#best case it takes us 1 hour to get to each other

[gublernatural]

Finishing Gifts ❤︎ Aaron Hotchner

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

♡ SUMMARY: after a few days of ignoring him, Aaron makes an effort to get your behavior to return to normal

♡ WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, smut, female and male masturbation, phone sex, mentions of watching porn, sex toys, drinking, small mentions of criminal minds-esque themes and violence, pretty much porn with very little plot, this is not edited like at all

♡ NOTE: something about writing aaron masturbating makes me go brrrrrr

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You had thought you were keeping your cool. Honestly, truly, you had thought no one would notice the small changes in your behavior. You had tried to be subtle in dodging Hotch, doing it slowly and over time. It had started with piggybacking Spencer’s theories in the field, which led to pushing to go look at a crime scene rather than to the police department with Hotch. Then evolved into getting deep into conversation with JJ as you approached the jet, using it as an excuse to claim a seat next to her rather than your normal position between Hotch and the window.

These acts had gone unnoticed, or, at least, you’d thought. In your determination to avoid them, you hadn’t noticed the strange looks Derek and Morgan had thrown each other, and then Aaron, as you relaxed next to JJ. You missed Garcia questioning what had been up with you as you extended your time making coffee before a briefing, just so you didn’t have to walk behind Hotch into the room.

But, your latest change to avoid your unit chief definitely didn’t fly under the radar. This one was loud and clear, and absolutely threw off the entire BAU.

You’d just completed, by all possible metrics, a very successful case. It was a rare one, looking at terrorism in the DC area. A group of people who were planting explosives around the city, in unsuspecting areas. Instead of targeting political buildings or memorials, they focused on smaller-scale destruction. The team had been able to put the perpetrators away with no more casualties than those that were gone before the team landed. All in all, it was incredibly stressful, but a win for the team.

So, after Emily’s suggestion and Derek’s reminder that it was an extended weekend due to a government holiday, the team was getting ready to head to the bar. You had begged to go home to shower, promising you’d take an Uber (so you could, in Penelope’s words, “get fucked up with the girls”) and meet them at the bar in about an hour.

You put on your best outfit, showing an appropriate amount of cleavage, and did your makeup to the best of your abilities. After you’d cleaned up, you went to open your Uber app, excited to have a night to relax.

However, you were cut off when a phone call overtook your screen. “Aaron” the contact name read, indicating it was your unit chief, and that he was calling from his personal cellphone. You let ring a few times before picking up, not wanting to seem too eager to talk to your boss.

“Hellooo,” you practically sung into the phone, too excited to be worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him. He simply replied with a formal “hello,” followed by your name. “Please don’t tell me you’re ruining my longggg weekend,” You said to him, and he swore he could hear some of jewelry shaking. You couldn’t keep your excitement in, shaking your wrists, which made your bracelets make noise.

He chuckled a bit at your reaction to him calling, “No, no. I was just calling to see if you had left yet.” You smiled against the phone, knowing where this conversation was going. “Nope! I was actually ordering my Uber when you called,” you informed him. “So, you haven’t ordered it?” He questioned again, to which you replied with a “uh-uh”.

You couldn’t tell but your excitement about going out with your friends was essentially oozing through the phone, causing Aaron to maintain a bright smile on his face. You weren’t aware of how your vibe, your energy, was able to lift a weight off of Aaron’s shoulders that had been there for as long as he could remember.

“I also had to run home before meeting the team. If you’d like, I can pick you up.” Your smile, somehow, grew even bigger. Any excuse to see Aaron was a good one, you’d thought.

However, your face quickly fell when you reminded yourself that you were supposed to be avoiding him. You felt a pang in your heart as you said, “Thanks, but I have a few things to finish up here! I appreciate the offer, Hotch.”

With a quick, formal goodbye, the called ended. Aaron tried to ignore the fact that you lied to him as he drove the rest of the way. You had said you were about to call your Uber, and he heard your jewelry, meaning you were putting the finishing touches on your outfit. So why wouldn’t you accept his ride?

He tried to ignore the blow to his chest when you called him Hotch. Something about the use of his last name made him feel as if he’d done something wrong. Not that it was unusual for you, or anyone really, to call him that. It was the emphasis you’d put on it. As if you were trying to make it known he was Hotch and not Aaron.

Aaron tried to turn off his profiling ability, but it was proving to be had as all of his thoughts were currently encompassed by you.

The night, and the whole weekend if you were being honest, went by in a blur. You could tell Aaron had noticed the change in your behavior. You were standoffish at the bar, pretty much avoiding any conversation with him. You just hoped by the end of the long weekend it would be forgotten, and you’d be able to continue work as normal.

This dream was quickly demolished as Aaron was summoning you into his office before you had the chance to even put your bag down and unpack your files.

The sound of calling your last name both frightened and intrigued you. You couldn’t help but be attracted to the authority in his voice, even if it could mean you were going to be in trouble.

As you stepped into the voice, Aaron didn’t even look up. He mumbled a “shut the door, please,” as he finished recording some notes on an opened file in front of him. You stood awkwardly by the door, waiting for some kind instruction or reasoning from him.

“Please,” he gestured to the seats in front of his desk. You nodded, clumsily making your way to them. “I didn’t mean to scare you or make you uncomfortable by calling you in here,” he began.

You weren’t sure if you were more scared by being called into his office, to have a conversation that required you to both sit down and shut the door, or the intense eye contact he was maintaining as he introduced whatever discussion you two were about to have.

“I just couldn’t help but notice,” he paused for a second, trying to find the right words to say, “a recent change in your behavior.” You hoped he didn’t notice the way your eyes went wide, knowing you’d been caught. You didn’t have to ask what he was talking about to know you’d been caught, but you did anyway, “What do you mean?” You thought you were playing your part well, furrowing your eyebrows to truly emphasis your fake confusion.

“It feels as though you’ve been avoiding me.” Aaron says. His tone isn’t angry or even authoritative, but rather, disappointed. There’s a slight huff in the way he spoke. He didn’t give you a chance to defend yourself before he continued, “Which is fine if you so choose to do so. I would just like to know if it was because of something I did and if I could fix it. I want the team to function as well as it can, and I feel as though it would not if there was conflict between you and I.”

Aaron had to find a professional spin to throw his statement, knowing the professionalism of this situation was debatable at best. “Oh, sir,” you blushed, not really knowing what to say, “I don’t believe there is any conflict between us.” Your voice was formal, too formal. It was obvious you were under pressure. “So, what is it then?” He questioned.

You could feel yourself growing small under his intense stare. You could also feel the wet patch growing between your legs, making you slightly uncomfortable.

“You, uh, you kind of make nervous.” With your quiet voice and stutter, and the way your thighs squeezed together, it was easy for Aaron to pick up on the reason he made you nervous. His cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink instantaneously. “Oh,” his voice trailed off, followed by your quiet, “yeah.”

There was a few beats of silence before he cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad to hear there’s no issues between us.” You nodded with his words, growing even more nervous. Your mouth was moving before your brain could catch up, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to, it’s just been a minute since I’ve, ya know, and I know you’re boss but I will be completely professional and this will not effect my work in or out of the field.”

While you mean to be assuring your boss that your attraction to him was no detriment to your work, you just admitted that it’s been a minute since you’ve had an orgasm. You needed to end this conversation quickly.

“If that’s all,” You said as you stood, “I have a few more reports to finish.” Aaron simply nodded, dismissing you back into the bullpen. You made a break for the bathroom, hoping to have a few minutes to collect yourself before facing the race of the team. You felt exposed, knowing you were entering a room of profilers after since a painful experience. You needed some time alone.

After a mini-breakdown, and cleaning up your messed up mascara, you made your way to your desk. Calm and collected. That’s all you had to be. Calm and collected.

Serial killers and other criminals had quieted down for the week, in an unlikely turn of events. You’d only had to travel for one day, quickly solving a kidnapping case and the finding the perpetrator. The week flew by swimmingly. Nothing odd had happened.

Until you opened your door Saturday morning.

You hadn’t ordered anything, that much you were sure of. Even if you did, you tended to shop at places with bright packaging that made you feel like you were opening a gift when it was delivered. This unsuspecting, plain box was not here on your accord, yet it had your name and address on it.

The FBI agent side of you flipped into protection mode, racing to grab your phone and dial up the one person you knew that could tell you what to do if there happened to be a bomb inside of the box. Derek Morgan. “Pretty girl, why are you facetiming me at 8:27am on a Saturday?” He teased with a smile on his face. No matter what time it was, Derek was ready to listen.

“I got this box and I don’t know what it is. I just want someone to be around when I open it.” You informed him, sitting down next to the box. You should probably be standing, just in case you had to make a run for it but you were too worried about getting it open to think that far ahead.

“Alright,” He said, urging you to open it. You nodded to him, setting up the phone so he could you see and the box in the frame. You carefully tore off the tape, and let out a sigh of relief when nothing happened when it moved. You lifted the flaps slowly, taking a loud gasp when you saw it was. You hoped Derek didn’t see, and moved quickly to pick up your phone to hang up before he could.

“It’s not a bomb! I’m good, thanks Derek!” You rushed, hanging up before he could say anything. Your eyes didn’t leave the box as you let your arms fall to your sides. Sitting inside of it was a small, pink rose toy. A vibrator. That you definitely didn’t order.

You grabbed the box, hoping none of your neighbors saw it. It’s not that masturbation was wrong or immoral or that you didn’t partake, it was just weird if the people around you were aware of your toys.

So, you made sure your door was tightly closed before putting the box on the table and digging through it. There was all the normal things, the vibrator itself, large bubble wrap, and a paper receipt with the name of the product: Intimately GG Rose Suction Simulator from Pink Cherry.

However, there was another piece of paper at the bottom of the box. It was a typed note that read, “I hope this helps us go back to normal. A.H”. You knew exactly one person with the initials A.H. so it wasn’t rocket science to figure out who had ordered you this sex toy.

You weren’t sure if you were more turned on or embarrassed.

Aaron was your boss. Your kind, protective, strong, hot, sexy, boss. But still your boss. You wondered if this is something he would’ve done for someone like Emily or Penelope if they’d been in your predicament. It clicked quickly that it definitely wasn’t, and that made you special in Aaron Hotchner’s eyes.

So, you made a mental note to give him a call, after you tried out your toy. Luckily, you had your cleaning solution and an old bottle of lube from your past encounters. You made quick work of getting the toy clean and finding a video to help you get yourself off.

Of course, the man in the video was a white man who was bit older, with broad shoulders and black hair. No coincidence there.

You started with your boobs, taking time to massage each one before pulling on and pinching them to get yourself warmed up. Between the sounds coming from the video and the excitement of finally having time to yourself, your hands didn’t take long to move downwards, tracing along the length of your body. One hand continued caressing your side as the other made its way to your core.

The thought of Aaron going out of his way to help you get off and the visual of a man who looked similar to him getting his dick sucked had you borderline dripping on your bedsheets as you used your hand to start toying with your clit. You started with small circles, matching the speed of the girl sucking Aaron’s lookalike’s dick.

You stayed like this for a while, allowing yourself to go slow, really take your time pleasuring yourself. The guy in the video had already finished on the girl’s tits by the time you reached for your rose toy. You didn’t need the visual anymore, perfectly crafting dirty scenarios of your unit chief in your head.

You started on low. There was gentle sucking on your clit as you imagined the way Aaron would kiss. He’s experienced, you know that for sure. You could imagine the way he’d start gentle, maybe even cupping your face as he pulled you close. He’d let you feel like you were in charge, before his tongue made its way inside your mouth. His dominant side would take over, using his body to press you against whatever surface you were sat on.

As you fantasized about his dominant side, you cranked up the toy to the next level. You let out a loud moan at the new feeling. Your free hand moved back to your breast, squeezing, while you did your best to imagine Aaron’s large hands doing it instead.

You could feel the coil in your tummy getting tighter and tighter as you imagined Aaron slowly stripping your body, dragging his hand along each and every curve. With a sharp pinch to your nipple and a cry of Aaron’s name, you came undone all over your rose toy.

