#Yes I did have a bad experience with X thing is that relevant right now or are you asking me to do something I'm not doing

[teaboot]

I have decided that from now on when people jokingly speculate about highly personal experiences I'm just gonna answer honestly until it stops

Like yeah Shannon my parents did hit me growing up, would you like to sit down and talk about how that was a formative experience or did you want to tell me something with your big girl words

[mariasont]

That anon was living under a rock because your smut fics (all of your fics tbh!) I reread wayyy to many times, lol. But if you’re taking smut requests, I’d love to see more bimbo!reader and Hotch! I can’t get enough.

I’ll take anything!! But more specifically, their first time, all of that built up tension (that you write so perfectly!) finally breaks!

Anyways, I never send in requests but I saw a window of opportunity and had to take it, haha.

Third Date Rule - A.H

summary: the third date proves to be worth the wait when you and hotch experience your first time together. pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, sexy time, fingering, oral fem receiving, p in v, they did not in fact wrap it before tapping it and it's not really discussed so yeah idk about that one, aftercare wc: 7.7k

This was so overdue.

Technically, it's only been three dates. Technically.

But if you count all the years you'd known him, the months spent daydreaming about this moment, the weeks of waiting while he played the world's longest game of restraint, then really, you should have had him naked ages ago.

And if Aaron (which still feels like a thrill to say — Aaron — because you're dating now and you can freely call him that) wasn't so stubborn and noble and insufferably gentlemanly, you would have.

But tonight was finally the night. The third date. The sacred, hallowed, much-debated, universally accepted gateway to getting into the sheets. And yes, okay, maybe you barely survived the wait without jumping his bones, but that's hardly relevant now. The point is, you did it.

And now you're in his lap, his tie wound tight around your fingers, his tongue deep in your mouth, and gods, if this night didn't end with him inside you, you might actually die. 

Like, literally. Heart failure. Sudden death.

This was premeditated. At least, for you. You moisturized like your life depended on it, doused yourself in perfume that could be classified as a controlled substance, and selected a bra that made your tits look so insane, it might actually be illegal in some states.

And then you spent an embarrassing amount of time picking the perfect dress that says oh, I'm classy, but also please take me home and rip this off with your teeth.

You pull away, just enough to see him. To take in the slow bloom of pink trailing from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, the way his pupils are so wide they’ve all but erased the brown of his eyes. And his lips — swollen and red from kissing you — part like he was debating how bad it would be to drag you right back in. You wouldn’t mind.

“Aaron,” you sigh, fingers burying into his hair, marveling at how absurdly soft it is, how freely he lets you have this piece of him. “We should go to bed.”

For a second, he locks up. Not hesitation but calibration, a body processing desire so sharp it might break him. You feel it in the way his chest expands, in the quiet exhale through his nose.

"This wasn't my plan for the night," he murmurs, voice softer now, not strained, but steeped in something much gentler. Something careful. "I wasn't —," He shakes his head, like the whole concept doesn’t sit right in his mouth. "I don't want you to think this is just —,"

"Sex?"

You can see the way he wants to argue, like he wants to carve the word out of the air and replace it with something that means more.

"Yes."

You can’t stop the stupid, lovestruck smile pulling at your lips. Maybe it’s the wine from dinner finally working its magic. (It’s not.) Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, all serious and earnest, like you’re the only thing in existence, and if he blinks, you might vanish. (It definitely is.)

A laugh bubbles up, light and giddy, body not knowing what to do with all this adoration. You lean in, pressing a kiss to his jaw, just to see if he’ll let you. (He does.)

“Are you serious? If you just wanted sex, you wouldn’t have spent actual years pretending my very dedicated, very expertly executed attempts to seduce you weren’t happening.”

His brow arches, but you see it for what it is — a stall. “Expertly, huh?”

"Remember that heatwave last summer? When I just had to eat a popsicle at my desk every afternoon?"

His eyes darken like the memory is playing in high definition behind his eyes.

"I remember."

"Do you?" Your fingers slip beneath his color. “Because —” You tilt your head. “I always seemed to finish them standing in front of your office —"

You don't even get to finish your sentence. 

One second, you’re speaking, the next, you’re airborne. Lifted clean off the couch, legs locking around his waist automatically, arms thrown around his shoulders like you planned this all along.

You didn’t, but you wish you had. 

Not that it matters, because he’s already moving, already walking straight to the bedroom.

You bury your smile against his jaw, letting your breath tickle against the shell of his ear as another giggle slips out. It couldn’t be helped.

"I really hope you know," you whisper, “that I am, like, stupidly excited for this. Like, counting down the days excited.”

Aaron sets you down on the mattress gently, but his body doesn’t follow right away, hovering over you.

"You're not making this easy for me."

You ignore him because you’re much more distracted by how insanely soft his sheets are. That was your first thought when your back hits the mattress, hair fanning across the pillows.

For a fleeting second, you wonder if he’ll catch the scent of your perfume tomorrow. If he’ll notice the ghost of you when he lays down alone.

Your second was that this is so not the time nor place to get emotional. 

But this is his space. His bed. His room.

It’s tidy, but somehow not sterile, everything having its place, but not afraid to be used. A book sits on the nightstand, a book mark sticking out mid-thought. A photo frame faces the bed, though from this angle you struggle to see what’s inside.

There’s his suit jacket from yesterday, draped over the back of a chair, a little rumpled. 

And maybe it's silly, but you feel weirdly honored to be here.

You should probably be processing this moment, what it means to be here, with him, like this. Instead, you take a second to admire the view.

The lamp softens the sharp lines of his face, making him look almost gentle — which is funny, considering how you hoped to be thoroughly destroyed by him.

Something expands inside you, stretching against the walls of your chest, something too big, something that terrifies you.

So you do what you do best. You deflect.

“I can’t believe I’m about to sleep with my boss.”

He doesn’t even try to hide his exasperation, his forehead dropping into the crook of your neck. “Sweetheart—,”

"What?" You giggle, letting your fingers slide through his hair, letting your nails rake lightly over his scalp. "It's true."

His sigh is nothing short of pained, but then he kisses your cheek anyway, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. You were starting to feel like each was a thinly veiled attempt to tame you.

"Please don't phrase it like that."

"Yes, Mr. Hotchner." 

Every self-satisfied thought evaporates the moment he kisses you – really kisses you.

It’s not just a meeting of lips but a focused intensity, tongue sweeping inside your mouth and suddenly nothing before this mattered, because clearly, clearly, every kiss you’ve ever had was just practice for this one. 

Your body responds before your mind can catch up, spine arching and he doesn’t stop you, just kisses you with a hunger that makes teasing obsolete, that makes breathing secondary to the way he’s taking from you, giving to you, all at once.

His lips wander, dragging across your jaw like he’s leaving invisible ink behind, pressing something permanent into your skin.

You hope you’ll wake up tomorrow and still feel him there.

Your hands move to the nape of his neck, drawn by craving, by the need circling inside you like a ribbon of fire.

It stretches outward, licking at your skin, threading through your veins. His hands hold you still, spanning over your rib. His breath fans over your pulse, and you swear he can feel how fast it’s racing.

You should be gloating right now. This is, after all, exactly what you wanted, what you worked for. A biting remark sits on the top of your tongue, but then his mouth moves, and he finds it.

That wicked, traitorous little dip beneath your jaw that turns your entire brain into pink, glittering static. He pauses, listening, feeling, before sealing his mouth over it again, tongue dragging over the sensitive skin like he’s testing a theory that he already knows the answer to.

Your fingers clench in his hair, a startled sound choking in your throat before you can stop it. And then, the bastard laughs. Not sweet, not kind, but low and sharp and smug because he knows exactly what he’s done. 

You had the upper hand. Past tense.

"There it is," he murmurs, pressing another kiss there, his tongue flattening over it just to make you squirm. "You want to know how I figured this out?"

You hum, or try to. But it’s pathetic because you’re barely conscious, every cell fried to uselessness by his mouth.

He mimics you, just to be an ass about it, mocking the dazed little sound like he hasn’t just reduced you to it. "You always reached for it when I looked at you too long."

Your mouth opens. Closes.

"Or," he continues, "when I stood too close to you at the coffee machine. You'd fidget, tuck your hair behind your ear like you weren't thinking about it." His exhale burns against your pulse. "Cute."

You gasp, a little offended, mostly turned on. "Oh, wow. Profiling me? At work? That's, like, wildly unethical."

"Didn't need to," he murmurs. "You were practically begging me to figure you out."

His mouth is perfect in the way lightning is perfect – striking, searing, and completely out of your control. It’s perfect enough that you can pretend not to hear him.

He sucks, slow and hard enough to tear a sound from your lips before you even know it’s there, something that feels like vulnerability in its purest form. Something you would never willingly give him.

His laugh is quiet, wrecking, as he pulls back, lips slick with your skin. "That good?"

His mouth makes quick work, over your collarbone, down, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, down, branding every inch of skin he can reach. 

He stops at the neckline of your dress, and suddenly, you can't think about anything except how it's still on.

You want to strip it off, want to offer yourself up as a willing sacrifice, but you’re well aware that if you try, if you even reach, he’ll stop you. Or worse, he'll make you wait. He'll slow you down, draw it out just to watch you squirm because patience is his weapon of choice, because he lives for making you suffer.

His teeth graze the swell of your breast, just enough to sting, and whatever fragile grip you had on yourself disintegrates on impact. Your hands fumble blindly for his face, fingers shaking, needing to see his eyes.

"Please, Aaron.” It’s an exhale, a prayer. “Need you."

You see the ripple of tension along his throat. And for one tiny, blinding second you think this is when he finally snaps, abandons his tolerance and just takes you.

"You don't know how long I've wanted you like this," he rumbles. "I'm going to take my time."

You whine, frustration bleeding from your fingertips where they clutch his shoulders, fingers digging in like you can physically push him into moving faster.

He does not move faster. 

His hands slide up to the straps of your dress, as he drags it down with all the urgency of a leisurely Sunday stroll. 

Your mind is halfway through an exceptionally justified complaint about how slow he is moving when he folds the dress.

Folds it.

Sets it aside. Doesn't toss it.

And that may be the hottest thing he's ever done.

Because you know he knows. He’s always known. Known that your things aren’t just things — that your dresses, your heels, your overpriced lip glosses aren’t frivolous, aren’t some shallow indulgence, but tiny, curated pieces of you.

He has listened to you decide between two pairs of shoes that are, for all intent and purposes, identical. He knows jasmine is mysterious and vanilla is flirty, knows that you’ll debate your right to own the same three shades of pink. 

And instead of dismissing it, instead of rolling his eyes (though he does that too), he folds your dress. As if it matters.

You stare at him, somewhere between melting and spontaneous combustion, and he simply raises a brow. “Something wrong?”

"No." You shake your head for emphasis, voice a little too weak to get the point across. "Just thinking I might have to marry you."

His hands settle at your waist, fingers tracing over the pink lace like he’s trying to process it, like if he touches it enough times, it’ll confirm that this is actually happening and not some cruel illusion. His thumb brushes the scalloped edge, breathing shallow. You were pretty sure he’s currently having a full-scale existential meltdown over lingerie.

"Agreed," he murmurs, distracted, hooded eyes still glued to your chest. "I think the courthouse opens at eight."

Your giggle stutters, hiccups right out of you, because his hands are suddenly everywhere, roaming with no clear plan, just a man in crisis over how much of you he wants to touch first. His palms skate over your stomach, down your thighs, up over your breasts.

"So, this is all I had to do to convince you to do what I want?"

His mouth follows, retracting the path of his hands, rewriting, reworking, perfecting – because apparently, the first time wasn’t good enough, wasn’t thorough enough. 

"You think this is what did it for me?" His voice is hushed. "You could've walked into my office six months ago and told me to get on one knee.” A kiss, open-mouthed, starving, just below your navel. “I would've done it."

Six months ago. You don't know if you believed that.

Except now you're spiraling, backtracking, rewinding, piecing together little details like some lovesick conspiracy theorist with red string and a bulletin board. Every interaction, every loaded glance, every time he let you get away with high-level flirtation without so much as a blink. You thought you were testing him, but what if he was never fighting at all?

And before you can even recover from that, before you can file an official grievance about why no one told you sooner, his hands squeeze at your thighs, his mouth so close to exactly where you need him, and his voice —

"You're so beautiful."

His nose presses into the damp center of your panties, and your hands fly to his hair so fast it’s practically reflex, breath stalling in your chest like your body forgot how to function for a second. 

This is everything. What you've wanted, dreamed of, written in the margins of notebooks (hypothetically, of course).

It should be perfect, but suddenly, it isn't.

Uncertainty slips between the cracks, heat turning into something less solid. You don’t have time to find it, to name it, because he’s already there, already sensing it, already fixing it before you even know what’s wrong.

"Hey." His voice hooks into you, gently reeling you back from wherever your brain was about to go. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

"No, I—," The words come out far too fast and desperate, and you can't decipher why it's so hard to say. "I do want to. Obviously." The nervous laugh that follows is definitely not your usual flirty confidence. "Have you met yourself? Because if you haven't, I would love to introduce you. Tall, devastatingly handsome — you'd love him."

His move curves, but his eyes stay patient and focused, giving you a second to breathe.

"It's just..." Another pause, another frustrated sigh. "I haven't been with anyone in a while."

"That's okay, we can take it slow." He moves so that he's hovering above you again, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his smile just amused enough to leave you flustered. "How long?"

"May."

"May?"

"Yeah, like, May. Three years ago."

Aaron just stares at you, processing. You can see the gears turning, the little mental loading wheel spinning, his expression caught between stunned and deeply interested.

His fingers creep up, sliding under your ribs, just close enough to the heavy swell of your tits to remind you exactly where you are. What he was doing to you before you so rudely derailed this into actual conversation.

"Really?"

You pinch his arm. "Hey! That is not an absurd amount of time."

"No. I know. I didn’t say that," he says quickly. "I'm just... surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His lips part and he immediately shakes his head, exhaling like he's physically trying to dispel what just ran through your mind, knowing exactly where your thoughts were.

"I just mean — I don't know how every man you meet doesn't immediately worship the ground you walk on."

"Oh, well, they do." You smile. "But I was only ever planning on letting one of them take me to bed."

You reach for his dress shirt buttons, tugging insistently, but your hands refuse to cooperate, not properly communicating with your brain.

It's his fault, you decide.

He looks too good, and it was extremely hard to focus on anything but that.

You have no idea how you survived dinner. Or the car ride home. Or even the eternity it took to get past the door, because that was definitely a struggle considering your mouth was all over his, tasting the whiskey he’d barely touched, before he could even get the key in the lock.

You spent all night picturing this, the way his hands would feel in you, the way his mouth would taste, the way his suit would look crumpled on the floor.

Which, in hindsight, probably meant you were a pretty terrible dinner guest. Nodding, smiling, pretending to listen, all while barely holding back the need to ride him in public.

Aaron laughs, clearly entertained by your struggle, and then, because he’s nothing if not arrogant, he starts undoing the buttons one-handed, to be a show-off.

It’s rude, really. Because now all you can do is watch, helpless as he peels himself open to reveal golden skin, dark hair dusting over firm pecs, trailing lower, disappearing beneath his belt. 

Your manicured fingers glide over the broad expanse of his shoulders, pushing his shirt away like uncovering some lost Renaissance painting that scholars would kill to get their hands on — something that should be in a temperature-controlled glass case, not just here, sprawled above you like he belongs to you. Which, he does, because he’s just letting you do this, letting you look. And you look. He is art. No, better than art. Art is stationary, lifeless, some brushstroke interpretation of what beauty should be. But this, him, he is warmth and breath and muscle.

Museums wish they had something this valuable. They’d burn down in despair if they knew he existed just for you.

"May," he muses, letting the word roll off his tongue, turning it over in his mind. "That's an oddly specific answer."

You make a vague sound of agreement, mostly just to acknowledge that yes, technically, he did say words, but you’re too busy to actually care. Too busy with spreading your hands over the planes of his chest, with grabbing at his belt.

"You were hired in May three years ago."

Your hands freeze. 

"That's... um weird." A slow blink. "Weird that you know that. Weirder that you noticed."

You work his belt loose, tugging it free. It’s meant to be a distraction, a well-placed touch to shift his focus from his revelation.

But then your plan backfires spectacularly because he’s hard, thick, unreasonably big and suddenly your fingers feel useless.

Aaron makes a sound — half a hiss, half a laugh — and his hands snap to your wrist, catching you before you can explore further, like he knew you were going to do that. "It’s okay, honey."

"I—I don't—," You blink up at him, floundering, desperately trying to sound casual. "That's, uh, I don't know what that's supposed to mean."

Aaron’s smirk deepens, his grip on you slackening just enough to trick you into thinking he’s going to be nice.

But then his other hand moves, slipping between your bodies, sliding beneath the heat trapped between your thighs, finding the neediest part of you, and pressing.

Your whole body jerks, a startled gasp catching in your throat as sensation flares — hot, sharp, mercilessly good.

His fingers start to move, rubbing tight circles against you. Your hands cling, one locked onto his bare shoulders, the other pressing against his dick, desperate to make him feel even a fraction of what he's doing to you.

It earns you a groan, low and gritty, hips twitching against your palm, his breath is hot against your lips, his mouth hovering just barely out of reach.

"I won't tease," he promises, but the way he bites at your bottom lip feels like a lie. His tongue is quick to follow, flicking over the welt he’s just left, soothing the burn before sealing it with a kiss, just this side of messy. “Three years… that’s a long time.” His lips skim yours again. “For both of us.”

A pleased sound bubbles up from your throat, slipping between his lips, that makes it obnoxiously clear just how much you love those words. That is a sentence you’d like embroidered on a pillow. Maybe cross-stitched into a nice, elegant frame for your future shared bedroom. 

"Oh," you sigh, a smile stretching against his lips. "I really, really, like knowing that. That's, like, incredible news."

Your brows scrunch, and you pull back just an inch. 

"Just to be clear, though, you do mean in a wow, you've ruined me for other women way, and not in a I've been to busy for a sex life way, right? Because those are two different things, and I need to know which one we're working with here—"

Aaron huffs a laugh and instead of answering with words, his hands slip into your panties, fingers finding your clit without prelude. Skin to skin now, no fabric, no flimsy barrier. Just touch.

His fingers dip lower, dragging through the slick, indecent in how easily he moves through the mess of you. He makes a noise — nearly a groan, mostly a hum of appreciation, of possession — before he spreads it, smearing your own arousal over your clit, rolling circles.

"Oh, wow, sweetheart."

Your thighs fall open like you have no say in it — because you don’t, because every instinct in you is reaching for him, needing it like a fix.

And maybe, maybe that should be embarrassing — the obvious, shameless way you seek him out — but it’s a gorgeous kind of humiliation, a flush that spreads lower.

"Well," you gasp, chest rising in stuttering little pants. "Y—you kept me waiting forever."

Aaron hushes you with a soft tsk, his fingers pressing, stroking, coaxing you into sweet, mindless submission. Every movement feels preordained, like he already knows your body, like he’s a man who’s spent years thinking about this.

"I know, sweetheart," he soothes, murmuring it against the fragile skin beneath your ear, punctuating it with a kiss. "But I think I'm making up for lost time pretty well."

"I guess," you manage. "Th—that's acceptable."

Aaron chuckles, the vibration traveling straight into your skin. His lips descend, an idolization thing, but it’s the kind of devotion that sets you on fire.

His hands spread over your thighs, parting them gently.

Your underwear drags down, slipping over your thighs, grazing the curve of your knees, and then off. And suddenly, there's nothing separating you from his eyes, from the way the air licks over you, cool against the sticky heat between your thighs.

His lips part like he wasn't expecting to fall apart so easily. Like he thought he'd have more time, more control. And the power in it, the sheer, intoxicating power of knowing he's just as affected as you are, that this is breaking him open, makes your skin fizz, burn, ache for him even more.

If someone had told you a year ago that Aaron Hotchner, mister all-business-all-the-time, would be between your legs, staring at you like he's never seen anything more perfect, you would have said something nonsensical. Something about fate. Or destiny.

And you would have been right. Because you always knew this was a definite.

"Oh, honey.... You're gorgeous," It's almost a whisper, like the words were dragged out of him against his will, stolen straight from his lungs the second his eyes landed on you. His gaze drinks you in, head tilting, lips parting, tongue skating over the swell of his bottom lip. “I knew you would be, but…”

A sharp, sizzling spark races up your spine, white-hot and unbearable, but when it should tip over into relief, it withers into frustration. The kind that makes your body revolt against the absence of touch. Your hips buck, thighs squeezing as if you can somehow force the friction you’re being deprived of.

"Give me a second, baby," he teases, caressing his nose along the inside of your thigh. "Just wanna look at you."

His mouth moves in decadent passes, open-mouthed kisses pressed into your inner thigh.

Another kiss. Then another. So close.

Then he detours. Veers off, pressing his lips into the dip of your hip instead, dragging his tongue along something that is not your clit.

"So perfect."

His fingers prod through your folds, parting you, fingertips wading through the slickness pooling at your entrance. The sound that spills from him is sinful.

All of your muscles coiling tight, every inch of you scorching with unmet need and just when you think you're going to have to beg him, just when the words start to form —

He gives in. 

His tongue is there first, dragging a flat, broad stripe through your center, licking over every hypersensitive inch of you before looking up at you through hooded eyes. You swear you nearly come from the sight alone.

"Knew you'd be sweet."

Aaron doesn't waste another second, burying himself in you, mouth moving like he's been ravenous for this. 

His grip is firm as he spreads you wider, keeping you at his mercy. His lips wrap around your clit for a split second before he moves again, tasing, licking, humming, lapping up everything you're giving him.

It's messy. Wet. Dripping. His mouth moves as he tries to wreck himself on you. Each second convincing you that he wouldn’t mind suffocating here if it meant another taste.

His nose nudges against you, the angle so cruelly perfect it sends another violent tremor through your body, legs jumping against his shoulders. Your fingers grasp blindly for purchase, gripping the sheets, tangling in his hair, at anything you can reach. 

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs into you, words muffled by your pussy. "Let me hear you."

"Oh — " The sound falls from your lips, your eyes squeezing shut like you can block out the overwhelming pleasure if you just try hard enough.  "Oh, that's — "

Your hips stutter, thighs tightening around his face.

Aaron chuckles darkly, and you feel it more than you hear it, the sound pulsing through your core.

You’re not sure you have a body anymore, not sure you exist outside of this moment. You’re just sensation, just trembling atoms held together only by his hands, his breath, his voice. There’s no past or future – just now, just him.

If this is what it means to transcend, to be unraveled and rewritten in the same breath, then let it consume you whole. You could die like this, and it would be the kindest death you could ever ask for.

A single finger ghosts over your entrance, teasing but never quite committing. He dips in, just the barest of intrusion, and you shudder, clenching around nothing because it’s gone just as fast. 

He waits, just long enough to hear the next breathy fussing before finally spearing back in. Your eyes flutter shut, breath breaking apart in little puffs.

The sounds coming from your cunt should embarrass you, sticky, so shockingly loud that if your brain was working, you’d be mortified. But it’s not working. Not even a little. 

His hand flattens over your stomach and suddenly the pressure doubles, triples.

"Tell me, baby," he murmurs, "feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes, yes, oh my gods, Aaron, I—"

Your normal senses have left the building. Packed its bags, hit the road, abandoned you to whatever dark magic this is. Because this —this isn’t how your body works. This isn’t how guys work. You don’t come from this. 

But here you are, hurtling toward it at full speed and all because he decided you would.

It’s happening too fast, the pressure stacking. Your thighs shake open, stomach clenching so hard it aches. Your mind is lagging behind, still reeling, still trying to rationalize but it doesn’t matter because your body has already made its choice, has already given in, has already decided this is happening, whether you’re ready for it or not.

"Aaron, I think—,"

Aaron just groans, finishing your sentence for you, lapping up your confession with his tongue,

"I know, baby." Hot air blows against your swollen clit. "Let me feel it."

It crashes over you, back bowing off the bed. Your body splinters apart, thighs trembling so hard you couldn’t stop them if you tried. The edges of your vision smear into nothing as the pleasure consumes everything in its path. 

His mouth stays on you, tongue and fingers pushing you through the aftershocks until you’re clawing at the sheets, until that pleasure tilts so far into oversensitivity that makes you unaware if you’re pulling him closer or pushing him away.

Your limbs feel like liquid, consolidating into every inch of your body, melting into the mattress as Aaron moves to be face to face with you.

He's looking at you like he's the only thing keeping you tethered to this planet, and maybe he is, because when his lips get close enough, you tug him the rest of the way down, crashing your mouth into his in a way that's all sloppy desperation.

You can taste yourself on him, can feel the way he groans into it when you sigh against his mouth, all soft and dreamy and drunk on gratification. 

When you pull back, your fingers card through his hair, fixing nothing but feeling everything.

"Oh my gosh," you gasp, dissolving into giggles, toes curling as you flop back against the pillows. "I knew you'd be good at that, obviously, but I wasn't expecting all that. Like wow, you should get a certificate of excellence or something."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you sigh dramatically, "Or like, a trophy, a raise, a sash that says best head giver in gold letters—," You pause for a breath, sucking in air like you just realized how winded you are.

"— and I mean, I've never come like that before. So. You should probably put that on your résumé."

When Aaron presses against you, you feel every inch of him. Thick and unfortunately still restrained. His slacks are a cruel barrier, the rough drag of the fabric catching your clit in a way that rips a whimper straight from your throat.

His teeth scrape along your jaw, then he's mouthing at your neck, sucking, teasing, marking you.

"Firstly," he murmurs. "I hate the idea of anyone else touching you."

An involuntary shiver rolls through you.

"And secondly," he continues, "the fact that they didn't even know how."

Your hands are frantic as they fly to his waistband, fumbling a bit, the last hindrance between you offensive in its existence. 

"Well, yeah," you sigh, looking up at him through fluttering lashes, glossy lips parted just for him. "I mean, you're literally the only one who's ever known what to do with me. That has to mean something, right? Like, cosmic destiny or whatever."

Aaron shoves his pants and briefs off, barely sparing them a second thought, and then he's back, fitted between your thighs.

"You already know the answer to that." His lips brush your temple. "I'm the only one who knows how to handle you. And I plan on proving it."

"Yeah, okay," you say, squirming beneath him. "Not gonna argue when that sounds like the best idea ever."

You've seen a lot of versions of Aaron. You've seen work Aaron, serious and bossy, looking at crime scenes like he can hear the evidence whispering just to him. You've seen grumpy Aaron, glaring over his coffee when you talk too much at morning briefings (but you know he likes it, he just won't say). You've seen soft Aaron, the one who lets you steal his jacket even though you definitely don't need it.

But you've never seen this Aaron. This post-kissing-you Aaron. Lips slick, still damp with you, evidence of where he’s been, what he’s done.

His eyes flick to yours, and there’s no shame, no rush to wipe it away. If anything, he tilts his head, letting you see it from a better angle.

"You're so handsome, Aaron." Your voice trembles. You don't even know if you said it out loud or just thought it so hard he must have heard it anyway.

"And you,” he murmurs, tracing his thumb over your cheek, “are so damn sweet, honey."

You beam at that, overwhelmed, so unbelievably happy that your thoughts are practically spilling out faster than you can catch them.

"Okay so I just need to say — this is so exciting, like, you do realize I've had a crush on you for years, right? And now this is actually happening, and that's just — wow."

You suck in a sharp breath, nails dragging over the thick muscles of his arms, across his shoulders.

"I mean, it's us, Aaron. Can you believe that? Like, I feel like this has been building for so long and now I'm just — gods, you're so hot, this is actually distracting me. I can't even finish my own thought —,"

You laugh, because you already feel so full of him and he isn't even inside you yet.

"And I know you're being all careful and slow because you're sweet and romantic and, like, the most perfect man alive, but also —,"

You grind up, chasing friction, his cock sliding just right over your clit. Your breath stutters, hands fisting at the nape of his neck as you try to remember what you were saying.

" — I'm literally at your mercy right now, so you should probably take advantage of that before I —,"

"You talk so much, baby."

And then he shuts you up. Hard.

His mouth rams into yours, ingesting the comment, the breath, everything.

He doesn't rush. 

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance before he finally, slowly, pushes inside.

It knocks the breath from your lungs. Your mouth parts against his, lips catching on his as a little sigh slips out. Your nails dig into his shoulders, helpless against the way he's opening you up. 

He stills, a sharp, fractured inhale slicing through the air, fingers digging into your hips — hard. He is struggling. You can feel it. The way his cock twitches inside you, like his body is screaming at him to move.

"I-I'm good." Your laugh wobbles, catches at the edges, barely disguising how badly you want him to believe you. "You can keep going."

"You're tensing because it's been a while." You don't mean to, but your body reacts before your brain can tell it not to, stiffening. Stupid, stupid. His exhale is shaky, and his lips press against your cheek. "I know that. I expected that."

You swallow, but it doesn't help.

"I also know that you think if I notice, I'll stop." His forehead rests against yours. "But I need you to hear me, baby. I'm not stopping."

His lips graze yours.

"I'm going to work you through this. Just let me in, princess."

And the second you do, the second you finally give in —

He groans, pushing deeper, stretching you completely, filling you to the hilt. 

"There we go," he breathes, wrecked with praise. His hand presses to your lower belly, feeling how deep he is, how well you take him. "That's my good girl."

Your head tilts back, lips parting, body doing the melty thing that feels really, really nice but also really, really dangerous because you swear you're seconds away from levitating straight out of your own skin.

"Okay, so I did think this would feel good —," Your fingers twitch against his chest, nails raking lightly over sweat-damp skin as another sharp moan tumbles free. "— but, um, wow, this is like — this is so —,"

Your words taper off, get lost somewhere between your psyche and your mouth, because oh. Oh, wow. He's so deep, so heavy inside you, pressing into places you didn't even know existed.

"Go on, baby," he murmurs, a smirk plastered across handsome features as he dips his head. "You were saying?"

"You know," you gasp, words all flimsy and loose, like they've been shaken up inside you, "I kinda always wondered how big you were —"

Your breath hooks halfway through, hiccups on a moan, brain scrambling to keep up with your mouth, your mouth scrambling to keep up with — him.

"Not that I, um — I stared at your pants or anything —" Another sharp inhale, another desperate moan, your walls fluctuating and squeezing around something too thick. "I mean, I try not to because I'm a professional —"

An involuntary clench makes him curse, makes his fingers dip into your hips, makes his head plunge forward hard against your shoulder.

"Honey, shit—,"

Your lashes flutter. "What?"

"Sweetheart, if you keep squeezing me like that while you ramble about my cock, I'm not going to last."

Your mouth clicks shut promptly.

"That's what I thought."

Hotch rocks his hips, just once, a sharp gasp fissuring from your lips like you weren't expecting it. 

"Jesus, sweetheart. You're trembling." He cups your cheek, his thumb skimming over your bottom lip, eyes dark and aflame. "Does it feel that good?"

You nod, and he hums, dragging his cock almost all the way out before pushing back in. 

His hand drags down your waist, spans over your belly, fingers pressing like he's charting the way he fits inside you.

"I used to tell myself I wouldn't do this," he admits. "That I wouldn't touch you. Wouldn't ruin you like this."

Your head lolls back, eyes fluttering, lips parted prettily, gasping as he rocks into you again, and again, and again. You shake your head, or at least, you think you do.

"You don't —" You try to shape words, but they liquefy on your tongue. "Don't ruin me, Aaron, you — oh, you make me —"

Hotch's throat bobs, his pupils blown.

"You make me so, so good, so soft, so perfect."

His hand cups your jaw. "You're already all of those things, sweetheart."

"Not before you," you sigh. "I've been waiting so long, Aaron, so, so long —"

"I know, baby," he groans. "I know."

His hand veers between your bodies, his fingers finding the swollen, neglected bundle of nerves.

