden commotion echoing from the mall's main atrium. The cheerful chatter and the hum of activity were quickly drowned out by a chorus of panicked voices. 

Shoppers and storekeepers alike scrambled to escape the center of the chaos, their hurried footsteps reverberating through the marble floors.

"What's going on?" Shoto asked, his voice low as his eyes narrowed, instinctively sensing something was amiss. The cool air around him seemed to grow colder as he prepared for the worst.

Izuku's gaze darted towards the source of the disturbance, his expression sharpening with determination. "Something's happening. We need to check it out!"

With a unified nod, they abandoned their purchases and hurried towards the scene, their training as future heroes kicking in instinctively. They weaved through the bustling crowd, the throngs of people parting in their wake as they sprinted toward the mall's open space. The vibrant colors of store signs and displays blurred around them as they closed in on the source of the disturbance.

When they emerged into the atrium, the sight that greeted them was one of utter chaos. A villain stood at the center, their body crackling with electricity, causing nearby electrical appliances and lights to flicker and malfunction dangerously. 

Sparks flew as lights exploded overhead, sending shards of glass raining down. The air buzzed with the raw, uncontrolled energy that pulsed from the villain.

Ochaco's eyes widened in alarm. "We need to stop him before he causes a blackout!"

Before any of them could spring into action, a brilliant flash of light erupted from the villain's direction. The intensity of the glow momentarily blinded them, but when their vision cleared, they saw a figure stepping forward from the crowd—a woman dressed in unassuming civilian attire. 

Despite her inconspicuous appearance, her presence commanded attention. There was a quiet power in the way she carried herself, her gaze steely and focused as she assessed the situation.

"Everyone, stand back!" she called out, her voice firm and authoritative. 

Izuku and his classmates exchanged surprised glances but held their ground. watching in awe as the woman unleashed a burst of energy from her hands. Their initial confusion gave way to awe as the woman raised her hands, now crackling with energy that mirrored the villain's. 

She moved with a fluid grace, her actions deliberate and controlled. In one swift motion, she unleashed a concentrated burst of energy that shot through the air with blinding speed.

The energy blast struck the villain with pinpoint accuracy, the force of it sending them stumbling backward. The villain's powers sputtered out, the crackling electricity around them fizzling as they crumpled to the ground, unconscious and harmless. The once rampant chaos that had filled the atrium dissipated almost immediately, leaving behind a stunned silence.

The woman lowered her hands, the energy dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. She remained poised, her eyes sweeping over the now-subdued scene before landing on the group of young heroes-in-training. Izuku’s breath caught in his throat, the sheer power she had displayed lingering in the air.

"Thank you for the backup, but I've got it from here," she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she acknowledged their readiness to jump into action. She quickly restrained the villain before pulling out her phone and called for backup, her voice calm and authoritative. 

"This one's neutralized. Send a team to secure the area."

Within moments, the sounds of sirens filled the air as police and other pro heroes arrived to handle the situation. Relieved, the woman now turned to the students, her eyes locking onto Izuku's for a moment longer than the others. Her gaze was intense, as if she recognized something in him.

"You're all heroes in training, right?" she asked, her tone firm but not unkind. It was weird how her presence was both commanding and serene. The way she carried herself exuded a quiet confidence that spoke volumes about her experience.

They nodded, still processing the sudden turn of events and the display of power they had just witnessed.

"Good," she continued. "Stay out of the way and let me handle this. Head back the way you came."

Reluctantly, they complied, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. Some of them were eager to jump in themselves, but the recent war had left a few of them wary of rushing into unknown danger.

Her eyes lingered on Izuku for a moment longer than the others, a fleeting exchange that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in a way yet to be understood.

There was something about that look that he couldn't quite shake, a feeling that would stay with him long after they left the mall.

---

As they regrouped outside, Kirishima was the first to voice what everyone was thinking. "That was so cool to see in person! The way that off-duty pro handled it without anything getting damaged was so manly!" 