You could feel your slick dripping down your hand as you worked yourself through your orgasm, making sure to enjoy it for as long as you could. You wished you could savor this feeling. It was the strongest, best orgasm you’d ever had. Nothing could compare to the euphoria you felt right now.

You flicked the toy off and sat it to the side once the feeling became too much. You couldn’t bring yourself to move from your position. “Fuck,” you breathed out, trying to relax the hard rise and fall of your chest.

Once you were able to relax, you made your way to the shower. You knew you had to call Aaron, but you needed to be much more relaxed than you were right now to have that conversation. The sting from the hot water helped ground you, allowing you to clear your mind. After you cleaned yourself, you cleaned the toy and put everything in your nightstand drawer for future use.

Then, you reached for your cellphone. You quickly found Aaron’s personal number and hit the call button before you could overthink what you were doing. He picked up on the second ring. “Hotchner,” he said, probably out of habit. “Hello, Aaron,” you smiled. This is the conversation you’d had with him in a while that didn’t make you feel nervous. “Hello,” he echoed with your name. You didn’t know, but he was smirking on the other side of the phone. He’d been waiting for this call.

“You sent me a gift?” You asked. “I did. Have you received it?” He wasn’t sure what grew more, his smirk or his cock. “I have. I’ve opened it and took it for a test run as well.” The way you two were beating around the bush was a turn on, but the way he sounded so self-assured, as if he knew what you were going to say, had you clenching your thighs together.

“How did it perform?” Aaron questioned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table in front of him. This tightened the dress pants he was wearing against his hardened cock. “Very well,” You smiled. “I’m happy to hear that. I hope this is the end of all of your weird behavior.” Aaron chuckles. Just the sound of his laugh has you reaching your hand to squeeze the fat of your thighs.

“What weird behavior, Aaron?” You questioned, teasingly. This conversation is very different than any you’d had before, and it was turning you. You didn’t think it was possible with the strong orgasm you’d maybe an hour ago. But, Aaron was a special individual. He had that effect on you.

“You were avoiding me,” He scoffed. “I don’t know if I was. I think it was self-control,” You smiled, knowing you were baiting him. Without missing a beat, he took the bait, “And why did you need to practice self-control?”

Aaron leaned back in his chair, opting to press his hand against his cock instead of using the soft fabric to provide some kind of friction. He needed more, that much he knew.

“Because I was trying not to jump your bones, Aaron.” You breathed out. Your words had him squeezing his bulge, feeling like he could bust just from knowing you were attracted to him. “Fuck,” Aaron groaned into the phone. You giggled at his reaction, moving to press your hand against your core, again.

“Tell me about your toy,” He demanded, finally using the authoritarian tone that helped you get into this situation in the first time. “So you can touch yourself while I do?” You questioned, assuming he was in the same position as you. “Is that okay?” He questioned. “Of course it is, Aaron.” You promised, and used your permission as an excuse to unbutton his pants, and shove his hand under the waistband of his boxers.

As you started talking, he spread the precum, that’s been oozing from his pretty pink tip since he saw your contact name, along the length of his dick. “It was so good, Aaron. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah?” Aaron encouraged you to keep going as he started stroking his cock. “Yeah,” You whined out, “I wish you could’ve seen me. My legs were shaking and I was leaking so much.” You smirked as you heard him groan in to the phone. His strokes had quickened in length. All he could picture was you spread out on his bed, cumming around his cock.

“What did you think about while you came?” You were surprised he was able to get the question out, especially because he only stuttered once. You wished you could see the way he squeezed his eyes together as he tugged on his cock. “You, obviously. I was thinking about your lips and your hands. I finished before I could get to the good part. I wanted to picture you fucking me from behind, pressing my face into the mattress.”

You were going to continue describing your fantasy to him, but he cut you off with a “Fuck!” as he came down his hands.

The line was silent for a few minutes before you spoke, “Hey, Aaron?” He hummed out a “yeah?”, before you asked, “Do you want to come over?”

“Give me ten minutes,” He promised, “and have the toy out.”

Well, you couldn’t refuse that.

[yawnderu]

K-9 — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Chapter IV

Sick as a dog, and just as vicious.

1 2 3 4 5

What's a Lieutenant if not someone you can use as a stress reliever

Or

Being a gifted medic comes with free rewards

You weren't the only one catching up on some sleep. Simon was awake throughout Johnny's entire surgery despite having slept four hours the previous night, wanting to be available in case you needed his help, finally getting some much-needed rest after being practically forced by Price.

He wakes up six hours later, a small groan escaping his lips at the light entering his window. His burly arm comes up to cover his eyes, shielding them from the bright sun.

''Fuckin' hell.'' He muttered, getting up from bed and putting on a black balaclava. Shit went down yesterday, with Johnny almost dying, and Makarov is now free, able to continue killing civilians until they're finally able to catch him. At the very least, his best friend is alive and stable last time he visited.

Simon leaves his room, walking to the cafeteria to get a bottle of cold water and a few granola bars before heading to your quarters, knocking on the door softly in case you're asleep. No reply. He knows better, but... what if something happened to you? He uses the pathetic excuse to justify his actions, hand turning the doorknob carefully before stepping inside, footsteps surprisingly quiet for someone his size.

What a fucking sight. He stared at your sleeping figure for a while, taking in the details of your face when it wasn't pulled into a scowl or a bored expression, a small smile tugging on his lips at how peaceful you look before he realized how creepy he was being. He shook his head softly as if to snap out of it, putting the water bottle and granola bars before turning away to try and leave.

Try, because a much smaller hand wrapped around his wrist, almost making him flinch because of how sudden it was. He looks down at you only to find your eyes boring into his, tugging him closer by the wrist. A confused Simon followed like a lost dog before his feet rooted on the ground in front of your bed, giving you a questioning look with his eyes.

''Come lay with me.'' Your voice is much gentler than usual, laced with something he can't quite recognize yet. Simon knows better, really he does, but who is he to question the medic he's been pining on for months? He hesitantly removes his boots and climbs into bed with you, keeping a respectful distance despite his behemoth frame taking over half of the bed. His muscles tense up when he feels you cuddling up to him, being a painfully fitting piece against his body.

''What are you on bout, doc?'' You don't reply, simply examining his eyes for any hints of hesitation. You find nervousness, curiosity, doubt, and even the smallest hints of fear, but no hesitation at all. Your hand sneaks up to the bottom of his balaclava, pulling it all the way off before your lips crash into his hungrily. It takes him a few seconds of pure confusion before he kisses back, arms wrapped around your waist, and whatever questions he has on why you're doing this all of sudden pushed to the back of his mind.

Your hands grab at anything they can reach— muscle, skin, hair... anything, holding onto his much bigger body like a lifeline, his warm hands running up and down your back. He has fantasized about this moment so many times, yet the real thing is so different in a good way.

''Tell me I can touch you, bird.'' You simply nod your head and try to go back to kissing him, but he pulls away, gently squeezing your waist to make you look at him.

''Use your words.'' His words are almost pleading, wanting to make sure you want the same thing.

''I want you to touch me, Simon.'' Not a second passes before his lips are back on yours, tongues wrapping around each other's as his hands start to drift down, grabbing a handful of your ass. His touch is so desperate it almost makes you laugh, one of your hands sneaking down his shirt and feeling him up, defined muscles flexing under your touch. His slightly shaky hands fumble with the button of your jeans, breaking away from the kiss just to look at you and make sure you still want it. The half-lidded look you give him is enough confirmation, pulling down your jeans and getting on his knees, between your legs.

"Been wanting to do this since I saw ya." He confesses, too excited for his fantasies finally coming true to even feel remotely bashful about his words. He lifts up your shirt enough to reveal your tummy, gentle kisses planted on every single inch of skin his lips can reach as he slowly descends, planting open mouthed kisses over your clothed cunt.

"Fuck—" Your back arches at the feeling, eyes screwed shut as your hand goes to the back of his head, pushing him closer. His tongue is warm and wet, saliva mixing in with your growing arousal. He pushes your panties to the side, looking down at your gleaming pussy before digging in, tongue lapping the wetness before he latches onto your cunt, sucking and licking away like a starved man.

"You taste s'fucking good." He praises before going back down, the flat of his tongue moving around your cunt before slowly going inside, your whiny moans and hands gripping his short hair are all the encouragement he needs. He latches onto your clit next, long fingers teasing the entrance of your cunt, spreading your arousal all over them before he slowly enters you with one.

His fingers are thick and long, whiny moans escaping your lips as he adds a second one, making scissoring motions as he fucks his fingers deeper and deeper into you, tongue alternating between licking and sucking on your clit before hesitantly letting go.

"Sit on my face." It's not even a request, it sounds like a plea, though you quickly listen to his words for the first time ever, cunt hovering above his face as soon as he lays back down. He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing the plush and pulling your body down to his face, eating you out like a starved man. His hands let go of your ass to unbuckle his belt, barely having the strength to pull his hard cock out of his jeans, eyes closing as he focused on the dual sensation of pleasuring you with his mouth and pleasuring himself with his hand, pre staining his fingers as his hand moves up and down his shaft faster.

"Fuck— Just like that, Si." Si. You never call him anything other than Simon. Sometimes Ghost, when you're needed during missions and hang around them in the helos, but the way you say his name... so much affection, even if it only comes from making you feel good. He's pathetic— God, he knows he's being pathetic, cock twitching in his hand at the idea of you reciprocating his complex and strange feelings for you, ropes of thick cum shooting out into his hand and stomach, a low growl coming out of his lips as he squeezed his cock dry of cum.

He focuses solely on you now, tongue swirling and flickering all over you, his clean hand coming up to rub your clit with his thumb while he assaults your dripping wet cunt with his lips and tongue. Your hands go down to his head, fingers pulling on his short hair while you use his face to feel good, getting closer and closer to the edge.

"Si, I'm gonna cum—" But he doesn't stop. Hell, his thumb moves even faster over your sensitive bud, tongue-fucking your pussy as deep as he can until he can feel your body shaking on top of him, thighs closing in on his head and squeezing as the intensity of your orgasm washes over you, his waiting mouth taking in all your juices, lapping at them greedily until you pull away from the stimulation, shaky legs managing to position yourself next to him, head against his chest.

"You hear that? Price is calling you." You lie, unable to contain the smirk on your lips as he flicks your nose.

"Piss off, doc." His burly arms wrap around you, a loud groan of protest escaping your lips when you realize you're forced to cuddle with him.

[PREVIOUS]

[jakesduskwood]

even statues crumble if they're made to wait

Pairing: Jake x Fem!MC

Genre: Post-Episode 10 Duskwood, Post-Episode 1 Moonvale

Words: 8,916

Summary: It's been three months since the explosion in the mine. Three months since Hannah was found. And MC's accepted that Jake is never coming back. When she gets roped into another missing person's case, it makes for the perfect distraction. Jake is dead. It's fine. That is, until she finds herself on the phone with Alan Bloomgate who says he has something to show her. But it's fine. Jake is dead.

Until he's not.

EPISODE-1 MOONVALE SPOILERS AHEAD (MAYBE)!

[ A/N: Hello! :)

I know it's been a while since I've done this, but I finished Moonvale Episode 1 and if you've seen the ending (and used its Duskwood code), you know what happened and how excited I was to receive that bit of Duskwood. So, I took it and ran with it, and out came this extremely long fic. I did not proofread this as it took me literally almost 12 hours to write so it is completely and 100% me and my love for Jake and I hope you love it.

Side note: I suck with anything related to timelines, so I made one up on my own. I know Episode 1 of Moonvale takes place over the course of a day or two, but for the purpose of this fic, it made sense to make it longer, so it's not a typo, or me losing my mind, it's just the way my brain processed this.

Enjoy! :) ]

It’s been three months since the explosion in the mine.