“Aaron — oh, wait, wait, wait —,” Your hands shoot up to his shoulders. “I don’t know if I can, I mean, I can, but it’s just —,”

His cock throbs inside you, his rhythm stuttering for half a second before he finds it again, harder this time, his fingers matching the pace.

“Too much?”

“Yes, no, kind of? I don’t know, I can’t—,” You choke on your own breath as another thrust knocks every last rumination from your head. “I can’t think.”

“Good.” His forehead presses against yours, his lips parting against your mouth, panting, his control slipping. “I don’t want you thinking. Just feel me, sweetheart. Feel what I’m doing to you.”

Your body is shaking, shaking so hard that you don’t even know if you’re moving or if he’s just pushing you through it. 

“I know, baby. But you can take it, can’t you?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, body twitching. 

“That’s my girl,” he praises, groaning as he grinds into you, stretching it. “One more, honey. You can give me one more.”

It hits you slowly, unwinding through your organs like smelted honey.

“Oh, oh —,” Your breath falters, mind going blank, the pleasure overwhelming every nerve in your body until you can’t do anything but let it consume you.

“Christ,” he groans, feeling you clench around him so tight it nearly undoes him.

You barely register the way you’re gasping, twitching, babbling out breathless little moans, vision blurring, and for a second you think you might black out.

“That’s it, princess,” he rasps, fucking you through it the reverberations. “So, so good for me.”

His pace turns shallow, sharp, chasing the tight, perfect squeezing of you still thrashing around him.

“You’re so tight, honey,” he grits, hands bruising your hips, your breath still catching from your own orgasm.

You’re too gone to respond, too wrung out to do anything but whimper as he takes you, using your body to pull himself over the edge.

He groans, low and deep, his fingers tangling in your hair, his mouth ghosting over your cheek as he finally breaks.

A shudder, a muttered curse, his body jerking, hips slamming into yours as he spills inside you.

He doesn’t mean to collapse, you know that, because even as his body gives out, his arms brace, still trying to be careful, even now. You want to cling to him, lock your legs around his waist, but you barely remember how to move, so you just let out a sleepy sound, nuzzling blindly at his throat. 

He murmurs something low, something that sounds like praise, maybe worship.

His lips press to the side of your face, half-gone and still recovering, and then his muscles tense, trying to lift himself off you.

Your arms wind around his neck before he can get too far. 

“Sweetheart,” he rasps, “I’m crushing you.”

“Don’t care,” you mumble, voice a little hoarse. “Feels nice.”

“You did so good.”

When he finally pulls out, you feel the loss and everything that comes with it, his release sticky and warm beneath your thighs. 

Aaron disappears into the bathroom, and you barely have time to miss him before he’s back with a warm cloth in hand.

You giggle, squirming before he even touches you, already restless, and the second he presses the cloth to your inner thighs, you jerk, laughing helplessly.

“Oh, wait —,”

Aaron sighs, one hand pressing against your hip to keep you still. “Sweetheart. You have to let me clean you up”

“But it tickles—,”

He smirks and continues his work. “How do you feel?”

“Like I saw god actually,” you ramble, kicking your feet against the sheets. “Or, like, like, if I had to describe it, I’d say I transcended reality for a little bit —,”

Aaron just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your knee as he finishes cleaning you up. Each swipe reminds you that your legs might not be on speaking terms with you tomorrow.

When he’s done his mouth finds yours again. It’s easy to kiss him. If it were physically possible to stay attached to him, twenty-four hours a day, you’d gladly test the theory.

“Worth the wait,” he breathes into your mouth.

“Well, yeah,” you murmur, smirking up at him. “I figured it would be for you.”

He laughs.

“Yeah, baby, you were good,” he mutters, kissing right over your stuttering pulse. “You were so good.” Another kiss. “So good I’m already thinking about the next time.”

Your heart hasn’t even slowed down, and you’re already thinking about the next time. Already plotting, already ready to drag him back down and see just how quickly that next time could turn into right now. But before you can so much as tug at him — Aaron is rolling out of bed, pulling on his pants, disappearing into the kitchen.

You mean to protest, to demand why he left you alone in a post-bliss haze, but then he’s back, pressing a glass of water into your hand, watching you drink it like it’s his personal responsibility.

Then comes food, something light and something he feeds you between kisses, between lazy murmurs about nothing. 

At some point, the blankets are back over you, his lips pressing against your forehead, his voice saying something about getting some sleep before you got any ideas, before pulling you against him.

You hum, content and drowsy, shifting a little, rolling over to get more comfortable —

And then your eyes land on that photo frame from earlier. You had a clear view of it now.

It was you.

It takes you a second to place it, but once you do, you almost laugh. You know this photo — because Garcia took it. She printed it out months ago, probably as some ridiculous gag, and stuck it to Aaron’s office wall with a bright sticky note that read your favorite obviously. You’d rolled your eyes at the time, called it workplace favoritism, but he’d never taken it down. 

And now, somehow, it’s framed. On his nightstand, like he’s been looking at you every night for —

You don’t finish the thought.

Instead, you just smile, huge and uncontrollable.

He doesn’t say anything.

And you don’t need him to.

Because you already know.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[krirebr]

Lips Like Sugar 1

Pairing: sugar baby Ransom x late 40s female reader

Word Count: ~3.1k

Summary: Finally cut off by his mother and grandfather, Ransom has to find a new way to access the lifestyle he's accustomed to. He figures it won't be too hard to find some rich old lady willing to bankroll him in exchange for sex. You aren't exactly what he expected.

Warnings: sugar baby au, sex work, d/s relationship, power imbalance, explicit language—All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: This one's a little different for me, but I had so much fun writing it! I hope you enjoy it too. But don't worry, my trademarked angst isn't gone forever. 🤭

Huge thanks to @biteofcherry for talking through the initial idea with me and @bigtreefest for being a sounding board throughout the whole writing process.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Sixty days.

That’s what the certified letter said. The one he had to sign for. The one from Linda.

When she and Harlan had told him they were cutting him off, he’d rolled his eyes. What did that actually mean? He wouldn’t have access to his trust anymore? Whatever, that was fine. He had his checking account. He had his house. He had credit cards. The only thing he thought it really meant was that he wouldn’t have to see any of his asshole family ever again. He was coming out ahead, all things considered.

Except. He didn’t actually have much of anything, as it turned out. His parents were on his bank accounts and credit cards. The deed to the house was under Linda’s name. And she was fucking evicting him.

It was this panic, wrapping itself around his chest and squeezing, that he wasn’t used to. That he didn’t know what to do with. He’d gone out of his way, worked hard to make sure he never felt this way. To make sure his life was comfortable and easy. And now his asshole granddad and bitch mother had ruined all that. Now he had sixty days to find a place to live.

He needed to come up with a plan. He could do that. He was good at plans. But where to start? He couldn’t afford a place he’d actually be willing to live in on his own right now (he couldn’t afford a shitty place either, but he wasn’t going to dwell on that). His grandfather, during the announcement of Ransom’s new status, had suggested he get a job, but fuck that. Ransom knew, deep in his bones, that he wasn’t meant for work. And also, any job that wouldn’t make him want to shoot himself required relevant experience and degrees and all sorts of other things Ransom didn’t have. So getting a job was out.

He could sell his things but, as he’d been so rudely informed by this entire situation, he didn’t actually own much. The only thing of significant value that his name was actually on was his car. But he’d rather cut off his own arm than sell his vintage BMW. So he marked that down as an absolute last resort. 

He could see if he could stay with a friend until he got things figured out, but all of his friends were assholes and he already knew that none of them would say yes. Plus, all of his friends were assholes and he’d sell his own body before he asked any of them for a favor.

Actually…

Okay, that wasn’t a half-bad idea. He knew exactly how hot he was. He’d been very aware of that since he was a teenager. And if he sat down and actually thought about what his biggest skills were, it’d be fucking and talking. In that order. This could work.

But how to go about it? He wasn’t eager to go out and stand on a corner in barely anything at all hours. Same went for sitting in a hotel bar and hoping for the best. Plus, he didn’t like the uncertainty of all that. He needed a reliable, steady stream of income that would be there whenever he needed it.

And that’s when he remembered Andrea. 

His friend Chad had dated her for about six months. Well, “dated.” Everyone in their circle knew exactly what that arrangement was, even if Chad had never admitted it. Ransom pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text.

Hey, where did you meet Andrea?

The dick took two hours to respond.

Andrea? At the grocery store. Why???

 Ransom responded immediately with an eyeroll emoji and followed it with

Cut the shit, asshole. What was the app?

The three dots to show Chad was typing appeared and disappeared three separate times before Ransom finally got the truth.

SUGR

But watch out, bro. That shit was way more expensive than it was worth.

Ransom smiled. That was exactly what he was counting on. 

He didn’t bother correcting Chad about which side of this arrangement he was hoping to be on. He didn’t need the embarrassment of anyone knowing that mommy and (grand)daddy had finally cut him off. And if this worked the way he hoped it would, no one would ever need to know. 

The first setback was that he had to pass a background check before he could join the app. What a fucking hassle. And it took a whole week before he got the email telling him he could move forward with setting up a profile. He could physically feel the number of days he had to find another place to live ticking down. The constriction around his chest got tighter with each one. 

But in that week of waiting, he became even more convinced that this was a good idea. There had to be tons of old hags desperate enough to bankroll him in exchange for sex with a hot youngish thing. And he’d be able to suck it up and do what was needed if it meant his lifestyle wouldn’t have to change. Hell, that's what viagra was for.

The other thing he’d done while he waited was take about a hundred pictures of himself. He’d used all his best outfits—designer sweaters, skintight t-shirts, pants that hugged his ass. He did fifty pushups and then took a bunch shirtless so that he was sweaty and his abs popped. He had a few that were just of his junk in gray sweatpants. And then he threw in a couple straight up dick pics for good measure. He was ready.

But, ugh, there were so many forms to fill out first. He had to agree to all of the terms and conditions. The company reserves the right to blah blah blah. The company does not guarantee yada yada yada. Agree, agree, agree. 

There were forms that asked him to detail the expenses he wanted covered and another that wanted him to rate kinks based on his interest. These were both optional so he skipped them. Was he the only one who understood what was happening here? He'd do whatever she wanted that guaranteed him the most money. That was it.

Finally, he got to the point where he could build his actual profile. It automatically imported some of the biographical information he had to give to set up his account, which wasn’t ideal. Hugh D. 35, stared back at him. He normally hated his given name, but he didn’t hate the way it kind of seemed like Huge Dick here. He could work with that. But that 35. That– that felt old for this sort of thing. He tried to change it to 30, but it wasn’t editable. Well. That was fine, right? He was going after women. Weren’t they known for being less shallow than men? That was part of the whole thing, wasn’t it? Yeah. It’d be fine. It just meant he knew what he was doing in bed. That’s what mattered.

He moved on to pictures. They only let you add fifteen, so he combed through all the ones he’d taken and picked the fifteen best. He scrolled through the ones he’d chosen before he clicked save and nodded to himself. Yeah, this was good. He was hot as fuck.

He skipped through all of the useless essay questions. Who cared what his interests were or what he was offering?? His dick pics spoke for themselves. 

But he did put something in the headline area. Call me Ransom. >20k/month only

Perfect. Done. Save. Now he just needed to sit back and wait for the DMs to roll in.

The DMs did not roll in. It’d been forty-eight hours, and he’d gotten absolutely nothing. He couldn’t understand it. What was wrong with these women? He was offering himself up at a fucking steal.

He’d figured the onus was on the buyer to make the first move, but maybe he’d gotten the etiquette wrong. Maybe he needed to sell himself a little more aggressively. 

He went to the browse feature and set his filters for women with the biggest budgets. Then he sent a random ten of them a simple “hey”. Then he made himself close the app.

When he came back a few hours later, he was chagrined to find that he hadn’t gotten any responses. There must be something wrong. When he went to the chats to make sure he hadn't missed something, half of them weren't even there anymore, and he couldn't find the corresponding profiles either. He refreshed the notifications page. He restarted his phone. He uninstalled then reinstalled the app. Nothing made a difference.

Finally, as he was checking his settings, a message popped up.

Honey, what are you doing?

Yes! Finally! 

He clicked on the profile. Carolyn M., 55. Under what she was offering was rent, living expenses, and a negotiated allowance. Perfect. 

He wrote back

I'm looking at your pictures and touching myself. What are you doing?

The response was immediate. 

Oh my god, no. That's not what I meant.

He stared at her message, confused, but then she sent another. 

I'm going against all of my instincts to just block you, and I'm going to take pity on you instead. 

He was typing before he even fully processed what she'd said.

Excuse me??

This is not the way to get what you want.

What the fuck??

You’re obviously new to this, so let me explain something to you. Yes, these relationships are transactional, but most of us are looking for a genuine connection as well. No one who wants that is going to contact you based on your profile. 

Who the hell did she think she was? Ransom knew what he was doing. He’d never had any issues picking up women. He didn’t need help. He locked his phone with a scoff and threw it on the couch as he got up and moved to his bar. He deserved a drink after dealing with that bullshit. 

As he poured himself a glass of eighteen-year-old scotch, he paused. This bottle was $700. Who knows what everything in this bar totaled to? And this whole house. Fucking shit. He was down to forty-nine days. He didn’t have time to fuck around.

He took a large gulp of his drink and then picked his phone back up. He could do this. He could play the game. He could fake anything if it meant his life didn’t have to change.

Fine. How do I fix it?

Start by filling out the information. Be honest. Any prospective match will want to get a sense of who you are. Right now the only thing I can tell about you from your profile is how highly you think of your own dick.

This fucking bitch.

Okay, sure. What else?

You are demanding a lot of money without giving any details about how that money will be spent. Anyone who sees that will immediately feel taken advantage of. The best version of these relationships is an equal give and take. A lot of us are here because we enjoy taking care of someone. We don’t enjoy feeling like a faceless ATM. Give an actual, honest account of the expenses you would like covered.

God, this was annoying. But he had to keep his eye on the prize.

Anything else??

Put some actual effort into your first message to someone. Something you think you might have in common, something you liked about their profile, or a relevant fact about yourself. ‘Hey’ isn’t going to get you anywhere. And don't just jump into sexting immediately. 

Despite himself, he took a screenshot of the conversation. If it helped him get more money, it was worth it.

Alright. I’ll do it.

You know, it’s customary to say thank you when someone helps you out like this.

He rolled his eyes.

Thank you.

He hoped she could feel the sarcasm coming through the screen.

Well, look at that. Maybe you can be someone’s good boy after all.

The heat that rushed to his face at that– He didn’t know what that was. Annoyance probably. What else could it be?

He was about to send something snarky back when her status suddenly switched to offline. Goddamn bitch.

Ugh. It took so much effort to take things seriously. To act like he cared. This was exhausting. 

But he could do it if he kept the goal in mind: being the pampered pet of some rich old lady. Once he’d achieved that, all he’d ever have to do again was get it up for her once or twice a week, tops. He just had to get there.

So he poured himself another glass of whiskey and took a slow sip as he looked at the first section of his profile he’d previously left blank. The About Me header stared back at him as the cursor blinked. Come on. He could do this. What did these women want to hear?? He wished he could see other prospective babies’ profiles. Do some market research. 

He skipped down to the next section: Looking For. He’d already selected women with no age restrictions. Now he just had to get into the specifics. Ok, this he could do. Buttering people up was a skill he’d been honing his entire life.

A woman with life experience who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to go out and get it. Someone to share good times, good food, and good sex with. And yes, someone to spoil me rotten. 😉

That was cute, right? Yeah, these old bats would love that.

Ok, now it was on to what he offered. He remembered what Carolyn had said about not wanting to feel like an ATM. He needed to make it seem like he’s was bringing something to the table (more than just his dick, that is, which, honesly, should have been enough).

I’m offering companionship with plenty of intelligent conversation. I’ll keep you from being bored at any functions you may need to attend, and I’ll look great on your arm doing it.

That seemed good enough for now. He could change it up depending on what he found waiting for him out there. 

He switched to the form for expenses. For rent, he put approximately 10k a month (he’d looked around the Boston area for what was available and that seemed to be the going price for the sort of place he wanted) with a note that his lease was ending soon and he’d need a new place to stay. That was close enough to the truth and made him seem like more of a charity case, which would normally bother him, but right now was exactly what he wanted. He divided up the rest of his asking price across utilities, clothing, and other expenses.

On the kink list, he started by putting yes to everything, figuring that’d make him more expensive. But would that look weird? Desperate? Fake? He went back and randomly switched a few to maybe and a couple to no. Ok, that was done. 

He went back to his photos and removed the straight up dick pics. He left the sweatpants one, but moved it to the end. And he added a couple more of himself in sweaters that he knew made people drool.

There was only one thing left. This fucking About Me. Come on! Okay. Okay.

The only thing I love more than reading is getting to talk about what I’ve read. I’m well-educated, and I’m at a point in my life where I just want to be able to enjoy things with good company. I love trying new restaurants, and I know my way around a whiskey menu. And as for other realms of experience you might be curious about, let’s just say I know what I’m doing. 😏

Ugh. God. He hated this. The whole thing was so fucking corny. That had to be good enough right? The last thing he did was delete everything but Call me Ransom from his header. And then, without overthinking it, he hit save and immediately put down his phone.

Goddamnit, fucking Carolyn was fucking right. The whole thing made his blood boil. But now, finally, the messages were rolling in. Sort of. Moderately. But it was something.

He’d gone back and tweaked a few things based on the response he was getting, and each improvement seemed to have made a difference. He was starting to get the hang of this bullshit.

But, frustratingly, he hadn’t managed to hook a whale yet. He’d had some promising conversations, but none had ultimately gone anywhere. How exactly were these conversations supposed to move from “Hi, how are you?” to “What say we make this official and you bankroll my entire life? I promise I’ll lay the pipe real good.” The one time he’d tried that, it hadn’t gone over well.

But god, the days were running out.

He sat down with his phone, hoping to find something that would help him strategize, when a new message popped up at the top of the screen. 

God, you’re pretty.

Ransom stopped and stared at the message. 

He couldn’t remember ever being called pretty before. Handsome, sure. Gorgeous, hot, all the time. But pretty– Pretty felt different. And he couldn’t explain why.

He clicked through to the profile.

And there you were.

Don’t you want to be good for me? the line under your profile picture read. Ransom swallowed involuntarily as he kept reading.

You were forty-nine, had founded your own business (although you gave no clues as to what that was), and you were looking for someone to take care of. Glancing at what you were offering, Ransom surmised that what he needed wasn’t outside of your budget.

He moved on to your photos. He picked up a little more caginess there. There were no straight-on pictures of your face, but he spent several moments looking at a close-up of just your smirk, soft lines framing your mouth. Then, as he continued to swipe through the pictures, he stopped again at one that was just of the back of your legs clad in shiny, thigh-high boots, with some of the tallest stilettos he’d ever seen.  Something about that image made his breath catch in his throat.

He moved back to your message and stared at it again, his fingers drumming against his leg. After thinking about it for far too long, he fired off a short response.

I know.

Your reply was immediate.

Yeah, I bet you do.

Tag List is open!

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[reigningqueenofwords]

Mr. Barnes

Pairing: Bucky x reader Word count: 977

Read on AO3

Part 5 of Dark Chocolate

Finally, you were changed, and Steve was driving you to the police station. Bucky’s lawyer would meet you there. You were clearly shaken up, never having been in this type of situation before. “It’ll be okay, doll.” Steve assured you. 

“I hope so.” You sighed, no longer crying. However, there was no guarantee that you wouldn’t start again. “I don’t even know what he was arrested for .” You shook your head, clearly bothered. 

“Hopefully it’s nothing.” He was wracking his brain, trying to think what they could possibly have arrested him for. “Clearly whatever it is doesn’t involve me or Sam. We would have been arrested around the same time.” That was his experience, at least. 

You leaned against the window, watching the lights go by. It was three am, and all you wanted was to curl back up with Bucky. Or that you’d wake up and this would be a bad dream. Sadly, those things wouldn’t be happening. “What if he gets put in jail?” Your voice was barely audible. 

“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.” While he sounded confident, he didn’t feel confident. 

You were in a room with Bucky’s lawyer, a woman you had never met. She’d introduced herself as Natasha Romanoff. She was intimidating, but you had a feeling that was a good thing for a lawyer to be.

Finally, after you spoke with her briefly, a cop came in to speak with you. “Hi, my name is detective Hanks.” He held out his hand for you, earning a quick shake. 

“What’s Bucky being arrested for?” You asked, because no one had told you yet. 

He sighed as he sat. “Miss Y/L/N, Mr. Barnes is under arrest for murder.” He explained, making your eyebrows shoot up. 

You were clearly taken aback. “Wha-who-what?!” You gasped. 

“Have you ever heard him mention a Mr. Lang?” He asked, getting out a notepad and pen. 

“No.” You said honestly. “Name doesn’t sound familiar.” 

He made a note of that. “Does Mr. Barnes ever talk to you about his business?” He went on. 

“Of course not. The only time we talk business is when he makes an order at my bakery.” You shrugged. “I never ask about his work, and he doesn’t say.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re dating a known mobster, and you never ask about his business?” He found that hard to believe. “You were driven here by his right hand man.” He pushed. 

“To me, they are simply nice men.” You defended them. “They take my dog to the vet if needed and I’m working. They do repairs around my house. Hell, there was one day I was swamped at work and Sam came in to help.” You told him. “I don’t look at them and see ‘mobsters’. I see my boyfriend, and our friends.” You sat a bit straighter, making Nat smirk. 

Licking his lips, he wrote something on his notepad. He clearly believed that you knew more than you were saying. “Does Mr. Barnes ever stay over at your house?” 

“Now and then, but I usually stay at his.” You didn’t see how that was relevant. 

“On the night of March 5th, was Mr. Barnes with you?” He asked. 

You thought back and nodded. “He was. I worked late for a last minute order for the next day. We had plans, so he stayed at the shop with the guys. They played cards and kept me company. Then we all went to a late dinner before Bucky and I went away for a couple days.” 

“You had an order, but went away? And where did you go?” 

“Yes, I did. I have other workers that are more than capable of handling pickups.” You assured him. “And we went to upstate New York. Rochester.” 

It was clear he didn’t like that information. “Do you know where you stayed?” 

“The Hilton. It was on East Main. I don’t have the number off hand.” 

“We can get that.” He stood. “I’ll be right back.” He felt like his case just fell apart right in front of him.

Steve was waiting against the car when you came out. It felt like it had been ages, and you were exhausted. “They’re getting him out now.” You told him. 

“You did good in there.” Nat told you. She gave your arm a squeeze. “You did not let him intimidate you.” She sounded proud. Looking at Steve, she smirked. “Long time no see, Rogers.” 

He chuckled, nodding. “That has been. Join us for breakfast?” He asked. 

“I think I could eat.” She agreed. 

Turning, you waited anxiously for your boyfriend. You giving him a solid alibi was why he was even getting out right now. Your alibi trumped their ‘witness’. They’d called the Hilton, said the pair of you checked in, and told them they could even see the footage if they wanted to. You assumed they would be doing just that, but for now at least, he was out. 

As soon as you saw him, you ran up and jumped on him. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and he held you close. “I’m so glad you’re out!” You cried into his neck. 

“It’s okay, doll.” He promised you. “Let’s get home.” He carried you towards the car, not wanting to let you go. “Hey, Nat.” He greeted the redhead. “Thanks for making it out here.” 

She shrugged. “It’s my job.” She reminded him. “And she did good in there. She did not let Hanks get to her. She defended you and the guys. He didn’t want to believe she could be dating a ‘mobster’ and not know his business.”

Bucky rolled his eyes as he set you down. “Let’s get changed and then head out to breakfast.” He did enjoy seeing you in his shirt, but he didn’t enjoy being in the sweats they gave him. 

[bringbackmaes14]

My mom has her TV on in her room almost 24/7 and it's always on some news outlet or other. We talk a lot about politics and world/national/local events. And we do have a lot of varying views on a lot of things but we're both adults who are capable of saying "well we've both stated we have differing opinions and it's clear that we're actually arguing at this point and not just talking so let's put away the topic for now." But there are also other times where I'm just too overwhelmed by my own life to think about what's going on in the bigger world around me, so my mom knows to be hesitant to bring up news stuff with me (i.e. she doesn't just start talking about politics/world events with me rather she'll ask if I'm in the mindset to discuss things when she wants my opinion on something). This is all relevant.

We've always been able to talk about nearly everything from the economy to the school system to human rights to human tragedy and we've never tried to censor ourselves around each other (outside of getting too emotional with our language). But about two weeks ago when the United Healthcare CEO was assassinated, my mom, who is in her 50s, came to me and she said "Did you see that the CEO of United Healthcare got unalived?"

And I just sat there and looked at her completely confused and she was like "did you not hear about it? It's all over the news. It happened in clear view on the street." Like the problem was that I hadn't heard of the event not that my Gen-X mother had just in a real life conversation said the word "unalived".

And I told her as much. "Yes I've heard that. Why did you say 'unalived' instead of 'murdered'?

And she told me that she just thought that since I'm touchy about heavier topics sometimes (which is definitely true, that does occasionally happen) she thought it would be better to just not use the "heavy" words. I asked her if she realized, honestly, how stupid that was because regardless of the word she used, she was still talking about a murder, it didn't change the subject matter, she was only making the subject matter seem less significant and severe by changing the word to baseless internet lingo that a bunch of misguided, clout-chasing influencers spread.

She hadn't. She's doesn't use the Internet replacement words a lot, online or otherwise. This was a first. She thought this was a different situation, and a fine one to use it in, and like the above stories people shared, it's still not.

I'm allowed to say there are days where I want to avoid heavier topics because I'm overwhelmed. I'm allowed to not ever really discuss certain topics because they actually trigger me based on my own experiences. But people who are out here living their whole lives like just talking about about difficult or controversial topics, or asking questions about it, or enjoying media where it's portrayed (especially when it's actually portrayed respectfully) are being ridiculous, and they're handicapping themselves. They're never going to learn how to talk about hard things, or how to handle hard things. And honestly I feel bad for them.

Luckily, in my case, once I explained why my mom saying what she said was incredibly weird and honestly devaluing to the conversation, she backtracked and told me that (like I said above) she doesn't talk like that regularly and she has no intention to start; it's just that this was a huge news event and that day had been particularly rough for me emotionally and she wasn't sure how to approach it. So her intentions were good and I'm very lucky that she understands and also agrees that the Internet censorship language is incredibly unnecessary.

we have GOT to kill tiktok/twitter self-censorship i just witnessed a grown adult say the word “smex” out loud to our professor

[bakerstreetdetective]

Basics x 2, canon muses x2 , tumblr x2

When did you first start writing?

Middle school. God damn i just joined a thing whim and wanted and so anxious about all of it. Some of the bad habits back then still stuck with me now.

In what language did you start writing?

English. I wasn't gonna speak chinese mate. American key boards.

What is your favorite canon muse?

Holmes a good one. Underneath all that human logic and smarty pantness. There is a venerable human being who do not really know how to express himself. Holmes care. Sure he position himself as this champion of the brilliant. But there is a GOOD man. A loyal friend and the foremost defender of law.

In FGO he was perfect. He serve as a great advisor. He don't know to much there no mystery. As a supporter for Ritsuka Fujimura adventures. You couldn't ask for a better role.

As a Holmes fan boy i love he relevant, hates Moriarty, and both smart and a ass.

Have you ever written a canon muse that you first thought of ‘meh’ when they appeared in their canon show/movie/book?

Yes. I did Kazuma Kiryu for a while. I sadly can't get Baka Mitai just right. He is a GOOD DUDE......i'm just a lover of madness more.

What are the trends when it comes to writing that you adore?

I LOVE when you can strip down all the tropes and tackle who they are as a person. No powers. No other gimmicks or people. What kind of a person are you? Human often motivated by wants and desire. Their experience build them. A dream they chase. I wanna see more strip away all the bull shit and who the character is under their mask.

What are trends when it comes to writing that you dislike?

Crack a joke. Jesus christ just because it's a serious character don't mean you can't have a little humor. If your muse is TO serious it's just gonna make writing that character OR for that character such a bore. Like writing a character who so bloody serious they can't even crack a joke is just....why despite all my oc having shitty lifes. They all got a sense of humors and isn't just all **** FOR THE **** GOD.

[skzsauce01]

Bird Is the Word

Synopsis: A series of drunk texts leads to one of the best and worst things that has ever happened to you. Or, Han Jisung is never going to let you forget the time you forgot the word ‘bird.’ College AU. Not a text fic but does include some texts.

Warning: alcohol, a lot of bird puns

Word Count: 8.1k

Pairing: fem!reader x Han Jisung

2:23 AM [Me]: sOS SOS SOS SOSOSOS 2:23 AM [Me]: I NEED HELPPPP 2:23 AM [Jisung Bio]: You okay?? 2:23 AM [Me]: YOU SMART HELPPPPP

2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Do you want me to call the police?? 2:24 AM [Me]: WHAT ARE THE FLUFFY ANIMALS THAT GO FLAP CALLED 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Is this a code word? 2:24 AM [Me]: THEY GO FLAP AND EAT SEEDS 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Do you mean birds? 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Are you drunk?

2:25 AM [Me]: [blurry_photo_of_your_window.jpg] 2:25 AM [Me]: HERE LOOK 2:25 AM [Me]: YES BIRDS 2:25 AM [Me]: THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH 2:25 AM [Me]: LOVE YOUUUUU

In your defense, you were drunk. And when you are drunk, your critical thinking skills disappear and are replaced by pure, uninhibited stupidity. It’s like some twisted Jekyll and Hyde situation, but only when you drink, you transform into this other version of yourself instead of suppressing it.

You mostly remember the things you have done and said while under the influence. The most embarrassing ones tend to be fuzzy. If it weren’t for the grainy phone video taken by Seungmin and your own voice cheerfully declaring that you had an idea, you wouldn’t have realized that you were the idiot who tried to make a chalk mural at the four-way intersection in the middle of the night. You didn’t even have chalk, but that didn’t stop you from drawing on the asphalt with a broken pen you found on the sidewalk.

Good thing Seungmin had the foresight to drag you back to the crosswalk before a car could come speeding by.

However, that legendary act of idiocy doesn’t even compare to this new one. Forget the fact that you could have died.

Your biology class just went over survival of the fittest using Darwin’s finches as an example. How in the world did you forget about the word ‘bird?’ Why did you think it was a good idea to ask the cute guy in your bio study group about “THE FLUFFY ANIMALS THAT GO FLAP?” And why, why, why did you insist on telling him that you loved him? The ‘THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH’ was already enough.

Jisung is never going to let you live this down.

It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s not like you spent the entire Sunday morning knocking back glasses of water and wishing it was vodka instead. It’s not like you drafted about five different apology messages and deleted them all. It’s not like you have to see him in class tomorrow.

Really, you’re fine.

You go out of your way to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible, which probably means you are very conspicuous. Do normal people not wear hoodies and sweatpants to class now, or are you just overthinking everything? The two people in the row in front of you are wearing jeans, and the girl heading down your row has a polka-dotted dress on. A secondary glance at the girl tells you that it’s another member of your study group. Speaking of the study group, maybe you should find another one. Preferably one without Jisung in it.

“Morning,” Lia says as she takes the seat beside you. She sets down her purple water bottle on the floor with a light clink. “How was your weekend?”

Terrible, but you say, “It was fine. I finished up the readings and did some notes. How about you?”

“Those readings took me forever!” she groans. “I was trying to finish everything on Saturday, so I could go out on Sunday. Which I did manage to do, so it all worked out. I got a new dress!” She plucks at the bodice of her dress, and you finally take a closer look at the pattern.

They’re not polka dots. They’re freaking birds — swoopy doves with outstretched wings. Or at least you think they’re doves. Your lack of bird knowledge speaks for itself.

“It’s pretty,” you hollowly say. The universe seems determined to remind you of your texts. Lia’s face falters, and you realize your disdain came across as you lying. “No, it’s not like that! Just… bad experiences with birds. You look really nice in this.”