"Yeah, but it's kind of a bummer our trip got cut short," Mina added, pouting a little as she remembered the bags they had left behind.

Some of the students remained quiet, their minds replaying the events that had just unfolded. The atmosphere was a mix of lingering adrenaline and reflective silence. Izuku and Bakugou, in particular, seemed more shaken than the others. The encounter had stirred memories of past battles, memories that were still too fresh to ignore.

Ochaco noticed Izuku's distant expression and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Izuku, are you okay?"

Izuku blinked, snapping back to reality and forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about how strong that lady is. It was incredible." His mind was still replaying the moment when her eyes had locked onto his, trying to decipher what it meant.

The group made their way back to U.A., the towering building a comforting sight after the unexpected events of the day. As they entered the common room, they were greeted by the sight of other classes returning to their dorms, their faces reflecting the mixed emotions of a day interrupted by the unexpected.

In the common room, Aizawa was waiting for them, his usual stern expression softened slightly by their safe return. The class brightened upon seeing their teacher, and they quickly crowded around him with excitement, eager to share their experiences.

"Dadzawa, look what I got!" Kaminari exclaimed, holding up a new band poster with a wide grin..

"Check out my new lip gloss!" Mina chimed in, showing off the shiny tube she had managed to purchase before the chaos erupted.

"I got some new hair dye!" Kirishima announced proudly, holding up the box with a toothy grin.

"One at a time," Aizawa said, raising his hands to quiet the enthusiastic students. "I'm glad to see you're all safe. Now, tell me about your ‘mall adventures’ ."

As the students eagerly recounted their shopping trip, showing off their new trinkets and purchases, Aizawa listened patiently, occasionally nodding and responding to their stories. The atmosphere was lively, the students' spirits lifted despite the earlier interruption.

Finally, Aizawa raised his hands again, silencing the room. "Alright, listen up. A new teacher will be joining U.A. while completing her Doctorate. Treat her with respect and learn from her."

Mina and Kaminari immediately perked up at the news. "More details, please!" they chorused, their curiosity piqued.

Aizawa's stern look silenced their pleas. "She will be your new art and history teacher. That's all you need to know for now."

“Ugh, lame!”

Some of the students, especially Mina and Kaminari, let out groans of disappointment. "But, Mr. Aizawa, can't you tell us a little more?" Denki pleaded, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"I understand you all have questions about the new teacher joining us," he began, “But she has asked to remain anonymous at this time. She is to arrive there in three weeks time and I expect you all to give her the same respect you give me.” 

After looking around the room he sighed through his nose, “Hell, make it more respectful. Remember that you represent U.A.”

“But—” Kaminari started to protest, but the stern look Aizawa gave him made him quickly back down.

"That's all for now," Aizawa said, his tone final. "I expect you all to welcome her respectfully. Now, it's time to get ready for tomorrow."

With that, he dismissed them, and the students broke off for the evening, the lively atmosphere gradually returning as they scattered to their respective rooms. Izuku, however, was still deep in thought. As he entered his room, he carefully set up his new Charge Bomb figure on his desk, placing it alongside his other hero memorabilia.

Sitting down, he opened his hero notebook and flipped to a fresh page. His mind raced as he began sketching the mysterious woman, trying to capture the essence of her stance and the way her eyes had locked onto his. Each line he drew was careful and deliberate, his concentration intense as he tried to understand what had transpired.

As he sketched, he jotted down a few notes:

Name: Mall stopper

Quirk: Unknown, but likely related to energy manipulation.

Appearance: Mysterious, not in costume during the encounter.

Personality: Commanding presence, but not rude. 

Additional Notes: Encountered at the mall while stopping a villain. Avoids citizens getting harmed. 

Seemed to recognize me?

Izuku stared at the page for a long moment, his pencil hovering over the paper as he pondered the day's events.

He still had many questions, but he knew obsessing over it would disrupt his sleep schedule again.

But he knew he couldn’t sleep. 