Three months since Richy had been killed. Three months since Hannah was rescued. Three months since I had last spoken to Thomas or Cleo or Lilly or…or Jessy. I didn’t blame her then and I don’t blame her now. Any of them, really. I didn’t share the bond they had with each other. I wasn’t from Duskwood. It didn’t matter that we’d experienced a tragedy together—and yes, perhaps them more than me, but I loved Richy too. I had lost Richy too. And Jake—

But mostly, I think they just wanted to forget. To move on. They didn’t want to remember that their friend had been capable of…of that. And I was a constant reminder of that to them. So I understood why we didn’t necessarily talk anymore.

The one person I did keep in contact with from Duskwood, oddly enough, other than the occasional update from Alan Bloomgate, was Dan. We weren’t best friends or anything, but he allowed me to check in on our friends in a way that I didn’t know how to do with anyone else. Maybe because I thought he was the least affected among them. I knew he cared about Hannah, but he wasn’t to her what Thomas or Cleo or Lilly were. And he wasn’t to Richy what Jessy had been.

I’d learned from him that Thomas and Hannah had broken up. There was no bad blood, but Thomas hadn’t quite figured out how to accept the things he’d learned about his girlfriend when she’d been gone, and Hannah hadn’t quite figured out how to re-trust someone after Richy. Even if that person was Thomas. But I’d hoped they would find their way back to each other in the end.

I thought about reaching out to Jessy every once in a while—even just as an apology for everything that had happened. I’m sorry that Hannah was found at the expense of Richy. I’m sorry that he did this to you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. We should have. We should have. We should have. I miss you. But I never send it. I’m not all that sure she’d respond anyway.

Cleo and I were never all that close. She has her best friend back, so I think she’s probably as okay as she can be. Helping Hannah find a new kind of normal in a time where her childhood friend had kidnapped her in order to prove a point. I don’t know how you come back from that—I don’t know how you come back from knowing that you killed somebody at all.

I hadn’t found the courage to ask if somebody had told Hannah about Jake.

Not that I think it would matter anyway. I hadn’t heard from him since before the explosion in the mine, which was, like I said—three months ago. I waited the appropriate amount of time—twenty-five days—before I broke down and concluded that maybe he hadn’t survived. Which just piled a shit-ton of guilt onto my shoulders because it was supposed to be me in that mine. He had gone in place of me and now he was dead.

It was the only explanation that made sense. I was used to Jake disappearing for days at a time, but never as long as he had been now. And he didn’t seem like the type to tell me he loved me and then leave without a single explanation. Not unless he had to. But it had been three months and as much as I missed him, as much as my chest ached with the thought that we would never eat Chinese food out of shitty motels and have that on-the-run ending we talked about, I had accepted that he wasn’t coming back.

I wonder if he had known about Richy or if he had died still thinking Michael Hanson was the one who had kidnapped Hannah. I wonder if his last thoughts were of me. Maybe it’s selfish, but I kind of hope they were, because I’m pretty sure I’ll think about him for the rest of my life.

I wonder what it would have felt like to run my hands through his hair. To kiss him. To spend every waking moment with him and know it was because I loved him. Because I would have. Talking to Jake became about more than just finding Hannah. It became a part of my day I looked forward to more than anything else. He confided in me in a way that told me he never had with anyone, maybe not even Hannah, and I needed that from somebody. I needed somebody to trust in me the way that Jake did. I needed somebody to love me the way that Jake did.

It was strange—and maybe a little ironic—the thought that something so beautiful could come out of something so tragic.

Anyway, my point is: it’s been a long couple of months. Of thinking about my friends. Of thinking about Jake. Of wondering if I should have done things differently. I should have gone to Duskwood to help. Not even with the mine, but sooner. I could have. I could’ve gone when Jessy was attacked on the way home. I could’ve gone when the group made plans to cut out of town and hide away in the house Richy had found. Selfishly, I should have. In that moment, when they were settled around the fire and Lilly called me, I had never remembered wanting anything more. I should have grabbed Jake—metaphorically, maybe even literally—and rode it out with them to the end.

I don’t stop missing them after three months. Of wishing things could have been different. Wishing I could have done more. But exactly ninety-five days after the explosion in the mine, seventy days since I had accepted that Jake was never coming back, twenty-two days since I had last heard from anybody from Duskwood (Dan included), my phone dings with a new message.

And the cycle starts all over again.

It’s somebody named Eric, who claims he needs my help to find his friend Adam, who disappeared while he was waiting for a ride in someplace called Redlog Pines. And much like with Duskwood, I have never heard of Redlog, and the case reminds me way too much of Thomas’ first message to me, so much that it makes my chest ache, but I can’t say no because there’s somebody missing, and if I’d say no the first time, God knows where Hannah would be.

So, I say yes, and I help out where I can, and Eric decides he needs to bring about four more friends in on his little plan and I try my best to stay emotionally unattached because I remember everything that happened the last time and I can’t go through that again. I offer up information when I can and keep my words short and careful because I’m not ready to get attached to somebody else I know I might never meet.

I know how this ends.

Two days in, Ash, one of Eric’s friends, brings up my Duskwood past and the unhealed wound I’ve been trying to mend breaks open again. She asks about Richy, and about the mine, and then because I’m me and I can’t help myself, I tell her about Jake. She tells me the news never mentioned another body and I shove that thought to the back of my head because hoping for something that will never come true will kill me.

Four days into Adam’s disappearance, and the police not giving a shit—as Charlie, somebody who reminds me far too much of Richy for comfort, points out—my phone beeps with an incoming call from somebody I haven’t spoken to in a while.

“Go for [MC].” I answer my phone.

Ever since Hannah had been found in the mine and Jake had…you know, my phone had been more silent than I’d gotten used to. Until this new case. But even that—it was only a few days old and I didn’t want to go down the same path with them that I did with my friends in Duskwood. We didn’t really know each other that long, sure—even though sometimes it’d felt like it—but it felt like I’d finally been a part of something. Like, I had found these people who had chosen me for me.

And originally, maybe they had. Maybe they’d had every intention of keeping me around, but then Richy was the Man Without A Face and Alan Bloomgate had rescued Hannah and nothing was the same as it had been when we’d met each other. We knew too many secrets about each other by the time the town settled. Secrets we would have to take to the grave.

Or maybe I’m losing my mind a bit and I had really only been a means to an end.

Either way.

“Alan?” I raise my voice when there’s nothing but breathing on the other end of the line. “Did you mean to call me?”

His tone is clipped. “I found something.”

“You found something.” I repeat.

My heart clenches. For all I know, it might fall into my stomach. As far I know, from watching the news, from what Ash told me, Jake’s body was never found. Richy’s was. Or what was left of him to find, anyway. I had assumed that there just hadn’t been enough of Jake left. The thought left me nauseous, but it was better than hoping for something I knew I could never have.

“I’m sending it to your phone now.” He responds. “Let me know what you think of this.”

And then he hangs up.

That was a riveting conversation, I think as my phone dings with a message. I do my best to ignore my other messages—contacts from Duskwood I’m still not ready to acknowledge—and click Alan Bloomgate. He sent me a video that looks like—oh God.

Immediately, I’m overcome with emotion as an all-too-familiar forest pops up on my phone. It’s a video of Alan’s bodycam footage. He’s searching the Duskwood forest. A forest I’ve seen too many times in the background of other video calls.

I watch as he stumbles upon an object that’s too dark to make out at first. When he gets closer, it’s clear that it’s a backpack. It’s simple. Black. Nothing about it that screams this is mine and I left it here about anybody in particular. You stupid, stupid idiot, I tell my heart when it rattles against my chest in hope. He’s dead.

Alan stands and treks away from the backpack—I want to scream at him to go back, to open it and look through it and tell me if it’s what my heart aches to believe, but I can’t, because this is a video and I’m simply watching with wide eyes, waiting for…for something. But then. But then, he moves further into the forest and I watch as he stumbles upon an object that makes my knees tremble and tears rush to my eyes and my hands shake. A black hoodie. It looks like it’s been through hell, with holes scattered up the sleeves and dirt cakes into the hood, but it’s unmistakably his.

And then—Alan lifts the hood and picks up something that makes me sink to my knees with a sob that wracks my entire frame. Because I’m staring at Jake’s mask. The mask he doesn’t go anywhere without. The mask that protects him. And so my relief is short-lived, because I realize that even if he’s alive—which seems like a very big possibility at this point—he’s alive without the things that he needs to survive.

And then the anger kicks in. Because if he’s been alive, on his own, for three months—why has he not contacted me? Unless he survived the mine but he didn’t survive the after. But that didn’t make any sense. So, okay, he wasn’t dead. But that didn’t make any sense either. He told me he wouldn’t let them catch him. Because catching that meant he would be apart from me. Did something happen that prevented him from being able to reach out and tell me he was at least okay? A quick text that said didn’t die in the explosion in the mine, you don’t need to mourn me, by the way, going off radar for another year. Did he think I would have given up on him?

I wipe my eyes and shoot a message to Alan.

ME: Recently?? Did nobody search the forests before?      

ALAN: Searched the forests for what, [MC]? The logical assumption seemed to be that if anybody was inside the mine when Richy set the fire, they would have perished alongside him. Officers were stationed outside every known entrance and exit. Besides, after the story you and your friends spun around this town, do you think anybody would have gone back into its forests?

ME: But it’s possible?

ALAN: I would say these items had been there for some time. But I would say it is likely he ditched them when he fled the mine, yes.

Another sob tears through my throat. Jake is alive. I don’t know quite what that means for us as of now, but I know it’s the best news I’ve heard since Hannah was found. Jake is alive. He’s out there somewhere. And even if it’s been three months, and even if I’m a little bit mad at him right now, I know that if he was here, I would throw my arms around his neck and hold on to him until someone dragged me off, and even then—I would fight kicking and screaming.

I close out of my messages with Alan and pull up a conversation I haven’t had the heart to look at in quite some time.

ME: Jake’s alive.

LILLY: …

LILLY: Have you spoken to him?

ME: Alan called. He found some of Jake’s things in Duskwood. I don’t know a lot of details. But I know he made it out of the mine.

Lilly types for a long while, but she doesn’t respond. I don’t take it personally. I think it’s probably hard for her to be happy that her brother’s okay while also trying to accept that her sister may never be okay again. Her sister, who had once-upon-a-time been kind-of-sort-of in love with their brother she didn’t know she had. I think that would probably mess with any family’s heads. And on top of all that, you throw in manslaughter and a kidnapping. I wouldn’t wish anybody, not even my worst enemy, to have had to go through what the Donforts had.

When it becomes adamant that Lilly isn’t going to respond, I start scrolling through messages with the rest of the group in Duskwood. I click on Jessy. I’m here if you need me. That had been the last thing I sent to her, a couple of days after Richy’s death. She hadn’t responded. I click out of Jessy’s contact and click on Thomas’ instead. Thank you for everything. That had been his last message to me after we found Hannah. I’d liked it. I hadn’t expected at the time it would be the last thing we’d ever say to each other. I click out of Thomas’ and click on Richy. So, you want to turn yourself in? I’d asked. That was before he called me. Before he lit a match and burned himself and the mine to the ground. Some people would call that heroic. I mostly call him a coward.

I click on Jake’s name. It’s been a while since I read messages between the two of us. Maybe before I had accepted—thought—he was dead. In that twenty-five-day period when I’d hoped with all I’d had that he would come back. I love you. That was the last message he sent me. I’d responded with I love you too, Jake. Then, four days later: Are you okay? A week later: Jake, please, you’re starting to scare me. I know you said you would contact when you could, but it’s been a week. After twenty-five days, when I had finally accepted our fate, I’d sent one final message: I hope you know that I love you, and I will always care about you, but I think it’s time for me to move on. I’m so sorry that I sent you into the mine. It should have been me. And I will probably feel the guilt from that for the rest of my life. Thank you for everything. Take care of yourself, wherever you are.