She brightens up. “Oh, thanks! What do you mean by ‘bad experiences?’ What happened?”

“Good morning, birdbrain!”

“That happened.”

Looking far too happy for a Monday morning, Jisung takes the other seat beside you. He has a cup of coffee stacked high with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle, and you wonder if his extreme cheerfulness is from the caffeine or from your impending public humiliation. Why did you have to pick this guy to have a crush on? Sure, he’s cute and smart and sometimes nice, but there are plenty of people who have those traits without his witticism.

Lia looks at you with more amusement than concern. “So what happened?”

You tell her about what really happened during the weekend, and Jisung laughs all the while, reenacting his facial expression when he received your first frantic SOS message. Meanwhile, you sink lower and lower into your chair, ignoring your tailbone’s cries of pain as you slide further down the thin cushion.

“You can’t hide forever,” Jisung remarks as he looks at your slumping form. “C’mon, it wasn’t that bad. And you were drunk anyway.”

Yeah, you were, but the whole thing is doubly embarrassing because of how much you want him to like you. The overenthusiastic, all-caps messages are normal whenever you text while drunk, but ‘I love yous’ and the even rarer ‘I LOVE YOUUUU’  are few and far between. Only six people excluding Jisung have received them: your parents, your best friend, and your statistics group project members because you accidentally sent the message to the wrong chat.

On the bright side, seven is a lucky number. It means absolutely nothing in this case, and it’s hardly relevant to how you’re feeling, but everyone copes differently. Yours just happens to be clinging onto any silver lining available for solace.

“Anyway,” Lia cuts in, saving you from replying, “you’re here early, Jisung.”

He shrugs and flashes her a playful smile. However, his eyes are focused on you when he says, “You know what they say: early bird gets the worm.”

You give him a pitiful attempt of a withering glare. “I hate you.”

“Okay, fine.” He tugs at the shoulder of your hoodie to motion for you to stop trying to melt into the ground and to help you up. “It’s ‘cause I knew you would be here early.”

You are calm, you are fine, you will not be flustered. He just teased you five seconds ago; you should not be this willing to forgive him under these circumstances. Nonetheless, you slide back up to a more normal sitting position and try to pretend that you are still mildly upset. His next sentences make that impossible.

“You guys want brownies? Felix was stress-baking again.”

One may call you easily swayed by food, and they would be right. Jisung lets you have a coveted corner piece, and you decide that he’s alright again. He stretches an arm in front of you to get to Lia, and you lean back to avoid bumping into him. It also gives you a clear view of his profile. Wow, is he pretty. Look at that jawline. Suddenly his eyes go wide, and his mouth splits into a familiar excited grin.

“Are those birds?”

“Yep,” Lia answers, looking over at you to check your reaction. She tries to hide her smile, but it’s clear as day. You’re not entirely sure what she’s going to say next, but you already know it’s going to involve your current least favorite animal species. “Pretty… dove-ly, don’t you think?”

At least you were right about them being doves. “I hate you both.”

Jisung laughs at her pun and holds out his palm for a high-five. “You know what they say: birds of a feather flock together.”

“I really hate you both.”

Your initial prediction that Jisung is never going to let you live this down is correct. When you meet your bio group again Thursday night to study for the upcoming quiz, Jisung brings lemon poppy seed muffins for seemingly no other reason than to tease you. His housemate is still stress-baking, and judging by the bird silhouette made of glaze, Felix is very stressed and very eager to indulge in Jisung’s ideas.

“They’re finches!” Jisung proudly announces as he sets one right in front of you. The stupid decoration on top mocks you, but the muffin looks and smells delicious.  

Hyunjin, who does not know about your current plight but does know about Darwin’s finches, appreciatively coos at them. “They’ve even got different beak shapes! These are so cool. Man, Felix must hate econ right now.”

“No kidding,” you mutter as you begin peeling off the wrapper. Felix must hate you as well because one bite of this is almost enough for you to forgive Jisung again. It’s that good. How are you supposed to stay mad at Jisung when he gives you free delicious food? “Forget college, he needs to be in culinary school.”

He smirks from across the table, and it takes a lot of willpower for you to pretend you’re unphased. “What if I told you that I made these?”

“Then I would call you a liar.” He better be lying. You do not need another reason to justify your crush on him.

“And you would be right.” He slides his plastic container down to Lia, who has just arrived and is eyeballing the muffins like a predator. “But I did help him.”

“It’s really good,” you admit. You continue nibbling on it, determined to make the muffin last as long as you can. “What part did you help him out with?”

“The birds on top. Turns out drawing them with runny glaze is hard. I gave you the prettiest one, so don’t get mad about the whole bird thing. It goes with what we’re studying too.”

“Fine,” you sigh as you fold the wrapper into halves over and over again. “But only because these are amazing.”

Hyunjin leans in closer, effectively popping the intimate bubble you and Jisung were in. “What’s ‘the bird thing?’”

Fortunately, Yeji has finally arrived, which gives you the perfect excuse to stop Jisung from letting another person know of your drunk texts. You make a big production of pulling out your notebook from your backpack and rifling through your pencil bag for a pen.

“Should we get started?” you ask. Lia nods and uncaps one of her many highlighters.

“I’ll tell you later,” Jisung whispers to Hyunjin, winking at you. You could cry, melt, die. You could do a lot of things, but you opt to stick your tongue out at him. So what if you’re being childish? You can barely concentrate on the real world after that wink. To Yeji, he says, “There’s snacks, if Lia hasn’t eaten them all yet.”

“Hey!”

Hyunjin laughs at her notorious sweet tooth before turning to Yeji. “He gave Y/N the prettiest one, so there’s probably only his fails left.”

“They’re not bad!”

Lia has only had two, so there are more than enough to choose from. Yeji peers inside the container before selecting the one closest to her.

“Is this a plague doctor?” she asks as she suppresses a laugh. “It’s got a top hat.”

Jisung shakes his head and groans. “You chose the worst one on purpose. It’s one of Darwin’s finches. You would have known if you studied.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t draw.” Taking no notice of Jisung’s affronted expression, she takes out the textbook the five of you split the cost to buy. “Okay, plague doctor cupcakes out of the way, what are the four main theories of evolution?”

“They’re lemon poppy seed finch muffins,” he clarifies.

“That’s not an evolution theory,” Hyunjin cheekily replies, earning him an elbow nudge from Jisung and a laugh from everyone else.

You end up answering Yeji’s question and reward your correct answer with another muffin. Besides them being addictive, you’ll need some energy for the rest of the study session if all this talk about birds persists. You select the most plague doctor-ish one out of the box, and Jisung notices.

“Seriously?” he pouts. “I give you the best one, and this is how you repay me? I thought you said you weren’t mad about the bird thing.”

You ignore the last sentence. “What? You’re not proud of these?” you say, mock astonished as you give him a good view of the glaze on top. “They look exactly like plague doctors.”

“I hate you.”

You smile and shrug before returning back into the discussion about Lamarckism. Let him get a taste of his own medicine.

Unfortunately, as promised and as possible revenge, Jisung tells Hyunjin about ‘the bird thing,’ and Yeji overhears since she is only two chairs away. You try melting into the ground instead, but Lia holds you in place as the story continues, so you are stuck reliving the memory. You knew Jisung wouldn’t let you forget, but you didn’t account for everyone else in the group finding out and joining in on the torture.

But thanks to Jisung’s brilliant idea to bring those spectacularly decorated muffins, he doesn’t go unscathed either. It’s a mediocre consolation prize, but you’ll take it.

All around, it’s a productive study session, if a bit long, courtesy of everyone’s unrelenting shots at you and Jisung.

Your study group splits off in three separate directions once you’re all at the library entrance: Yeji back to the on-campus dorms where she’s an RA, Hyunjin and Lia to the off-campus apartments a few streets down, you and Jisung to the bus stop to your apartments on the other of campus. There’s a few people already sitting at the bench, so you and Jisung stand under the streetlight nearby. A moth intent on reaching the light source rams itself repeatedly against the glass covering, and you tiredly watch it. You yawn.

“Not much of a night owl?” he asks. With no clever reply ready, you gently shove him towards the bushes, but he only sways at your push. He throws his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’ll stop for today.”

“I’m really sorry for sending you that,” you say. You haven’t touched the chat between you and him since the incident. “And for not apologizing earlier.”

“It’s alright. Although I almost had a heart attack when you sent me ‘SOS’ like five times.”

You grimace as you remember your frantic texts. If you think back hard enough, you remember furiously tapping at your screen, trying to get his attention as quick as possible because you really, really, really needed to know what the animal that landed on your windowsill was called. Your housemate was in the next room over. You could have asked her instead, but no, you decided that Jisung from bio was the best option. Not even the group chat, just Jisung himself.

“Sorry again,” you weakly reply.

“It really is alright. Finding bird puns is my new favorite hobby now.” He wryly smiles. “I have so many more to try on you. You’re gonna love it.”

Is that endearing or annoying? Living rent-free inside his head isn’t terrible, especially since he seems to do the same in yours. You’ll probably have to endure lots more puns from him in the future, but for now, you’ll decide that it’s endearing.

The bus arrives, and you sit in the back with him. The ride to the apartment complex is quiet; only a group of people near the front are speaking to one another in low voices. Jisung makes no attempt at continuing the conversation, and you are content to stare out into the neon lights outside the window. You can see him in the reflection on the glass. The empty container devoid of muffins sits on Jisung’s lap, his phone placed face down on the lid. If it weren’t for all the other passengers on the bus, you would be convinced that it was just you and him, enjoying each other’s company.

You’re almost sad when you reach your stop.

“Do you want me to walk you to your apartment?” he asks as you step down to the pavement. “Yours is farther down, right?”

“Isn’t your place right here?” you say. You’ve seen him walk out from this particular complex several times while waiting for the bus. That’s not stalking. “You don’t have to go out of your way. It’s just a block away.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely walking you home.”

You hesitate a bit, but Jisung is already taking small steps in the direction of your apartment. A little more time with him doesn’t sound too horrendous right now. “Okay.”

Just like the bus ride, no conversation, which suits you fine. Jisung seems more enthralled by looking into the windows of apartment residents anyway. You can’t blame him, especially when it appears that someone is having their own mini rave in their living room. Once at the doors to your building, you thank him and tell him good night.

“No problem and good luck tomorrow.” His voice is softer at night, or maybe it’s because he’s tired as well.

Your tone matches his as well. “You too. See you in class then.”

“Good night.”

A few minutes after midnight, just as you’re about to get into bed, a message from Jisung pops up. Not Jisung in the study group, just Jisung.

12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: Hey, I know you’re not much of a night owl, so would you call yourself a morning lark? 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: You’re always an early bird to class 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: Are you emu-sed? 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: :D

Well, he did say he would stop for the day. It’s technically the next day. You reply with an annoyed face before burrowing yourself under your blankets. There are other things to worry about, such as your quiz in nine hours.

You dream of birds, namely finches, that night. Thanks, Jisung.

“This is why I tell you to never drink alone,” Seungmin laughs. He picks up the last slice of pizza from the pan and folds it in half like the heathen he is before taking the first bite. “Bad things always happen.”

“To be fair, Ryujin was home.”

“In a completely different room from you.”

You groan and supplement your exasperation with an extra aggressive tear on your crust. “Okay, fine. I’ve learned my lesson. The point is, he won’t stop with the bird jokes, and I’m going insane.”

Seungmin, having been collateral damage from your drunken mishaps before, is unsympathetic. He still hasn’t quite forgiven you for the time you tried to make a Molotov cocktail in his kitchen. Look, the clickbait video you watched online promised that it would be a fun and easy science experiment, and your other self decided that it was a fantastic idea. Nothing bad happened in the end though since you couldn’t find a lighter. So, Seungmin, it really wasn’t that big of a deal.

“You have a crush on this guy. Why are you upset that he’s flirting with you?”

“He’s cute until he opens his mouth and starts giving me grief about birds.” You sigh as you remember the last text he sent: a photo of the sunset from his apartment window with the caption, A bird’s eye view of the neighborhood. On one hand, you were thrilled to have received a non-homework related picture. On the other hand, bird joke.

“You would do the same.”

“I know, but it still sucks.” You wipe your fingers with a napkin and amuse yourself with spinning the empty pan as Seungmin (slowly) finishes eating. “No more Jisung talk. How was your date?”

Seungmin turns flustered, just like you knew he would. “It wasn’t a date! I’m just her photographer. This is a business arrangement, nothing else.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”

“Hey, is that Jisung over there?” he asks, nodding over your shoulder.

“I’m not that gullible,” you sigh, though you can’t say you aren’t tempted. Seungmin loves to make fun of you, and he probably wants to get back at you for teasing him about the girl he’s been spending a suspicious amount of time with.

“Gull-ible?”

“Not you too," you plead. It's already awful with one person. To deter him any further, you continue, "Anyway, back to your definitely-not-a-date date—”

“Hey, Y/N, is that you?”

Seungmin has his “I told you so” face on. After sending him a glare, which he promptly pretends not to see, you turn around, resting your forearm on the back of your chair. Jisung, holding a pan of oven-fresh pizza, smiles back at you.

“Hey,” you greet. He's wearing the same black and red sweatshirt he usually has on, but why does he look so much better in it when he's in a pizza place than in class or in the library? “How are you doing? How’s your Saturday so far?”

“I just woke up like an hour ago, so it’s been pretty good, I guess.” His eyes go to Seungmin, who is now sipping on his soda, pretending to not eavesdrop. “Is this your…”

“This is my friend, Seungmin,” you quickly answer. Other than the fact that you need to make it abundantly clear that you are available, there is no way you’re ever going to date Seungmin. Apart from the girl he claims to not be dating, he’s even more merciless when it comes to reminding you about your drunken ideas. You can’t pass the intersection without him nudging your arm. “Seungmin, this is Jisung. We have bio together.”

Seungmin nods like he hasn’t heard of Jisung before. “Hey, nice to meet you. So, do you guys learn about birds in bio?”

Jisung lights up like a Christmas tree, and you want to cover yourself with the pizza pan. Praying for the ground to swallow you up also sounds like a decent option. In the midst of debating whether hiding under the table would be too odd, you notice that Seungmin has finally finished his slice.

“We should get going,” you interrupt. You do not need Seungmin to start sharing other stupid things you’ve done. He’s about five seconds away from telling Jisung about the intersection chalk mural. “And you probably want to eat dinner.”

Jisung sees right through your act, but he lets it go. “Yeah, Felix is probably starving. See you on Monday?”

“Yeah, see you.”

You expect him to go to wherever Felix is, but he still remains behind you. With a lopsided grin, he asks, “Should I expect any quail-ity texts at 2 AM tonight?”

Seungmin laughs, Jisung laughs, and you stare at the ceiling, wondering what you did to deserve this. Surely there were other people you could have in your life besides these two jerks.

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” Jisung sings as you correctly answer his question. This week’s study session consists of a game show Jisung has created, and you almost want to believe that he put in all this effort just to say that phrase. “Another point for you.”

You sigh as Yeji slides a wrapped piece of candy towards you. It’s her turn to bring snacks, and though milk chocolate the size of golf balls are great, you’re still dreaming of those wickedly delicious cake slices Jisung shared with you yesterday. Hummingbird cake, he claimed, it was called. Bananas, pineapples, and pecans, all combined together to make a sweet treat. When you cheekily asked why his housemate was so stressed all the time — you really don’t mind. Sorry, Felix — Jisung cheerfully informed you that he made the entire thing himself. After you picked up your jaw from the floor, you stammered something about it being passable. Not nearly as good as Felix’s stuff, you said, lying through your teeth. Jisung, again, saw right through it but let it slide. See? Sometimes he’s nice. However, you did not need another reason to be attracted to Han Jisung, but here you are.

“Seriously, Yeji?” you mumble as you pull apart the blue foil. “You just had to pick the brand named after a bird?” It doesn’t stop you from popping the chocolate into your mouth though.

“They were on sale!”

While you and Yeji bicker about Dove chocolate and how the universe is conspiring against you, Hyunjin answers the next question correctly. Yeji absentmindedly pushes his reward towards him.

“No chicken dinner for me?” he asks.

Jisung shakes his head. “Your question was easy. You get a pheasant instead. Or a quail. Any bird smaller than a chicken works.”

“A hummingbird then?” you suggest. You really need to stop thinking about that cake. “But I hear those aren’t that great.”

“You already ate every single crumb of that cake I gave you!” Jisung says, but there’s not a drop of displeasure in his tone. In fact, he seems rather happy that you liked it so much that you remembered about it. “All my hard work gone in five seconds.”

“You made her a cake?” Lia gasps in disbelief, secretive note checking forgotten. She’s in last place with only six points, so no one cares too much about her cheating. “What about us? We’re your study buddies too!”

Hyunjin and Yeji chorus their agreements, and you realize that he only shared his cake with you. He followed you out of the lecture hall and gave it to you in a plastic container, so you assumed that he also hand delivered a few slices to everyone else. Never mind that he oh-so-conveniently had a fork with him. Never mind that he sat with you at a bench and watched you try a few bites before devouring it all. Never mind all that.

Wait. Does this mean he likes you too?

You fold and unfold your discarded foil wrappers as you contemplate over this revelation, sneaking glances at Jisung all the while. He looks… normal. Infuriatingly so. Same carefree smile, same arguments with Hyunjin, same lackadaisical chair leaning even though he fell backwards that one time. How is one supposed to tell if someone actually likes you when said someone is the same all the time?

Jisung promises to bring something for the next study session to make up for not sharing his cake and continues on with the review game like nothing has happened. However, those thoughts are still in the back of your mind when the session ends. You have gained five more pieces of chocolate and no further information as to whether Jisung is actually into you or not. As per usual, you and he head to the bus stop together. It’s more crowded than last week since it’s only eight.

“Did you have a pheasant time today?” he asks, pausing next to a hedge.

You keep your eyes on the asphalt instead of looking at him. It’s much easier to pretend you’re calm when you don’t have vision of his face. “I see you discovered pheasants recently. And yes, it was fun. Thanks for making it.”

“You don’t want to crow about winning the game?” When you grimace — you did kind of want to point out how amazing your score was but now you don’t — he quickly adds, “Okay, okay. But you’re going to ace that quiz tomorrow.”

And you simply say, “I know,” because you are and because you have nothing else prepared to say.

It goes quiet, and with only the sounds of cars racing by, Jisung abruptly says, “This is a little awkward now. Or should I say… hawk-ward?”

You groan and break your staring contest with the road to give him an exasperated look. A mistake because he’s smiling so wide, squirrels would be jealous of his cheeks. He has no right to be so cute after those jokes. “Why do I feel like you searched up ‘bird puns’ online and are trying to insert them in every possible scenario?”

“Because I did and because I am.” He sighs in contentment. “Those were the best texts I’ve ever received. I’m never letting you forget it.”

You were right about that, and now you have verbal confirmation from the man himself. Another mediocre consolation prize you will gladly accept. But for now, you say, “Well, toucan play at that game, plague doctor Han Jisung.” The only perk of hearing all these wretched jokes is that you are now rather knowledgeable about them. Thank you, Seungmin, for making that one a few days ago.

“They looked just like finches!” he protests, but he’s laughing along, head tilted back. He sighs again. When he turns to face you again, his eyes are soft. “That was a pretty good one.”

“Seungmin came up with it.” There’s a warm feeling spreading across your chest, constricting your air flow and making all your blood rush to your cheeks. It was one compliment; why are you like this? What are you going to do if he keeps looking at you like that? You swiftly go back to the road, counting the number of cars that pass by. One, two, three, four…

And a gray bus pulling up to the curb.

“Bus is here,” you uselessly announce. Jisung follows you into the growing crowd surrounding the entrance. He hovers behind you as the two of you wait for the people in front to board, and his presence is more palpable than usual. “There’s a lot of people today,” you remark in a vain attempt to distract yourself.

“Yeah, everyone’s heading home for the day.” He pauses dramatically before adding, “The birds are all going back to their nest.”

The joke successfully snaps you out of your haze. “That’s not a real saying.”

“I think it should be. It makes perfect sense!”

“You’re—” As the line shuffles forward, you try to think of something bird related, but he beats to the punch.

“Cuckoo?”

It’s almost impressive how much time he has invested in annoying you. Does it make you fall for him more? No, not really, or so you try to convince yourself. It’s strangely endearing, just like everything about him. You merely answer, “Yes.”

He chuckles and nudges you forward up the steps of the bus.

Even though there’s a little bit of daylight left, Jisung walks you back to your apartment building. You’re not upset by this, but where was this chivalry two weeks ago after the first study session? You teasingly ask him about it, and he turns bashful. How unlike him.

“I thought you lived in my complex, for some reason. You were always at the bus stop before me, so I assumed you lived nearby. I didn’t know until I overheard you and Yeji talking about it,” he says, hiding himself with his collar.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you say, stopping in front of the walkway to your building, “see you tomorrow then. Thanks for walking me back. Good night.”

The Jisung you’re used to seeing, is back with a mischievous smile and yet another joke. “Good night-ingale.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to seem too amused by it. He’s not charming, not even a little bit. “That was awful.” It’s the smile, you tell yourself. No one should have one like that. It has too much power.

“Yet I can see you smiling at it.”

Remain calm. You can do that. You’ve faked this before, so why is your head not cooperating right now? Jisung really needs to stop looking at you with anything more than a neutral face. It’s bad for you, like really, really bad. No witty remarks at the ready is typical, but you can’t even think of anything to say.

After an excruciating five seconds, you manage to stammer out, “Good night.” Cheeks aflame and your heart threatening to pop out of you like a cuckoo clock, you roughly yank open the door and bolt up the stairs. You have too much adrenaline in you right now. Waiting for the elevator knowing that he could be observing your twitchy movements, would be too nerve wracking.

Ryujin asks if you’re alright when she sees you hunched against the kitchen counter, out of breath and muttering to yourself.

“I decided to take the stairs,” you say, which only partially explains your dishevelled state. “I’ll be alright. I think.”

“I’ll get you some water. You look like you're about to collapse.”

Then your phone chimes with a new message, and you decidedly won’t be alright.

8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: Did my nightingale pun quack you up that badly? 8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: Was it that ducking good? 8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: :D

8:23 PM [Jisung Bio]: Anyway, good luck tomorrow. Sleep well and sweet dreams, morning lark

There is no food in the fridge. Well, no proper food. A bag of spinach that expired three days ago but still seems okay, does not count. The same goes for the half empty jar of peanut butter, but Ryujin would likely disagree with that. There’s a reason why the jar is half empty. However, if you actually want to eat something for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow, you need to go shopping.

For some strange reason, it does not occur to you that you can run into Jisung at the grocery store. Jisung belongs in four locations: the bus stop, the lecture hall, the library, and the pizza place you saw him at last week. Not the dairy aisle on a Wednesday night.

“Hey.” You stop in front of him, basket at your feet and hands folded in front of you like the world’s worst defense. Heart, stop beating so fast.

Jisung looks up from his phone to search for the owner of the voice and brightens when he sees that it’s you. “Hey, morning lark.” He has taken to calling you that ever since he sent that particular message. You wish it produced another reaction from you besides pure bliss, but that is the price you pay for pretending to be still annoyed by his jokes. That’s how bad your crush on him now is; you are increasingly beguiled by the puns. “Oh, did you need milk?”

“Yeah.” You grab a blue carton with a picture of a smiling cow from the shelf and place it in your basket. In the meantime, you can’t help but peer into Jisung’s. There is a bag of chocolate chips and a packet of gelatin. “Is this stuff for tomorrow’s study session?”

He nods and grabs the same brand of milk as you did. You get a rush of excitement, much to your chagrin. It’s just milk, and this is the most popular brand too. “Yeah. Felix is trying a new recipe, so you guys get to have some of the failed ones too.”

“What is it? Cheesecake?”

“You’ll see,” he mysteriously says. Then he adds, “You’re gonna love it,” which immediately gives away the theme.

“It’s something to do with birds, isn’t it?”

“You’ll see.”

And when you do see, you’re wrong. Library food rules ignored, at each seat, Jisung has set a slice of layer cake topped with chocolate ganache, no bird motifs of any sort. You take your usual spot at the end of the table and find that yours is slightly larger than the others. Well, except for maybe Lia’s. He has to placate her sweet tooth and her disappointment of not being able to have hummingbird cake.

“Did I not get a message or something?” Hyunjin asks when he takes in the over-the-top display. “Is this a dinner party?”

“Isn’t this against the library’s rules?” Yeji asks as she surreptitiously looks around for any librarians. The surrounding tables of fellow students won’t care.

Jisung elects to not answer Yeji’s concerns. “This is tonight’s snack,” he proudly replies. “Also, Felix wants feedback on it.”

You cut a section off with the plastic fork and marvel at the airiness of the cake. It’s unlike anything you have ever had. The frosting in between the sponge layers is so light, and the ganache is so dark and rich. “This is really amazing. It’s so fluffy. Wow. Tell Felix that he really needs to consider culinary school.”

“Wanna guess what it’s called?”

“Isn’t this just an extra fancy vanilla cake?” you ask. You take another bite, but other than the chocolate ganache on top, you can only taste vanilla. “I don’t know. The… vanilla fluff cake?”

“Nope.” He leans forward, face inches away from yours, lips curled into a smirk, and slowly says, “Bird’s milk cake.”

This can’t be real. Birds don’t even produce milk. “No way. You’re lying.” Even as you say the words, they sound false to your ears. Jisung has made it his mission to find anything and everything bird-related for you, so you doubt he’s lying.

“It’s called this” — he holds up his phone screen — “in Russian. It translates to ‘bird’s milk.’”

Ptichye moloko.

“You convinced Felix to make this, didn’t you?” you say. What are the chances that Felix conveniently wanted to make bird’s milk cake without any nudging from Jisung? Absolutely none. You have never even heard of this dessert before, let alone by it’s Russian name, and you’re willing to bet that Jisung searched up ‘bird cake’ or something of that nature just for this. Maybe that’s how he found out about hummingbird cake too.

“It’s all for you, morning lark,” he cheerfully replies, winking at you. He leans back in his chair again, precariously balancing on the two back legs. “I knew you’d like it.”

Jisung is really not making this easy for you. Forget subtleties, he’s just shamelessly flirting with you now. And in the sanctity of the library of all places! In a poor attempt to save yourself from this mess, you unconsciously begin to slide down the chair, trying to shield your hot face with your raised shoulders. Lia notices this — one of the perks having sat next to you for nearly four weeks during lectures — and grabs your forearm.

“No melting,” she reminds you, “or else you’re going to hit your head on the seat again.”

“I wasn’t melting,” you protest as you wriggle back up. Slowly dying might have been a better descriptor. That wink shot arrows into your already fragile heart. “We’re gonna get in trouble if one of the librarians sees this.”

“Guess we should get started then,” Hyunjin says. Yeji, the only responsible one in the group, begins pulling out the textbook, and everyone laughs at her eagerness. “Not what I meant, but that too.”

After you’re done with the cake and while the others are preoccupied about the timeline of human evolution, Jisung whispers across the table, “Did you still like it?”

“Yeah. No hard feelings about the name because it was good,” you whisper back.

“I thought it would turn out like this, morning lark. I know you love free food too much to be mad.”

The nickname again. You rest your cheek against your palm in a vain attempt to tamp down the growing heat. “Can I get a different name, plague doctor?”

He’s not at all phased by his own nickname, which doesn’t bode well for any future snarky remarks from you. “What, you don’t like birds or something?” He blinks so innocently back at you that you have to stifle a giggle.

“Yeah, well, that’s the—”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Hyunjin interrupts, making you profusely blush and Yeji lightly laugh at the expression, “we’re gonna move on to the next section now. Is that okay?”

“It’s okay,” you reply even though you are most definitely not okay. Jisung, who you notice is uncharacteristically sheepish, echoes your sentiment.

It’s difficult not to stare at Jisung during the remainder of the study session. It seems to be true the other way around as well.

You’re sober when you read the messages, but you don’t think Jisung was when he sent them. Oh, how the tables have turned.

3:02 AM [Jisung Bio]: Good morning morning lark!! 3:02 AM [Jisung Bio]: Winner winner chicken dinner remember? So yes or no?

3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: Or maybe yes or yes? 3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: I really want to go on a date with you 3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: Not lying I swear

3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re always on my mind and every time I see a bird, I think about you 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I bought grey goose because of you 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: [jisung’s_hand_holding_grey_goose_vodka.jpg] 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I don’t even like it that much

3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: You make me dizzy sometimes and I don’t know what to do 3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: You’re probably sleeping so good night larky 3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: Or morning

3:06 AM [Jisung Bio]: Fly high in your dreams!!!

He must have been wasted and under no responsible supervision because this is what you would have done if you were in his place. Does he not have a Seungmin in his life? Or a Ryujin? There’s a Felix, so where was he when all of this happened?

But forget about Jisung’s own problems.

He wants to go on a date with you. A real date, not a study date with three other people and fake quiz questions. If his words are to be taken literally, then one involving a chicken dinner. Possibly a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store, but a chicken dinner nonetheless.

He can’t stop thinking about you. All those bird jokes had you charmed, and all those cakes were baked with you in mind. They weren’t just for show. They were all about you.

You make him dizzy, which is hilarious because he does the same to you. He smiles at you so brightly, laughs so easily, and flirts so shamelessly that you never realized that you could ever make him feel that way.

And “fly high in your dreams?” You’re practically soaring in real life. Han Jisung, cute bio boy, plague doctor, pun enthusiast, surprisingly decent baker, wants to go on a date with you.

You, you, you!

While you alternate between hyperventilating and forgetting how to breathe as you process all this, three gray dots appear at the bottom of the chat. You clutch your phone as you wait. Apparently, your body is on the ‘forgetting how to breathe’ cycle.

11:14 AM [Jisung Bio]: I am so sorry about that. I was very drunk when I sent that

11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: You can just ignore them or delete them 11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: Highly recommend deleting 11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: Also sorry if I woke you up

Your fingers hover over the keyboard. Should you answer him over text, call, or in-person? Is in-person too dramatic though? You feel like something like this is supposed to be done face-to-face, but he’s probably hungover beyond belief.

11:16 AM [Me]: It’s okay. A morning lark is always up early anyway :) 11:16 AM [Me]: Were you serious though?

11:17 AM [Jisung Bio]: Can we meet up in an hour? At the bus stop? I want to talk to you 11:17 AM [Me]: Yeah. Me too

The bus stop is neutral territory or maybe just the closest meeting spot you and Jisung have. If it’s supposed to be neutral territory, it most definitely is not since his apartment complex is right behind it. Despite his close proximity to the spot, you arrive first, so you make yourself as comfortable as possible underneath the sign, standing in its shadow. It’s silly when you think about it, but you wish you dressed in something nicer than a hoodie. In your rush to leave the apartment, you threw on whatever, but maybe you should have worn something prettier for this confrontation. Make Jisung go dizzy and gain a little bit of power from that.

This is even worse than when you had to face him after you sent your drunk texts. At least then it was just a middling attraction and not a full-on crush.

“Hey, morning lark. You’re early. As expected.”

“Hey. You’re… alive.”

Jisung is strangely fresh-faced, not a hint of hungover clouding around him. Why can’t you look like him after a night of seemingly heavy drinking? Where are the pinched eyebrows from the blinding lights? The ghostly gray face? The haunted eyes as one remembers all the incredibly stupid things they did the night before? Unfair. Completely unfair.

“Yeah.” He’s wearing his usual sweatshirt, but his hands are stuffed into its pockets instead of being out and about. He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Well, uh, I meant everything I sent. And I’m serious about taking you to dinner, so do you want to go on a date with me?”

You anticipated this. Why does it feel like you have just finished running a marathon? “Yeah, I do. I really want to.”