Grabbing his phone, Izuku dialed his mother's number. The dorm room was quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional distant laughter of his classmates the only sounds breaking the silence. His fingers tapped nervously on the phone case as he waited. It didn't take long for her cheerful voice to come through the receiver.

"Hi baby! How was your day?"

"It was good, Mom. We went to the mall and... something interesting happened," Izuku began, recounting the day's events and the encounter. As he spoke, he could hear the concern in his mother's voice.

"Just be careful, Izuku. I'm glad you're safe," she said, her tone gentle and loving.

“I promise, Mom. I’m tired of everyone thinking I’m in love with that hospital bed.” He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood.

Inko giggled into the receiver before her tone took a softer approach. “You know, sweetie, you can still come home when you can’t sleep. I’ll handle your teacher.”

Now the idea of his adorable mom dealing with the physical embodiment of a grumpy cat that was his teacher was tempting but he really didn’t want to put her through that. 

"I know, Mom. But I’m fine, really!” Izuku replied, a small smile playing on his lips. The thought of his mother's comforting presence was tempting, but he was determined to manage on his own.

“Okay, if you say so. Make sure to get good rest tonight.”

“Goodnight, Mom," Izuku replied, feeling a sense of comfort wash over him.

"Goodnight, sweetie," she said before blowing a kiss into the phone and hanging up.

As he lay back in bed, his mind raced with thoughts of the new teacher and the mysterious pro hero. The encounter at the mall had been brief, but it left a lasting impression, fueling his curiosity and excitement.

“Who are you?” he muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling. 

The moonlight cast shadows across his room, giving it an almost ethereal quality. The day's events replayed in his mind, the adrenaline and wonder still lingering. 

The gentle hum of the air conditioner became a lullaby, blending with the distant murmurs of his classmates as Izuku's thoughts gradually began to quiet. He could still feel the intensity of that woman's gaze,  the warmth of her presence as vivid in his memory as if she were still standing before him. The encounter had left him with more questions than answers, but those questions could wait for tomorrow.

As he lay there, his thoughts slowly settled, and the comforting warmth of his conversation with his mother began to soothe the last remnants of his restlessness. The image of her familiar smile and the sound of her voice reminded him of the safety of home, a place where he was always welcome.

He shifted under the covers, finding a comfortable position as the day's events continued to fade into the recesses of his mind. His eyelids grew heavier, the exhaustion finally catching up to him. Izuku's last conscious thought was a whispered promise to himself to uncover the mystery behind the pro hero who had left such a strong impression on him.

In the stillness of the night, the world outside his window continued to turn, but within the quiet of his dorm room, Izuku finally surrendered to sleep. Dreams of heroes, battles, and new beginnings filled his mind,

---

As the dorms settled into a quieter atmosphere, Bakugou lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. The buzz of late-night conversations and the distant sound of someone playing music softly on their phone faded into the background. His room was dimly lit, the moonlight filtering through the blinds, casting a faint glow across his tidy desk and the posters on the wall. 

Bakugou could hear the rhythmic breathing of his classmates through the thin walls, and while that used to annoy him and still kinda did, it was a comforting reminder that he wasn't alone, even in the stillness of the night.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. Glancing at the screen, he saw his mother's photo flash across it. With a resigned sigh, he answered, propping himself up on one elbow.

“Oi, Katsuki! I saw you on the news at the mall today,” Mitsuki's voice boomed through the phone, as loud and commanding as ever. Apparently some people had taken videos of the villain attack and he was spotted in the background. 

“You need to take it easy. Remember your heart? And your arm?”

Bakugou grumbled, running a hand through his unruly hair. "I'm fine, Mom. Just a little leave-"

“Fine, my ass! Have you picked a therapist yet?” she demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"I don't need one," Bakugou retorted, irritation evident in his tone. His free hand clenched into a fist, the tension palpable.