After that, I had closed out of our messages and hadn’t looked back. Partly because I couldn’t bear the pain of it. It felt like I had given up on him. I hadn’t—if I had thought for a second that he was alive, if I knew then what I know now, I would have never sent that message. But holding out hope for somebody who I thought was a ghost at the time? That was slowly killing me.

It’s only then that I notice the screen flickering. Much like the way it used to whenever Jake would hack into my phone. I don’t think he’s much in the mood to be hacking right now, but somehow, I know it’s him. When had he done this? Recently? If I had opened our messages, would I have seen this ten—twenty—even fifty days ago? It hadn’t looked like this the last time I texted him. Did he see my last message about needing to move on? Was that why he hadn’t reached out to tell me that he was okay? Because he thought I was moving on happily without him?

No, my brain supplies. He wouldn’t. He would reach out anyway, because he knows how much the thought of him not being okay would have destroyed you.

The screen flickers once more and then a message pops up, bright and blue-tinted and clear as day on my phone.

[MC]

I WILL FIND YOU

And the world around me shifts.

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

Maybe it sounds crazy, considering I’ve never seen his face before, but I always thought that if I’d ran into Jake one day, maybe on the street or at one of those motels he stayed at or maybe even in Duskwood, surrounded by all our friends, I would know it was him. I would, because it’s him, and it’s me, and we’re the only two people who understand each other quite the way we do.

I still believe that.

I believe it when I book my flight to Duskwood (or rather, twenty miles outside of town, which is the closest airport). I believe it when I board the airplane and find a seat next to a mother with her screaming child and when I shoot off a quick text to Eric to let him know I’ll be MIA for the next few hours, but to message me if he needs anything—and I think about how much easier this case would probably be to solve if we had Jake.

Maybe it would have been harder to find Hannah without me, but I know damn well they would’ve never found her without Jake.

Dan picks me up from the airport. I haven’t told the others yet. Something about it felt off—like I shouldn’t message them and say hey, I know we haven’t spoken in a while, but I’m booking a flight to look into why my maybe-slash-not-really boyfriend left his belongings in a forest we really wish we could forget about, and by the way, can I crash at your place?

It’s quiet on the car ride back into town. I’m looking through my messages from Eric and the group from Redlog Pines and thinking about how I’m Duskwood with this group and I want so badly to laugh because it’s ironic, but Dan wouldn’t understand. He might just call me crazy. Better yet, he would ask how I manage to get myself into these situations, and really, I don’t have an answer for him.

“How have you been?” I ask, just to break the tension, as Charlie, in my messages, tries to persuade his friends to head back into that creepy cave in the middle of the forest. He’s going to get someone killed, I think.

Dan looks over at me. “Are you still with Hackerman?”

My chest squeezes. “His name is Jake, Dan. And we were never really together.”

“Hm.” He nods like he doesn’t quite believe me. “You already know mostly everything that’s been happening here. Thomas and Hannah called it quits. They say it was some mutual decision, but it’s hard to find them in the same room together. Jessy hasn’t been out with us since. I think we remind her too much of Richy. The group’s all changed.”

“And you?” I ask.

He gives me a cheshire-like grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m always the same.”

We make it to Duskwood just as the sun’s going down. Much too late for me to try and trek through the forest and retrace the steps Jake might have taken that night. Not that I think it would help give me any clues as to where he might have gone, but mostly because I wonder if it will make me feel closer to him. We’ve never been in the same place before, and even if he’s not there now—he once was.

“Can you drop me at the police station?”

Dan blinks. “The police station.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“We answered their questions for weeks, [MC]. I don’t think anything you have to tell them at this point is going to help. The investigation’s closed. Everybody knows Richy did it. He died with the fire in the mine. Everybody’s trying to move on from that.” He works his jaw. “Did you come here to open old wounds after all this time?”

I try not to show the hurt look on my face. “This isn’t about Richy. Look, Alan called me. He asked if I could look at some things. I figured it was better for me to do it in person. That’s it. Nothing to do with Richy. Nothing to do with Jessy. Nothing to do with you.”

He sighs, and I’m not entirely sure he’s going to abide by my wishes until we pull in front of a tiny building—tinier than most—that says Duskwood Police on the sign. Duskwood must not have that much crime. Well, not until this, I suppose.

“Thank you.” I tell him as I reach over to undo my seatbelt and climb out of the car. “This is a nice ride, by the way.”

He raises a hand in some mock-salute. “Need me to pick you up?”

“Nah.” I shake my head. “Think I’ll explore the town for a little bit.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs and then he’s off.

I square my shoulders and take a deep breath before opening the door to the police station. It wasn’t like Alan asked me to come down here. He hadn’t. Even during the investigation into Richy’s death and Hannah’s kidnapping, when he questioned us, he never asked me to come to Duskwood. We’d done way too many video calls and phone calls and at one point, I had asked if he thought it would be easier for me to come to Duskwood, to which he responded back, are you ready for that?

No, I hadn’t been. I’m not even so sure I was now. But knowing that Jake was alive, that here was the last place was, I had to try.

“Can I help you?” The woman at the front desk asks.

I clear my throat. “I was wondering if I could speak to Alan Bloomgate. I’m one of—I was involved in the Hannah Donfort case. My name is [MC].”

Her eyes widen. “Give me a moment.” She stands and heads to some back office—which looks to me more like a closet—and then returns with a clipped smile. “He’ll be right out.”

Apparently, she isn’t lying, because not two minutes later, Alan is stepping out from the same door and staring me down. I hold his gaze and hope it says that I’m not here to argue. I will tell him my truth, but only my truth, not Hannah’s, not Jake’s, not anybody else’s.

“I was wondering when I would see you.” He says.

I shrug one shoulder. “Isn’t a few months later better than never?”

“Let’s go into my office.” He says, and leads me around the desk and back into the closet space he had come out of. He sits behind the desk and motions for me to take a seat opposite him. “I’m just going to guess you’re not here to talk about Miss Donfort.”

“I want to see them.” I tell him. “His things. I want to see them for myself. And whatever you want from me in return, I’ll give to you.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, [MC].”

“He isn’t a game to me.” I snap back and then sit back and try to relax. “I appreciate that you called me. It’s—I helped you find Hannah. I would do it again. Even with knowing the things that we do now, I would do it all again. That’s how much that group means to me. That’s how much he means to me. I’m not asking you to break any rules or to lie for him or to—to let him hide in your basement for the next five years. I’m just asking you to show me what you found.”

He stares me down for a moment. Then, he sighs, says “wait here for a minute” and disappears to another room. When he comes back, it’s with an evidence bag in his hand filled with the objects I saw on his bodycam footage. My breath hitches in my throat.

“I can’t let you touch them.” He says as he lays them in front of me.

I stare into the eyes of the mask. “Did you tell anybody that he’s alive?”

“I don’t know that he’s alive,” is all the answer he gives, which is an answer to my question. I slide my gaze down to the black hoodie, to the dirtied sleeves and muddy hood, and think about the fact that Jake wore this. I’m so close to him.

And yet I’ve never been further away from him.

“Thank you.” I tell him. “For—for this. And for listening to me about Hannah. If you hadn’t, I—I don’t know what would have happened. How much longer he would have gone on for. If he would have ever stopped.”

Alan’s silent for a minute. Then, he clears his throat. “You know, it was strange to me. Both Hannah and yourself swore to me that neither of you knew the other.”

“I don’t.” I swear.

It was one of the (albeit many) things that didn’t make sense to me. How Hannah got a hold of my number. How she sent it to Thomas. She’d told Alan she hadn’t really remembered texting him my number at all.

“I believe you.” He reassures. “I just think it’s strange. One mistake, if you can call it that, and you throw yourself into a missing persons case to help a stranger.”

“They’re not strangers.” Even though Hannah is kind of still a stranger.

“But they were.” Alan reasons. “You had no reason to say yes to helping Thomas. I doubt anybody would have held it against you if you turned the other way. But you decided to follow this until the end. To make sure they found Hannah. And you care about them. Maybe that’s why I find that I’m more lenient with you than maybe I should be. Why you’re sitting across from me right now calling the shots. Why I’m not asking you about the hacker.”

“I wouldn’t tell you if you did.” I look him in the eye so he knows I’m telling the truth.

He returns my gaze. “Maybe that’s the other reason.”

“Hm.” I acknowledge before I turn my gaze away—from him, from the objects that I know belong to Jake and it takes everything in me not to snatch them up and run. “Well. Thank you for allowing me to steal some of your time. For letting me—” I cut myself off before I say something that makes me break down in a fit of tears in front of him. “—just thank you.”

Leaving the station is easier than coming in. I’m still not any closer to knowing where Jake is than I was when I arrived here, but there’s a comfort in knowing he walked these streets. I wonder what he would think if he knew I was here. He hadn’t wanted me to come to Duskwood when everything was happening…but now that it was over, would he be happy that I was here? That I had come to Duskwood to piece together where he might have gone? Would he track my location and come to find me and…or was I grasping at straws?

It felt like I had just gotten him back. Not really, not entirely…but knowing that he was alive, that he was out there somewhere, maybe thinking of me and looking for ways to come back, to live the life we talked about when he asked me if I was sure…that was worth it. The thought that we could maybe someday have that—even if it was a twenty percent chance.

I check my phone again to see a new message from Ash. She’s asking me if I’ve heard from Charlie in the last few hours. Apparently, he’s AWOL, and I want to help, really, but…it doesn’t really feel like that’s where I am at the moment. Not just physically—obviously—but mentally. We got lucky with Hannah. And that was really only because we had Jake. Adam didn’t have a Jake. Or…maybe he did and I just hadn’t met him yet. But I already had a Jake and I didn’t want another one.

Maybe—if I found him, I could convince him to help. That was a big maybe. Not because I thought Jake would say no. He would say yes to anything I asked of him. The maybe was whether or not I could find him. More likely, the maybe was whether or not he would find me.

Three months ago, I would have been able to come to Duskwood and have no shortage of things I wanted to do and people I wanted to see. Now, as I stand outside Duskwood’s police station, I feel nothing but loneliness. Nobody knows I’m here. I could pass Thomas on the street and he wouldn’t even know it. I could run into Jessy at the library and she would walk by me without even a second thought. Why would they? I hadn’t told them I was here.

So, with nothing left to do, I walked. Toward the town center. Toward the library that Jessy showed me on our walk through Duskwood. Toward the Rainbow Café where I knew that Cleo and Hannah had spent a lot of their time. Toward the Black Swan. Toward—

Ah, what the hell.

I had nothing better to do and The Aurora seemed like a great place to drown my sorrows. To think about my next steps. To figure out—now that I was in Duskwood—what I planned to do. The thing about Jake being so secretive (and on the run) was that I couldn’t retrace his steps. I wasn’t able to ask if anyone had seen him. One, because he would make sure nobody had. And two, because three months was a long time to forget somebody’s face if you didn’t know who you were looking for.

I pull open the door to the bar and step inside. Immediately, I’m hit with the stench of whiskey and a handful of chatter. Duskwood’s a small town. And The Aurora definitely proves it. The bartenders move melodically around each other, serving patrons on the other side of the bar. If you walk down further, there’s a handful of tables.

And dead in the center is a table with my friends. Or, some of them. Dan and Cleo and Lilly. Could I still call them my friends? Ex-friends, maybe? Acquaintances? I didn’t know what they were. Or how to address them. It wasn’t like we had gotten into a fight. We didn’t stop talking for any reason other than that we did. We stopped talking.

I make a beeline for the bar to avoid a confrontation and plant myself on one of the stools. One of the bartenders—a girl cute with bleach blonde hair and brown Bambi eyes—asks what I want and I channel my inner Dan to order a whiskey—neat.

Looking over my shoulder, I focus on the table of them. On Lilly, who’s smiling at something Cleo said. On Dan, who’s the only one of them who actually knows I’m here. But even he’s focused on the conversation they’re having. It’s strange—to see Dan a part of something I’m not sure he would have been before. It’s nice.

“[MC]?”

I turn my head away from the table of my friends and focus my attention across the bar on someone I should’ve expected to see. “Phil.”