He smiles so brightly, the sun would be jealous. Correction, should be jealous. You don’t think you’ve seen a prettier sight than this since he sat down next to you on the first day of class and asked if you wanted to start a study group. He pumps his fist in the air like he’s a movie character, and you hide your laugh behind your hoodie sleeve. You’ve never seen him so happy before.

“How are you not hungover?” you ask as he raises his face to the sky, taking in the afternoon light, basking in the moment. He’s really living his movie character dreams. “You said you were really drunk.”

“I kind of lied?” he says, sounding more wistful than you would expect. When he looks back at you, you finally see dark circles underneath his eyes, but he is still as jubilant as before. “I was more tipsy than drunk. So, when do you wanna get that chicken dinner, winner, winner?”

It’s amazing how shy, excited Jisung disappears and how the usual casual, teasing Jisung reappears. That’s his Jekyll and Hyde moment, you suppose. And the switch is all activated by his one-track mind of bird jokes. How wonderful.

“Next week, after midterms? I’ve got two this week to study for. I should be free on Friday night.”

He enthusiastically nods. “Sounds good to me.”

2:57 PM [Me]: I’m done with all my midterms! Are you free tonight?

2:59 PM [Jisung Bio]: Free as a bird :D 2:59 PM [Jisung Bio]: Also congrats on being done 2:59 PM [Me]: I hate you

3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: So chicken dinner? The restaurant next to the pizza place just opened 3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: I heard it’s really clucking good 3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: A hen out of hen

3:01 PM [Me]: I might actually kill you during our date

3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: Don’t you mean 3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: [flock_of_crows.jpg] 3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: Murder :D

3:05 PM [Jisung Bio]: I’ll see you at 6? 3:05 PM [Me]: See you then

You do not end up murdering Jisung on your date, though you do come pretty close after you audibly ask the ground to swallow you up when he compliments your egg-cellent outfit.

“Swallow?” he slyly says. “Like the bird?”

Instead of committing a crime, you kiss him on the cheek, effectively silencing him. You’ve been waiting to do both those things for some time now, and look at you now, killing two birds with one stone.

Jisung turns a delightful shade of pink and mutters something about needing to get to the restaurant before it gets too crowded. All of his bluster from just five seconds ago is gone. You merrily follow him down the pavement, feeling a little bit like the cat who swallowed the canary.

Yes, you did search up bird expressions beforehand. Jisung will be Jisung, and like you told him before, toucan play at this game. You will not spend your first date with him being humiliated by his large repertoire of puns. Besides, if he retaliates like you expect him to, you will have the perfect excuse to kiss him again.

See? No fowl play at all.

Then he takes your hand into his, his warmth enveloping yours, and everything suddenly isn’t fair again.

And based on his all-too-pleased grin, Jisung knows this as well.

~ ad.gray

[kirishimaswife2819]

hi! could i request headcanons or drabbles (whichever you think fits more) of the boys when their s/o accidentally hits them in their sleep? like the reader is having a bad dream and they just kick their foot out suddenly. from my experience, people usually wake up immediately after they do so too.

Reaction to S/o Accidentally Kicking Them In Their Sleep || Midoriya, Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, and Kaminari (Scenarios)

Masterlist

↠Author’s Note: Hi! Thanks for requesting! I hope this is okay. -Danielle <3

↠Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, Eijiro Kirishima, Shoto Todoroki, and Denki Kaminari x Reader

↠Summary: Their reaction to their s/o accidentally hitting them, in their sleep, when they have a bad dream

↠Genre: Fluff

↠Word Count: 1k

↠Warnings: None

↠Notes: The time this is set isn’t really relevant but I imagine it happening when they’re already proheroes, also all of them live with their s/o at this point, besides Denki

Izuku Midoriya:

Izuku opened his eyes and glanced at the clock on the nightstand, seeing that it was 2:34, so he still had time to sleep. He rolled over and looked at you, and you had a slightly disturbed and distressed look on your face. He frowned at this and reached forward to pull you into him, and cuddle you, but then he felt a hard kick hit right below his knee.

He jumped at the sudden contact, not expecting that to happen, but he didn’t cry out. After you kicked him, your eyes immediately opened, and you took a quick look around. You let out a deep breath, realizing that whatever you were dreaming about was just a dream and nothing more, and glanced at Izuku. You noticed he was holding the front of his leg.

“Are you okay?” You asked, not realizing what you did.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Izuku replied, “Go back to sleep, it’s still night time.”

“What’s wrong with your leg, though? Why are you holding it?” You asked, giving him a look of concern.

“Um, you accidentally kicked it, and it kind of hurt,” he said, and he immediately began panicking when the look on your face turned into a frown.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized.

“No, no, it’s fine! I get hurt way more fighting villains. I just overreacted,” he replied, taking his hand off of his leg to pull you towards him, “Don’t worry about it, baby. Go back to sleep.”

Katsuki Bakugou:

Katsuki’s a pretty light sleeper so as soon as your hard kick hit his shin, his eyes shot open and he yelled out.

“Ow, what the fuck!”

If your leg kicking out like that didn’t wake you up then Katsuki’s screaming definitely did.

“What, what’s wrong?” You asked, quickly sitting up and trying to process what had happened. All you remembered was being in a bad dream and then you woke up right after Katsuki screamed. Bakugou was also sitting up, holding a hand over his shin and grinding his teeth together, trying to stop himself from going off on you, since he knows that it was most likely an accident.

“You fucking kicked me,” he replied, lowering his voice since he knows that you don’t appreciate it when he yells.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you replied, looking at his leg with concern.

“Yeah, you should be,” he replied, taking his hand off of his shin and falling back onto the pillows, tired.

“Are you mad?” You asked, probably sounding pathetic, but you didn’t want Bakugou to be mad at you for an accident.

“Tch, no. Now shut up and go back to sleep or I will be mad,” Bakugou said, leaning up slightly to pull you back down to the bed. You wiggled around in his arms, trying to get comfy, and eventually when you did, you sighed and began falling back asleep. The last thing you heard before falling asleep was Bakugou saying, “And you better not kick me this time, dumbass.”

Eijiro Kirishima:

You and Kirishima were laying, facing each other but he had his arms wrapped tightly around you, as they were most nights. And then, while you were having a bad dream, you kicked your foot forward, hitting him in the shin.

Your eyes shot open afterwards and you could slightly remember kicking your foot out. You glanced up at Kirishima and his eyes were still closed, and there wasn’t a hint of pain on his face.

You sighed in relief at the fact that you hadn’t woken him up, even though he probably wouldn’t have cared if you had. And then you readjusted your position in his arms, and went back to sleep

Shoto Todoroki:

You and Shoto were cuddling up beside each other, your head was resting on his chest and you were hugging his middle. Shoto happened to still be awake, thinking about something, when he felt you kick the side of his calf. 

He didn’t think much of it, or care until your eyes shot open a few seconds later and you lifted your head up.

“Are you alright?” He questioned, surprising you.

“Did I- Did I kick you?” You asked, slightly remembering it happening.

“Yes, but that’s fine, it didn’t hurt. You just hit my calf,” he replied, kissing your forehead, “Did you have a bad dream or something?”

“Yeah, but I’m fine. It wasn’t too bad,” you replied, sighing and resting your head back on his chest.

“Alright, let me know if you have trouble sleeping, okay?” He asked, and after a “mhm” from you, he allowed himself to close his eyes and finally attempt to get some sleep.

Denki Kaminari:

Denki was fully awake, sitting on the couch, playing video games. You had come over and wanted to cuddle with Denki, but he wanted to play some more of his game, so he agreed that he would cuddle with you after a few more rounds. But a few rounds quickly turned into more than a few and you ended up getting tired and falling asleep. Your back was leaned up against a couple pillows that were sitting up against the arm of the couch. And your legs were up in front of your chest, your feet resting on the couch right beside Denki’s lap.

He glanced at you every once in a while to make sure that you were still doing okay, before looking back to his game. As he was just getting into the game and focusing, he felt a quick kick to his thigh, causing him to jump and drop his controller, since he hadn’t been expecting that.

“Aw, babe,” Denki said, frowning at the screen that now said that he died. He glanced at you and saw that you were now wide awake.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized, “Did I hurt you?”

“No, but you made me lose my game,” he whined, causing all of your sympathy to go out the window and you to roll your eyes.

“Can we cuddle now, then?” You questioned, and Denki sighed once more for dramatic effect, before turning his gaming console off and waiting for you to get comfortable, before laying beside you/on you.

“What time is it?” You questioned, as you ran your hands through your boyfriend’s blonde hair.

“Like, two a.m.,” Denki replied, causing you to scold him for staying up so late.

“Denki Kaminari!”

“Hey, you don’t get to yell at me! You kicked me!”

[fandom-monium]

i finished for the holidays and i just *chefs kiss* beautiful talented amazing sajkgdkj no words i love that romance wasnt even the main point 🥺💘 anyway i love how you write reader and i wondered between her and spencer who gets jealous???

Unrivaled

Summary: In which you seem pretty close with the new intern, and Spencer is not happy about it. (ft. one of my fave white bois) “Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?"

WC: 3.6k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fluff, cussing, Jealous!Spencer bc id like to see that, established relationships (blegh), Garvez if you squint, the lightest implication of smut ever, points to yall who can guess who the intern is before reading the end or the tags 😉

—

Spencer is not jealous. He’s not.

Why would he be? 

He has no reason to be jealous, Spencer chants to himself as he sits at his desk. Even from across the bullpen he still manages to hear your voice, and while normally it’s music to his ears, even better than Mozart, now it just feels like nails against a chalkboard. Grating his eardrums, making him wince.

Because you’re laughing. Not with Spencer though. Not at his obscure references or lame jokes.

With the new intern.

Why did Emily have to put you in charge of him? She could’ve chosen anyone on the team to have him shadow, but it had to be you! Not that you’re incapable or unqualified; you’re experienced, talented, and the best person he knows. 

… Okay, he can see why she picked you.

Why do they even have interns? Unnecessary, really, when the BAU has you and him and he guesses the other teams too (it’s weird, he’s never actually interacted with them but whatever). Maybe it’s time to start making budget cuts. He’ll discuss this with Emily when he gets the chance. He’s got some influence, working at the BAU as long as he has.

But he’s not jealous. 

Logically, jealousy (like an intern) is unnecessary. The green-eyed monster (like an intern) is ugly and contributes nothing productive, and if Spencer’s being honest, the world (like an intern) would be much better off without it.

At least that’s what he keeps telling himself as he downs his coffee like a shot of whiskey, trying to quell the squirming beast in him. Despite 90% of it being sugar, it still tastes bitter. He sets his mug down with a thud, and it’s loud enough to make Luke, Garcia, and JJ turn their heads, exchanging concerned glances when he slumps back in his chair.

Spencer doesn’t care. The world’s ending; you’re apparently into younger guys, with neat dark hair and forearms that can probably snap someone’s neck, and he can’t do anything about it. What does it matter if his best friends catch him in a sour mood, right?

“Hey, Spence,” JJ's tone is soft as they slink over, Garcia and Luke leaning against the edge of his desk and JJ flanking the other side. “You alright?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Spencer gazes past them, his eyes never leaving you. He deflates; your stance is relaxed, completely open as you nod at whatever Intern is saying, his hands gesturing spastically. It must be interesting, the way you listen with rapt attention and respond just as enthusiastic.

Spencer scoffs. Not like that’s anything special. You do the same for him. And the rest of the team.

...What the hell are you guys talking about? 

“Well, you look like you’re about to throw your mug across the room. Or at an intern.”

Spencer blinks, finally breaking away from you long enough to eye the ceramic octopus. “That’s a good idea actually.”

“Don’t,” Garcia and JJ both shoot him a warning and he huffs, resting his chin in his hand. Garcia looks horrified, betrayed even while JJ has that expression on, the one she gives when she scolds Henry and Michael.

Whatever. It’s not like he’d ever sacrifice Mildred. Garcia entrusted her to him, after all. 

Unless...?

No, he couldn’t… Maybe.

“You know, Reid, if you’re jealous—”

Spencer snaps his head to Garcia, eyes wide and darting to you like you have super-hearing, “Jealous? Who’s jealous? Not me.” He cringes, his voice octaves higher and cracking like a prepubescent boy.

Garcia snorts, “Okay, sure. But if you are jealous, I was going to say you have no reason to be. You wanna know why?” Spencer raises an eyebrow at her and she continues, “Sure the guy’s smart enough to get a full-ride scholarship at GWU, and he’s top of his class at the academy—”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

"And he’s one of the most good looking guys I've ever met—”

"How is that relevant—"

Luke frowns at her. "And have you met me?"

“My point is,” Garcia’s red lipstick curls into the most reassuring smile, “that you have nothing to worry about because (Your Name) loves you. A lot.” 

Spencer perks up. “You really think so?”

“I know so. I see the way they look at you, and if that’s not love I don’t know what is," She shrugs, "And just because they’re talking doesn’t mean they’re into him.”

There's a collective nod of agreement and Spencer sags in relief. Of course they're right. He knows they are. 

If you think about it, technically, he's got the advantage. You've known each other longer, bonded and shared experiences together good and bad, and you’re emotionally and even physically intimate with each other (something he's especially proud of, considering how long it takes you both to warm up to others).

And who knows? This is probably temporary! Whatever this is, the connection you seem to instantly make with Intern (faster than when you two had met, he realizes with a needle to his heart) is short-term at best. It'll peter out eventually, like most friendships do.

It’s sad, but a cruel fact of life.

(Is this selfish, wishful thinking? Nah.)

They’re right, there is no need to worry, Spencer thinks as a weight lifts off his chest, finally able to breathe. You love him and he loves you and eventually, everything will go back to normal. 

There’s nothing to worry about.

—

The world’s ending.

“It’s really not.”

Yes, it is.

“Doc, come on.”

“Do not ‘Doc’ me,” Spencer grumbles, lifting his head from the comfort of his arms. He grimaces at Luke. “You didn’t see the way they looked at him. The way they talk about him.”

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since you’ve taken Intern under your wing, and he’s had enough. If Hell is real, this is it. For days, he’s tried to resume some form of normalcy, and he was never one to be bold but desperate times call for desperate measures as he asks you out for lunch or invites you out on dates, even stuff he wouldn’t normally do because they’re more your thing. Something, anything to get you away from Intern. But...

At work: “Hey Spence, I'm teaching Intern (menial task that a 4 year old could do). Would you like to help—”

During break: “I’m taking Intern out for lunch. He’s still new to town, and I thought he could use a tour—”

In bed: “Did you know Intern’s a huge fan of Star Wars—”

Snap, and there went his patience.

Intern this, Intern that. 

Spencer could tolerate this at work. At least he’s saving lives, being productive, getting paid. But under his roof? In his bed? 

That was the last straw.

Spencer's not one to wish ill on another, he's not like that. But if something happened to the guy, say, get injured in the field, perhaps from a "stray" bullet, he'd be intern-ally grateful. Heh. 

"Hey, you good?"

Spencer sighs, swiping a hand over his face and turning back to Luke. "Yeah, why?"

Luke waves a hand at his face, eyebrow raised, "For a second there, you kind of had a scary look on your face."

"Did I? Weird."

"Right," Clearly unconvinced, Luke brushes it off, deciding to get to the root of the matter. "As I was saying, I still think you have nothing to worry about. Although, I do think it's a little weird that (Your Name) is talking about Intern as much as you say they are." He offers Spencer a little smile, his hand falling heavy on his shoulder. It's the most comforting touch he's had in two weeks. "I'm not one to talk, but I suggest you speak to them. I'd also be uncomfortable if my partner were talking up someone else."

Spencer blinks, squints at Luke, before gripping his hand and standing up. "Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?"

"You can stand to mention it more often," Luke shrugs, eyes crinkling with amusement as Spencer lets go and heads for the door. 

"Noted."

—

Spencer nearly goes feral when he finds you.

Of course you're with him.

He searched the floor like a bloodhound, discovering you've been on your feet almost the entire day, running around the office, up and down the elevators, finishing your work and helping around. You must be exhausted. It's because of this he tracks you to your favorite break room, mostly quiet save for the buzzing drip of the old coffeemaker. He knows you need to be alone sometimes, recharge those social batteries.

So when he bursts into the room like he would hunting an unsub, eyes quickly scanning the immediate space, he expects nothing less but you. What he did not anticipate was to find you, just as soft and pretty as ever under the fluorescent lighting, leaning against the counter and sipping daintily at your favorite mug. 

With Intern standing a little too close to his liking.

“Hey, Spencer,” You chirp as you lower your coffee mug, lips glossy from your drink. Spencer's quick to shake his stupor―he can’t afford to be distracted, but it’s difficult when you’re beaming at him, clearly excited. You nod at the home-wrecker, “Me and Intern here were just talking about demonology and he’s got this interesting theory on werewolves―" Lycanthropy? Are you fucking kidding him right now? 

Just when he thought he couldn't hate the guy any more.

"CanItalktoyou?" It comes out rushed as Spencer gasps between breaths, leaving no room to second guess himself.

"Sure," You blink at his urgent tone.

For a second, you watch him expectantly, and Spencer's gaze darts between you and Intern. "Alone?"

"Oh! Okay. Be gone," You wave Intern off, and when you place a hand on his shoulder, Spencer sees red. Or green in this case.

Intern doesn't resist, but the noise Spencer releases is animalistic because the guy can’t seem to read the room, questioning you as you gently shove him towards the door. "What about the thing―"

"We'll talk about that later."

"But you still need to show me how to―"

"Don't worry, Intern. Just wait for me, I'll show you once the adults are done talking."

"You know at some point you're gonna have to call me by my name." 

"Nah. If we get to call Luke a newbie, we get to call you Intern. Also I do not know how to say your first name."

 "You could just call me St―"

Enough of this. Spencer closes the last stretch of distance, batting your hand away from Intern’s shoulders as he kicks him out himself, slamming the door in his face. Spencer turns on his heel to face you, caging you both. “You―” He pants, chest heaving for air.

“Me?”

“You-him-we―”

You’re unfazed, simply nodding at him and his odd behavior. If anything, you’re enjoying this as your lips twitch in a poor attempt to withhold your amusement, trying to cover it with a slurp of your cup. Then again, it’s not everyday you get to see Spencer, face flushed from exertion, speechless as he gasps for breath.

(At least not at work… In the break room specifically.)

It takes a minute as Spencer swallows a few times, but his heart’s erratic and it’s not just from running through the entire building. When he’s got enough air, he blurts out, “Did I do something?”

Your brow shoots up. “What?”

“Did I forget something important? Upset you in some way?”

“No? I don’t think so?” You frown at him, your answers more like questions. 

It only spurs him on, and though his tone is frantic and his eyes just as wild as his hair, you’re more intrigued than frightened. Definitely confused.

“Okay, but you know I love you, right?”

“Yes and I love you too but Spence, what’s this about?" Setting down your mug, you look at him like he's grown another head.

Spencer sighs, "I just… you…" He frowns, glancing between you, the floor, and the empty space between you. 

Spencer Reid is a man of words. Many, many words, according to all his friends and his coworkers. Mainly knowledge―he's never been great with feelings―but as you gaze at him, patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts, he wants to melt into the floor. There's not a hint of annoyance on your features, your eyes warm and inviting. 

He's so in love with you.

Then like scripture the words come, natural without much stuttering or hesitancy. He recounts the last two weeks. The internship so far, the times you've left Spencer behind for him, the times you just talked about him, like the guy (practically a stranger) is your new best friend. Usually, pretty people make him tongue-tied and you do―god, you do―but at the same time only you make it so easy. Talking, expressing without fear of―

"Pfft―"

―Judgement. Pausing mid-sentence, Spencer gawks as your nose twitches and your blink rate increases. You purse your lips, a hand slapped over your mouth as it threatens to break out into a grin.

"Are you-are you laughing right now?" When he just poured his feelings out to you? 

That does it. You keel over, peels of laughter coming like a tsunami, crashing into him and Spencer loves your laugh but not when it's at him. 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing," you wheeze, gripping your stomach. Spencer pouts. There's even tears in your eyes. "But you're telling me this is all because you're jealous?"

He stutters, "Well-I-no-It’s just…" He wants to say ‘you're mine’, but as your eyes crinkle he knows there’s no need.

"That's kinda hot."

"Wha-really?" Wide-eyed, Spencer squeaks as you step closer to him, backing him into the door. His hands come up to his chest in a kitten-like manner yet at the same time protective―you'd never hurt him and you both know that―but you admit your initial reaction was poor when he laid his feelings bare. 

“Ahhhh Babe, you know there’s no one else for me but you.” Spencer blushes and you chuckle, taking his hands in yours. He let's you. “Also, as adorable as Intern is, one, I think I’d be able to tell if he was hitting on me, and two, he’s not really my type.”

Spencer swallows, “And what exactly is your type?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” Looking him up and down, you step closer, enough that your breath puffs against his chin. You smell like cheap coffee. “Tall, handsome doctors with messy, brown hair―” You lightly tug at one of his stray curls and he bites back a smile. 

“―and a cute nose―” Your hand moves to cup his cheek, bringing him down to peck the tip of his nose. It scrunches as Spencer breaks out into giggles. 

“―Who can recite classic literature. Who can bake like he belongs on The Great British Baking Show but can’t cook for shi―”

“Okay! Thank you, I get it,” Spencer says, almost completely relaxed now.

“Good,” You nod with finality. “And for your information, I wasn’t trying to make you jealous."

He raises an eyebrow. "So you just abandoned me and talked about another guy for the hell of it?"

Spencer's tone is casual, joking even but you know better. There's underlying bitterness and hurt and your heart squeezes because you did that. "No, of course not. There is a reason behind all that.“

“What could possibly excuse you going above and beyond your job as a mentor―”

“I was trying to set you guys up.”

Spencer deadpans. “Set me up? With him?” Oh god, he knows you’re weird, but he’s never considered you to be outright insane (is it weird he still loves you?).

As if reading his thoughts, you roll your eyes, “Spencer, how many friends do you have outside the team?”

“Not a lot.” No hesitation, but he accepted the fact a long time ago. 

“Yeah and that’s okay. But if you’d talk to Intern, you’ll find you two have a lot in common. I know he’s younger than us, but he’s a good kid, real smart,” You give him a meaningful look and shrug, “Not like IQ 187 smart but he could definitely hold a conversation with you.”

Spencer murmurs, pulling you in so you're chest to chest, “This entire time, you were really trying to make us friends?”

You nod, your expression a mix of giddiness and hope that makes whatever feelings he felt before, the confusion and―yes, fine―the jealousy, dissolve like sugar in water. Spencer sinks into you, burying his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling your soap. Of course you had good intentions. Of course you wanted to do something nice for him.

Fuck, he loves you.

“So… we good?”

Spencer huffs, “I hope you realize how much I suffered the past few weeks.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Then yes, we’re good,” He mumbles into your shoulder, “I appreciate what you were trying to do.”

“And?”

His brow furrows and he pulls back, meeting your eyes. “And what?”

“Will you try to be friends?” You look at him expectantly.

Spencer opens his mouth to answer, a definitive no on his tongue, but then you’re giving him puppy-dog eyes and before he realizes it, “Okay.”

Wait, no. That is not what he meant to say.

“Yeah!” You throw your arms around him, and Spencer can’t stop you, grunting as you basically swing him around like a rag doll. But he finds he doesn’t care when you set him back down because you’re happy, happy for him, grinning ear to ear as you babble, “I can already tell you two are gonna be the best of friends! You guys have so much to talk about, all that nerdy stuff. Maybe even debate! And we could play chess and―”

There’s a knock and you both turn, a voice muffled by the door, “Hey, guys? I don’t want to interrupt in case you’re boning, but you didn’t exactly tell me where to wait for you? God, I hope you guys aren’t boning. Please tell me you’re not boning right now.”

You groan, “No Intern, we’re not boning! Right-uh-go ahead and meet me back at the office, I’ll be right with you.” You turn back to Spencer, sending him an apologetic look. “I will see you later, okay? And since you’ve been such a patient and understanding partner,” You plant him one last kiss before patting his cheek, and his eyes widen as your voice lowers in the way you know drives him crazy, your eyes glinting with mischief, “I’ll make it up to once we get home. Bye, love you!”

Before Spencer can fully register your words, you're out the door, cackling as you leave him to compose himself, his face beet red from running the possibilities. By the time he emerges from the break room, you’re long gone.

“Hi, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer almost snarls, cursing under his breath. Just when he thought the day was getting better. He turns back. 

Intern stands tall, relaxed and shoulders back, black tie loose and cheap white-collar button up slightly wrinkled. No doubt from working hard and following your instructions throughout the day. Spencer respects the work ethic at least. Meanwhile, the younger man eyes him, and he’s certain it’s not from intimidation but with curiosity.

Spencer doesn’t linger on that. He’s used to it, not being intimidating to others.

He continues, “It’s nice to finally talk to you, one on one I mean. I’m a fan of your work. Seven degrees, huh?”

“Yeah,” Spencer says curtly. Recalling the earlier conversation with you, he stamps down his irritation and tries to extend an olive branch. “How did you know?”

“It’s the internet, sir,” Intern raises an eyebrow, offering an innocent smile. 

“Right,” Spencer returns it with an awkward one of his own, “Hey, sorry for... literally kicking you out before. That was completely unprofessional.”

Intern waves him off, “No, it’s cool. I totally get it. I’m flattered, by the way.”

Spencer frowns. “Flattered?”

“Well, it’s not everyday you find out your superior’s jealous of you.”

Spencer blinks, and it takes all his experience as a profiler to mask his embarrassment. “You heard that.”

“The FBI’s got thin walls,” Intern shrugs and steps towards him. “Although I have to say, Agent (Your Last Name) is wrong about one thing.” Stopping short in front of him, for the first time Spencer is close enough to note the moles dotting his face. “They can’t tell that I’m flirting with them.” 

He starts down the hall after you, and Spencer’s eyes trail after him as his brow furrows, until realization slams into him and his jaw drops. “Wait, you...”

“Oh and since (Your Last Name) wants us to be friends, I think we could be on a first-name basis,” He pauses to look back at Spencer, watching with a crooked smile as the older man sputters. 

“So, you can call me Stiles, sir.”

Then once again, Spencer is left behind, frozen in the hallway as he processes what just happened.

And the next time he finds you and Special Agent Stilinski in the same room, whether it’s crowded or not, Spencer does not hesitate to cling to your side, putting as much distance between the intern and you as he can. Spencer’s grateful you don’t question it.

There may not be anyone else for you, but that doesn’t mean no one will try.

―

AN: ahhhhh thanks anon!! There was a similar request then i saw this tiktok (and listened to this tiktok the entire time) and i combined them. Id also like to emphasize that my version of reader is neutral across the board, race, gender, etc.

Yes, i have a type. No, i will not be taking criticism. 

Been hella overwhelmed with classes and work so here’s my way of destressing. Also suggest checking those tiktoks if you wanna understand me :))) also you mean to tell me i have to write the threesome myself?? Bs tbh 😔

watched 15x4 and i was so sad when Spencer addressed Luke as his coworker like no bitch hes your new bro stfu

and i have no doubt that stiles and spencer would be one of the best crossover duos given the chance 

[gc-genshin]

Chapter Four: Epiphany

Epiphany (n.): a sudden insight or understanding of something.

Pairing: Various x female reader

Summary: You get an idea of what's going on… sort of.

Warnings: Explicit language.

Word count: 12.7k (holy shit my bad)

A/N: Uh… *taps mic* hello?? Is this book still relevant?? Did y'all miss me? Lmao, lot of shit happened the past months so I wasn't really able to focus on this story unfortunately. I hope this extra long chapter makes up for the wait! Plus this isn't proofread and I'll add the taglist later, I'm ready to post this chapter.

Happy reading!

Your first week of working at the Wangshu Inn was… uneventful, to say the least.

Other than being hectic trying to take care of guests because of Lantern Rite, nothing really surprising has happened. Which you suppose was a good thing.

After your little drinking incident that happened a few days ago…

—

“Perhaps…” Xiao started and you waited with a baited breath, nervous as to what he was going to say. “You are in need of some assistance, you imbecile.”

You looked at him with hazy and unfocused eyes. In your drunken stupor, you could only respond to him with an embarrassed laugh.

“Aha, yeah…” You trailed off awkwardly. Your eyes then began to droop dangerously low as a sudden wave of drowsiness had hit you. Xiao could only watch as you instantly passed out in his arms while letting out small snores. The adeptus let out an aggravated sigh as he picked up and carried you to your shared room, already regretting the decision of taking care of you.

—

It was safe to say you didn't see him for a day or two.

Today was Friday. One day before the Mingxiao Lantern was released. Goldet had decided to already pay you for your two weeks because of how hard you were working, which you tried to decline, but Goldet was as stubborn as you so you reluctantly accepted the money.

You were sweeping the reception area, bored out of your mind. You were done with all of your chores but you still wanted to work and be productive. You turn your head when you hear Goldet heave a sigh.

“Lantern Rite is nearly here, why don't we decorate the inn this year?” She asks you.

That line sounds familiar. You tilt your head, feigning confusion. “Lantern Rite? What's that?”

Goldet looks at you surprised. “Oh! Don't you know? On the first full moon of the first month each year, Liyue celebrates the Lantern Rite. It's a festival to commemorate the heroes from the past. After dark, the people release Xiao and Mingxiao Lanterns into the night sky.” She began explaining. “Ah... "May the flames of wisdom spread to all, and never be extinguished." This is the meaning of the lanterns. We believe they act as the beacons in the night, guiding bygone heroes back to their homeland.”

You gaze at her in wonder. “That sounds like a magnificent festival.” If I cried during the cutscene from the game, I wonder how much of a mess I would be if I was able to see it in person.

“Do you want to get involved in the Lantern Rite?” Goldet asks.

You nodded. “From the way you were talking about it, it sounds like a wonderful experience.”

Goldet clapped her hands excitedly. “That's great! The festive period leading up to the day itself is all part of the celebrations. If you're looking to take part, it's not too late.”

You thought for a moment. “Wait, so you're telling me that I don't have to work?” You asked Goldet.

She let out a small gasp as if she was shocked you would even suggest such a thing. “Oh Archons no! I would never ask you to work on a holiday such as Lantern Rite!” She exclaimed. You blink at her a few times, caught off guard by her slight outburst, and she laughed at your expression. “Haha... During this time, we pray to bring peace and ward off bad luck. Liyue locals call it "bidding farewell to the old and welcoming the new."

After hearing Goldet exclaim, Huai’an, her husband and the innkeeper, came to see what the commotion was. “Verr, are you alright? I heard you yell.” He asked with a concerned look.

Both you and Goldet turned to him. “I'm fine, dear. I was just explaining to [Name] the history behind Lantern Rite.” Goldet tells him. “Can you believe this will be her first time celebrating it?”

Huai’an gives you a look of surprise. “You've never experienced Lantern Rite?”

From the way they were talking about it, you almost felt embarrassed to say no. You hunch your shoulders and meekly shake your head at him.

Huai’an noticed your timid state. “Well isn't this exciting?” He quietly asked Goldet. He then turned to you. “Lantern Rite truly is a wonderful experience so I have no doubt that you'll enjoy it. Plus I can teach you how to make Xiao Lanterns!” He gives you an encouraging smile.

You give them both a wide eyed stare. “So… I'll be able to go to Lantern Rite? You don't need me for anything?”

Goldet shook her head while laughing. “No, you silly girl. Everybody will be in the city to release lanterns, so the inn won’t be very busy that night.” She gives you a soft smile. “Go and have fun.”

Shit I might just cry. You looked at Goldet teary eyed. “Boss!” You wept comically. “You're too kind, boss! Paying me in advance, giving me a roof over my head, letting me go to Lanter Rite! What did I ever do to have such a wonderful boss?” You cried out and glomped her into a hug. You were totally using your younger appearance as an advantage to act more childish because you would have never done this with any other boss.