"Don't you give me that, Katsuki! You're my son, and I won't let you walk around with your trauma eating you alive," she snapped back, her fierce tone unmistakable. Some shuffling was heard in the background before a muffled “Fine!” Bakugou rolled his eyes, feeling the familiar mix of annoyance.

A gentler voice came on the line. "Katsuki, it's Dad. You know All Might and Aizawa found some really good professionals for you. You don't have to worry about your... verbal constipation with them. We understand you don't want to talk to us about it, but we love you and want you to be okay."

"The little squirt knows that already!" Mitsuki cut in, snatching the phone back. "You already know that we love you. If we didn't, we'd just let you do whatever, and you'd be a bigger asshole than you already act like."

Bakugou grumbled something incomprehensible, but his mother cut him off again. "This isn't up for negotiation. You don't have to talk to us about it, but you are going to heal, and that's final."

There was a pause, and Bakugou finally sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. "I get it, Mom. I’ll... I’ll think about it."

The line went quiet for a moment, the tension easing. "Good. We love you, Katsuki. Goodnight," Mitsuki said softly, her voice carrying a rare note of tenderness.

"Love you too, Mom. Dad," Bakugou responded, his voice uncharacteristically tender, the words surprising even him.

‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’

Katsuki watched as the line hung up and he clicked his phone off and stared back up at the ceiling, a sense of warmth washed over him. His parents' concern, though sometimes overbearing, came from a place of deep love. Even if he didn’t want to admit it. 

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and allowed himself to relax. The worries and frustrations of the day seemed to melt away, leaving him with a rare sense of peace. 

For the first time in a while, he felt a bit lighter. Bakugou’s mind was quieter than usual, the echoes of his parents’ voices lingering in the back of his thoughts, offering a strange comfort he wasn’t used to acknowledging.

He wasn’t one to lean on anyone, not even his parents, but something about the way they’d insisted, the way his dad had gently nudged him while his mom pushed with her usual force, made him reconsider. It was a rare moment where their concern didn’t feel suffocating, but grounding. It made him think about the things he’d been pushing down, the way he’d been ignoring the nagging feelings that crept up on him in the quiet moments, like now.

The moonlight continued to cast soft shadows across his room, and the distant sounds of his classmates—now more like a comforting white noise—faded further into the background as he focused on his breathing, steady and even. Bakugou wasn’t sure when he’d started to rely on these moments of solitude to sort through his thoughts, but tonight, they didn’t seem as overwhelming as they usually did.

He’d never admit it to anyone, but the idea of talking to someone—a therapist, of all people—wasn’t as off-putting as it had been before. Maybe he was just tired, or maybe the events of the day had worn him down more than he realized. 

Or maybe, just maybe , the thought of unloading some of the weight he carried didn’t seem so bad. But that was a decision for tomorrow. For now, he let the warmth of his parents' love settle in, something he wasn’t used to acknowledging but found comforting nonetheless.

Bakugou let his eyes close, his breathing slowing as sleep began to take over. For the first time in a long while, the tightness in his chest eased, replaced by a sense of calm that was almost foreign to him. He wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring, but tonight, he was content with the knowledge that he didn’t have to face it all alone. 

And with that thought, he finally drifted into a deep, undisturbed sleep, his usual scowl replaced by the faintest hint of a relaxed expression.

---

Across the dorms, a restless atmosphere pervaded the night. The air was thick with the weight of unspoken fears and lingering trauma, wrapping around each student like a suffocating blanket. 

In one room, Sero and Denki were engaged in an intense game of Mario Kart, the room illuminated by the flickering screen. Their eyes were dry and heavy with fatigue, yet their determination kept them focused on the game. Sero's fingers flew over the controller, his competitive spirit shining through despite the exhaustion. 

Denki leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration, occasionally letting out a frustrated groan when he lost a race. The game was a distraction, a desperate attempt to stay awake, to avoid the nightmares waiting on the other side of sleep. They wanted to stay awake, afraid to drift off with the lights off and let the flashbacks creep in.