“I thought I recognized your voice from when we talked.” He smiles. “I wasn’t sure, but I saw you staring longingly at them—” He nods towards Dan and Cleo and Lilly. “—and I knew. What brings you around here? I expected you to show up maybe a few months ago, but by now, I thought you’d moved on without us.”

I was tired of the words move on. Like I’d had a choice. Like the people from this town might open their arms and welcome me back into their lives. So I’d been part of the group who’d saved Hannah Donfort. So had a lot of people. It didn’t make me special and everyone here knew it.

I offer him a smile in return. “I’m looking for somebody.”

“Anybody I know?” He asks.

I shake my head. “Nah. At least nobody you would recognize.” I pause. “How’s Jessy?”

“She’s—Jessy.” He answers, like that is an answer. “I don’t know if she’ll ever really be okay with the way things happened with Richy. I wouldn’t expect her to. Obviously. But I don’t know. I think I just thought she would have gone back to her normal life by now. And then I remember that most of her life revolved around him. He was her best friend. She worked for him. And I’m trying to be patient about that. But—” He shakes his head. “Maybe you should talk to her.”

“She doesn’t know I’m in town.”

“Okay.” He hums. “So, you’re not in town for my sister. And you’re not in town for your group of friends because they’re over there and you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. There’s always Hannah, but I don’t think you knew her that well. Or at all. Would I be right to assume this is about a certain hacker who helped to find Hannah?”

“He didn’t help find Hannah.” I defend. “He was the entire reason we found Hannah. I would have never been able to do it on my own. Even with the others’ help. He’s the only reason we found out about—” I pause before I say something I maybe shouldn’t. “It doesn’t matter. He’s the only reason we found her. Everything I did was just dumb luck.”

“That wasn’t what the news said.” A voice cuts in and I turn my attention from Phil to focus on the stranger that slides into the seat beside me. Not too close—a couple inches away. I don’t recognize him. I don’t know him. But I don’t know every person in Duskwood. Maybe a total of like nine or ten. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But I heard you had a lot to do with finding Hannah Donfort. The news said you were some kind of hero.”

I offer him a tight smile. “That’s nice of them. But…if they knew my—friend—knew what he did to find her, I don’t think I would be as much of a hero as everybody says.”

“That’s noble.” He says, eyes meeting mine, and it strikes me at once how handsome he is. He has dark hair. Bright green eyes. Focus, [MC]. I scold. You have a…a someone.

My phone buzzes.

ERIC SENT A PHOTO.

ERIC: What do you make of this?

I sigh and click on the photo. It’s of—some object. Much like the one that was addressed to me on the envelope in Adam’s glove compartment. The image is a bit different—but I don’t know enough about what it means to have an answer as to why.

ME: Was this one addressed to me?

ERIC: Nope. Ash.

“Are you okay?” Phil asks.

I clear my throat. “I’m a popular person—apparently.” A thought strikes. “Have you ever heard of a place called Redlog Pines?”

Phil frowns. “No.”

I turn to look at the stranger. “You?”

“Redlog Pines is a small town about two hundred miles north of Duskwood.” He answers. “Known for their wooded forests, much like Duskwood.”

“Why are you looking into a place with forests as creepy as ours?” Phil asks, incredulously. “Didn’t you get enough of that with Hannah’s case?”

“Yeah.” I sigh. “You would think.”

“Hey, [MC]!”

I wince at the sound of Dan’s voice. Shooting Phil a look that screams please help me to which he shakes his head amusedly, I turn and plaster on a fake smile as I take in the shocked looks on Cleo and Lilly’s faces. I should have known better than to come to The Aurora and talk to Phil when the three of them were having a conversation across the room. I should have known they would sooner or later see me. I just hoped it was later.

“Hey.” I hop off my stool and make my way across the bar to them. “It’s, uh, fancy seeing the three of you here.”

“What are you doing here?” Cleo asks.

“I haven’t really figured that out.” My eyes meet Lilly’s. “It sounds crazy to say it out loud. But I was hoping that—I’m not sure if Lilly told you—”

“That Jake’s alive.” Cleo nods. “None of us ever really thought he wasn’t.”

I don’t think she means it as a dig—but it still feels like one. Like she’s saying you gave up on him you gave up on him you gave up on him even though she’s not and she didn’t really know him and the only person I can talk to at this table who even might understand is Lilly and even—Jake didn’t confide in her the way he did me.

“Right.” I acknowledge. “So I thought that maybe if I came here, I could trace his steps from when he was here and—I haven’t really thought that far ahead. It’s not like I thought he left me any clues in the forest or anything like that. I don’t think he expected me to be here. He hadn’t wanted me to be the last time we talked. But that was before everything happened.”

Lilly’s eyes track behind me. “Does Jake still have Nymos on your phone?”

“Uh.” I furrow my brows. “I think so. I hadn’t heard from him in a while, but I went back and read through our messages after I talked to Alan and…my phone glitched, like it used to when Jake had hacked it. And then this message appeared on my screen.”

“And by chance, can Nymos track your location?”

“What—” I shake my head. “Maybe. I don’t think I ever really asked him. It didn’t seem necessary at the time.”

“Uh huh.” She focuses on me once more. “Let’s say, for one minute, that Jake has access to Nymos who has access to your location.”

Cleo must catch onto something I’m not sure of. “Jake didn’t want you here.”

“Uh, thank you?”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” She waves me off. “He didn’t want you in Duskwood. He had been adamant about that when we were talking about the mine. That’s why he went. If you showed up in Duskwood—”

“Nymos would have alerted him.” Dan finishes.

“Okay…” I’m not entirely sure I’m on the same page as them. “So—you think that Jake found out when I came to Duskwood.”

“Correct.” Lilly beams like she just solved life’s greatest mystery.

“And you think he would—come find me?”

She smiles sympathetically at me—like I’m the world’s biggest idiot for not realizing what she has been trying to say sooner. “I think he already has.”

“You think Jake’s in Duskwood.” I deadpan.

“[MC].” Cleo grabs my shoulders and turns me around. “We think he’s in this bar.”

Stranger, as I had nicknamed him—AKA the guy sitting beside me at the bar, with Phil and Redlog Pines (which he probably only knew about because of me) and the whole Hannah being kidnapped and not taking any of the credit thing—was looking back at me. So was Phil. Like they thought I was the crazy one. Like it would’ve been so hard for him to look and me and say it’s me or anything that might have clued me into the fact that—

“Jake?” I whisper, because I’ve lost quite a bit of sleep over the past couple of months and I’m not one hundred percent sure what—or who—I’m seeing is real. “Are you here?”

He tilts his head and smiles at me. Actually smiles. A bit shyly, like it’s something he’s not used to doing, but maybe like it’s something he could get used to. And I think about how terrible I probably look right now because I’m not wearing makeup and my hair is tousled from constantly pulling at it and my clothes are wrinkled from the plane and the police station and I look like a mess. But our relationship has never been about looks. Clearly. I didn’t even know the person I’d been talking to until Lilly and Cleo and even Dan pointed out the obvious.

“If I—” I close my eyes and open them again. Nope. Still there. “I need you to still be there by the time I reach you because it’s been a—” I sniffle. “—it’s been a rough few months and I don’t think I could handle you disappearing again.”

He stands from the stool he was sitting on and shuffles his feet. Like he’s not quite sure where he’s supposed to stand. If he thinks about moving, I’ll tackle him onto the floor of The Aurora and then apologize to Phil later. It feels like everything I wanted is right here in front of me. And I’m scared to death that it’s not real.

“What’s one thing you would take with you if you were stranded on an island?”

His smile stretches. “My computer.”

And that—that’s what breaks me. I think I might start blubbering like an idiot but I don’t remember the time it takes for me to cross the measly twenty feet between us. All I remember is grabbing his black hoodie—because of course—and dragging him to me. I don’t kiss him, despite how much I want to, because I don’t want our first kiss to be tainted with my snot and tears. Instead, I bury my face in his collarbone and wrap my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.

Because I can. Because he isn’t dead.

“Y—You’re here.” I pull back and cup his face with my hands. “How are you here?”

“You came to Duskwood.” He responds, and then—hesitantly—he presses his lips to my forehead in a kiss. “Alan called you.”

“He found your things in the forest.” I whisper back. “He said they’d been there a while. The police hadn’t searched the forest because they assume you died in the mine.”

“They aren’t looking for me here.” He confirms. “I didn’t expect it to take so long for them to find my belongings, but I anticipated that you would find out. At the time, it wasn’t safe for me to reach out and contact you. They kept on my trail for a while before they assumed I died in the mine with Richy.”

“Why didn’t you contact me then?” I ask. “Is it because of what I last messaged you? I didn’t mean it—I swear, I thought you were dead. If I had known you were alive, I would have waited, however long it took. I wasn’t trying to give up on you.”

“Hey.” He places both hands on either side of my face. “I know. I know that, [MC]. That was never why I didn’t reach out to you. I know you said you wanted this life with me. But I didn’t want that for you. But I was selfish. I couldn’t let you go. So I was trying to find a way to make both of those things true. But I was always coming back to you.”

“And did you?”

“Come back to you?” He asks.

I sniffle. “Find a way to make both of those things true.”

“Not entirely.” He admits. “Nymos alerted me you had boarded a plane headed in the direction of Duskwood and I—” He shook his head. “I knew I would find you here.”

“You could have found me sooner.”

He lets go of my face and he feels like he takes my skin with him. “It wasn’t that easy.”

“It could have been.” I demand.

I’m angry again. Now that I know he’s alive and okay and that he could have found me, I’m angry that he didn’t. I told him I would choose that life with him. Over and over and over. He didn’t need to make the decision for me. He didn’t need to try and protect me. And yes, maybe the fact that he did makes my heart flutter a tiny little bit, but that’s besides the point.

“I told you before you left me.” I tell him and I’m aware it sounds like we’ve been in a relationship for five years and I’m aware that everybody in here is watching and listening in on our conversation and they probably all know we’re who we are, two people involved in helping to find the kidnapped Hannah Donfort, and maybe that’s all we’ll ever be in this town. But I would rather be the girl who found Hannah Donfort in Duskwood with him than be me anywhere else. “You told me you would let me go with you.”

“That was before I told you I loved you.”

My heart skips a beat. It screams I love you I love you I love you back, but I say— “What does that have to do with anything?”

He looks somewhat amused. Like he knows I would never hold it against him. It’s clear to both of us that I wouldn’t because even though I’m glaring up at him with my furrowed eyebrows and my lips pouted, I’m still pressed tightly against him. His hands—even though they’ve moved from my face—are now resting on my hips. Pulling my tighter to him. There’s no space in between us. If it was up to me, I’m pretty sure there never would be again.

“[MC].” He says, and oh god I wish he would say my name every day for the rest of his life. “Have I—in the short time we have known each other—ever struck you as the type of person who says I love you? But with you…” His words are a whisper against my lips. “It’s easy to fall back into old emotions with you.”

“I want to be angry with you.” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.” I agree. “But I might be if you don’t kiss me.”

He brought one finger underneath my chin and tilted it up until our lips were separated by a fraction of an inch. My eyelids fluttered. I didn’t care that everyone in here was about to see just how much Jake meant to be. I didn’t care because I had waited too long for this. And then—just as I’m leaning toward him to press our lips together, he whispers— “[MC]?”

“Hm.” I acknowledge.

“Who’s Eric?”

My eyelids crack open and I shove at his chest. “That’s what you’re worried about right now? Here I am, in front of you, covered in snot and tears and who-knows-what-else because you’re here right now, and you’re worried about some guy I don’t even know?”

“Who’s Eric?” He repeats.

“Ugh.” I run my hands through my hair and take a step back. “I don’t know. He’s the other side of Thomas or whatever you want to call him. If we lived in a different town.” I glare back at him and try not to admit that I think his jealous side is a little cute. “He messaged me. Thought I picked up his friend from some parking lot and I didn’t, but his friend sent him my number, and it was Hannah all over again. I’m trying to help them.”