Goldet laughed at you, reciprocating the hug. “And what did I do to deserve such a wonderful employee? You've been working so hard since you've started, it would be cruel of me not to let you go and enjoy the festival.” She tells you while swaying side to side. You've come to realize that Goldet was starting to become like the older sister you never had.

You both pull away from the hug. “Plus,” Goldet began, “I paid you early in advance so that you would be able to go shopping.” She gives you a cheeky smirk. “Can't have you wearing my clothes and your uniform the entire time you're here.”

You laugh at that. “You're right.” You grin at her and Huai'an. “Thank you both so much, for all that you've done for me.” You say sincerely.

“Of course [Name]. Now go have fun shopping.” She gestures to the balcony. “I think you've just about swept the floorboards down to splinters.”

You thank Goldet again and give her one last hug before running to your room to change. But as you were making your way up the stairs, Goldet called out to you. “Oh [Name]! Um… also,” she trailed off uncertainly.

You crinkle your eyebrows in confusion. “What's up?”

“If you're able to…” she cleared her throat. “... could you... try to convince Xiao to go with you?” She asked. She then let out a sigh. “We're not close, I wouldn't know how to ask him myself. But it seems that you've grown familiar with him.”

You look at her confused. You? Being close with Xiao? Yeah, the thought sounds nice but there's no way you have already ‘grown familiar’ with him in just a week. If anything he tolerates you at best since you've forcefully wormed your way into his life.

“Really?” You tilt your head. “Xiao doesn't seem to be one for crowds.” Sorry Aether, I might have to steal your idea. “I mean, I'll try and convince him but I can't make any promises.”

Goldet let out a resigned sigh. “I suppose you're right… Anyway! Just thought I'd mention it. You should get yourselves down to the harbor.”

She then shoos you off with a smile. “Get going! If you leave too late, the city will be crowded with people and you won't be able to make the most of it.”

You nod enthusiastically. “Yes ma’am! Happy Lantern Rite!” You wave to her and Huai'an.

They both wave back. “Happy Lantern Rite!”

—

You burst into your room, practically vibrating in excitement at the thought of having your own clothes. You hurriedly started to strip out of your uniform, unaware of the curious gaze that came from your current roommate.

Xiao was currently leaning against the railing on the balcony that accompanied the room and was wondering why you were in such a rush. As he turned to question you, he instantly turned back around upon seeing you reach behind yourself to start buttoning your dress, keeping his gaze on the scenery before him. Xiao let out a deep breath and rubbed his forehead in aggitaion. I just can't get used to her doing that.

However, when you start to undress, you notice Xiao quickly turn around out of the corner of your eyes. Halting your movements, you call out to the young adeptus as you buttoned your uniform back up. “Sorry Xiao! I didn't know you were there!” And you made your way to the bathroom.

Hearing you say his name made Xiao tense up in surprise and furrow his eyebrows. He was one hundred percent certain that you would have just kept undressing in the middle of the room, being the shameless mortal that you are, but you didn't. You instead moved to change in a different room. Huh… perhaps she does have some decency.

You quickly came out of the bathroom after that interaction, dressed in Goldet’s clothes for the last time. Seeing Xiao still out on the balcony, you walk up to his side while enjoying the warm breeze.

Xiao looked at you from the corner of his eyes, nearly seeing the excitement radiate off you. “Where are you going in such a rush?” He asked. You perk up when hearing his voice and swivel your head to him.

“Goldet is letting me go experience the festival!” You exclaimed excitedly. “Isn't that great?”

Xiao rolled his eyes and let out a scoff. “What's so great about releasing glowing trash into the sky only for it to return to the sea?”

You hummed. “Well, it's like any other tradition I suppose. It's not so much the actual festival or ritual that matters but more of the meaning behind it instead.” You shrug. “Plus it gives me an excuse to go shopping, you coming with?”

“No.”

You let out a groan and roll your eyes. Even though you were expecting it, you couldn't help but feel a little disheartened at his answer. “Why not?” You question. Although I already know why.

Xiao gave you a look. “I don't enjoy large crowds of people.”

You let out a sigh. “Fiiiiine,” you drawl out, “no means no so I guess I'll stop bothering you about it.”

Xiao raised an eyebrow. Really? She's going to quit just like that? He looked at you dubiously.

“For now.” You added mischievously with a smirk.

There it is. Xiao should have known better. He found out that you were too damn stubborn to give up easily pretty quickly. He shook his head at you. “Do you plan on leaving soon?” He changed the subject.

You nod. “I was going to leave as soon as I changed but then I saw you and just had to talk to you.”

That made Xiao scrunch his eyebrows. “You just had to talk to me? Why's that?”

You look towards him and give him a closed eyes smile. “Because I wanted too! Plus you're my friend and I enjoy your company.”

Xiao gave you a once over. A heavy feeling settled in his chest when you referred to him as a “friend”. That word left a bitter taste in his mouth. Everyone that he ever considered a friend had either died or left him in some way, and he never bothered to keep in contact with the current adepti, so the thought of you wanting to be in his company was worrying. Who knows how long it'll be until his karmic debt finally catches up to him…

And drags you along with him.

Xiao narrowed his eyes at you. You immediately took notice of his tense state and swallowed at the harsh glare he gave you. Uh oh. You let out an uncomfortable laugh. I don't think he liked that.

“What have I told you about getting close?” He asked harshly which caused you to curl in on yourself slightly.

“In the thousands of years that have passed, I have taken countless wraiths,” he began, “so if you want no trouble, it’s best you keep your distance from me.” After he finished scolding you he turned to leave, going to do who knows what. You watched as he seemingly stormed away. Slightly panicking that he was leaving because you had upset him, you steeled your nerves and asked the first thing that came to your head.

“But what if I want trouble?”

Your question made Xiao stop in his tracks. He turned to look at you confused. You wore an expression that was full of confidence that waived slightly.

“What if I don’t want to keep my distance away from you?” You continued. “You told me to “stay out of your way or all that awaits me is regret”, right?” You quickly stride over to him and jab a finger in his chest.

“Well guess what honey? That's a risk I'm willing to take.” You tell him fiercely. “I make my own choices and if I happen to make bad choices then I will deal with the consequences of those choices.” You place a hand on your chest and glare at him determinedly.

“You have no say in what I ultimately can and can't do, Xiao. Only. I. do.” You finally finish and place your hands on your hips defiantly.

Xiao looked at you blankly, trying to process what you had just said. When he finally did, he looked at you sternly. “Is that really what you want?”

“More than anything.” Your eyes bore deep into him, not wavering in the slightest in your decision. “You saved my life. The least I can do for you is offer you my company and assistance in any way for not letting me splatter all over the ground. Even if you don't want it.”

After a few heartbeats of silence, Xiao reluctantly gave in and sighed while crossing his arms. “You are the most troublesome human I've had the displeasure of knowing.”

You smiled triumphantly. “Glad we're on the same page!”

“Well I'll be heading off now. Do you need anything?” You ask as you start heading towards the door.

“Nothing in the city would be of use to an adeptus.” He responds. “Don't forget your blade.”

You promptly made a 180 turn and walked towards your nightstand where a little dagger laid. Since you weren't able to fully wield a bigger weapon and don't understand how they do the whole whooshy thing to make their weapons disappear, I think he called it “particulation” or something like that, Xiao insisted that you had some form of weapon to protect yourself with.

You grabbed the knife and clipped it parallel to your belt, allowing your shirt to conceal it. “I don't see the reason as to why I have to have this thing. Aren't the Millelith scattered along the road to Liyue?” You then turn to Xiao and tilt your head. “Plus I can just call you whenever I'm in trouble.” Though that would probably be a last resort for me.

“I don't trust those lousy soldiers.” Xiao huffed.

You raised your eyebrow and pursed your lips, nodding in agreement. “Yeah… I don't blame ya.”

“Anyways,” you shrug, “are you sure you don't want to come with me?”

Xiao only shook his head. “Best you go alone. There's no need for me to be there.”

You look at him with big doe eyes, trying to convince him to at least walk you to the harbor. “But the road from here to Liyue Harbor is long and full of dangers... I need someone to ensure my safety!” You exclaim, seemingly scared.

“That's why I gave you your blade.” The adeptus gave you a bored look upon his handsome face.

You then startled Xiao when you clapped your hands into a prayer position and brought them to your head. “O Vigilant Yaksha, please escort me safely to the city!” You cry out.

Xiao tensed at your sudden decloration. Normally, Xiao was used to other’s praying to him and hearing their wishes but when you did it, it made him feel… fidgety. You seemed to hold yourself in a high regard that you didn't let anyone have control over your actions, so it was odd to see you with your head bowed to him.

Xiao crossed his arms and looked away from you. “Quit that. There's no need for you to bow to me.”

You perked up, an excited gleam in your eyes. “So you'll come with me?”

“So be it. I won't be going into the city though.” He retorted.

You throw him a smile. “That's fine!” You straighten back up and open the door. “Come on, let's go!” You wave at him.

Xiao shook his head at your antics and began to follow you. And to think that she's a grown adult. “Wait.” He called out.

You stop in your tracks and look back at Xiao confused. “Huh? Why?”

Xiao walks up to your left side and grabs your bicep. You looked at him even more perplexed. What is he doing?

You then began to feel a strong gust of wind swirl around you and in an instant, darkness flooded your vision and a familiar feeling of nausea came over you. When you opened your eyes again, you saw the gates of Liyue below the hill you were on.

You put your hands on your knees, trying to keep from puking everywhere, as you begin to process that Xiao had just teleported you both to Liyue.

“Here we are.” Xiao released your arm.

“Would have been nice to know beforehand.” You groan. After feeling like you weren't going to empty your guts out, you look up and let out a small gasp.

In front of you stood an archway that led to the bridge that entered into the city. Looking beyond that, you could see the beautiful Chinese architecture of the buildings that filled Liyue Harbor with the magnificent decorations of Lantern Rite along the city. You gaped at the scene before you. Holy shit…

Xiao swiveled his head to give a hard stare. “Don't go and cause any trouble.” He warned you.

That caused you to let out a snort. “Yeah, yeah, sure. What are you, my dad?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Why did we teleport?”

“So I wouldn't have to listen to talk my ear off all day.” He responded bluntly, causing you to let out an offended gasp. “And I told you,” he continued before you could tell him off. “so long as you are in Liyue, it is my duty to protect you and not let any harm come to you.” Xiao reiterated.

“Wow… you really are my dad. But that's a pretty big responsibility. You sure you can follow through with it?” You question.

“Are you questioning my abilities as an adeptus?” He asked gruffly. He then leaned in closer to your face. “I always take care of my duties.” Xiao finished while staring you straight in the eyes.

Your eyes widened in surprise at his declaration. The way he said that so firmly and confidently made your chest feel light before tightening, a familiar feeling of guilt settling in, causing you to look away and frown. Shit… not now.

Noticing the change in your demeanor, Xiao tilted his head confused. “What's wrong?”

Shaking your head to get rid of the self-deprecating thoughts that were forming, you look up at him with reassuring eyes. “It's nothing.” You tell him with a small smile.

Going back to your seemingly old self, you give Xiao a look. “Alrighty,” You turn towards him and hold out your pinkie, “pinky promise it then.”

He gave your pinky an inquisitive look. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “You have heard of a pinky promise before, right?”

Xiao squinted his eyes at you. “Is this another strange human gesture?”

“Eh, I wouldn't necessarily say it's strange. More endearing than anything.” You hold your dominant hand and make a “give it” gesture. “Give me your hand.”

Xiao hesitantly puts his hand in yours. You close it into a fist, only leaving out his pinky. You then bring your own pinky and lock it with his own. “Now say your promise again.” Xiao looked at you reluctantly. You let out a groan. “Come on dude, just do it please?” You say giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

Xiao sighed. “I promise, so long as you are in Liyue, that I will protect you and not let any harm come to you.” He looked at your still entwined pinkies. As he said this, a gentle breeze drifted between the two of as if it was sealing the promise between you and Xiao. Xiao watched as the wind suddenly made your hair flutter around you and the way the afternoon sun casted just the right amount of shadows on your features as you looked up at him. At the moment he didn't see the fifteen year old features that made up your current face but the mature, more sharper features that he saw from your most recent pictures and student ID.

“Now what?” Her hands are really warm.

You give him a smile. “That's it!” You then let go of his pinky, bringing your hand back to your side.

He looked at you confused. “That's it? Nothing special happens?”

“The special thing about pinky promises is that the person who broke the promise gets their pinky cut off by the other person who made the promise.” You say to him.

“That's quite gruesome for such a little act.” Humans confused him so much.

“I think it was more of a scare tactic for kiddos than anything really.” You shrug. You then started walking to the city. “I'll see you later Xiao!” You call out with a grin.

“Be careful.” He told you with a subtle nod, which made your smile somehow even brighter, before teleporting away. You then turned back around and practically skipped to Liyue.

—

You made your way down the hill and soon came upon the gate that led to the city. In front of it stood two guards, you couldn't bother to remember their names, who gave you a nice ‘welcome to Liyue Harbor’ as you walked past them. As you walked over the bridge you saw the Mingxiao Lantern standing tall in all its glory. Continuing on, you finally stepped foot in the city. With a look of amazement on your face, you spun around while trying to take in all of the decorations.

I can't believe I'm actually here… You let out a disbelieving laugh and began to feel your eyes become misty. Am I really tearing up right now? Oh my God I am. You shake your head trying to get your emotions in check. As you carry on walking further, the infamous somewhat creepy shipowner, Bolai spots you looking around like a lost puppy. Which you really weren't, you were just hypnotized by the decorations.

“Hello young lady!” He called out to you. You whipped your head towards him, slightly startled. When you realized who was talking, you made a small grimace. Oh… it's that really creepy guy that I don't like.

As he makes his way towards you, you put your guard up as you straighten your back. “Hello.”

Bolai raised an eyebrow as he stopped short of you. “What a strange accent. Are you perhaps foreign?” He questioned.

You furrow your eyebrows. I have an accent? “Something like that.” You reply with a shrug your shoulders nonchalantly and a ghost of a smile on your face. Ain't no way in hell are you talking about yourself to him.

Bolai narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously. How interesting. “Quite the mysterious one, you are. Tell me, young lady, where do you hail from? Fontaine? Sumeru?”

“Sure.” You tell him halfheartedly. Why the fuck is he grilling me so hard? I should probably give him some sort of answer so he'll leave me alone. “I traveled a lot so I never really had a distinctive place to call home.” You smoothly lied. Well… it wasn't entirely a lie.

Believing your little fib, Bolai’s face softens into a look of realization. A young girl like you didn't have a home growing up? Is that what you were hinting at?

Taking notice of the subtle pity look that crossed his gaze, you groan internally. Great, now he's going to think that I never had a home. Whoops!

“Well just know that you are always welcomed here in Liyue,” He reassured you, kinda. Your eyebrows raise slightly in surprise from that. “And if you ever need anything, and I mean anything, you can always come to me.” He finished ominously while giving you a smile that seemed a little too kind.

You leaned your torso away from the strange man and looked at him mildly creeped out, yet kept a polite smile on your face. “Duly noted… thanks.” Trailing off, you maneuvered your way around and sped walked away from Bolai. A fake shiver runs through your body. Ugh… just as creepy as I remember.

You continued further into the city. Your head was constantly moving from left to right, up and down, taking in the gorgeous decorations that littered the buildings and streets. Pulling out the Mora pouch that Goldet gave you, you recounted the money that you earned from your first week working. 60,500 Mora… that should be plenty right? You paused. Actually, isn't that a lot of money? This seems like a lot for just a week of work. After pondering a few moments, you shrug the thought off.

You made sure to visit almost all the food stalls that were on the harbor to experience Liyue’s cuisine authentically, as well as how to make Xiao lanterns. After doing all the activities you possibly could, you made your way up the gigantic steps that led to the main road of the city.

As you made it to the top, you put your hands on your knees trying to catch your breath. From being on your feet all day from working plus the training the Xiao puts you through, it's safe to say you were pretty damn tired. You're kidding me. I can not be this out of shape! You thought.

Heaving one last breath, you straighten back up. You looked out to see the streets bustling with people with a slight grimace on your face at the crowds of people. You absolutely hated crowds of people because being around them just completely drains your energy.

However, your curiosity and astonishment motivated you to move forward. As you walked through the city, you kept an eye out for any clothing shops because you needed your own clothes, since that's pretty much what you came here for.

Letting your gaze continue to search through the windows of various different shops, your eyes landed on an article of clothing that caught your attention. You quickly make your way to the store and opened the doors, causing a bell above the door to let out a little chime and alert the store owner and other shoppers of your presence.

“Welcome!” They called out. You give them a small wave in response as you make your way over to the outfit. Once you made it, you reached your hand out to feel the smooth silk of the fabric. It was a beautiful sleeveless, purple dress that reached the middle of your thighs. Around the skirt of the dress laid two longer pieces that were a darker purple and draped along the sides. The top of the dress was two different colors, the right being a dark purple that were the same color of the longer pieces while the left was a lighter purple that matched the skirt, and had a high collar and with an opening in the chest area. The dress also adorned what looked like a wide obi belt, but you weren't too sure. The whole dress was trimmed with gold accents and had gold swirls all along it. Next to the dress were a pair of low ankle boots that matched the color theme.

This was the one.

You yoink it off the rack and look around for the owner. When you found them, you asked if they had any dressing rooms to try on the dress to which they led you to one. You begin to strip as soon as the door closes behind you. I really hope it fits otherwise I'll be heart broken.

As you slipped the dress over your head you zipped up the side and fastened the button on the collar. When you turn around to face the mirror, your eyes widen in surprise. Holy shit… I've never had a dress fit me so well. The dress sat magnificently on you and accentuated your curves. However… You looked down at your chest to see that your bra from your universe was most definitely visible thanks to the opening that went from the collar of the dress to the belt. I'm gonna have to do something about that. Looking back in the mirror you took notice of your tattoos. Those as well. You thought for a moment. Plus I don't particularly like wearing dresses unless I have leggings or something underneath it.

You begin to take the dress off and put your other clothes back on. I wonder if they would have some kind of body suit or something… You put the dress back on the hanger but continue to hold on to it. Making your way back towards the racks of clothing you begin your search.

As you walk through the aisles of clothing, you notice a black full body suit hanging on one of the racks. Bingo! You thought with a smile. You made your way to the suit, but you failed to notice the other body that was backing up into you.

Feeling a sudden weight on your right side, you stumble a little due to the force. However, the person that ran into had lost their balance and started to fall to the ground. Eyes widening in surprise, you were quick to catch them by grabbing them under their arms. When you looked down to check on the person to see if they were okay, you felt your breath hitch.

Staring back at you startled are lavender colored eyes that were lined with dark, thick lashes that belong to the one and only Ganyu.

You begin to feel your cheeks grow warm as you look down at the gorgeous half-adeptus in your arms. Ohfuckohfuckohfu– “Are you okay?” You asked worriedly. When you looked up to see what could have caused her to trip, you were greeted with the sight of a man that looked a little too pleased with himself. As he looked away from Ganyu and up to you, you made sure to give him the coldest glare you could manage – which made the man’s smirk falter and back up just a little.

Fucker.

Ganyu blinked as she came back to her senses. “Y-yes! I'm alright.” She gives you an appreciative smile. “Thank you.”

You return her smile. “It's no problem.” As you help her upright, you lean closer to her ear. “Do you know this guy?” You whispered. She looks at you from the corner of her eye and subtly shakes her head no.

You looked up to the creep and gave him an ‘innocent’ smile. “Is everything alright here?”

Realizing the slight hostile undertone in your voice, the man gives you a strained look. “Y-yes, everything's fine!” He stuttered and gestured to Ganyu. “I just thought I'd give this young lady a little help.”

Your eyes flicker from her back to the man. “She looks to be just fine on her own. What does she need help with?”

The man’s opens then closes, trying to think of a good excuse. “I… uh… well, she-!” You cut the man off with a raised hand.

“I'm going to stop you there. You're making yourself look like a fool.” You chastise. “It's obvious what you're doing and you're clearly making her uncomfortable. I suggest you stop now before you keep digging your grave even deeper.”

Eyes blown open and mouth agape, the man stares at you in shock from your words. Was I really that obvious? The man thought. He felt himself cowering in on himself under the heavy gaze of the two girls.

“Well, whatever.” He scoffed while avoiding eye contact, seemingly trying to act tough. “It's not like she was actually attractive.” Yet he received no reaction from either of the girls, as they continued to stare. The man began to fidget from their silence, then quickly turned around and left the store.

Both you and Ganyu let out a sigh. “Thankfully, that's over.” You tilt your head at Ganyu. “Does that happen often?”

“No, that was the first time it has ever happened.” She reveals. She then bows toward you. “Thank you for helping me.” When Ganyu straightens back up, she places a hand on her chest while giving you a sweet smile. “My name is Ganyu, secretary of the Yuhai Pavilion.”

God, she's even more gorgeous in real life… You flush a little as you give her a small bow in return. “It's nice to meet you, Miss Ganyu. I'm [Name] [Last Name].”

“It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Miss [Last Name]. Again, I do apologize for bumping into you earlier.” She tells you.

You wave your hand dismissively. “Just call me [Name], please. Calling me by my last name makes me feel old.” You joke.

Ganyu tilts her head curiously at you. “If I may ask, how old are you?” She asks innocently.

You pause, processing her question. Damn it. “I'm fifteen.” You manage out. I really hate telling people that because then they'll treat me like a child…

“Really?” She wonders aloud. “You're quite mature for your age and you seemed to know exactly what to do in the situation that happened earlier…” She trailed off.

You freeze hearing that. Oh shit! Has she caught on already?! You let out an awkward laugh. “Yeah, mature…” You say while making a subtle face. Although Xiao would disagree otherwise.

“Anyways, thank you once again for helping me. Is there anything I can do for you in return?” Ganyu asks.

You bring a finger to your chin and hum in thought. “Actually there is.” While Ganyu waits patiently for your request, you give her a smile. “Would you know of any stores that would have a body suit?”

The beautiful half-adeptus perks up in response. “As a matter of fact, this store has the same ones that I wear. Let me show you.” She then beckons you to follow her.

You do so with a skip in your step.

—

You and Ganyu soon left the shop, with you now wearing your new outfit that screamed main character. Thankfully the body suit was able to cover all of your tattoos. As you continued through the city, making light conversations with Ganyu, you watched as two little boys, who looked to be around the age of ten, chased each other around the streets while laughing. You watched them with a small smile. While you didn't like kids, you didn't necessarily hate them either. Plus it was kind of your profession to be able to take care of them as well. But you definitely didn't want any kids. Well, right now at least.

You watched as they weaved through the legs of strangers, trying to avoid getting hit. However, as the one with light blue hair raised a hand out in order to tag the other little boy with darker blue hair and an asymmetrical cut, a man that wasn't paying attention to what was in front of him went to take a step and kneed the poor boy hard in the head. The pale blue haired boy went down in an instant.

You let out a snort and raised a hand to your mouth to hide that you were laughing. “That poor kid just ate shit.” You couldn't help but let out a few chuckles at the kids unfortunate situation. Ganyu looked at you confused from the corner of her eyes. I'm a horrible person.

“I'm so sorry, buddy! Are you okay?” The young man that hit the boy asked as he crouched down. He received no reply as the boy laid still. The man started to shake the boy, seemingly beginning to panic.

“Hey…” He called out once more. “Are you okay?” He shook the boy frantically. Still, he received no reply. “This isn't funny, kid. Wake up!”

You stopped laughing and straightened your posture as your ‘doctor mode’ kicked in. Now you were getting concerned. Thousands of scenarios ran through your mind as to why the kid wasn't getting up. Is he concussed? Is he faking it? What's going on?

The other little boy that was running away, turned around when he heard yelling. His orange eyes widened in fear. “Chongyun!” He cried out and began running back to his friend.

Realization dawned on you. Those kids were Xingqiu and Chongyun. Your feet moved before you even noticed it as you rushed towards Chongyun and the man. Ganyu jumped when you began running and raised a hand to stop you. “[Name], wait!” But you were too far away to hear her over the people walking around.

A crowd began to form around the two to see what was happening. This caused the young man to panic even more. He looked up to the crowd. “Is there a doctor here? Please, anyone!” He cried out desperately, yet no one made a move to help.

You shook your head at the crowd. I see that the Bystander Effect is still a thing here. Xingqiu made it to Chongyun before you did, then got to his knees as soon as he reached him and started tapping Chongyun on the shoulder. “Chongyun?” He asked. “Wake up ‘Yun!”

You finally made it to the crowd and started elbowing your way through. “Excuse me! I'm a doctor, please let me through!” You yell out to the pedestrians. They turned and looked at you skeptically. Your lip curled up into a sneer at the people's ignorance. I don't have time for this.

“I said MOVE!” You yell out startling them in the process and forcing them to move. “Thank you!” You say exasperatedly, not forgetting your manners apparently. You quickly made your way over to Chongyun and got to your knees behind his head, gently placing your hands on either of his cheeks in order to stabilize his neck, in case he had injured it. Xingqiu noticed you and looked at you with tears eyes, worried out of his mind for his friend.

You looked to the man who started this whole mess. “What's going on? What happened?” You asked hurriedly while you checked Chongyun’s pulse.

The man seemed to be in a daze as he answered. “This kid just came out of nowhere. I had accidentally hit him with my knee and now he's not waking up.” He explained shakily. “Then this other kid just now showed up.” He pointed to Xingqiu. He then looked at you confused. “Aren't you a little young to be a doctor?”

You look at the man and give him a glare. “I don't think that matters right now since I'm the only one who even bothered to step in and help the poor child.” You glared at the rest of the crowd when you finished which made them avoid eye contact with you. Murmurs started to float through the crowd. What was this girl doing? Who is she? She's clearly too young to be a doctor.

You ignore their not so quiet whispering and look over to Xingqiu, giving him a reassuring smile. “Hey buddy,” you started softly. “What's your name?”

The normally composed boy let out a sniffle. “Xingqiu.” He responded. “My friend, Chongyun, isn't opening his eyes! Can you help?” He asked pleadingly.

“Don't worry baby, I'm a doctor.” You tell him, the pet name subconsciously slipping out of habit from when you worked with kids. “I'm going to help him and make sure he's okay.” Seventy beats per minute. Normal heart rate. Nineteen breaths per minute. Normal respiratory rate. If he wakes up soon, it'll most likely be just a slight concussion. You mentally start going down the checklist for head trauma patients when Chongyun finally opens his eyes.

Quickly taking notice, you yell at the crowd. “Everyone back up please! The kid is waking up so give him some space!” The crowd immediately backs away. You look back down at the boy who was wincing from the sunlight.

“Hey honey,” You gently try to get his attention, “can you hear me?”

Chongyun opened his eyes fully and looked at you, confused before squinting from the sunlight. From his position on the ground and the way the sunlight was hitting his baby blue eyes, you were able to see that his pupils were equal in size. Good. No anisocoria, no serious brain damage.

“Wha…?” Chongyun groaned out. With your hands on his cheeks, you gently tapped them to shift his attention back to you.

“Hey honey, look at me.” You instructed. “What's your name?”

The boy paused for a moment. “Chongyun.” He answered.

Alright that's one question. “It's nice to meet you Chongyun.” You smile at him. “Chongyun, do you know how old you are?” You continued.

“I'm ten.” He responded a little quicker this time. You nodded your head at him. That's two.

“Do you know where you're at, Chongyun?” You made sure to keep saying his name so that he would focus on you.

After a moment of silence, he responded. “I'm in Liyue.” He then closed his eyes and let out another groan. “My head hurts.”

“I know, dear. One last question, okay?” You tell him. He nods. “Do you know what happened to you?”

He thought for a moment. “I was… I was chasing Xingqiu,” said boy perked up in response to his name, “we were playing tag. I almost caught him then it suddenly got dark.” He opened his eyes and looked at you. “Why did it go dark?”

You give him a look of reassurance. “Your noggin got hit pretty hard and you fell down. You were asleep for a few minutes but you'll be okay.” You tilt your head. That's the last question. A and O times 4. He's alert and aware. “Does your head still hurt?” You asked as you began to palpate his neck, feeling for any serious injuries. You removed your hands when you found none.

He nodded. “Do you feel pain anywhere else? How about your neck?” He shakes his head in response.

“Good. Do you feel like sitting up for me sweetie?” You ask. Chongyun slowly moves to sit upright with your help and you guide him to the curb to sit on so he was out of the road. Xingqiu crawled over to his friend to see how he was doing, with you reminding him to overwhelm Chongyun. As you look out towards the crowd, you see Ganyu, who was carrying a cup of what you assumed was water, make her way over to your little group. She hands you the cup, which you thank her profusely, and you give it to Chongyun.

“Drink it slowly.” You advise him. “I don't want you choking on me now that you're awake.” You tease gently while sending a subtle wink to Xingqiu, causing the young boy to giggle.

He gingerly takes the cup from your hand. “Thank you ma’am.”

“Thank you, ma’am!” Xingqiu tells you as well.

“It's not a problem.” You reassure both of them with a smile. As soon as they saw that Chongyun was okay, the crowd dispersed and continued what they were doing. However, not without whispering amongst themselves how seemingly a teenager knew exactly what to do when taking care of an injured child.

You continued to sit with the two boys to monitor Chongyun, in case something suddenly went awry. Ganyu stayed as well, astounded at the young girl before her.

“What you did was quite impressive Miss [Name]!” The half adeptus praised. “I didn't know you were so vast in medical knowledge, and at such a young age too.”

You let out a few chuckles. “Well you only just met me today Miss Ganyu.”

She then gives you a sheepish look. “I was surprised to see you help him so quickly,” she leans in closer to whisper to you, “given that you were laughing at him earlier.”

“Oh… yeah,” You let out an uncomfortable laugh. “As long as they're not seriously hurt or in any danger, kids getting hit or falling is hilarious to me.” You let out a wince. “Wow, that sounds awful.”

“Yet you didn't hesitate to help him as soon as you saw that something was wrong.” Ganyu pointed out.

You lifted your hand to pet Chongyun on the head. “Well I've always wanted to be able to put my life to good use and help people in some way, so what better way than this? Helping people in their times of need.” You give Ganyu a cheeky smirk. “I may act all tough but I'm actually a big softie.”

“I'm well aware of that now.” Ganyu chuckles.

As you visited with the half-adeptus and two young boys, you failed to notice a pair of red eyes gazing at you with a look of mischief.

—

After triple checking that Chongyun was okay and him constantly telling you that he was, you wave the boys goodbye who returned it in full. Ganyu then tells you that she should continue running errands for Lady Nigguang and you may or may not have freaked out a bit inside when you heard her name. Waving to the half adeptus as well, you continue to wander aimlessly through the city.

You soon found yourself at the Wanmin restaurant, chef Mao working swiftly in the kitchen. He soon brought out your order and after paying, you made your way to the south side wharf. As you make your way to the dock, you sit down on the edge and look out at the ocean before you while swinging your legs. You welcomed the smell of salt water and the ocean breeze that fluttered around you, yet it did nothing to quarrel your racing thoughts.

I can't believe I've already been in Teyvat for a week and still don't have a fucking clue as to how I got here in the first place. You slide your hands down your face and clasped them together in front of your mouth. And Xiao has been no help to me in that matter unfortunately. The guy still doesn't talk to me that much anyways. Plus training with him has been difficult as well. I've learned that he's a super strict teacher and I've only managed to construct only two Geo items with him this past week but that was only when I was extremely frustrated or upset, so I have no clue as to how I'm going to be able to properly control the element… or that ‘particulation’ thingy with the weapons as well.

You drop your head in your hands and let out a whine. This is all so confusing! I really wish someone or something just give me some fucking answers!

You then look up and run your hands through your hair. Turning your head to the left, you see the giant Mingxiao lantern that was ready to be released once it was dark enough. You let out a sigh and try to relax. I should probably start looking for a place to watch it when it releases tomorrow. You stand up and start walking back to Feiyan Slope. Soon you crossed over the little bridge that connects Chihu Rock and Feiyan Slope. You decided to stick closer to the buildings to try and stay away from the crowds.