Down the hall, Jirou sat cross-legged on her bed, her guitar resting gently on her lap. Her fingers trembled as they strummed the strings, testing out the reconstruction of her ear. Tears streamed down her face, glistening in the soft glow of her bedside lamp. 

She winced from the phantom pains, her breath hitching with each painful cramp that surfaced. The melody she played was soft and mournful, echoing the lingering trauma within her. Each note seemed to resonate with her heartache. She closed her eyes, trying to lose herself in the music, hoping it would offer some solace.

The music was a refuge, a way to express what words couldn’t—her pain, her fear, the lingering terror that her body was still recovering from. She focused on the vibrations of the strings, trying to drown out the phantom pains and the memories of the screams and explosions. 

Wounds that no melody alone could fully heal.

Kirishima tossed and turned in his bed, the sheets tangled around his legs. His brow was furrowed in distress, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He fought against the blankets as if they were the villains he’d faced, his body rigid with tension. Kiri was trapped in a nightmare, locked in a never-ending battle with a mysterious figure. 

His hardened skin, usually a source of strength, offered no protection from the terror gnawing at his mind. He clenched his fists physically, his muscles tensing as he fought off the invisible enemy, but the fear remained, a relentless killer.

In another room, Tokoyami paced back and forth, his mind a storm of anxiety. The pacing was erratic, each step driven by a nervous energy that had no outlet. Dark Shadow hovered nearby, mirroring his agitation with restless flutters. 

Sato, sitting cross-legged on the floor, had tried to bake away his stress, but the pile of untouched pastries on the table told a different story. The sweet aroma of cookies and cakes filled the room, a stark contrast to the bitterness of their shared unease. Sato just stared at the pound cake he had made, his eyes unfocused. 

He couldn't bring himself to eat it, the sight of the cake stirring up memories of happier times that now felt distant.

How it mocked him now. 

Shinsou was in Koda's room, perched on the edge of the bed. The room was dimly lit, casting soft shadows that danced gently with the movements of the little creature. Koda's gentle strokes seemed to calm not only the bunny but also the tension that had been building in Shinsou's chest all night. 

Koda's touch was careful and soothing, a therapeutic distraction from the darkness that loomed over them. The bunny's nose twitched, and Koda smiled faintly, a brief respite from the weight of their worries. He would need to sneak his cat in soon.

In the kitchen, Momo and Mina stood side by side, giggling softly as they made fried egg rice, the gentle sounds offering a momentary escape. 

The familiar routine of cooking offered them a small slice of normalcy, a way to focus their minds on something other than the gnawing anxiety that had settled in their stomachs. The soft clink of utensils, the sizzle of oil in the pan, and the aroma of fried egg rice filled the air, creating a comforting backdrop to their hushed conversation.

Their laughter wasn’t forced, but the enthusiasm was a mask for their lack of appetite and the anxiety that gnawed at their insides. 

Momo's hands moved with precision as she flipped the eggs, her mind clearly elsewhere, but the rhythm of the task kept her grounded. Beside her, Mina stirred the rice, her usual energy dampened but still present in the jokes she told. 

They had made a pact to eat together, finding comfort in each other's company. Maybe during one of these meals, they would find some semblance of peace, even if just for a little while.

In Tsu's room, the atmosphere was different, heavy with the shared weight of darkness that clung to them like a second skin. Ochako and Tsu had taken to sleeping in Tsu's room, both girls haunted by nightmares. They found comfort in each other's presence, huddled together under the covers like two lost children seeking shelter from a storm. 

Ochako’s hand moved gently through Tsu's hair, her fingers weaving a calming rhythm that seemed to blend with the steady beat of their hearts. Tsu's voice, usually so strong, had softened to a croak as she whispered back reassurances, her words mingling with Ochako's in a comforting lullaby. They clung to each other, finding safety in the closeness.