“This Adam has been sending you a lot of videos.”

“You know I hate when you hack my phone.” I complain, even though I really don’t. Even though I had prayed for him to help me with this case. “I really don’t know Adam. Like—even less than I know Eric.

“But you know Eric.”

“For like a week.” I reassure. “He added me to this group chat with him and like three other friends of his. They’re desperate to find Adam who has apparently dropped off the face of the earth and I don’t know what to do. I had you with Hannah’s case. And you knew her. And they—” I look over my shoulder at Cleo and Dan and Lilly, who are pretending like they’re not listening in even though I know and Jake knows they are. “—they knew her. And obviously Adam’s friends must know him but I don’t and you don’t and there is no Jake in Redlog Pines.”

“I don’t trust him.” He shakes his head. “Any of them.”

I laugh. “Jake, you didn’t trust half the people in this bar when we first started talking.” I look over at Phil and then Dan. “It doesn’t mean they committed a crime. If I had backed off when you asked me to help you find Hannah, we may never have.”

“I thought that was all thanks to me.” He sounds smug, like that little smiley face he loved to annoy me with (AKA make me fall in love with him). “Did he flirt with you?”

“No.” I deadpan. “I think he was focused on his missing friend.”

“I was focused on my missing sister.” He shoots back.

I close my mouth. Alright. He has a point. But I wasn’t flirting with Eric. He was focused on finding Adam and I was focused on mourning—and then finding—Jake. Maybe it felt like Eric and I were two sides of the same coin. Maybe that’s why I agreed to help him. Because I didn’t want to happen to him what I thought had happened to Jake—to me.

“You’re being ridiculous.” I say instead. “How do you think I could ever entertain the idea of being with somebody else when for the past three months—more than that if you count the time we have actually had together—I’ve been focused on you? On discussing Hannah with you and then talking to you about anything and everything and then worrying about you and then hating you a little for convincing me you should me the one to go into the mine and then mourning you when it was hard to even think about you and then finding you?”

His eyes are wide. I think I’ve rendered him speechless. Which—serves him right. I know he’s not somebody who serves their feelings up on a silver platter. I know that. Obviously, I knew that from the first time I spoke to him. Back when he was nothing more than ??? and I was almost convinced that Dan was right and he was the Man Without A Face—a thought that I now hate with everything in me. But I need him to trust me. Jealousy streak and FBI and the missing persons cases aside, he needs to trust me.

“Trust me.” I cup the sides of his face again. “He’s nothing like you.”

He swallows. “Some people might consider that to be a perk.”

“I don’t.” I say.

And then I’m kissing him and it feels like coming home.

[blueberri-blu]

Learning You...

Donnie ♡

[Bayverse] Slowly getting to know Donnie ♡

Leo ♡⁠˖ Mikey ♡⁠˖ Raph ♡⁠˖

Getting to now the turtles! A little Mini-Series!

Meeting Him:

Honestly? You probably met him through April or his brothers...

April decided to bring you over to the lair, after months of her dodging you wanting to meet her friends

So, as you walk into the lair, you meet Mikey first, ever excited for new friends

Then Leo comes to greet you like a "proper guest" (as leo puts it)

And lastly Raph just seems to stare at you a bit and give a grunt

Later, 1 of 2 things happens

Either Leo or April's drags Donnie out to greet you

Or your curious ass goes to see what's going on in the strange lab room

Once you see him, he greets you quickly and goes back to what he was doing in his lab

You follow him and start to ask questions about his many inventions

This won his heart (whether he knew it or not)

Befriending Him:

At first, it's hesitant questions, long awkward silences, and clammy hands

But after awhile he gets used to your presence

Your questions often help him, letting him see a new perspective

He appreciates any of your input, but not without a little bit of sass

That little turn around he does (in the gif), you can't tell me he isn't sassy

You two will get into little sass battles, one comeback after another

This helps you two get closer

You mostly spend time in his lab, with the occasional accompanying him for new materials or things he needs

You bring him food and water, setting alarms for him to remember to eat and drink

Spinning in your office chair, you give him insane scenarios for him to entertain you with the logistics of it all

"Hey Donnie, what if I wanted a fire proof phone?"

"well you'd need to find a thin enough material that doesn't melt under high heats, a material such as steal, however you'd need to figure out how to combat the heaviness..."

And that's when he start getting comfortable ranting to you

He'll go on hour long rants about many things, allowing you to interrupt him to ask questions about what things mean and such

Donnie loves when you ask him these questions, he feels like, even though you don't understand him completely, you still try hard to take interest in him

First Date!

You probably have to ask him out,

You guys develop a situation ship sort of thing

And although he wants more, he doesn't want to ruin what you have

You end up asking Donnie "What are we"

And that's when poor Donnie's brain is racing a mile a minute

He starts stammering and doesn't know how to proceed, but eventually sighs and tells you how he feels

He's ecstatic when you tell him you feel the same!

Donnie stresses so much on dates ideas

Eventually, he decides he wants to take you out of the lair for once

You share your favorite foods with each other, both sickeningly sweet feeding eachother

He takes you for a ride in the shellraiser

You eventually get to a large field of pretty grass, noticing it's very far from the city

You give him a questioning look, but he just responds with "I wanted to make sure you knew this was special to me" while giving you a shy smile

You have a little picnic with Donnie, far from the city

He wanted you two to have a special moment without the bustling of the city or his brothers

Although you're both nervous, soon you start talking about anything that comes to mind

Soon Donnie starts to feed you, like the sickeningly sweet romantic he is

You're both giggling and talking in hushed voices

You end up cuddling and whispering sweet nothing's in each other's ears

Dating!

With Donnie you are never missing anything

He tries his best to make your life easier

You're clumsy and your phone keeps falling? He makes a practically indestructible phone case in your favorite color (he secretly hopes it's purple)

Your toast never comes out quite how you like it? He makes a toaster that makes your toast exactly how you like it (and maybe even a coffee maker that makes it ready to drink)

Donnie sometimes struggles with giving you the time outside the lab you (let's be honest, him too) need.

Sometimes you struggle to get him out of his lab, but with a little convincing (and kicked puppy eyes) he'll usually cave for awhile.

Usually taking you to go see museums at night "It's better without the crowd!"

And on your anniversaries, he takes you back to your first date

He can get a bit insecure about whether he's doing it right, all he has to base off of are movies and TV shows

It'll take a bit for him to touch you, but once you put his hand on your back/thigh/waist

He'll take it as a go ahead (always looks at you for approval tho)

Whenever he hugs or kisses you, you can feel just how much he loves you

He looks at you and slowly closes the distance

Donnie will sometimes ask you questions about your previous relationships, how they ended, and why

He just wants to prevent the same mistakes from happening, he really loves you, and wants you two to last for eternity <3

I was able to finish it @novaleedartis !! Hope you enjoy it ^^

Please let me know how I can improve or if I have any spelling errors please! (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

[it-was-summer]

Nevertheless (I'm In Love With You) 〰 1

A/N: Basically, it's a broken-up little fluff piece! This is after Season 15, but I'm pretending that he is a full-time professor who occasionally assists the team with cases. Most of the time, professors DO NOT sub for each other, but hey its fanfiction man. THESE ARE MY BARBIES!!! I hope you enjoy it!

Link to the Ao3: Nevertheless (I'm In Love With You) Link to the: Yee olde masterlist You are on: Enemies (if you can call it that) -> Friends (Associates at best) Tags: Use of She/Her pronouns (I apologize), slight enemies, genuinely a short and sweet little slice before y'all let me cook, mentions of victimology, violence, forensics mentioned FOR A MOMENT, ugly Christmas sweater? College talk? Embezzlement mention guys!

Genre: Slight Enemies to friends to lovers. ForensicsProfessor!Reid x ForensicsProfessor!Reader

Plot: Your new coworker, Dr. Spencer Reid, has a talent for avoiding teaching responsibilities, thereby leaving the duties to you. However, forgiveness is easily given when he makes a little effort.

Word Count: 2,966

Enemies (If You Can Call It That)

You didn’t like this new professor. It wasn’t because of change– you usually welcomed change, especially if that change was a new person coming into your life. People typically describe you as kind, passionate, and empathetic. But you strongly disliked fickle people, fair weather, and unpredictable people never sat right with you. You arrive at events on time, and the older you get, the more you view tardiness as a sign of slight disrespect. But this was on another level. 

From your understanding, three professors were teaching Victimology 6113 this Fall semester: you, Dr. Matthew, and Dr. Reid. Sometimes, you would teach introductory courses— Criminology, Criminal Justice, the basics. However, this Fall semester, you were only teaching three: Victimology 6113, Violence and the Family 2184, and Psychopathology 6104. 

Dr. Reid and Dr. Matthew taught their Victimology courses on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. You had opted for the other, slightly longer option, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Sure, you still had an influx of graduate students, but not as much as your male counterparts. Your classes were an hour longer to compensate for the lost time of only having classes twice a week instead of three. 

You liked that kind of schedule, the ability to have more time on Fridays or Mondays to grade papers or fix lesson plans. You had kept it consistent since taking up the position two years ago and were happy to keep it that way. 

So… when Dr. Matthew asked you to fill in for one of Dr. Reid’s Victimology classes on a random Wednesday, you were initially happy to help. You didn’t mind helping out your slightly new coworker. He had done seminars at the university in the past, and when he left the Behavioral Analysis Unit, he took up a position teaching Forensic Psychology. That was all you knew about him, though, other than his name and BAU reputation. 

His graduate students were learning the same material as yours, so it wasn’t difficult to fill in– this one time. 

Then, Dr. Matthew asked for assistance again—this time for an afternoon Friday class. The last time you covered for Dr. Reid, you assumed it was a one-off— a coworker needing a hand. You didn’t think of it when you agreed for the second time. 

Then there was a third…, a fourth, a fifth, and eventually a sixth. You had tried to get out of the fifth time, deciding that enough was enough and that Dr. Reid would have to find his own substitute and not let Dr. Matthew do all his dirty work for him.  However, when you used the excuse that you were behind on lesson plans, Dr. Matthew simply said you could borrow some of his material if needed. 

It wasn’t even halfway through the fall semester, and by the end of September, you had covered at least fourteen classes for this man– your coworker with whom you barely had a relationship. It was getting ridiculous. 

Consistent behavior reflects character, and all you could think of as you walked to his classroom that fifteenth time was Dr. Reid’s character was lacking consideration. It almost seemed cruel at this point. 

At first, you thought you were being dramatic, but then it hit you. You were doing extra work for a class that wasn’t yours—answering questions for students who weren’t in your cohorts. You had every right to be upset with the situation! So, it was natural that your feelings for your supposed coworker were… cold. 

When you did see him, in faculty meetings or passing, you kept your gaze off him with a fast pace in your step. A small, more rational voice in your head suggested that you were being rude or petty. But the more you thought about it, the more you decided that you weren’t. You were a graduate professor with your PhD, the same as Dr. Reid. You had the same amount of classes as him, similar students, and experience in the field (though, in this case, yours was forensically based, but experience nonetheless). You could keep a schedule; you were rarely tardy and rarely canceled classes unless absolutely necessary. Why couldn’t he do the same? 

When October faded into November, you prepared for busier office hours. You were unaware that Dr. Reid did as well. You were also surprised that his office was across the hall from yours. His blinds were closed, but his light was on, and you could see the occasional shadow of him and a student. 

Bitter thoughts surfaced as you stared at the shadows in his office. His students would indeed have questions; he was never teaching! You bit the inside of your cheek at the nasty thought and hung your head for a moment, instead trying to focus on a small stack of ungraded papers. 

Lost in thought, the knock on your door frame made you jump. With wide eyes, you found yourself staring at one of Dr. Reid’s students, and behind him was Dr. Reid himself. “Excuse me,” the student said gently, entering your office. “You mentioned some victim advocacy programs in DC the other day while subbing for Dr. Reid, and I was wondering if you could recommend a program?” 