However, as you were too preoccupied to not hit anybody, you didn't notice a hand reaching out from an alleyway until it was too late. You felt a harsh tug on your left arm which caused you to let out a yelp. You quickly caught your bearings and when you turned to slapped your assailant, you froze as you saw a pale face that looked to be thirteen years old inches from yours. Red eyes with strange, floral shaped pupils came with the face and was framed with dark hair that faded into red.

Holy… Hu Tao? You wondered. But she looks a lot younger? Younger than this “me” that's for sure.

You give her a confused smile. “Um… hello?” Am I just going to meet every character in Liyue today?

“You're the one Mr. Zhongli told me about!” She exclaims. “It's nice to meet you! My name is Hu Tao!”

You swore you felt your soul leave your body when you heard his name. ZHONGLI?! HE’S LOOKING FOR ME?! OH SHI-! You're cut from your thoughts when Hu Tao starts pulling you. “Hey! W-wait!”

“C’mon! Mr. Zhongli is waiting for you back at the funeral parlor. It seemed like he wasn't too happy with you so we shouldn't keep him waiting any longer!” She giggles.

Yup, I'm officially dead. Maybe now I can go back to my world and be normal again.

Soon the young girl brings you to the doors of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. You gnawed on your lower lip. Fuck… I'm more nervous now than I was when I was taking the MCAT. Maybe because I'm meeting a FUCKING GOD?! You begin to slightly hyperventilate, the reality of the situation finally sitting in. FUCKFUCKFUCKFU-

You are once again snapped out of your internal freak out by Hu Tao pulling on your arm. The girl pushes the doors open while bringing you with her. The inside is about what you expected from a funeral parlor with coffins lining along the walls along with different types of shrines. After a few twists and turns, you and Hu Tao reach a very intricate door with a plate on it that says “Consultant: Zhongli”. You clench your jaw as you could practically feel the intense aura that radiated from him even through the door.

Without even knocking, Hu Tao busts through his door. “Mr. Zhongli! I found her! This is the girl you were looking for right?”

The wind gets knocked out of you upon finally seeing him in person and your knees about damn near buckle from underneath when you make eye contact with him. If you thought Xiao’s eyes were intense, then you don't even know how to describe Zhongli’s.

The Geo Archon narrowed his eyes towards you. “Indeed it is, Hu Tao.” His deep voice rumbled throughout the entire room and shook you to your core. “You may take your leave now.”

The young girl pouted. “Aw… and I wanted to see you scold her.”

A quick glance from the corner of his eyes was enough to make Hu Tao take the hint and leave, however not without whining on her way out.

As soon as Hu Tao was gone, Zhongli stood up and took large strides towards you, causing you to start panicking. Hu Tao, why did you have to leave me alone with an Archon?! Soon the man towered over you, forcing you to look up at him. The shadows that casted over his being due to him blocking out the overhead light made his striking amber eyes all the more intimidating. You felt like you were about to be pounced on like a mouse cornered by a barn cat.

Then Zhongli lowered his face closer to yours. “So you're the outlander who took my vision without permission.” He accuses. You feel your breath hitch in your throat and your palms beginning to clam up. You had never been more intimidated in your life and you have fought against people twice your size no problem before!

“Oh…! Um, t-that was me?” You stutter out. Your eyes widen when you realize just how fucking stupid you sounded.

Zhongli coolly looked at you. “Of course it was you. I knew that you were not of this world the moment you arrived in Liyue.” He tells you firmly while staring straight into your soul. “Now, do inform me on how you were able to acquire this power without a Vision granted from me?”

The silence was deafening in the room. You thought you were just about to faint until your experience from working under pressure in the emergency room decided to kick in and not fail you as you quickly composed yourself.

“In my defense,” you raise your hands. “it was completely out of my control.”

Zhongli raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

You let out a sigh. “Here's what happened. A saw a Statue of Seven in Guili Plains, in all of its glory, and as soon as I was near it I felt a pulling sensation. Later that day I was extremely frustrated and all of a sudden a rock pillar just came out of the ground.”

Zhongli hummed in thought before finally standing back to his full height, allowing you to breathe again. He brought a hand to his chin and looked down in thought. “Interesting. I have not heard of such instances where that has ever happened, with me or any of the other Archons.” His eyes met yours again. “So what makes you special? So special that even the adeptus Xiao has decided to look after you?”

You couldn't help the exaggerated laugh that bubbled out of your throat. “Ha! I wish I knew, but your guess is as good as mine sweetheart.” You pause. “I also know that you're Morax too… if you haven't figured that out yet.” You finish meekly. WHAT THE FUCK AM I SAYING?!

The Geo Archon’s eyes widen at you. “How did you know that? Where exactly did you come from?” He interrogates.

You quickly explain to him the same thing that you told Xiao, that he was from a video game and that you were aware of what was to come in the future as well as how you somehow physically de-aged.

“Interesting.” Zhongli thought for a moment. “It appears that you come from a similar universe in which our’s exists but in a completely different manner.”

“How much of our universe do you know through this ''game”?” He questions.

“I know of some future events that will happen, but the lore of the story is still a complete mystery. We don't even know how long the main story of the game is.” You say.

Zhongli pondered. “I see. If you know what is to happen in the future, then it would be best to let things run their course and not intervene with it.”

“Yeah, the butterfly effect and shit like that.” Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as you subconsciously swore. You quickly slap a hand over your mouth. “Sorry… it's a bad habit.” You apologize quietly.

Zhongli decided to ignore your mishap. “So you're aware of what could happen. And since you're already aware of my identity, I presume that you know that I go by Zhongli now?”

You nod your head. “Yes, I do.” You then realized that you haven't introduced yourself. You quickly bowed towards him. “My name is [Name] by the way! [Name] [Last Name].”

Zhongli nodded. “It's a pleasure to finally know the name of the outlander that took my Vision without consent.”

You make a face at his snarky comment. “Is it a pleasure though?” You muttered rhetorically.

“Let's continue with your situation.” Zhongli diverted the conversation back on track. He then looked towards you. “Perhaps if you tried to remember the events that happened to you before you came here, that may give us a better idea as to the reason why you're here.” He then gestures to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Please have a seat. It will be easier for you to remember if you're comfortable.”

“I do remember being on a bridge but that's the only thing I know now.” Moving to sit down, you tuck your dress skirt underneath you and cross your legs, trying to look somewhat professional. You take a deep breath as you gather thoughts. What happened before coming here? What was I doing? You lean forward and rest your elbows on your knee while interlacing your hands, then put your forehead against them. You close your eyes and your eyebrow twitches into a furrow as you begin to concentrate. [e/c] eyes move rapidly behind eyelids as memories start to form.

“A hospital…” You began. “I was working a shift in the hospital.”

—

“Hi Miss Bradford!” You cheerily call out as you knock on the door. The old woman looked up from her magazine and smiled at you with dull blue eyes.

“Dr. [Last Name]. How are you doing sweetheart?” She asks softly. Miss Bradford was a quiet old lady in her seventies with salt and pepper hair and the brightest, most gorgeous blue eyes you had ever seen.

That was before she had started chemotherapy.

Miss Bradford was your most recent patient. You had treated her a few months ago when she came to your emergency room with intense chest pains. After taking multiple different CAT scans and MRIs, you and several other doctors had concluded her diagnosis as breast cancer. Although you admitted her to Oncology, she kept having complications when she had started chemotherapy; causing you to see her quite frequently.

Today was the day Miss Bradford would start her third round of chemo and you decided to bring her her favorite lunch before starting. Miss Bradford was hell bent on beating this cancer but after her most recent round she had started to lose her appetite. Which was never a good sign for a cancer patient.

“I'm doing well, thank you. And I thought I told you to call me [Name]?” You grab a chair and pull it up next to her bed.

She gives you a small smile. “But you worked so hard to earn the title of a doctor. I'm only giving you the respect you deserve.”

You shook your head playfully at the older woman. “How're you feeling today?”

She let out a sigh. “Tired, but better than yesterday. I'm ready to get this damn treatment over with.” She grumbled.

“That's good! Do you feel like eating today?” You ask.

She shook her head. “Not really but knowing you, you'll probably force me to eat anyways.” She looked at the plastic sack in your hand. “Whatcha got there?”

“Well hopefully this will bring your appetite back for today. It's your favorite!” You raise the bag higher and place it on her food tray. “Almond Tofu! I remember you telling me that it was your go to desert when you lived in Singapore, so I had one of my foreign exchange friends teach me how to make it.” You let out a dramatic sigh. “I can't tell you how many times I messed up baking this damn dessert.”

Miss Bradford looked at the sweet treat with tears in her eyes. “Oh, [Name]…” She let out a wet laugh. “You didn't have to do that.”

You smiled at the older woman. “I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to.”

She suddenly reaches over as quickly as all the tubes hooked up to her allowed her and brought you into a tight hug. You fretted over her before she cut you off.

“Thank you, [Name].” She whispered. You reciprocated her hug gently.

“You're welcome, Miss Bradford. Though I can't guarantee it'll be just like the real thing.” You playfully warned.

She let out a laugh as she pulled away from the hug. “I'm sure it will be wonderful.” She gives you a grateful smile. She then evenly separates the dessert and gives you half of it. You shook your hands no at the offer.

“No no, Miss Bradford, I made this for you so you don't have to share it with me.” You politely decline.

She glares at you but smiles. “I know I don't have to but I want to.” She quipped.

You gasp. “How dare you throw my own words back at me!”

“Just take the damn dessert, Dr. [Last Name].” She laughed out loud.

Letting out a sigh, you grab the plate from her and begin to eat with her. You both chatted for a couple of minutes after finishing before you were paged to be back down in the emergency room. You grabbed the plastic container the dessert was in and threw it away. As you moved the chair back to its proper place, you looked at Miss Bradford.

Reaching a hand out, you place it over her own. “Thank you for eating today, Miss Bradford.” You tell her sincerely. “I know it's getting hard but all of the nurses are telling me that you're doing great.”

“Just two more rounds and it will be over.” You encouraged her.

The older woman nods as she grasps your hand and gives it a tight squeeze. A nonverbal thank you.

“Do you need anything else before I leave?” You ask.

She shakes her head. “No, Dr. [Last Name]. I'm quite alright. Now go save some lives.” She lets go of your hand and shoos you off.

You roll your eyes teasingly. “I'll be back to check on you after your treatment. Try not to see me this time around!” You open the door and wave back at her. “Good luck! You got this!” You then swiftly leave the room and head back to your station.

As soon as you were gone, Miss Bradford’s smile dropped immediately. She laid her head back and lifelessly looked at the ceiling. Tears started to fall from her cobalt eyes as she thought about you and the gift you had made for her.

“I'm gonna miss you, [Name].” She whispered into the empty room.

—

After three days, you fortunately had the day off from working so you immediately went to go see Miss Bradford.

You soon made it to the familiar room. “Hi Miss Bradford! How do you feel-” You stop in your tracks upon seeing Miss Bradford lying in front of you. The older woman looked nothing like what you had seen three days prior. Her beautiful salt and pepper hair had begun to fall out and her skin looked like it was barely hanging onto her bones.

You quickly come back to reality. This is what chemo does. And elderly people tend to not survive the drug. You remind yourself.

You take a deep breath and walk towards the bed. “Miss Bradford?” You call out. “It's me, Dr. [Last Name].”

The woman slowly opened her eyes. Her bleary and glazed over eyes tiredly searched for the voice calling out to her before landing on your form. Her dull blue eyes light up in recognition.

“[Name].” She croaked out yet still gave you a smile.

You give a smile right back to her. “Hi Miss Bradford.” You greet softly. You squat down next to the bed so it was easier to make eye contact. “How're you feeling?”

She let out a tired sigh. “Like shit.”

You chuckled quietly before you both sat in silence for a few moments. You open your mouth to say something but the older woman beats you to it.

“I don't think I'm gonna make this round, sweetheart.”

You clench your jaw hearing her statement. “Don't say that.” You tell her firmly. “I thought you wanted to kick this cancer’s ass?”

The poor woman couldn't even manage a chuckle. “Don't all patients say that?” She asked. She looks past you and out the window. “I think it's my time. I can feel it.”

She then closed her eyes and gave you a grateful smile while reaching up to cup your cheek. “Thank you, [Name], for sticking by my side even when my own children didn't. I couldn't have asked for a more wonderful doctor to take care of me.”

You held the hand that was on your cheek and gave the older woman a sad smile as if to say “I'm sorry for not doing enough”, yet she seemed to understand what your smile conveyed as she began to caress your cheek as a means to console you.

“Keep saving lives, Dr. [Last Name].”

The steady flat note of a heart rate monitor tells you that your patient has finally passed away.

Her hand that was on your cheek laid flaccid on your own. You closed your eyes and let out a shaky sigh. After a few minutes of sitting in silence with your deceased patient, you press the nurse’s call button. You then place her hand next to her on the bed. Shortly after several nurses come into the room and begin to console you while covering Miss Bradford’s body with the sheet. You watched them as they wheeled her out of the room.

She told you to keep saving lives and you plan on doing just fucking that.

—

It was dark out when you finally left the hospital after you said your last goodbyes to Miss Bradford. The temperature had dropped significantly causing a shiver to run down your spine and goosebumps form on your arms.

You're not going to lie. Even though she told you that she was ready and already accepted her death, you couldn't help but feel like you failed her; so you were feeling pretty depressed. Everybody was so determined to get her healthy again, to go back to a somewhat normal life again. But it was never that easy.

You passed several buildings as you continued home. Soon you were passing your current town's local park when you suddenly stopped, a sudden feeling of anxiety had come out of nowhere. It felt like there were eyes on you, watching your every move. Your face sets into a hard glare to try and look intimidating. You turn around in a circle trying to find any suspicious people, yet you only found yourself alone in the street which unsettled you even more.

A sudden rustling causes you to whip your head to the right. Your eyes immediately lock onto a bright pair of golden ones that look at you from the tree line. Neither one of you refused to blink or look away, seeing who would back down first.

Your eyes widen when the other set of eyes seem to just dissipate into thin air. After a few moments of trying to process what the hell just happened, you shake your head.

I must be going insane. You thought. When you turned around to continue home, your gaze caught sight of something on the sidewalk. On the sidewalk was what looked like gold flecks of dust hovering in front of you. Being the completely logical person you were, you tried to kick the dust away from you. However doing so only caused more gold flecks to appear and soon a trail of them started to manifest that led into the forest where you saw the pair of eyes. You looked at the trail bewildered. What the actual fuck is going on? You drop your head and let out a defeated sigh.

“Yeah, I'm over this.” You mumble out loud. You walk through the trail dead set on going home and sleeping for the entire day tomorrow. Now you weren't going to lie, yes you do get upset whenever one of your patients pass away, but normally not this upset because that was part of your job; it's bound to happen. But Miss Bradford’s death seemed to be taking a bigger toll on you than you thought.

However, as you tried to walk through the trail it forcefully turned your body to walk to the forest. Your eyes widen as your adrenaline spikes and your fight or flight kicks in as you start thrashing around, trying to release its invisible hold on you.

“Hey, wait! Stop!” You cry out. You whip your head in all directions, trying to look for someone to help you. “Help! Anyone, please!” Yet all you received was silence from the empty street. While the gold dust continued to push you toward, you still tried to fight against it though you quickly began to falter thanks to the mentally and physically taxing day you just went through.

As if it had sense you were giving up, the trail abruptly stopped pushing you. For a split second you thought about running off again but decided against it. You watched as the trail formed and led even deeper into the forest where the bushes and trees were so thick that not even the bright moon that was above could illuminate it. Your eyes flicker down to the trail before going back to the forest then back down to the trail. You grimace at the trail as if you were saying “do I really have to?” to it.

All of a sudden, your head whips up to the tree line as you hear music softly playing from it. From your limited musical knowledge, it sounded like it was a harp or some type of string instrument. You feel your muscles relax and your heart slows its frantic pace as the soft melody coursed around you, like a warm comforting blanket that had just come out of the dryer, and a sense of peace had washed over you.

The logical side of your brain was screaming at you to not listen to it. To not be a dumbass and see where it was coming from. To run away as fast as you could while screaming for help, yet you already knew that wasn't going to work. But the hypnotic song that the harp-like instrument was playing kicked that side of your brain to the curb as it lured you into the forest.

Your feet moved before you even realized it and soon you began to bush limbs away. After a few minutes of trying to follow where the music was coming from, it started to get louder and then light filtered through the trees. You quickened your pace and pushed away the last of the trees, but froze in your place as the music suddenly stopped and at what you walked upon.

In front of you was nothing but a vast and endless bright blue sky. From above where the sun continued to glow brightly but seemed to be twice the size of what it was before, to below you where you could see a single hint of land anywhere. Clouds rolled by thanks to the gentle breeze that blew past you and tall pillars were littered throughout the area, some were even floating!

You turn back to the forest behind you with a confused expression before looking back at the open sky. Wasn't it just night before? And why is this… oddly familiar? Where have I seen this before? You wondered.

You jumped nearly ten feet in the air when you heard a noise at your feet. You look down to see individual slabs of concrete form a bridge several feet out in front of you and the gold trail resumes onto the bridge.

You stare at the bridge processing what just occurred. You could practically hear the Jeopardy theme song playing in the background. You sharply inhale and your eyes widen when finally realized why this was all familiar.

Motherfucking Genshin Impact! I thought I recognized this loading screen!

You place a hesitant foot on the bridge, expecting it to crumble but it stood sturdy. You take another step, then another, and after four steps the bridge begins to form out again. You keep walking as the bridge does so. You do this for a few moments, giggling to yourself about what is actually transpiring.

“I really have gone insane.” You laughed. “Ah, and my future was so promising.”

A loud boom from below cuts you off from your self deprecating thoughts. What the hell? You get down on your knees and crawl over the edge of the bridge to see a huge black rip in the sky.

“Outlanders,” A voice boomed out. “your journey ends here.”

And out stepped the Unknown God.

Oh shit. You gasp quietly as your heart rate accelerates at the sight of her. She's hotter in person. You looked around for the twins and quickly spotted them on a platform just below the Unknown God.

“Who’re you?” The queen herself, Lumine, calls out.

“The sustainer of heavenly principles.” The Unknown God summons a black cube in her hand. “The arrogation of mankind ends here.” She then creates a cube below the twins, forcing them to jump out of the way. They spin in the air and summon their, much cooler than the ones in the game, wind gliders with swords in hand.

The Unknown God sends multiple horrifying trails of cubes after the twins, forcing them to fly and twirl out of the way of them while causing the whole sky to rumble somehow. Soon the twins fly towards the Unknown God and collide with her creating a huge explosion.

The explosion caused the bridge you were on to shake due to the force. You grabbed on tighter to the ledge in hopes of keeping your balance, but an aftershock made you slip off from the edge. You let out a terrified scream as you suddenly began to fall.

Your scream caught the trio's attention and made them look at you. The twin’s faces morph into a shocked and horrified expression as you fall while the Unknown God’s eyes narrow in recognition. “There you are.” And sent cubes after you, yet you are completely immune to what's happening around you thanks to the wind that was blowing in your ears.

Lumine quickly yelled to her brother. “Aether, catch her!” She diverted her attention back to the god. “I'll take care of this!”

Aether jumped into action and quickly flew to you. He willed his wind gliders to move faster than the cubes and was soon on you. He then flies underneath you and catches you bridal style. You let out a loud “oof” as you roughly collided with something and opened your eyes, which had subconsciously closed when you fell, to see Aether flying away with you in his arms and away from the cubes.

Aether looks down to your wind blown form. “Are you okay?” He asks gently. How you could hear him over the wind, you didn't know, but you could only stare at him in shock, not actually believing that he was real.

Taking in your silence as being in shock from the fall, he flies higher in the air and turns to the Unknown God to see his twin getting sucked into the god’s cubes.

“Lumine!” He cried out. He looked between you and his sister before ultimately throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes while keeping a firm hold on your thighs. He zooms to the god at high speeds which catches you off guard.

“What the fuck?!” You screech. You were starting to get a little motion sickness from all of the sudden movements.

Aether dips behind the god and swings his sword at her which causes an even larger explosion than before. You let out a scream at the loud sound. You could feel Aether’s chest rising and falling rapidly under your legs due to him panting. You hear him gasp and you turn over his head to see what was happening, though you already knew.

However, the sight of the smoke from the explosion coming back and encasing Aether’s hand was more terrifying in real life than it was in the game.

“Hold on!” He orders then quickly readjusted you so that he had a hold of your waist. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and cover your face in his shoulder, bracing for any sort of pain. Soon your vision started to turn black, but before it covered it entirely you heard Aether scream out to the Unknown God.

“Wait, don't go! Give my sister back!”

—

A/N: Kazuha is now officially the ninth member of the harem. Also, y'all... Inazuma? Lord help me I want to add Gorou and Thoma to the harem as well.

Side note, for all of the male characters that have a "young adult" physique like Aether, Kazuha, Xiao, etc. they're taller than they are in the game, from 5'6"-5'8" (Xiao still being the shortest) while those with an "adult" are anywhere from 5'10-6'2", because I said so lol.

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter Nine || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Hello and happy Tuesday besties! ICYMI, I posted a bit of smutty goodness for all of you 18+ folks here. If you’d like to be added to my general Hotch fic taglist please let me know! 

Read previous chapters of this fic here! 

contains: canon-typical discussion of violence, food mention, therapy, cuddling. 

wc: 2k

When you woke up the next morning, there were flowers in a vase on your bedside table. You’re smiling before you’ve even wiped the sleep away from your eyes, grabbing the sticky note that was stuck to the vase. 

“Would’ve sent these to your desk, but figured that wouldn’t go unnoticed by a team of behavior experts. Hope they made you smile anyways. -AH

An expert on behavior and he was only hoping that he could make you smile, you laughed to yourself, rolling out of bed and finding Aaron in the kitchen with a mug of coffee, packing Jack’s lunch. 

“When did you find the time to do that, Hotchner? Don’t you ever sleep?” You asked, and he looked up at you, breaking out in a smile. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He shrugs, looking back down to his carrot slices as you cross the kitchen in pursuit of a cup of coffee. He places the knife down and tugs you closer to him by the palm of your hand so he can drop a kiss to the top of your head. It makes you feel warm all over. You hear the insistent smacking of small feet on hardwood and step away from Aaron in an instant, not wanting to be caught by Jack. 

“Morning bud,” Aaron calls across the kitchen. Jack responds with a yawn, which makes you giggle. He smiles at you. 

“Are you gonna have to go catch bad guys again?” He asks. “I missed you and dad.” 

“Oh little man, we missed you too! We probably won’t get called away today but I can’t say for sure. If dad and I come home tonight, do you want to have a special movie night so we can all spend some time together?” 

Jack nods ferociously, and practically starts buzzing with excitement. “Can we watch monsters inc?” 

“Oh, that’s one of my favorites!” 

“Dad?” Jack looked to his father for confirmation. 

“Of course, bud. But you’d better eat all of these carrots I’m packing in your lunch if you want a treat.” Aaron smiled at Jack, who agreed easily. “Come on, we don’t want to miss the bus.” He said, ushering Jack out the door with a Danimals and an orange while you finished getting ready. You were struck for a moment by how easily you had slid into the Hotchner boys’ morning routines, and you realized that you would miss it once you found your own place. But it was for the best-- you hoped that you and Aaron would be serious enough to consider living together, but you didn’t want to force it too early in the relationship and cause problems. 

When Aaron comes back, you’re dressed and ready to head off to work. He grabs his briefcase and suit jacket off of one of the chairs at the kitchen table. 

“D’you eat?” He asked as he pulled his jacket over his arms.

“I had coffee. I’m not a big breakfast person.” You tell him, surprised that he hasn’t already noticed this about you.

“Grab a fruit.” He tells you. 

“Did you eat?’ You ask him, and the tips of his ears turn pink. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, Hotchner. Why don’t you grab a fruit.” You teased, tossing him an orange from the bowl and tucking a banana into your purse as you stepped out the door, with Aaron locking up behind you. He wrapped his free arm around your waist as the two of you walked to the car.

“I have something to tell you, and you’re going to be mad at me.” Aaron confesses about halfway through your drive to work. 

“Ah, so that’s what the flowers were about.” You said facetiously. 

“No, the flowers were from your boyfriend, this news is from your boss.” He clarifies. 

“Oh?” You asked, needing him to explain more. 

“You’ve got a psych eval this morning.” He confesses and you groan. 

“Ugh, Hotch, really?” 

“Even if we could ignore what happened with Josh-- which, for the record, you shouldn’t-- you were held hostage by an unsub.”

“For like, twenty minutes!” You interrupted him. 

“It’s bureau policy, dear. There’s nothing I can do about it.” 

“And you can’t just say that you gave me the psych eval and I passed?” 

“No,” he tells you, sighing. “For us to be together, we need to keep everything above board. Hopefully no one starts on a warpath when we decide we’re ready to share this, but if they do, I don’t want to give them any reason to undermine your professional credibility by arguing I gave you special treatment.” 

You’re a little bit stunned by Aaron’s use of “when” rather than “if.” It’s not in a bad way, of course-- it’s actually, really, really good, to hear that he’s just as in it as you are, even if you hadn’t expressed it very well yet. The idea that he’s already thinking about the future-- even if it is your professional future, not exactly a white-picket-fence kind of future-- gives you butterflies. You realize you’ve waited too long to respond when Aaron speaks up again. 

“I understand if that’s a lot for you to take on, or if that makes you rethink things. I wouldn’t hold it against you if you decided this wasn’t worth the potential professional issues.” He adds nervously, clearing his throat. You reach over and put a hand on his thigh. 

“I think you’re worth the risk,” you smile at him, and watch him release a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

 “Thanks for coming in,” Laura, one of the FBI’s resident psychologists said as you settled into the couch in her office. You err on the side of politeness and decide not to point out that you didn’t really have a choice. 

“Not a problem,” you smiled at her. 

“So how are you feeling?” She asked. 

“I’m good. I’m happy to be back at work, and to get my field clearance back. I’ve missed it.” You tell her.

“That’s right, you’d been removed from the field for a head injury.” She said, peering over your file. “Service related?” 

“No, I fell down a flight of stairs,” you lied, hoping she couldn’t read you as easily as Aaron could. 

“Hmm, so you travelled with the team even though you weren’t cleared for field work?” She asks, and you’re pretty sure you’re not imagining the judgement in her tone. 

“I didn’t go into the field. I stayed at the police station, in compliance to orders from my doctor and from Chief Hotchner. Unfortunately, the field came to me,” you attempted to make a joke. She didn’t laugh. 

“Was it not possible for your duties to be completed from Quantico?” 

“No, it wasn’t. The behavioral analysis unit works as a team-- we’re able to determine profiles as successfully as we do because we collaborate. My efforts, and the work of my team, would have been severely hindered if I had stayed behind.” You answer mechanically, trying, and most likely failing, to not sound defensive. “I fail to see how that’s relevant to my experience with Alec Gordon.” 

“I’m just trying to determine if you’re engaging in a pattern of self-endangering or careless behavior.” Laura answers honestly.

“I can assure you that my attitude regarding my work and the work of my team is anything but careless.” You bite back.

“You came back to work very quickly after your concussion.” She says, and it’s not a question, so you don’t take the bait. “Any particular reason for that?” 

“I felt ready to return, and Chief Hotchner was willing to accommodate my need to work partial days until I was fully recovered, so on the advice of my physician I returned to work on a modified schedule.” 

“Agent, I don’t need to tell you that withholding information in our session or on the forms you filled out prior to our appointment today, will only hurt you.” 

“With all due respect, I haven’t withheld anything and I resent the implication.” 

“Very well, agent. I will have a complete evaluation sent to your supervisor by the end of the business day.” 

“Thank you for your time,” you smiled, trying to make it look real. 

“The door is always open, agent.” 

“So, you kind of beat me to the punch this morning,” Aaron tells you as you’re walking out of the office together. 

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“Well, the flowers were a part of my master plan to get you to agree to come to dinner with me tonight, but it seems you’ve made other arrangements with my son.” He smirks at you as you both climb into his SUV. 

“I guess now you know where you stand in the ranking of Hotchner boys.” You tease him. 

“It won’t get me ahead of Jack, I know, but will you let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night?” 

“Aaron,” you laughed. “You don’t need to take me out to dinner.” 

“Yes, I do.” He tells you.

“We already live together. You’re going to have dinner with me regardless of whether or not we eat it at a restaurant.” You tell him, gesturing to his place as he parked the car.

“Maybe so, but you’ve already decided that we won’t be living together much longer. I care about you, and I want to spend time with you, and I’d like to take you out to dinner.” He said, shifting to face you now that the car was stopped.

You rolled your eyes fondly, feeling yourself blush. “I’ll allow it.” 

“God, it’s like pulling teeth,” Aaron muttered sarcastically, breaking out into a grin as you laughed.

You both got out of the car and headed inside, where Jess and Jack were working on a puzzle at the kitchen table. 

“Dad!” Jack says, looking up to see his father and abandoning the puzzle, launching himself into his father’s arms. 

“Hey, buddy. Did you have a good day?”

“Yes, and I ate all my carrots so that I could have a special treat while we watch Monsters Inc.” 

“He’s been waiting to tell you that all afternoon,” Jess laughed, standing up from the table and crossing to you to give you a hug. When Haley died, you and Jess got a lot closer, through Jack. “It’s good to see you,” she says as she squeezes you. 

“You too.” You smile. “I’ve got to go change into my special movie night clothes,” you smirked, leaving Jess, Jack and Aaron in the kitchen.

“Jack, why don’t you go put on your pajamas, and we’ll start the movie in a little bit?” Aaron suggested, and Jack scampered off towards his room. 

“Do you plan on ever telling that girl how you feel about her, or are you just going to look at her like she hung the stars in the sky for the rest of your life?” Jess asks Aaron bluntly. 

“I can’t possibly be that obvious.” 

“Aren’t you literally a behavior expert?” 

“It’s being handled, Jess.” He assures her with a quick grin as you emerge from your room in soft flannel pants and a tank top. 

“Do you want to stay, Jess? We’re just gonna order a pizza and veg out.” 

“I wish I could. But you kids have fun.” She said, looking between you and Aaron. Jack comes running out of his room to give his aunt a kiss goodbye and you all settle on the couch. 

Jack inserts himself in the middle of you and Aaron on the couch, a slice of pizza on a paper plate in front of him with the promise of ice cream later on. Aaron’s arm rests across the back of the sofa and his hand plays gently with the hair at the nape of your neck. You tilt your head in his direction, pulling Jack into your lap so you can scoot closer as the movie plays on. Jack falls asleep before you can even get him his ice cream, and you take the opportunity to rest your head on Aaron’s shoulder, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and tracing comforting patterns into the skin of your upper arms until the credits roll.

[thatfrenchacademic]

hey! you seem like you're a really good TA (? idk if that's the right term but you seem to have some prof/teacher tasks?) and i was wondering how you got the confidence to do that? i'm basically on your level of education but i wouldn't think i was smart/capable enough to judge other students' writing and stuff, i feel like one of them more than one of the teachers if you get what i mean. do you have any advice?

Hello !

That is such a thoughtful question - and I am sure all postgrads who suddendly have to start teaching feel the same at the beginning. In my opinion, it is a fairly healthy mindset to have, as long as it does not inhibit your own teaching and remain just some healthy awareness that, hey, you are still learning many things yourself.

I am very touched you think I am a good TA - I hope I manage to be a helpful one at least.d I definitely still often wonder "am I qualified to teach this ? To... grade this ? Who am I to say whether this is good work or not?" But here are a few thingsm coming both from my experience so far and my discussions with other TA, which could maybe be of help to you (each developed under the cut)

1. You know more than your students, and that will be enough to help them.

2. Teaching is a two way street : you are not lecturing to them, you are working with them.

2bis : Give constant verbal feedback to your students !