Todoroki sat cross-legged on the floor of his room, his hands resting on his knees as he tried to meditate. His mind, however, was a war  zone, haunted by the image of his brother's burnt remains being hauled to prison and the knowledge of his parents' impending divorce. His scar throbbed painfully every time he thought about it, the physical reminder of his family's turmoil adding to his mental anguish. He took deep, measured breaths, trying to calm the storm inside him, but the images persisted, a relentless assault on his peace. 

In another room, Aoyama sat hunched over, clutching a pillow tightly against his chest. He was allowed to stay at the school, but now he used tactical weapons, a constant reminder of the shame he felt. Tears streamed down his face, his muffled sobs filling the quiet room. The guilt of his actions, the sense of betrayal he had inflicted on his friends, weighed heavily on him. He whispered apologies into the night, his voice cracking with each word. The moonlight that spilled through his window bathed the room in a cold, silvery light, but it did nothing to lift the darkness that had settled over his heart. He didn’t deserve their forgiveness. 

Iida scrolled through pictures of him and his brother, his heart aching with every swipe. The blue light from his phone screen cast a lonely glow in the dark room, reflecting off his foggy glasses. He wanted to call his brother, to hear his voice, but hesitated, worried about not appearing strong. He didn't want to burden anyone with his feelings, even though he longed for the comfort of his brother's voice. He clenched his jaw, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him.

Elsewhere in the dorms, Toru and Ojiro were connected by a fragile thread of comfort, falling asleep together on the phone. The silence was comforting, but they would panic if they couldn't hear the other breathing. Hatsume had finally made Toru a suit that would protect her and disappear with her during combat, but Toru hadn't wanted to put it on for a long time. They both dreaded the return to classes, haunted by the visions of devastation and innocent lives lost. The phone line crackled softly, their breathing synchronized in a fragile connection that kept their fears at bay. 

Mineta and Shoji sat quietly in Shoji's room, each lost in their thoughts. Shoji's large hands rested on his knees, his eyes distant as he stared at the floor. The memories of past battles and the fear of suddenly losing his classmates gnawed at him relentlessly. It was a fear that clung to him, insidious and ever-present, like a persistent bug he couldn't shake off. 

Mineta, usually boisterous, was unusually quiet.  The usual sparkle in his eyes was replaced by a haunted look, the guilt of his past behavior towards Mt. Lady and Midnight, and his female classmates, feeling icky and disgusted for treating them so pervertedly when they almost died weighed heavily on his conscience. The near-death experiences they had all faced brought him a new perspective, making his previous actions feel vile and unforgivable. The shame and regret twisted in his stomach, making it hard to meet Shoji's gaze or anyone else's.

The silence between them was heavy, but their presence provided each other a small measure of comfort.

The dorm was filled with a heavy silence, each student grappling with their own demons. Despite their proximity, they felt isolated in their pain, struggling to find a way to heal from the scars of the war. The evening stretched on, each tick of the clock a reminder that the night was still young. 

And then there was Shouta Aizawa, awake in the stillness of the night with little Eri asleep in his arms. The soft, flickering light from the children's show on the television cast a gentle glow across the room, creating a cocoon of warmth and tranquility. Eri, nestled against his chest, was fast asleep, her breaths coming in gentle, rhythmic intervals. 

Aizawa's fingers moved softly through her hair, the silky strands slipping through his touch as he offered silent reassurance with each stroke. He knew he should tug her into bed, but he couldn't bring himself to do it just yet. He needed a few more minutes with her warm presence, a reminder of the fragile yet resilient life he was entrusted with.

Aizawa's eyes wandered to his laptop, the screen dark and waiting. He sighed, knowing there were reports to review and emails to answer, but he decided it could stay shut. The digital demands of his work could wait; this moment with Eri was too precious to cut short.

His thoughts drifted to you, the new hire who had been a topic of much discussion. He didn't know much about you other than what Nemuri had mentioned before in passing and now in her lucid moments before slipping back into her coma. 