You pause, thinking briefly before your lips form a slight ‘o’, and nod, “Yes, of course!” You grab a pen and sticky note, writing as you speak, “DC SAFE has a great volunteer program!” You smile as you write the number of an associate of yours who primarily talks with the volunteers. 

Walking around your desk, you hand the sticky note to the student. “Just call that number and tell them I sent you,” You smile as the student thanks you and walks away, but after a brief moment, you realize Dr. Reid is still in the hallway, just staring at you. His big brown eyes seem more hazel under the fluorescent lights of the hallway, and he’s very tall. Was he this tall the last time you saw him? Then again, you don’t think he has ever been close enough for you to notice. 

You force an awkward smile, “Can I help you?” 

He swallows, his brown eyes nervously scanning your face. “No, I mean, yes. I didn’t—" he sighs softly. “I was unaware that your office was near mine—your office hours differ from mine.” 

You draw your lips into a tight line, nodding as your hand motions to your desk. “Yes, we appear to be neighbors.” 

Then, more silence. You watch as he nervously shifts his weight on his feet, his brows knit together, and he opens his mouth to say something when one of your students pokes her head around the corner. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but could I… go over some material with you?” 

You feel your tight chest lighten as you nod, barely glancing at Dr. Reid as you reach for your door. “Have a nice day, Dr. Reid.” You mutter as your student shuffles past you, and the door shuts in his face. 

The knot in Spencer’s stomach twists as he stands outside Dr. Matthew’s office. All those months ago, all Dr. Matthew had told him about his first absence was that he had it covered. For some reason, Spencer assumed that Dr. Matthew would teach his classes if the BAU needed a consultation. He did not know that it had been you. 

He wasn’t bothered that it was you, no. You were brilliant, competent, and courteous. He observed that his students were grasping concepts well, even with his absences, which he could now credit to your teaching abilities. You excelled at your work. He had praised Dr. Matthew when it had been you all along!

The student visiting him during his office hours had revealed it to him, and everything started to make sense. You were polite but obviously avoiding him. He had taken note of it in September but thought he was simply overthinking it. 

He bites his lip gently as he waits for the door to open. His eyes meet Dr. Matthew’s, and the older man frowns. “Spencer, is there a case? I’ve told you before, that you needn’t—” 

“No,” Spencer says, holding up his hands. “I just wanted to talk to you about who’s been covering my classes.” 

Dr. Matthew looks bewildered as he mutters your name in a confused tone, asking, “What seems to be the problem?”

“Well, technically, there isn’t a problem.” Spencer watches how Dr. Matthew’s face relaxes, “I was just unaware she was covering for me.” 

“Ah, well, not to worry, she’s very good– wonderful!” He fixes his last choice of words and repeats it, “Wonderful!” Before Spencer can say more, Dr. Matthew shakes his finger– an idea brewing. “You know, she’s around your age! I’m sure the two of you could be great friends– might have plenty in common.” 

“Right, well I–” 

The sharp ringing of the older man’s phone cuts Spencer off. Pulling it out, he frowns and holds up a finger before saying quickly, “Sorry, I have to take this.” Then he retreats into his office and shuts the door behind him, leaving Spencer alone in the hall. 

Spencer finds himself frowning at the dark oak door before returning to his office in defeat. By the time he’s back in his office, he can see you’re gone, and his apology will have to wait another time. 

It’s a Wednesday, and you can feel it in the air—the dreaded anticipation of Dr. Matthew knocking on your door and asking for another favor. You struggle to find an excuse. You’re ahead of grading, lesson plans, everything. You puff out your cheeks as you enter the lecture hall, passing empty seats as you approach the front of the room. 

Setting your bag on the desk, you pull a chair up and get to work setting up. Then… you spot a yellow sticky note stuck to the whiteboard. At first, you brush it off as another teacher forgetting to clean up after themselves. Your fingers pluck it away from the whiteboard, ready to toss it in the trash, and then you see your name written in messy handwriting. 

Your eyes narrow as you bring the note closer to read it. Your name is scrawled in the top left corner, followed by a comma and ‘I truly appreciate you stepping in to cover my classes right before finals. Though it may not be much, there is a chocolate croissant in my office fridge with your name on the bag.– Dr. Spencer Reid’

You blink, then reread it, and again, and again. Then you find yourself briefly smiling, then frowning, then shaking your head, and tossing the note out. Your eyes briefly stay glued to the note in the bin before you finish setting up for class. 

Spencer is happy to see that said chocolate croissant is missing from his mini-fridge when he’s in his office the next day. He moves to sit at his desk when he sees a pink note on the back of his chair. 

‘Dr. Reid, Bribery is low class– no matter how delicious.’ 

Spencer feels his lips quirk up into a smile, holding the note in his hand as he sits. Then, he finds himself doing something surprising, saving it. He places the pink sticky note in his desk drawer, pulling out his yellow sticky notes while he’s at it.

His foot taps under his desk momentarily, and his pen hovers over the colorful paper. He writes a quick message and finds himself quickly waltzing over to his door, opening it, peeking his head to scan the hall, and gently sticking the note on your office door as fast as possible. 

Friday, the construction near your apartment makes it too hard to concentrate, so you head in to get some well-needed work done. When you see the yellow note, it’s barely hanging onto the door, but you can now place the messy handwriting as Dr. Reid’s. 

‘What form of corruption is considered high class?’

You huff out a laugh as you open your office door, tucking the note into a drawer without thinking. You’re eager to turn on your desktop, but as you grade assignments, your mind wanders. 

Your eyes trail over to the pink notes on the edge of your desk. You glance at your screen, then the paper. Your intrusive thoughts win, your fingers wrapping around a pen as you scribble an answer to Dr. Reid. Your tongue swipes across your bottom lip as you run across the hall to place the note on his door. 

Spencer finds himself, surprisingly, excited on Monday morning as he spots a pink note on his office door. He doesn’t even unlock his door. Instead, he stands reading the note with an amused smile. You wrote the word ‘Embezzlement’ in large, neat letters and nothing more. 

However, due to the lack of words, he finds it unnecessary to write a note back. Though, he supposes he’s not obliged to. He tucks the pink note with the other one at his desk and works on some end-of-semester grades. However, his mind occasionally wonders about the office across the hall and if you’re inside. 

At the end of the year faculty ‘party,’ Spencer finds himself feeling rather tongue-tied. Dressed in a thick grey sweater, he finds himself stuck to the wall. He misses the team, and for a second, he debates texting Penelope or Emily to see if they can save him from this situation. But he knows that he needs to socialize despite it never being his strong suit. Personally, he thinks that he’s gotten better at it. 

His spot against the wall makes it easy to spot Dr. Matthew and his wife as they discuss something with another couple. He gives up on that route and searches for his friend in the philosophy department. Instead, his eyes land on you. 

Unlike most staff, you’re happily dressed in a festive-looking sweater. He swears that he can see bells and tinsel hanging off it as you talk with another woman excitedly. Spencer lets out a short laugh; it reminds him of something Penelope would wear. 

You’re covering your mouth as you laugh, your eyes sweeping across the room as your giggles shake your shoulders lightly, landing on Dr. Reid for a second. Maybe it is the approaching holidays or the relief that you’re getting a break; you find yourself gracing him with a bright smile. 

Spencer feels a smile spread on his face at the sight and starts approaching you. When he gets to your side, you’re alone. “Hello,” 

You tilt your head up to look up at him, “Hello,” 

This is more awkward than you thought it would be. 

Spencer finds that he didn’t think this through, a surprising development, as he quickly says, “Ugly sweaters originated in the 50’s,” 

Your shoulders fall with that, eyes going soft as you mutter a quiet, “You think my sweater is ugly?” 

“What? No, no, that’s not–” He panics, his cheeks flushing slightly before he sees the growing smirk on your face. “You’re messing with me.” 

“And enjoying it deeply,” 

“You’re cruel,” 

“Payback, I suppose.” 

Spencer feels a stab of guilt in his chest with that, and he sucks in a light breath, “I do appreciate all your help this semester. If there is anything I can do to make it up to you, I will gladly do it.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Then, the conversation dies off for a second. You watch as Spencer glances around the room, reminiscent of how you looked two years ago. You bite the inside of your cheek. “I don’t hate you,” you sigh out, defeated. 

You were easy to please, and he had done just that– pleased you. You didn’t hold grudges, and even if you did, watching him now–talking with him really– you knew he didn’t mean any harm by it. 

His eyebrows shoot up, hazel eyes looking into yours, “Did you?” 

You let out a soft ‘mm’ as you flip your palm up and down, “Perhaps, briefly, pre-croissant.” 

Spencer let out a groan, eyes casting downwards as he nods, “I deserve that,” 

“Water under the bridge,” You decide, watching his hazel eyes leave the ground and meet yours with a hopeful glint.

For a moment, you focus on the color of his eyes. A deep honeyed color at first glance, but hints of cool-toned greens prove that idea wrong. Spencer swallows, wondering why he keeps finding himself without words when he’s around you. Perhaps he is scared of saying the wrong thing, further fracturing your relationship. 

“Would it be alright if we exchanged numbers?” You say, watching his eyes go wide. 

“For?” He hates how the question sounds coming off his tongue but relaxes when you smile. 

“Dr. Matthew saved your ass,” He’s still confused, and you can tell by the way his eyebrows furrow. “He told me that you occasionally lend a hand to the BAU, thus explaining the absenteeism.” 

He lets out a quiet ‘ah’ as you stare at him. "But I’d like to communicate better with you in the future. Hence, I am requesting a number exchange.” 

“I don’t plan on repeating–” 

“Nevertheless, just in case,” You insist softly, taking your phone out of your pocket and opening it for him. “I’m not the biggest fan of surprise classes.” 

Spencer nods as he carefully takes the phone out of your hands, careful not to touch your hands. “Of course,” he says, returning the phone after sending himself a hello message. 

You tuck it away as you nod, catching him smiling at you playfully. “What?” 

“Does this make us friends?” 

“Acquaintances, associates at best.” 

“Noted,” He says with a short laugh, watching you shake your head with a broad grin.

[decayed-cartilage]

The Intern

Hannibal Lecter x AFAB! Reader

Masterlist. PT 1

Warnings for chapter: power dynamic? Mentions of erection.. creepy! Hannibal, Morally wrong! Hannibal

Synopsis: Y/N is on the brink of graduation, with just one requirement left—an internship. Somehow, she finds herself under the esteemed Dr. Hannibal Lecter, a man as brilliant as he is unreadable. Cold, precise, and impossible to rattle, he keeps his thoughts well-guarded. But Y/N can’t help her curiosity—she wants to understand him, to get beneath the surface. And whether he intends to or not, bit by bit, he lets something slip. Something darker. Something she might not be ready to see.

After what felt like endless hours of writing and submitting, writing and submitting, I finally received an email back from one of the many psychiatrists I’d been desperately trying to reach for my mandatory internship—Dr.Lecter, A prestigious man with many colorful reviews, which had drawn me to contact him.

From: H***********@gmail.com

To: Y/e@gmail.com

Subject: Internship for Johns Hopkins University

Dear Y/N,

I’ve had the pleasure of reviewing your application and personal portfolio, and I must say—your dedication and talent are impossible to overlook. It’s clear you take your work seriously, and intelligence like yours is always refreshing to encounter. I have no doubt that you would be the perfect young lady for me to mentor

do get in touch at your earliest convenience, and please, use my personal number (***) ***-****

Best,

Doctor Lecter

My heart pounded out of my chest, my eyes scanning his words again and again as warmth flooded my face. Oh god—had I really sent all that? How had I forgotten? Yes—I had sent all of it, in a tired, near-lucid state, exhausted from working so hard. My words had grown almost desperate by the last emails, pleading for validation.

But really? My whole life story? A deep dive into why I chose psychiatry—endless run-ons about trauma and my relentless hope for a better world?

And—oh no—the pictures. Me in scrubs, grinning way too hard, double thumbs-up in front of a cadaver during one of my early tech programs. Or me, beaming like an overexcited tourist beside historical documents, looking ridiculously proud.