3. Your own experience of being an Undergrad may not be the best point of reference

4. Talk to other TAs ! You all face the same issues !

5. Try out things, and if they do not work, it's fine.

6. Organize your session alternating moments where you take the lead, and moments where students take the lead.

7. Help, My students are not talking !

8. Grading is tough, but we can make it easier.

I hope they will be of help, but no worries, it takes practice, trial and errors, and time will help you figure it out. Do not hesitate to come back here if you have any question or something you want to discuss ! (And tell me how your teaching went, I would love to hear it!)

1. You know more than your students, and that will be enough to help them.

It means you do not have to be an expert in the topic you teach. You may even just be familiar with it. But by virtue of being a postgrad student, you know how to do the reading effectively, you will get very quickly what is important, what to retain from this or that reading. And you just need to know more than your students. Which you absolutely will.

I think being passionate, showing that you are excited about what you are teaching, giving them this energy, this interest, is much much more important than being a full-blown expert in your area.

2. Teaching is a two way street : you are not lecturing to them, you are working with them.

And that is not me being vaguely pseudo-inspiration ; it is something I have learnt and truly realized when I took a course on teaching. There is much literature on this, but the take-away is that especially as a TA, it is helpful if you see your job as working with students. Engage with them, offer them different options to choose from during the session, explain that you are here to support their learning, and give them some space to have some agency over what happens ! Trust them to at least try their best - many are!- and they will trust you in return, and will be more likely to give you some feedback.

2bis : Give constant verbal feedback to your students !

This does not come easy to me, but students NEED to be told when they said something good ! Because if you do not tell them explicitely, how would they know that, hey, this was a pretty cool comment !

But also, be clear when answer or a point raised is not relevant or wrong, because it also guides their understand of the topic. "Ok, I can see why you would say that, but it's actually abit trickier...". "Ah, yes, it is very interesting that you raise it, it is a common misunderstanding and I am glad you are pointing it out, because it is an interesting discussion to have!"

3. Your own experience of being an Undergrad may not be the best point of reference

When I started teaching, I made the mistake of thinking "ok, what sort of TA/tutorial do I wish I had, in Undergrad?", and went with what I know I would have enjoyed. Except I am a passionate nerdy introvert who hated talking to my peers and doing group works, and wanted a TA who was no-bullshit, clear, professional. Most of your students are probably not, and may indeed enjoy group work, or the opportunity to connect with their peers during your tutorial. Most of your students will appreciate a TA who is more forthcoming, friendly, and may crack a joke or two. And it is a weird role to have, it may clash with your personality (it definitely clashes with mine), but it's ok if it takes time to find the right zone for you ! It is absolutely part of the process !

4. Talk to other TAs ! You all face the same issues !

Pooling experience with other TAs is fantastic. Because no matter what issue you are facing, one of them faced it already. How do you teach in the shitty Room 605 where the computer does not work ? How do they deal with students who do not do the readings ? How to they handle lack of motivation from students ? What sort of group work do they organize ? Who sort of online tools do they rely on ? How do they deal with all the emails they get ? And on that note...

5. Try out things, and if they do not work, it's fine.

Do not be afraid to try things. I tend to stay away from "complex" activities which can confuse students, or rely too much on technology. But group work ? There are so many types of group work ! Why stick to just the "think of this question in group of 3 for 5 minutes", when you could do a syndicate, snowballing, 2-minutes essay, fishbowl, think-pair-share, buzz groups...

And sometimes, it will not work. Just... a bad session. And you feel that it's on you, that you did not manage to do your work, that you are a bad teacher... And refer to Point 2. Then, calmly, talk about it with another TA. Explain what you did, and try to get their opinion on it, reflect on it. But it is never all on you.

6. Organize your session alternating moments where you take the lead, and moments where students take the lead.

Teaching is exhausting, learning is exhausting, genuinely, so balance out moments where you do the heavy work, and moments where they do. I like to have a rough session plan with all the activities I have planned, and indicate for each if it is "ME", "STUDENTS", "ALL". And also ensure that your students are given the opportunity to really take an active role, which is way better for learning !

7. Help, my students are not talking :

This will happen. You will ask a question, no one will answer. Big, awkward, heavy silence. You reformulated the question, but clearly it is not working. Here are a few ways I have reacted to it :

- Show of hands 1 : for a quick diagnosis. "Can you raise your hand if you have done the reading for this question ? Just so I know if this is maybe the problem". Encourage the ones who have done the readings to explain it to the others.

- Show of hands 2 : "Ok, there are two ways to answer this question X and Y. Can you raise you hand if you think Y, and lower it if you think X?". Encourage some who picked Y to explain why, then same with X.

- Show of hands 3 : "Ok, let's lower the pressure. Who thinks they kind of have an answer, but is not sure about how to word it, or properly argument it?". Ask whoever raise their hand to start, and pick up yourself from there.

- Switch to think-pair-share : "Ok, how about we think a bit about this on our own for a few minutes, and then you can compare your own answers with your neigbour"

- Collapse the classroom : "Ok, I can see that this is not working. It's ok, can you tell me if it is because the topic is not super interesting, or the reading ? Are the questions not what you expected?"

- End of the session clear-up : [once everything is over] "Ok, so now that the session is over, can I ask you guys why it was difficult for you to talk today ? Just so I can make sure I can come up with questions that are useful to you, next time. If some of you want to stay a few minutes to talk about what you would like to change for the next tutorials, we can talk about it now ; you don't have to, of course"

8. Grading is tough, but we can make it easier.

Especially if you are grading things like essays, we can often feel uneasy, unsure how to grade them, how legitimate we are to grade them, especially with the sheer impact grades can have on students. Ideally, you want to have a list of things that are PLUS POINTS, and perhaps some that are MINUS POINTS, and have those strictly guide your grading, to be fair to all students and assess them similarly. I also found that it is helpful to grade the paper, only the paper. When there is a really, really bad essay where clearly the student barely tried, it's easy to get frustrated, because you did your best, and clearly the student did not care ? But you never actually know what happened. Real examples of students submitting absolutely terrible work include : a student who was grieving her mother, a student who had been in hospital and did not know she could ask for a delay, an adult student whose child had gotten sick the days before, a foreign student with a poor grasp on English... When you are grading the 78th essay of the week, it is easy to forget that each of them is from an individual, and we get to judge the work they do, but not why they did it. Even in your comments and feedback, always be compassionate.

[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (08)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if...Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively:

"A future without you is a world without color."

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Series: CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 9

warnings: unrealistic court happenings i am not a lawyer ok mention of physical abuse, drinking problems, child trauma, mental illness, and infidelity. I want to build a whole new world in this fic that’s why i also didn’t research about divorce trials I’m sorry. OC is kind of annoying/disappointing in this chapter (?) or not (?) Young Choi Soobin of TXT is the kid in this chapter’s moodboard

Jeongguk was the ex-boyfriend Red was talking about.

You figured this out when you were at Seokjin's party. Frankly, the way your soulmate was looking at Red was already a giveaway, but then you had to confirm it yourself.

The only way to do that was to either confront Jeongguk or your assistant.

You chose neither and it was because you were afraid to hear what they would or wouldn't say. This being said, you resorted to your last option.

"Come on..." It was hard to sit on the floor when you're wearing a damn long dress, but this didn't stop you from rummaging through Red's personal things.

It's the middle of the night. You left Jeongguk at your apartment right after he reached his high.

You just wanted to teach him a lesson for being a brat. He was always so rude to you and you honestly thought that he was just in denial—that soon enough, he would realize that you two were really destined to be together.

Apparently, that wasn't going to happen.

You went to your office at one in the morning just to find something that would verify your speculation. You got what you wanted. The photograph of Jeongguk kissing your assistant confirmed it.

Your tears fell.

You didn't know why you felt betrayed. It wasn't like they wanted this. They hadn't done anything wrong. Fate was just cruel. Why didn't you meet Jeongguk first? You couldn't blame him for falling in love with Red—she was sweet, beautiful, and smart. Anyone would definitely like her, so you had no choice but to swallow the lump in your throat and accept this.

You just had to pretend like everything was alright.

It wasn't.

The divorce trial was near and there were still so many things you had to fix. Work was seriously draining the hell out of you and it wasn't like Jeongguk was helping. He was actually adding up to the stress you were feeling.

Jeongguk was giving you the silent treatment and no—it wasn't the type of silence you were used to. Before Seokjin's party, your soulmate was quiet, but not really. He would occasionally huff to let you know that he was annoyed at you. He would also stamp his feet and slam the door just to spite you.

You didn't mind. You knew he was just being a brat; however, things were different now.

After the night of Seokjin's party, Jeongguk changed. He was eerily silent, always avoiding eye contact with you.

You tried talking to him. Regrettably, you were only greeted by stillness.

"You want pizza, Gukkie?"

Nothing.

"Have you watched the latest episode of Start-up?"

Still nothing.

"Did you have a good sleep?"

Nope. Nothing. Nada.

"Wanna make out on the couch?"

Jeongguk's head jolted to your direction. His eyes were wide, cheeks turning crimson because of your bold statement.

"Hey!" You giggled, clearly happy with his reaction. "You finally looked at me!"

Jeongguk shook his head and then he went straight to his room.

You were unbelievable.

You pouted your lips, giving up. You had a feeling that he would come around.

He did. Days later, Jeongguk surprised you when he stood right in front of the door of your apartment. He was blocking your way out.

"Gukkie, I'm going to be late." You sighed. He reminded you of Miri, your cat that's always trying to stop you from leaving.

"You can't leave." His jaw clenched.

You let out a breath once again.

"Don't do this please. Mr. Kim needs me,"

The trial was happening today. You needed to run down a few things with your client before you go to the court room.

"You just don't get it, do you?" Jeongguk folded his arms over his chest.

You stared at him.

"I don't get what?" It was hard to keep your composure when the thing you had been trying to avoid for so long was being rubbed in your face. You knew exactly what Jeongguk was implying.

"—that you want me to drop this case because you want Red all to yourself?"

Jeongguk froze. What was the point of staying silent when you always knew what was running inside his head?

You just always knew.

"You don't have to pretend that you care about Soobin's well-being. I have enough people doing just that," you slightly pushed Jeongguk to the side so that you could pass through the door.

Ah, people.

They're all the same, always trying to conceal their self-interest by pretending that they care for others.

You liked Jeongguk—actually; you were convinced you loved him. He was your soulmate after all, but sometimes love wasn't enough to just give into what he wanted.

This wasn't about your relationship. This was about Soobin's welfare. He's just a child. You were a lawyer who swore an oath to protect the oppressed and incapable. You were their voice.

It sounded cheesy, but this was the type of person you aspired to be. The world was already dark, it wouldn't hurt to be someone's light.

Jeongguk didn't understand your reasons. It was evident when he showed up in court to watch you defend Kim Seokjin.

At first, you thought your eyes were failing you. Was he really here? Was he really the man at the back of the room wearing that big hoodie?

It was him. The familiar scowl on his face said so. Jeongguk was the only person who looked at you like you had offended his whole family.

"All rise!"

You turned to your client upon hearing the bailiff's demand.

"It's going to be alright," assured by you.

Seokjin smiled. He was looking at Red instead of you. He needed the comfort of his soulmate.

Red grinned back. She wasn't worried. She trusted you. She was certain you would succeed. Soobin wasn't going to be taken away from his father.

The first few minutes of the trial went smooth. You had your story straight and with the way the judge was nodding; you instantly knew she was in favor of your side.

Unfortunately, things started to go ugly during the cross-examination of witnesses.

Jung Hoseok was the first one to take the stand. He was the expert witness.

"You are the marriage counselor of Mr. and Mrs. Kim for months now, right?"

"Yes." Hoseok answered the opposing counsel. It was weird seeing him this serious. Your friend was always grinning, but you told him to try to keep a neutral face. This way, the judge and the jury wouldn't know if he was caught off guard by the question of the other side's attorney.

"Mr. Jung, is it true that marriage counselors rarely suggest divorce to their clients?"

"Depends—" Hoseok bit his tongue. You told him to simply answer yes or no. Be responsive to the question and never explain. "I mean, yes."

"And yet here we are..." Ms. Choi, the opposing attorney, shrugged her shoulders.

"Objection!" You stood up. "Relevance?"

You didn't understand why Ms. Choi asked that question to Hoseok when she's just shrugging it off now.

"Sustained." The judge felt the same way.

Ms. Choi raised her hand as if surrendering.

"My bad. I'm just curious, you know? If Mr. Jung is indeed an effective counselor, then why did he suggest that the Kim couple push through the divorce?"

Ms. Choi was furrowing her brow at Hoseok.

"Isn't that true, Counselor Jung? You told Mrs. Kim that it's better to end her marriage with Mr. Kim?"

"Yes." The expert witness answered truthfully.

The opposing side's attorney smiled mockingly.

"It's because you feared for Mrs. Kim's safety, right?"

"What?" Jung Hoseok was lost.

"Come on, Mr. Jung you know exactly what I am talking about! You found out that Mr. Kim is an alcoholic and you are scared that he might harm Mrs. Kim and Soobin, right?" Ms. Choi pointed at the five year old kid who was busy coloring books in the far corner of the room. He was with Seokjin's mother.

"Objection, Your Honor! Compound question!" You glared at Ms. Choi.

"Sustained." The judge clenched her jaw. "Ms. Choi, separate your questions. You are misleading the jury..."

Ms. Choi was flustered, yet she still held her head high. She knew she had the upper hand here.

"Is Mr. Kim alcoholic, Mr. Jung?" She tried again.

Hoseok cleared his throat.

"He had a history of abusing alcohol years ago."

"And you know this because you're also a licensed alcohol and drug counselor, correct?"

"Yes..."

"And Mr. Kim Seokjin also told you about his issue with regard to alcohol abuse?"

"Yes." Hoseok swallowed hard.

There were papers that could attest to Hoseok's claim. This was a win for Mrs. Kim. You could see her growing sarcastic smile that was directed at Red.

You inhaled deeply.

"Mr. Jung, can you please tell us the rate of patients going through alcohol relapse?"

"Uh, it's sixty to ninety percent after the first year of treatment," answered by Hoseok.

"I see. How long has it been since Mr. Kim sobered up?"

"As far as I know, it has been three years."

"Huh." Ms. Choi crossed her arms. "So is there a possibility that Mr. Kim would experience an alcohol relapse?"

"Yes."

"What's the statistical probability, Mr. Jung?"

"About fifty percent high." Hoseok looked dejected. He wanted to help Seokjin win the case, but he couldn't lie.

"I see." Ms. Choi was smiling as if she had already won the case.

"Can you tell us now the effects of experiencing an alcohol relapse? Or a slip?"

Hoseok's palms were sweating. Slip was one episode of drinking alcohol after trying to stay sober. Relapse, on the other hand, was the return to unhealthy behavior. Slip wasn't always followed by a relapse.

Hoseok also explained that there were different stages of relapse. Emotional relapse could cause suppression of emotions, becoming more isolated, trying to blame other people, and aggression, especially when they were confronted. There's also mental and physical relapse which included glamorizing alcohol and compulsive desires to drink.

"No further questions, Your Honor." The corner of Ms. Choi's mouth turned up upon realizing that the jury was in favor of their side now.

You had to step up your game.

The next witness was Son Chae-young. She was Soobin's babysitter. Chae-young had been living with the Kims ever since Soobin was born. She's a witness testifying against Seokjin.

Chae-young cleared her throat when your eyes landed on her. She already felt uncomfortable because of the way you were looking at her.

The way you stand up—shoulder down, neck long—was intimidating.

"You have a really nice necklace, Ms. Son."

Chae-young flinched upon hearing your compliment. She was confused. Mrs. Kim and Attorney Choi told her that you were scary, this was evident by the way you present yourself, but then...the way your eyes light up made her feel at ease. Your voice was soft too.

"Ah...thanks," regardless of your sweet persona, Chae-young still couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Why were you looking at her as if she was important? As if you were here to protect and not cross-examine her?

"Is it from Cartier?"

"Yes!" The babysitter beamed at you as she touched her pretty jewelry.

You smiled warmly at her.

"Did you buy it yourself?"

"Objection! Relevance?" The opposing lawyer clenched her fist. She was shaking, causing you to smile bigger. Guess she knew what was coming to her, huh?

"I'm getting there, Your Honor," said by you. Your expression screamed confidence that the judge was compelled to believe you.

"Overruled."

You continued.

"So...Ms. Son, did you buy that necklace? Or is it a gift?"

"Uh..." Chae-young's lips trembled. She was looking at Mrs. Kim, as if she was asking for her boss' help. "I-I bought it for myself..."

"I see." You nodded. Humoring her. "Do you have any other job aside from babysitting Kim Soobin?"

The nanny shook her head.

"N-No. I'm a full-time nanny of Mrs. Kim's son." Chae-young's lips were still shaking; her eyes were quivering as well.

"Hm, interesting..." You went closer to the witness. "That means you're earning what? Two hundred fifty dollars a month?"

"Objection, Your Honor! I still can't see the relevance of this!" Ms. Choi was losing her mind.

You turned to glare at her.

"Can’t you really see the relevance of this or are you just scared?"

You heard the judge's hit the gavel; she was calling your attention.

"Get to the point right now." The judge demanded at you. It was this or your statement was going to be sustained.

"I am merely establishing my point, Your Honor." Your voice was rough. "The necklace Ms. Son is wearing is worth four thousand three hundred dollars. I know because I have the same necklace and it took me, a lawyer, months!" You paused for a while just to emphasize the word months, "to buy it."

You turned to Chae-young when the judge remained silent.

"So tell me, Ms. Son, how can a full-time nanny like you who's earning minimum wage buy that kind of luxurious jewelry? Huh?" You were standing too close to the witness so Attorney Choi used this as an opportunity to object.

"Your Honor, she is badgering the witness!"

"Overruled." But the judge wasn't having any of it. "Answer the question, Ms. Son."

"I'm sorry!" The nanny's face twisted in fear. "Mrs. Kim bought it for me—"

"It's a gift!" Mrs. Kim blurted out, unable to contain her anger anymore. God. She hated you. "I bought it for her last month! It's my birthday gift for her!"

You smirked. Attorney Choi was panicking. She was caressing Mrs. Kim's hand, telling her to calm down.

Sadly, Mrs. Kim could not be stopped.

"Why am I explaining to you when you have no right to question my intention! It's my money so I get to decide what to do with it!"

She was yelling at you and it almost made you laugh. Why was she so defensive?

"May I remind you that you are a married woman, Mrs. Kim? You have to consider your husband's decision when it comes to spending that amount of money." You said this while glancing at the jury.

Base on their expressions, you knew that they agreed with you. This was a win on your side. One of the valid reasons of Seokjin for wanting a divorce was this. Mrs. Kim didn't know how to manage their assets.

You weren't done, though. You had to discredit the witness. You had to win the jury's side in all aspects.

"And you said you bought it last month for Ms. Son's birthday?" You shook your head, focusing your eyes at the nanny.

"Tell us, Ms. Son, when is your birthday?"

Mrs. Kim's face became pale upon hearing your question.

"January seventeen...”

You turned your attention back to Mrs. Kim again.

"Your birthday present is many months late, Mrs. Kim. Either that or you're just lying to hide the fact that you gave Ms. Son the necklace in exchange of testifying against your husband—"

"Objection—"Attorney Choi tried to stop you, but you cut her off too.

"Isn't that right, Ms. Son? You are bribed by your boss to say that you always see Mr. Kim Seokjin drinking alcohol—"

"Your Honor—" The opposing attorney was losing control, her objections were drowning because of how loud your voice was.

"Mrs. Kim wants you to lie! To say that her husband isn't a good father! That he isn't a good influence to Soobin!"

"Yes!"

You stopped trying to pressure Chae-young because it already worked. She admitted the truth.

"Mrs. Kim bribed me!" The babysitter sobbed, looking at you like you were the Lord and she was a sinner.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I-I can't say no, please...please...I need this job!"

"You bitch!" Mrs. Kim abruptly stood up. She wanted to attack you; fortunately the security officers were able to stop her.

The jury was surprised to see Mrs. Kim's violent reaction. You, on the other hand, didn't even flinch.

You were used to this kind of scene. Besides, you couldn't get sidetracked. You still needed to prove your point.

And so you faced the jury.

"Is this the kind of person that you want to raise a sweet, innocent five year-old kid?"

One of the members of the jury clutched her chest. She was affected by what you had said. Truthfully, they were almost decided to grant the sole custody to Mrs. Kim; however, upon seeing the latter's behavior, the jury was having second thoughts now.

"Just look at her!" You pointed at Mrs. Kim who was still seething with rage.

"She constrained an adult! Imagine the bad things she could force Soobin to do! Mrs. Kim is a manipulator!" You raised your voice dramatically.

"My actions are nothing compared to what that asshole is doing!" Mrs. Kim screamed as she angrily pointed at her husband.

She was crying.

Kim Seokjin was quiet. He was shocked by your responses. He didn't expect you to be this bold. You were different from the lawyer he thought he knew.

You didn't have any limit. You didn't know when to stop just to prove a point.

"He's teaching my son that it's okay to be unfaithful to your wife! Jury, please!" Mrs. Kim was desperate. "Don't let him come near my son! He's a drunken bastard!"

The judge was hitting the gavel again. There were too much drama and unnecessary comments from Mrs. Kim.

You shook your head. You couldn't stop now. The jury was undecided. They changed their minds from time to time. You could see sympathy in their eyes as they looked at the wife.

"Mr. Kim Seokjin is sober! You should be ashamed of yourself, Mrs. Kim! You keep blaming your husband when you're the reason why he turned alcoholic in the first place—"

"Objection, Your Honor!" Attorney Choi glared at you. "The attorney is assuming facts!"

You disagreed before the judge could say sustained.

"Am I?" You smirked at the judge before turning to your table to get your evidence.

Seokjin looked at you nervously.

"Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing," groaned by your client.

You were blinded by your role as a lawyer, so you ignored Seokjin's plea.

"Don't do this..."

Seokjin was already too late.

"I have here the evidence that will prove that Mrs. Kim is the reason why her husband turned alcoholic."

You brought out the printed photos of Seokjin's beaten up face. Bruises, cuts, and other physical injuries were seen.

The jury gasped. Attorney Choi was groaning as she told the judge that these photos were not entered into evidence.

You were playing dirty, but so were they. Ms. Choi told you that they wouldn't bring Mr. Kim's sobriety issue in this court. She lied.

"These pictures are given to me by Mrs. Kim Sunghee, Seokjin's mother." You glanced at your client's mother.

"She knows that her son's wife was assaulting him. Seokjin didn't want to feel his wife's punches so he resorted to drinking the pain away. Mr. Kim just wants to be numb."

"N-No..." Your client's tears streamed down his cheeks. He was calling your name, begging you to stop.

It felt like everyone was begging you to stop; even Sunghee was shaking her head.

It was wrong. This was a mistake. Seokjin's mother realized this when Soobin began to cry. He was silently crying at first, but when the little boy saw the photos in your hand, he started hyperventilating.

"Appa!" Soobin's eyes dilated. He could barely breathe.

Mrs. Kim stood up to attend to her son.

"Soobin!" Mrs. Kim was wailing.

Things were becoming messy.

You didn't understand what was happening, so you just stood there.

"Appa! A-Appa is hurting!" Soobin was losing it; his eyes were rolling in the back of his head.

"Call 911!" Red shouted.

The noise was deafening.

You still didn't get what was happening.

Seokjin went near you.

"I told you not to do it!" He shouted, snatching the photos away from your shaky hands.

"This isn't about me or my wife!" Seokjin continued to scream at you.

You were stunned.

Your client was blaming you.

This is your fault! Seokjin said.

You were wrong. You didn't have to bring out these photos because apparently, Soobin knew.

He witnessed how his mom used to beat up his father.

The poor kid was traumatized.

He had to get some help.

His parents thought he had recovered.

It had been years.

The thing about trauma was, it never went away. It was there—silently sleeping and waiting for that one thing that would trigger it.

You triggered Soobin.

"I-I didn't know..." Your voice was low as you stated your excuse.

No one wanted to hear your lame excuse, not even Jeongguk.

You looked at your soulmate once.

You looked at him desperately.

You looked at him hoping that he would understand—like he would comfort you.

He would never.

Jeongguk had this look in his eyes, the kind of feeling that expressed disappointment.

Jeongguk was disappointed in you.

It was clear because right now, he was shaking his head as if you had done the most horrifying thing in the world.

He shook his head before leaving you all alone.

No one wanted to be with you.

You were a disgrace.

[s8ncake]

Satan x Reader, NSFW

My Secret Santa gift for a friend on my Obey Me Discord server! (please enjoy my first nsfw piece) 

word count: 4.4k

Summary: Satan is in heat, and you are determined to help him every step of the way.

Other relevant tags: Jealousy, biting

Note: Pronouns aren’t used, but the reader is afab

It starts with eyes following your every move. Satan staring at you isn’t exactly uncommon, but it’s never this intense. This… dark.

Is he okay?

It’s hard to tell. Because as much as you try to bridge the distance between you, he always ends up pulling away before you can get to close. Almost like he’s afraid.

But it’s never been this bad. Not enough for him to leave the room without even saying hello. You turn around to follow him before Lucifer grabs your shoulder.

His gaze is as stern as ever. “Leave him be. You’ll be in danger otherwise.”

Lucifer being cryptic and overbearing isn’t exactly new, but this warning still throws you for a loop. “What makes you say that?”

A pause. He seems to mull something over. “Satan is… different from the rest of us. Once every 200 years his other sins take root, and they threaten to overwhelm him.”

A pang of sympathy runs through you. Satan has spoken with you about his anger before, about how much he struggles to keep it all in check. From the moment he was born, he had to keep himself contained. Hidden away.

The word monster is never used, but it’s heavily implied. In the self loathing that drips off of his tongue, in the way he never does anything more than hold your hand. Satan is a man who has struggled to accept himself throughout his entire life.

It’s something you can relate to. Your problems are entirely different from his own of course, but existing is rough. And on the days that it’s at its worse, Satan is there. Whether it’s reading you a book or showing off some of the neighborhood cats, you are grateful to have him in your life.

So it’s only natural for you to want to make his life better in return. Just like the dozens of times that Satan has supported you… you are determined to do the same. Lucifer’s warning be damned.

Whatever Satan is going through, he shouldn’t have to go through it alone. Even if it’s just talking over the phone, even if the distance between the two of you can’t be breached, you make a promise to yourself, then and there.

No matter what, you are going to be there for him, every step of the way.

Lucifer continues, completely unaware of your plan. “Wrath is an interesting emotion, one that can cause everything else to burn brighter. He will get over this soon. But until then, it is best that you stay away. His self control is not infallible.”

His concern is noted, but also unneeded. Even though Satan is the Avatar of Wrath, you trust him. More than you’ve ever trusted anyone in your entire life. And the very self control that Lucifer claims to be imperfect is the reason why. Satan won’t hurt you. He can’t.

...Well, not in the ways that matter. There won’t be any broken bones or copious amounts of blood; of that you’re certain. Even if this plan goes downhill, you’ll live. Satan may be a demon, but he’s also your demon.

So you have nothing to lose.

You nod along to the rest of Lucifer’s lecture. And once the demon leaves, you head towards Satan’s room.

~~~~

He isn’t there. His bedroom. The common room. RAD’s library. For some reason the demon seems particularly elusive now that you want to find him. Figures.

Your stomach lets out a rumble, and with a heavy heart you realize you’ll have to end your search. For now at least. There’s no use looking for him on an empty stomach.

Thankfully the kitchen isn’t far. And your day is absolutely made once you spot the demon rummaging around in it. Satan is opening every cabinet imaginable and emptying it’s contents down his throat. You’ve never seen him this sloppy before. In a way, it’s kinda cute.

A giggle escapes your lips, and Satan immediately whips his body around. His face flushes once he spots you. The demon lets out an awkward cough as he hides an empty bag of chips behind his back. “Good morning.”

It’s late afternoon, not morning at all. But you still decide to humor him. “Good morning to you too. Did you sleep well?”

His face flushes brighter, and he begins to fidget. “Yes! Fine I mean, I slept fine. Sleeping was definitely something that I did.”

“I can tell.”

A pause. Satan’s face has only grown more red. Beads of sweat trickle down his neck. His expression looks pained, and you would give anything to wipe it away. “Are you okay.”

“No.”

His gaze drops to the floor. “I’m…”

He struggles for words, but you gently shush him with one of your fingers. The touch is light, barely even there, yet his entire body shudders all the same. “It’s okay. Lucifer’s already explained everything.”

Satan takes a deep breath, and the empty bag that he was holding falls to the floor. A part of him seems to give in, if only for a moment, as he rests his head on your shoulder. His nose brushes up against your neck.

He breathes in your scent, although you aren’t wearing any perfume. Perhaps it’s a demon thing. The action seems to soothe him, and eventually he collects himself.

Satan pulls away, his face now an impenetrable mask. “The closest equivalent is a heat.”

“You mean like what animals go through?”

Satan nods. “It's a lot like that, although for me things are a little more… complex.”

That’s right. Lucifer mentioned that his other sins take over. Clearly he was struggling with gluttony a moment ago, but pride, greed, envy, lust... It really must be overwhelming, to experience all of that at once. And while you can’t help with most of them; There is one sin on there that you can help him work his way through. One that, if you’re being completely honest, you feel around him quite often.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

The innuendo isn’t lost on him. His breath hitches, and he takes a tiny step back. “You can stay away from me.”

He says that, but he doesn’t try to move away from you when you step closer. His blushing cheeks, the dilated pupils of his eyes; it all gives him away.

“But that’s not what you want, is it?”

Satan scowls. “What I want isn’t important.”

“Of course it is. I know you’re worried but—“

You reach towards him, and he lightly bats your hand away. “Do you think you’re safe?”

A growl. His fist clenches. “You’re not. It’s barely set in, and even now I—“

The door is thrown open. A very familiar demon walks in the kitchen, one whose stomach lets out a rumbling growl. Beel greets the two of you, and immediately opens the refrigerator. It’s completely barren.

The demon frowns. Judging by the guilty look that’s formed on Satan’s face, it isn’t hard to figure out who the culprit is. His heat must have truly been getting to him, if he went and devoured all of Beel’s food as well. Although that’s still somewhat his fault, it’s not something he deserves to be punished over.

So you take a box out of your bag, one with a ribbon wrapped around it, and offer it to Beel with a grin. “I got these tarts from Madam Devian’s. You can have them if you want.”

Beel’s eyes light up. He opens the box, his gaze traveling over each and every tart before landing on your face. “We’ll share them.”

~~~~

When Beel first said that, you would never have pictured him feeding it to you. Yet here the two of you are, brushing your fingers against each other's mouth as you giggle and wipe away crumbs.

Satan didn’t join you, but he has yet to leave the room. Instead he simply stands there. Watching.

You turn towards him and wave a tart in the air. “Do you want any?”

His eyes narrow. “I’m not hungry.”

He says that, but you can feel the hunger in his gaze. It follows your frame, and grows when Beel hand-feeds you another tart. A glow, green and full of envy, is locked onto the two of you. The intensity, the beauty of it all, threatens to set you aflame.

You aren’t trying to make him mad of course. But you get the feeling that it would happen no matter what. Satan is more irritable now, and that becomes incredibly obvious as time goes on. It won’t be long before something sets him off.

Your thoughts are interrupted by one of Beel’s fingers brushing up against your lips. A gasp, soft and light, leaves your mouth. In the distance you can hear some sort of snarl. It sounds like an animal, one who’s just had their territory encroached upon.

Beel’s touch doesn’t linger. He quickly pulls away, and there’s a dollop of cream on his finger. The demon lets out a satisfied hum as he plops it into his mouth. “Thanks.”

As if he asked you for permission. Still, you can’t help but chuckle. “You’re welcome.”