He was visiting that night when Nemuri awoke and kept screaming your name, an indication of some message he didn't yet understand. You were coming over from somewhere outside Japan, and your media stunt piqued his curiosity. 

Your hero name had made national headlines a few months ago when you openly condemned the world government for letting the villain situation in Japan deteriorate to the point where high school students had to step in as heroes in an interview. This statement had sparked national outrage, the impact of your statements was still reverberating throughout the world.

Parents, politicians, teachers, pro heroes, retired heroes, activists, universities, civilians and students had reshared the clip, their responses ranging from agreement to vehement opposition. Your boldness had shaken the status quo, making waves in a community that was already shaky and possibly past its edge.

Nezu’s decision to bring you on board was a calculated move, but the details of that calculation remained elusive. As the principal of U.A., Nezu was known for his shrewd, strategic thinking. If Nezu saw value in you, it was likely due to some unique qualities or capabilities you possessed that could benefit the school in ways not immediately apparent. There had to be a reason, a calculated move that Aizawa hadn't yet deciphered. 

As he continued to stroke Eri's hair, he felt a mix of skepticism and curiosity about your arrival. What could you bring to U.A. that Nezu found so necessary? What kind of impact would you have on the students?

Eri stirred slightly, her tiny hand clutching his shirt. Aizawa smiled softly, his worries momentarily pushed aside.

He knew you had been spotted in Japan several times, not just as a spectator but actively involved in aiding the capture of remaining villains and providing relief to the heroes. 

Your efforts extended beyond direct action; you had initiated several charities and secured sponsorships to support families devastated by villain attacks and heroes who were affected in the line of duty. These actions had garnered you a significant following and earned you a reputation for being a force for good in times of crisis.

Yet, despite your public persona, you maintained a guarded privacy. You refused to disclose details such as your age, height, or the reasons behind choosing an all-black shroud for your hero costume, apart from its emblem. You seemingly avoided media attention, declining certain magazine features and interviews. 

Instead, you channeled your "celebrity" status towards advocating for societal change and supporting humanitarian causes. It was simple, if they wanted to talk to you, they had to donate. Your reluctance to engage with the press directly and your selective disclosures raised Aizawa's suspicions and defensive instincts, particularly when it came to the well-being of his students.

He was an underground hero himself. Why so worried?

Because he knew they were all suffering. 

Nezu was in the process of trying to find a school therapist team that could be on call. And it killed him that he couldn't do anything about it other than allowing trips to the mall and being there when they got back. So he did not need a 'mysterious' loose cannon of a teacher negatively affecting them in any way. Any additional information he requested was denied under your contract binding the school to not show your image, ever. As far as he knew, only Nezu and Nemuri knew what you looked like.

He valued transparency and reliability in those who interacted with his students, qualities that seemed elusive in your case. The contrast between your public deeds and private secrecy only heightened his wariness.

Eri shifted in his lap, and Aizawa decided he didn't want to think about negative things while holding her. He gently scooped her up, placing her in her own bed and kissing her forehead before tucking the covers around her and turning on her cat night light before shutting the door, but not all the way. He made sure the nightlights in the hallway and bathroom were working before he forced himself to sleep in his bed and not on the couch because it was closer. 

The darkness of his room offered a semblance of peace, but his mind remained active, turning over the complexities of the situation with you. It was his duty to safeguard his students from any potential threats, and that included being cautious about new additions to their environment.

As he closed his eyes, he tried to push aside the anxieties that had plagued him throughout the day. The comfort of his own bed, the familiar surroundings, and the knowledge that Eri was safe in the next room helped to ease the tension in his head. He had seen enough to know that vigilance was necessary, but he also knew that excessive worry would not serve him or his students well.

It didn't matter if you did end up being a bad influence. He would keep a close eye on you and be ready to stop anything that would harm his class.

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Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, If you wanna be added lemme know!

Chapter 2 is here.

That was the first chapter! So far there are 3 posted on my ao3 account.

I own none of the images or art!!!

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