More tarts flow between the two of you. There are more in this box then you thought, definitely too many to finish on your own. Beel presses another one to your lips, and laughs. “You’ve got some on your nose this time.”

And that, apparently, was the final straw.

Beel’s hand reaches out to touch you, but Satan is quicker. He growls and grabs Beel’s arm, his claws clinching into the fabric. For a split second, you could have sworn that his eyes started to glow even brighter. “I’ll get it.”

Beel frowns. “Satan—“

You place your hand over Satan’s, and the demon drops Beel’s arm in favor of holding onto you instead. Your fingers intertwine, but Satan’s glare doesn’t waver.

Still, you do your best to reassure Beel with a smile. “It’s fine.”

He doesn’t seem to believe you, not completely at least. Yet none of that matters. Satan is already determined to have every bit of your attention. “Look at me.”

It’s a command, and once your eyes meet everything stills. Satan’s breath hitches. A layer of tension blankets the room. He leans in, and for a brief moment you think he’s going to kiss you. But his lips never make contact.

A pause, and then you feel one of his fingers brush up against your nose. He steps back and plops the digit into his mouth. Something about the act seems… lewd. You automatically turn to Beel instead. “Are you okay?”

Beel nods. “I’m fine.”

His gaze travels over to Satan, who already seems to be staring at him with the intent to kill. It then lands on you. “I think you should stay with me tonight. It’d be safer.”

“Belphie already takes up enough room in your bed as is. Besides, I have a lock.” It’s not a lock you plan on using, but it does exist.

“That won’t deter him. It barely deters me.”

“What do you mean?”

Beel’s eyes widen, and then he lets out a flustered cough. “I still get nightmares sometimes, and having you near helps me feel better. ...I think it’s because you’re so sweet. You chase all of the bad dreams away.”

Your heart melts in response. It’s only natural to abandon Satan’s hand in favor of wrapping your arms around Beel, to assure him that everything’s going to be okay. He always goes out of his way to protect the people around him, but who is there to look out for him in return? “I can stay with you tonight if you want.”

Beel glances at his older brother before letting out a sigh. “No. I think I’ll be fine for now. Just call me if Satan starts bothering you.”

“I will. But I expect you to do the same if you have another nightmare.”

He grins. “I can do that. And thanks for the tarts.”

“Anytime!”

The moment Beel leaves the kitchen, Satan’s grip around your hand tightens. It doesn’t hurt, but the message is clear. You aren’t going anywhere.

His expression looks neutral. Measured. The mask is back on once more. “Before you leave, can you come with me? I believe you left one of your books in my room.”

It’s all a formality, but you nod your head. There is a small chance that Satan is telling the truth, although you highly doubt it. All of your textbooks and novels are safe in your room. It’s clearly a ploy to get the two of you alone. But that idea doesn’t bother you as much as it should. You trust him after all.

So you allow Satan to escort you to his bedroom, where the two of you will finally be alone.

~~~~

To your complete surprise, one of your books is actually there, although it’s one you had forgotten about. You lent him one of your favorite ages ago, when he had mentioned that he wanted to read more literature from the human world.

It’s a story you had read dozens of times, but it’s not one you read anymore. You no longer have the time, and even then you’ve grown so much since then. So perhaps it’s only natural to place the book back into Satan’s arms. “You can keep it.”

There’s something comforting about giving it to him. Although Satan has dozens of books, each and every one of them is looked after and held in perfect condition. He treats them with kindness, as if they were made from glass. In comparison to his strength, they probably are. Your book, one of your greatest treasures, will be loved under his care.

Satan’s eyes widen, and he gasps when your hands meet. His Adam’s apple bobs. A thank you leaves his lips, the gratitude rolling off of him in waves. He clutches it to his chest, and seems to breathe in its scent. Or maybe he’s smelling you again. Who knows?

After a second or two he perks up. “Allow me to give you one of mine in return. Anything from the second shelf to your right is free for you to take.”

You feel his eyes watch you as you wander off to look at the bookshelf in question. There’s one, a title that catches your eye. You reach up to grab it, and falter for a moment when you feel his gaze practically caress your ass.

This is fine. You take a deep breath in order to calm your racing heart, and grab a book from one of the top shelves. Once you flip through the pages, it becomes incredibly clear that you’ve grabbed a children’s book. Given the title, that’s not a surprise. The Cupcake Knight and the Fallen Kingdom.

The Knight is indeed a gigantic cupcake, one with big googly eyes and multiple limbs. The artwork is vivid and fun. You laugh as you turn another page, and notice that the fallen kingdom is nothing more than a gigantic wedding cake. “Beel would love this.”

Satan is by your side in an instant. He snarls, and smacks the book out of your hands. It falls to the floor unharmed and closed shut. The demon, needless to say, looks upset. “I didn’t realize you and Beel were so close.”

His flushing cheeks, the anger that has tensed his shoulders and made him look at you with nothing more than a glare; it all points to one thing.  He’s jealous.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. Satan has nothing to be jealous over. There is only one demon in the Devildom that’s stolen your heart, and that’s him. You love his brothers, that’s true. But you love Satan in an entirely different way.

One that has you comfortably chilling in his bedroom while he’s in heat, on the off chance that you might get railed. “I enjoy hanging out with him, but we’re just friends. You know that.”

Satan doesn’t seem to believe you. “Do I?”

He draws closer. You take several steps back, and are surprised to find yourself bumping into his bed. There’s nowhere to run. Satan has you trapped. The arousal begins to make your brain fog, especially once the distance between the two of you finally closes.

His nose sniffs at your neck.  “His stench is all over you. You were eating out of the palm of his hand. And from the way he was looking at you…”

He whispers the words against your throat. “You would have been eaten, then and there.”

He presses a kiss along your pulse. A shiver runs through your spine as his mouth travels down lower. “But the only one who will be eating you is me.”

A growl. “You’re mine.”

And then his teeth sink into the junction between your shoulder and neck. It’s painful, but not overwhelmingly so. The wound is incredibly shallow. A gasp falls from your lips, one that quickly morphs into a moan once he begins licking the tiny droplets of blood that’ve sprung forth. 

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. The words are whispers against your skin, alongside the dozens of hickeys that he’s starting to pepper it with.

He’s desperate. You can tell from how he clings to you, and from the way his breath hitches when your hands glide over the tent in his pants. Satan growls, and then pushes you down on his bed.

He’s hovering over you now, face flushed and a ravenous gleam in his eye. Yet there’s something else there, a tiny pinprick of doubt that is all too familiar to you. He’s afraid. Whether it’s of his own feelings or it’s the possibility that he might hurt you, you can’t be sure. But even like this, Satan summons up one last desperate attempt to push you away “I need you to stop me. Tell me that I’m a monster, and that you want me to leave.”

That’s the last thing you want him to do

“Satan, I want you to fuck me.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath. Satan’s grip on you tightens.

You reach out, and caress his cheek. “I don’t want anyone else other than you.”

And with that last sentence, Satan finally breaks. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, one that takes you by surprise. The demon already seems determined to explore every inch of you with his tongue. But you have absolutely no problem with that.

Your hands tangle themselves in his hair, and his tail wraps around your waist, tugging you closer together. One of his fangs nicks your lip, and the moment your blood hits his tongue, he moans.

“Fuck.” His voice sounds completely wrecked. Buttons fly everywhere. Your entire uniform is absolutely ruined. Yet you don’t care, especially when Satan’s mouth travels down lower, and he gently pushes your legs apart. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you.”

You’re unable to smother a curse of your own once he starts mouthing the wet fabric of your underwear. Your hands make their way to his hair, and you tug at the strands once another wave of pleasure runs through you.

He eventually tugs at the barrier separating him from his goal, but it doesn’t budge. Before you can lift up your hips in order to help him, you hear a piece of elastic snap. Satan had bitten into one of the straps of your underwear, tearing it in half. The garment falls to the floor. With your cunt and your entire body now exposed before him, he gets to work.

Satan leaves a mark on your thigh before his lips brush up against your core. He lets out a pleased him once he tastes you, and dives right in.

He immediately focuses on your clit. His tongue moves around in random patterns, which has you moaning his name. The pleasure is almost too much to handle. You knew that you’d be experiencing it of course, but you didn’t expect Satan to be so focused on it. Especially given his current condition.

But the demon eats you out as if he can’t get enough. As you are the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. Satan groans into you, and the vibrations from that act alone are enough to send you over the edge.

You tighten your hands in his hair, and cum. Satan laps up each and every drop. And when he pulls away, you see him lick his lips. “You taste even better then I imagined.”

He’s beautiful like this. With his inhibitions cast aside, and pupils dilated. But he would look even more breathtaking without any clothes.

His boa fell off a long time ago, and you pathetically paw at the ribbon on his chest. The knot is too complex, and only seems to tighten as you tug on it. You’ve never hated the damned thing more than you do now.

A frustrated whine spills from your lips, one that Satan quickly smothers with a kiss. There’s a rip, followed by the sound of something tearing, and Satan’s entire outfit lays in tatters across the floor.

It seems he did all of the work for you.

His fingers start to skim over his handiwork, before they poke and prod at your entrance. Several of them slide in, and you immediately moan. It didn’t take long for him to find the spot that he was looking for. He looks like the cat that got the cream (which he technically did, about a minute ago). His smug grin only grows wider when you begin to grind into his fingers. And then, he fucks you with them.

You gasp and claw at the sheets. The demon’s pace is ruthless, yet it isn’t enough. You want him. And while his fingers are nice… you’d rather be cumming around something else.

“Please, I need—“ It comes out as a whine, needy and high pitched. But Satan seems to listen to you. For a brief and horrible moment, you're empty. Your thighs and your pussy clench around nothing.

Thankfully you don’t have to finish your sentence from before. The two of you are on the same page. He lines up his cock, and then eases himself inside of you.

It’s slow, but he fills you up perfectly. As if he were made to do so. Another inch, and Satan groans into your shoulder. “Fuck. You’re perfect.”

Words fail you right now. The most you can do is dig your nails into his back. There’s no pain, only a sense of ease. As if you are two puzzle pieces finally sliding into place.

He bottoms out, and everything stills. Satan is big, but not overwhelmingly so. It’s enough to make you feel full, more full then you’ve ever felt in your entire life. 

His cock is everything you could have dreamed of, and more.

No toy, nothing you own, will ever be able to satisfy you like this. The ridges… the shape… You move, and feel every bit of him gently scrape against your walls. It’s too much. Your legs already feel weak.

You whine out his name, and he immediately takes the lead. His hands intertwine themselves with your own as he pins you to the bed. He thrusts his hips forward, and his cock brushes up against that spot from earlier. Pure pleasure. Pure euphoria. The bed frame shakes.

Everything about this is amazing. Perfect. And the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I love you.”

Satan stills, and for a split second you worry that you’ve scared him off. But that doubt vanishes immediately with another thrust, this one harder than the last. 

You gasp. Your hands twitch in a desperate attempt to move them, to drag Satan’s body closer towards you, but he still has you restrained. He growls into your ear, “Again.”

The only thing that leaves your mouth is a garbled moan. Satan pulls back, and pushes himself into you once more. “Tell me that again.”

And you do. The words spill out of your mouth, over and over in a never ending loop. I love you.

Satan doesn’t respond, not with words at least. He can’t. The only thing he can produce is growls and moans, both of which send shivers down your spine. And there’s another noise, a low and rumbling sound that spills out of his throat. You’re able to put a name to it a second later. It’s a purr. Satan is purring. And it gets louder with each and every thrust. With each and every declaration of love that escapes your lips.

He cums, and his teeth sink into your shoulder. The wound isn’t deep, but the brief flicker of pain combined with the feeling of him filling you up is enough to make you climax as well.

And once you’ve come down from your high, you can feel Satan’s tongue lightly trace over the mark in question. 

A contented sigh escapes your lips. “I love you.”

The words are softer now, but it still has Satan blushing all the same. He buries his head into your chest. It’s muffled, quiet, but you can feel his response as he mumbles it against your skin. “I love you too.”

He’s still purring, and that sound grows louder when your hands tangle themselves in his hair. After a moment for two, you feel something hard poke your thigh. It isn’t difficult to figure out what it is. Apparently Satan isn’t quite done with you yet.

You laugh. “Still in heat, are you?”

He frowns, and then towers over you once more, his eyes blown with lust. The demon’s gaze travels across your body, along each and every mark that he’s made. There’s a smugness in the way his fingers begin to skim over them.

“Didn’t you know? My heat can last for weeks at a time. I’ll take care of you of course, but I hope you don’t have any plans coming up soon.”

His voice lowers. It’s more than just a sultry purr. It’s a promise, one that has you wet with anticipation. “You won’t be leaving this bed for a while.”

[rosykims]

space in a room.

mind blind – ambrose kim x f!button (gracie wiseman). | rated general. 1462 words. pre relationship. denial. fluff.

He can’t recall the last time he’s been so relieved to say the words, “Class dismissed.”

Ambrose watches the group visibly brighten at the announcement of their freedom, and fights a roll of his eyes as a few of them all but spring up from their seats from sheer, unfiltered enthusiasm. It hasn’t been a bad day, nor has it been an exceptionally good day; all he knows is that watching Gracie Wiseman zoning in and out of reality has inspired in him nothing but the greatest mental fatigue in recent memory.

Just as he’s come to expect of her at the end of each day since her first, Wiseman turns to risk a cursory glance in his direction. She stiffens in surprise when she meets his eye, but flickers away a moment later to blink at a classmate who abruptly cut in front of her, making a near comical beeline for the exit.

Despite the rudeness, he’s glad to halt her quick retreat from the room. “Wiseman,” he snaps, and then nods for her to stay behind. “A moment.”

He waits wordlessly for the last few sluggish students to amble from the room, all the while gauging the brunette girl’s response to the resulting silence. Silence, he’s found, is a deceptively good (if not volatile) tool to use in conversation. Most people can’t stand it – which in turn makes them all the more eager to fill it.

Gracie Wiseman does not seem to fall into this majority, and rides out the quiet between them like it were no more unpleasant than an empty elevator.

When the room at last is privy only to them, Ambrose takes a seat at his desk and regards her candidly.

“You knew the answer to every question I raised today, and yet you said nothing. Why?”

Wiseman blinks at him, dark brows pulling together in confusion. “Well, that’s not true.”

“Do explain, then. Were you tapping out your answers in Morse Code, or did you think it best to rely on old fashioned telepathy, instead?”

“No, I meant …” She hesitates, dark eyes darting between him and the empty chair in front of his desk. After a moment – and with only the most well concealed hint of reluctance – she takes a seat. “I didn’t know the answer to every question, sir.”

If this were anybody else, he might have assumed she was fucking with him. And yet this isn’t anybody else. Wiseman remains polite and serious as ever, not one sardonic bone present in her well-shaped face; perhaps it’s that honest, earnest demeanor which causes him to glare even harder.

Neither his silence nor his intimidation seems to have much visible effect on her. After meeting his stare head on for a long, thoughtful moment, she shrugs with the same put together air of someone a little too well versed in conflict resolution. “I don’t like to take up space in a room, if I can help it. That’s all.”

“I see. So you – what? – intended to breeze through the next four years, safe and secure in your comfort zone? Is that it?”

She at least has the decency to purse her lips at that. In the weeks he’s known her, he’s seen little of anything in her expression besides of a sort of passive friendliness; absently approachable like a high-end real estate agent or a helpful-but-otherwise-vacant receptionist. Disapproval looks decidedly more fitting on her features than vacancy, he thinks.

Objectively speaking, of course.

“Not at all.” Wiseman’s words are a little rushed, giving her annoyance away. She bites down a self-deprecating tut as she reigns her emotions back in and continues. “I just … I had an unpleasant experience, a long time ago. In school. I’m a little less quick to give my opinion when it’s not needed, now.”

Ambrose bites his tongue to hold back a sigh. He’s tired. It’s been a long day. The last thing he could possibly want right now is another childhood sob story from another chronically maladjusted student. For reasons he can’t quite name but which make him decidedly uncomfortable nonetheless, he doesn’t cut her off with an eye roll as he would to any other pupil game enough to seek out his sympathy. Instead, he merely tents his fingers and leans back in his chair, preparing himself for the microcosmic melodrama she’s about to inflict upon him.

“Go on.”

She surprises him again by shaking her head. “I’ll spare you the details. It was a long time ago, like I said. My teacher asked a question, I answered, and he and the students got a decent laugh out of it at my expense. It happens. Most likely the response was a bit too … pretentious, probably.” Gracie – Wiseman – throws him a sheepishly self-aware smile. “I do think they were right to laugh, though. Embarrassment aside, it was a good lesson to learn in the long run; do I answer a question for the question’s sake, or do I answer a question to hear myself talk? I think sometimes it’s better to say … less.”

Ambrose dismisses an unexpected rush of true annoyance directed at Wiseman’s faceless former teacher, leaning forwards to frown at her once again. “I disagree completely,” he retorts. “I’m not interested in the philosophy of this, Cadet. Assessing your personal psychology for every question-answer scenario wastes mine and everybody else’s time. If a question is going unanswered, then answer the question.”

“And deny everyone else the choice to think it out for themselves?”

“Optimistic of you to assume your classmates are thinking much of anything during my lessons.”

Gracie – no, Wiseman – had smiled at his weak attempt at humour, once; he feels impressively foolish to have expected her to do so again. “That hardly seems fair,” she presses with a slight frown. “They’re all brilliant, from what I’ve seen.”

“Perhaps,” he concedes. He likes these first-years, for the most part. Some of them more than others. “But brilliant minds make for very lazy students, I’ve found. You aren’t exempt from that observation, either, Wiseman.”

This time, she does smile. Ambrose smiles too – briefly, but not quite brief enough – before adding, “Speak up in class more. A juvenile fear of taking up too much space in a room isn’t a good enough excuse, and it won’t work on me. Any room is better with you in it.”

The brunette’s brow creases, her lips parting for just a moment before she presses them into a tight line and glances away. An uncomfortable bout of silence – the same traitorous silence he’s usually so unaffected by – seeps between them until the echo of his words come back to laugh in his face and call him Idiot.

He can’t clear his throat fast enough. “Meaning,” he amends, “I will never discourage relevant and intelligent dialogue in my classes. Your contribution is as valuable as anybody else’s. So – contribute.”

She sighs – or, it’s almost a sigh; a deep inhale, with a short nod in the place of a weary breath out. “Yes, sir,” she murmurs. “I’ll work on it.”

“Good. That’s all, then.” As Gracie rises to her feet, smoothing out the non-existent creases of her uniform, Ambrose feels suddenly compelled to straighten up in his chair and look away entirely.

“Of course. Have a good afternoon, Instructor Kim.”

“Likewise, Cadet.”

He stares – unseeing, unblinking – into the blue ink mess of his paperwork, listening anxiously for her retreating footsteps. Just before she disappears back into nonthreatening hallway territory, Ambrose stifles a groan.

“Wiseman?”

Her footfalls halt near instantly. “Sir?”

“Just one more thing.”

“Oh – of course. What is it?”

“Your teacher shouldn’t have laughed at you. Not if your answer was correct. You were correct, weren’t you?”

He barely notices that he’s wound up looking at her again until he finds himself uneasy and self-conscious under the weight of her rueful smile. "Yes,” she replies honestly, all white teeth and dimples. “I usually am. More often than not, at least.”

He laughs, genuinely, although it’s lessened by a steadily growing sensation of inexplicable dread in the pit of his stomach. Anyone else might call it butterflies. “I don’t doubt that – but I do expect you to prove it. Take care, Wiseman.”

“Thank you, sir. You, too.”

Gracie offers a small, terribly affectionate smile in parting before closing the door behind her with a click that echoes ominously around the emptied room. Ambrose lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and then begins to think very fondly and in great detail about the cold shower waiting for him at home.

[olivarryprompts]

Fanfic Friday #5

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I will post a new fanfic here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read/Save it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/32197966

{crossover}

Ship: olivarry

Warnings: small amount of angst, swearing

Status: dating

Wc: 2,413

Once again, there were some sort of god-like presents threatening Central and Star city, hence it was up to everyone’s favorite superheroes, and their teams, to defeat the crisis and save the world.

I am said superhero, the fast one specifically. Oliver and I have been dating from around since I awoke from my coma. How did we get together? That’s a story for a different time. Oliver and I, throughout all of this, have been able to keep our relationship a secret. I know, huge shocker.

“Oliver, Cisco and Ray have made the tech, but it needs to be tested.”

“So,” he said, with his Oliver look, “Test it.”

“How are we supposed to test tech that should defeat Aliens without actual Aliens?”

“Kara.”

“Ollie! We can’t shoot at Kara.”

“You're so cute,” Oliver said, under his breath, “Sometimes I just want to cuddle you like a teddy bear, however out of character.”

I blushed deeply, “Stop it. We need to save the world.”

He leaned it, laying a careful kiss on my forehead, “And we will.”

“You’ve really helped on the ideas front,” I said, sarcastically.

“Let’s get the teams together and discuss what we know so far. We can think up our next moves.”

“Okay, yeah. I’ll get everyone to the hub.”

“Barry Allen do not speed m-”

I sped him to the hanger.

“I hate you,” he commented with an underlying smirk.

“I love you, too.”

I quickly sped everyone into the room before returning to Ollie’s side.

“Yes Barry?” Sara Lance, captain of the Waverider, said.

“Well, I-i,” I looked over at Oliver for help.

He whispered, “Thought as though we should call a team meeting.”

“Right, I thought we should call a team meeting to, to discuss, uh, um-”

He continued in a subdued voice, “what we know, our plan, and our next steps.”

“To discuss what we know about our big bad, what our plan is, and our next steps to ya know, save the world.”

“Are we meant to pretend we aren’t hearing the brooding man?” John Constantine, local warlock, said.

“I give up. Ollie, lead the team. You know what to do.”

“You tried,” he smiled, a little over fondly, “Right so, Nate, Iris what have we got on her?”

“Well, she seems to have no record of life until she popped up in our time and attacked Central city,” Nate explained.

“We wondered if there was a chance of her being from another Earth, and Cisco tracked her residual frequency from the attack, and the frequency matched one from this Earth.”

“So that leaves us nowhere, loves,” Constantine said, lighting a cigarette, which Sara promptly knocked out of his hand and stamped on.

“Well, not necessarily. We know that she just appeared which narrows down the search to anyone without a record, which is very few people,” Cisco explained.

“If we can just get a strand of her DNA, I could take a look into how to gain her powers and where they come from.”

“To get the ladies NDA we need to find her,” Mick grumbled.

“Thank you Mick,” Oliver said, rolling his eyes, “Dig, did Lyla get anything.”

“Argus satellites haven’t picked up anything. She said she’d call and let us know.”

Felicity entered, and Oliver raised an eyebrow at me.

“She told me to put her back,” I said lowly to Oliver.

“I-i told you not to PUT me.”

“She’s scary,” I defended further.

“Sorry I was not present, I mean I wasn’t here because I was well-that’s the point. I was hacking, obviously, that’s what I do, I hack, but you guys know that-”

“Felicity,” Ollie said, “The point.”

“Right. There was something on her arm, almost underneath her skin. I looked further into it and it seemed to be of a technological origin. I came back and instantly drew the “thing.” I think it might be some sort of microchip. After consulting Ray, I did some digging, and I came back with some interesting results,” she projected the images from her tablet, “This was a theoretical experiment planned in-you guessed it, Star City. it was, well, awful. It was talking about mutation and how technology had the power to change any and all humans for the better. It was called Project Mutant.

“Oh yes Felicity, I bring you, Mutant, our big bad.”

“Not your best work,” Caitlin commented.

“Offended,” Cisco replied with a grin. Oliver was clearly getting annoyed, so I touched his arm subtly. His demeanor began to soften.

“Right,” he cleared his throat, “Can we track this chip?”

“Well, yes and no. The chip is on a completely different server to any domain I’ve come across. I don’t even know what it is. It’s essentially in a different world. I’d need to get track of her personal server to begin the hack, which-”

“You obviously can’t do,” Ray said, “Can I see the server?”

Ray, Cisco, and Caitlin all looked at the server Felicity pulled up on her tablet.

“Does that look like a wave function to anyone else?” Cisco said.

“A what?” I said.

“Somehow, her DNA, it’s acting like a particle on the quantum level,” Caitlin further explained.

“So we need to treat her, in essence, as a quantum particle.”

“So that’s why everytime I try to hack into the database it moves. Why it acts like a domain I’ve never seen before.” Felicity said in some sort of revelation.

“So how do you track a particle?” Ray said, “You can’t, wave function collapses.”

“So we can’t track her in any way.”

“No, no we can. The art of quantum mechanics is tracking particles, that's the whole point.”

“So you “solve” quantum mechanics before this looney destroys a city. Hell no.”

“Right, moving on from the science, which I am sure you guys will figure out, let’s say we can track her and find her. If she’s like a particle then can’t she just pop in and out of anywhere at any time, ya know wave particle duality and all. Light goes so fast that it theoretically travels through time. “

“Oliver, are you in there? When did you learn quantum physics?” I said, shocked.

“Y-you pick up things here and there. That’s relevant anyway. How do we stop her.”

“Simple, what stops a particle?”

“Cold.” Caitlin said.

“So, we need to track her, build a weapon to slow her down on the sub-molecular level, and keep her in that state. Easy,” Ray summarized, looking defeated.

“Hold up, she came back to this time for a reason. She clearly has motive. If we know her motive, we can predict where she will attack next. She can’t just pop out of existence if she has a goal she needs to complete. She can go back to this time for a reason, out of all the times she could have existed,” Sara said, “She came back now. This timing, this place, it has to mean something to her. That could hold the key to stopping her.”

“You’re right,” Iris said, “She has a reason.”

“We could run some samples of history through Gideon to look for significance,” Nate suggested.

“There’s an idea,” Sara said.

“Right, looks like everyoens got work to do, let’s get this rolling.

I brought Oliver into flash time. He was stressed and uptight.

“Ollie?”

“Barry, what-what are you doing? They can all..”

“Flashtime, remember.”

“Why did you-”

“Sometimes you just need the world to stop for a moment. You know that better than anyone.”

He just wrapped his arms around me and kept me close.

“We’re going to win this. We’re going to be fine,” I told him.

He just hummed.

He leaned in for a kiss, which we both needed.

“Let’s do this,” Oliver said.

“Let’s.” I pulled away from him and smiled.

The fight was intense and it was Oliver and I left with the task of finishing her.

“Ollie, go, go please. I can do this, I’ll be able to.”

“It’s my bow that has the tech, no way in hell I leave you here.”

“Think Oliver! I am the only one fast enough to stop her.”

“Barry, don't. Don’t grab my bow and speed off. Please,” he was begging. Before I could think much more about what was on the line, I kissed Ollie, grabbed the arrow, and sped off towards her. With her caught off guard, I was able to plunge the arrow into her forearm. When I pulled the bow out, I saw that the world around me had changed.

Oliver’s POV

Just like that he vanished. First from my touch and then from this time. My bear, bazza, barry, just, gone. I ran at the spot where he’d disappeared from yelling, “BARRY! BARRY!”

“Oliver,” A voice said.

“H-he can’t be gone. I-i can’t do this, any of this, without him. Please I need him. GET HIM BACK!.”

I found myself slumped against a wall. I threw my bow across the room and chucked some arrows wherever I pleased. I waited a few moments before collecting my bow and getting on my motorbike. Tears threatened to fall. How could I lose the one person in the world that matters the most to me?

Once I arrived back at the hanger, I immediately went into the storage room. I grabbed my phone and unlocked it. My back screen was a picture of Barry cuddled into my chest. If anyone questioned it, I’d tell them I lost a dare to Barry and this was my forfeit. Obviously it was a huge lie as it was one of my favorite pictures of the two of us. His cute smirk is on show as well as his clingy nature. I missed his reassuring touches already. Angry, I threw some boxes around the place.

I instantly drew an arrow back at the tapping of someone's feet. Closer, closer, here. It was just Felicity.

“Hey,” She said in her sweet voice.

“Hey,” I said, monotone.

“We’re going to find Barry, wherever he is.”

“Don’t tell me that! Don’t tell me that when he could be anytime and anywhere,” I sneered through gritted teeth.

“Okay,” Felicity said in her felicity voice, “What is going on? Not keeping a level head is not helping Barry.”

“Felicity you don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand, Oliver.”

“It’s HARD TO KEEP A LEVEL HEAD WHEN IT'S THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE!”

“Love of your life?” she questioned.

“Yes, love of my fucking life.”

“You and-”

“Me and Barry.”

“How long?”

“Long. Year and a half.”

“W-who knows?”

“No one does.”

“Oliver, look at me. We will find Barry, okay? We have all the best minds working in here, and we will get him. You have got to stay calm, though. We need you Oliver, okay? Do it for Barry.”

“Alright,” I said, sucking in a deep breath.

We entered the main portion of the hangar again, “Anyone got any ideas?”

“Ray thinks he can hack her biochip now that she is no longer in quantum flux,” Caitlin reported.

“Would that tell us the time or just the place?” Iris, equally as worried, inquired.

“Just a locational ping.”

I racked my brain, “When was she experimented on?”

“Around May 2012 they started.”

“Where?” I questioned again.

“Floy Woods Hospital, Central City. It had closed down by then but-”

Cisco took over from Cait, “It looks like their electricity was still on around that time.”

“Ollie, mind catching the rest of us up to speed?” Sara asked.

“Whenever I’m in a stressful or panicking situation, my mind always rolls onto Lian Yu. If she was in a similar state, surely she was thinking about where her trauma began. Or, if not that, a place that made her feel safe, her apartment, family home, ect. I’m hoping it's the former because the latter means she could be there at any point in time.”

“Right.”

“I’ll take Oliver and whoever needs to come on the waverider to check out his hunch. Hopefully we will find him then.”

“Let’s go! He hasn’t got time to waste,” I yelled.

“The rest of us will stay here and keep looking for clues,” Kara said.

I shot my way through the security detail in the building before carefully scouting out the rest. Heat signature saw three people in a singular room, one atypically warm. Barry. I bust my way through the door, easily taking out the two other people. I quickly cut off the restraints and picked off the metahuman dampeners.

“Ollie,’” Barry said, weak.

“Come on Bazza, let’s get you home,’ glad to have him back in my arms.

“What about her?”

“Sara should have taken care of her by now. She’ll be on the waverider, in cuffs.”

“G-good.”

“What did she do to you?”

“S-s-some s-s-s-”

Barry collapsed into Oliver, and Oliver cradled him in his arms. He carefully made it up to the roof where the waverider awaited. Barry needed treatment quickly.

They told the team to meet them back at star labs asap. Barry could be treated best there. I stepped off the waverider and quickly ran through star labs, trying to get to the cortex where the medbay was. Caitlin was already there, waiting to treat Barry.

I walked out of the lab, unable to see Barry like that. He’s going to be fine, I told myself. I went into the speed lab. I found some balls, and I began throwing them up and pinning them against the back wall with arrows.

Barry’s POV

My eyes fluttered open. I felt outstandingly weak.

“O-oliver? Where’s Oliver?”

“I’ll go get him,” Caitlin said.

“Gave us a real scare there Bear,” Joe said, concerned, “How are you feeling?”

“Weak, but I-i’ll be alright.”

“We got her by the way,” Cisco chimed in, “Locked away in iron heights.”

“Nice.”

“Barry,” Ollie said, making his entrance known.

“O-ollie?”

“Right here,” he said in his low, sugary voice.

“Thought you left,” I whispered lowly.

“Never, darling,” he said, equally as quietly.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” Joe said, leaving. Cisco and Caitlin followed.

Oliver wrapped his arms around me, “You idiot. My idiot.”

“I’m here, right? Nothing happened.”

“But it could have.”

“Hey, look at me. I’m fine, Ollie. We’re fine.” I leaned in for a kiss. He happily obliged.

“I just thought I lost you.”

“I thought I lost you, too.”

“Love you,” he smiled.

“Love you more.”

He let it slide. Just this once.