Yet, all of that faded as my eyes caught on one thing—his phone number.

I screamed like a teenage girl, shooting up from my seat as I sprinted to grab my phone, my hands shaking as I typed in his number—only to pause.

What do I even say?!

I groaned, throwing myself back onto my bed.

Third person (Hannibal's) P.O.V

Hannibal had been waiting. Days bled into each other, an endless cycle of monotony—listening to insipid patients whine about their problems, assisting in crime cases that barely challenged him, returning home to indulge in his more refined appetites. Even killing had lost its thrill. Nothing ever truly stirred him.

Until your email.

God, the desperation dripped from every word, a quiet, pleading sort of need that sent a slow, curling heat through him. You had laid yourself bare, unaware of what exactly you had just invited into your life. Your tragic little story, the way you carried yourself—so unassuming, so small. So easy.

Just picturing you in his office, lingering in his space, speaking to him with those wide, trusting eyes—his jaw locked, his fingers twitching with restraint.

Staring at the pictures you had attached, Hannibal felt his length twitch, his breath slowing as his free hand drifted—almost absentmindedly—palming himself through the fine fabric of his dress pants. God.

The way your lips curled, the way your smile beamed so effortlessly, so full of warmth—it was intoxicating. A stark contrast to the cold, calculated existence he thrived in. You radiated light, soft and unguarded, utterly unaware of the predator fixated on you.

His throat tightened.

Such an innocent little thing, standing there in your scrubs, so proud, so eager. So trusting. You belonged to a world of laughter and hope, while he—he was carved from shadow and silence, his smile only ever genuine when he was peeling flesh from bone.

And yet, here he was, jaw clenched, breath heavy, wanting.

Needing.

He exhaled sharply, fingers pressing harder against the growing strain beneath his waistband.

Oh, sweet girl… you have no idea what you’ve done.

Ding!

The sharp chime shattered the heavy silence, jolting him from his trance. His phone clattered against the desk, but his eyes were already locked onto the screen. He knew who it was. Of course, he did.

Hannibal was a meticulous man. A careful man. And yet, you had made it so easy for him. Every little detail of your life, carelessly scattered across the internet—your school, your favorite cafés, even the places you liked to study. He knew where you had been before you even told him. He had all of you at his fingertips.

And now, your number. Displayed so innocently on his screen.

"Hello Doctor Lecter! This is Y/n :),I got your acceptance email-"

The preview cut off, but he didn’t need to see the rest to know exactly how you would sound—bubbly, eager, grateful. A stark contrast to the dark amusement curling in his chest.

Still, he unlocked the phone, fingers rolling over the screen, expression unreadable as he took in the rest of your message.

and I just can’t express how grateful I am you responded! It’s even better since I’m attending the same school you did! I would love to set up a time for us to chat in person—I hope I’m not being too informal—if I am, please tell me! Thank you so much for your time!

Such sweetness. Such hope. He could practically hear the nervous excitement laced in your words, see the way your hands might have trembled as you typed, wondering if you were saying too much, if you sounded proper enough for him.

He exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening, his fingers pressing into the screen just a little harder than necessary.

You had no idea what you had just invited into your world.

He began typing.

I’m pleased to hear from you so soon. Why don’t we meet somewhere comfortable? Perhaps a coffee shop—there’s a lovely one, [your favorite coffee shop], that I hear is quite popular. It seems like the perfect setting for our first conversation. Let me know when you’re available, and I’ll gladly adjust my schedule.

And please, don’t worry about being too informal. I much prefer sincerity. I look forward to meeting you, properly.

With that, he sent the message, his thumb hovering over the screen for just a second longer than necessary before finally setting the phone down. It slid across his desk with a soft thud, the only sound in the stillness of his office.

Hannibal exhaled slowly, a drawn-out sigh that did little to temper the hunger curling inside him.

You had been on his mind long before your message arrived, but now? Now, you were real. Tangible. Just a text away.

And soon, within reach.

Rolling his shoulders, he adjusted his cuffs with careful precision, though it did little to distract from the heat simmering beneath his skin. His jaw tightened. He needed a walk. Fresh air. A moment to compose himself before his thoughts spiraled into something indulgent.

His lips curled slightly as he stepped away from his desk, anticipation thrumming in his veins.

You had no idea what you had just done.

But you would.

YOUR POV

Ding!

I was too nervous to look at his message right away. My fingers hovered over my phone, heart hammering so loudly it drowned out all rational thought. When I finally mustered the courage to open it, my face went hot instantly.

He mentioned my favorite café.

Had he been there before? Was he that local? Had I somehow missed him in the crowd? My stomach twisted at the thought—equal parts exhilaration and unease. It wasn’t strange for someone to know about it; it was a well-loved spot, after all. But the way he said it, so casually yet deliberately, made my skin prickle.

I let out a small, breathless giggle, my lips pressing together as I read over his words again. I needed to calm down. Breathe, Y/N. Act normal. But I wasn’t normal. Not right now. I was too warm, too jittery, too caught up in the weight of his attention.

A walk. I needed a walk.

Without responding, I shoved my phone into my pocket and grabbed my jacket off the hook by the door. My scarf—a soft, muted rainbow of colors—was next, the familiar knit worn and comforting against my fingers.

"I know it gets cold out there Y/nn! You're taking this scarf with you- it's my dying wish!"

I could still hear my mother’s voice, warm with fond exasperation, as she fussed over me before I left for college. The memory made me smile.

I wrapped the scarf snugly around my neck, letting the soft wool shield me from the crisp autumn air seeping in through the doorframe. My outfit was hardly practical for the weather, but I had always dressed like this—formally, neatly, a habit ingrained into me since childhood. A plaid skirt, fitted but flaring just above my knees, swayed as I moved. Tights helped ward off the chill, but only just. My dark grey moccasins were polished and proper, and beneath my heavy coat, I wore a delicate white button-up. The heart embroidery around the collar was my mother’s handiwork—stitched with care, meant to remind me of home.

Despite the structured appearance, I was anything but composed. Anyone who truly knew me would recognize the contrast between my polished exterior and the nervous, sweet-natured girl underneath.

I stepped outside into the cold, the late autumn air nipping at my nose and cheeks, turning them pink within seconds. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves tumbling along the pavement.

-

The walk stretched on longer than I had planned. What started as a way to clear my head turned into an aimless journey, my feet carrying me farther and farther from my starting point. By the time I thought to check the time, my phone screen flashed 4:07 PM.

Four hours. Four hours.

I had wandered nearly halfway across the city, lost in my thoughts, replaying that message over and over in my head like a song I couldn’t turn off. The crisp autumn air had settled deep in my bones, my fingers stiff despite being tucked into my coat pockets. My legs ached, but I wasn’t ready to go home just yet.

That was when I noticed it—the quiet hum of a near-empty park, tucked away from the city’s usual noise. Golden leaves fluttered from the branches above, painting the pavement in warm hues. It was peaceful here, the kind of place where no one would bother me, where I could sit for just a moment and-

That was when I noticed him.

A figure moving toward me, his steps slow, measured, deliberate.

At first, I didn’t think much of it. Just another passerby enjoying the evening air, someone else drawn to the quiet solitude of the park. But something about the way he walked made my breath catch—a smooth, unhurried grace, like a man who never rushed for anything.

My brows furrowed as I squinted. Damn it, I forgot my glasses.

I could make out the tall, well-built frame beneath a long, dark coat, the way his shoulders sat perfectly squared, the way his hands—gloved—rested easily at his sides, as if he carried nothing but time and patience.

A strange feeling stirred in my chest, a quiet knowing before my brain even caught up.

Then, as he stepped into the golden glow of the late afternoon sun, everything clicked into place.

The sharp, unmistakable features. The neatly combed dark hair. The slight tilt of his head, like he had already recognized me long before I had recognized him.

Dr. Lecter.

Oh God.

My stomach flipped so violently I thought I might actually double over. What was he doing here? Had he seen me before I saw him? Was he here because of me, or was this just some freakishly timed coincidence?

My brain scrambled for an appropriate reaction—anything other than standing there like an idiot, heart hammering in my throat.

My cheeks burned before I could stop them, heat creeping up my neck, traitorous and undeniable. I must look ridiculous right now—flushed, wide-eyed, completely caught off guard.

But there was no turning back. He was already close enough that ignoring him would be rude. Unprofessional.

So, I did the only thing I could think of.

I forced my stiff fingers to move, lifting a hand in a small, hesitant wave.

And then—I smiled. Nervous, flustered, but hopefully not as painfully obvious as I felt.

"H-Hi, Doctor!" I blurted out, my voice coming out softer than I intended, almost breathless.

I forced a smile, though I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. My big, wide eyes locked onto him, searching his face for any sign of reaction.

A second passed.

Then another.

My stomach twisted, dread creeping in. Did I mess up? Did I sound stupid? The silence stretched just long enough to make my pulse stutter.

"I-It’s Y/N—" I started, my voice unsteady, but before I could finish, he cut me off.

"I know it’s you, sweetheart."

My breath hitched.

His voice was smooth, effortlessly composed, dripping with confidence in a way that made my skin tingle. He looked down at me with an amused sort of curiosity, his gaze steady, unwavering—like he was taking his time, drinking in every little reaction, every tiny shift in my expression.

"How funny is it," he continued, his lips curving slightly, "that I should run into you here—right after we had just spoken?"

I swallowed hard. My stomach flipped again, my nerves unraveling by the second.

He was so calm. So composed. And here I was, standing there like a nervous wreck, my thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.

Whatever little confidence I had managed to build up crumbled beneath the weight of his presence. My body felt too warm despite the crisp autumn air, and I could hear the rush of my own pulse in my ears. Still, I forced myself to nod, hoping it looked casual—hoping he couldn’t tell just how flustered I was.

"It’s t-totally crazy!" I rushed out, my voice a little too high, a little too eager. I winced at myself, clearing my throat and trying again, desperate to sound normal. "I-I mean, I wasn’t even paying attention to where I was going. I must’ve wandered too far—I couldn’t even tell you where I am right now if I’m being honest."

I let out a nervous laugh, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, willing my hands to stop fidgeting. My cheeks burned, and I prayed it looked like nothing more than the bite of the cold air rather than the sheer excitement buzzing beneath my skin.

I had imagined meeting him—dreamed of it even. But now that he was standing in front of me, watching me with that unreadable gaze, I felt like my legs might give out beneath me.

"I'm really sorry you had to meet me like this," I blurted, my voice smaller than I intended. My fingers fidgeted with the hem of my jacket sleeves, twisting the fabric as I dared to glance up at him. His eyes—sharp, knowing—made my stomach flip. God, why did he have to look at me like that?

"I promise I would have been more presentable— and- l-less shocked—I'm very sorry," I squeaked, heat rushing to my face as I dropped my gaze again, mortified by how utterly flustered I was.

A deep hum left him, measured and deliberate. "There is no need for an apology, hon," Hannibal said smoothly, the richness of his voice wrapping around me like silk. "You present yourself in a manner most... revealing."

He tilted his head, gaze unwavering, studying me as though he were unraveling something unseen. "There is an honesty in moments like these. A rare and unguarded glimpse into one's truest nature."

My breath caught in my throat. What—what did he mean by that?

I tried to piece it together, but the warmth in his eyes, the weight of his words, left me grasping at nothing.

I nodded at his words, dumbly, still trying to process the way he spoke, the way his voice felt like silk wrapping around my thoughts. But then, like a slap to the face, realization struck.

Oh no.

He definitely saw that I had read his message but never responded.

My stomach twisted as I stepped closer, suddenly feeling the need to explain myself, to fix whatever impression that might’ve given. "I—I meant to text back!" The words left me in a rush, my hands gripping the hem of my sleeves anxiously. "I just got too excited—" I stopped abruptly, my breath catching as my face burned. Too excited? Oh god. That sounded ridiculous. Desperate.

"I mean—" I scrambled to recover, shaking my head quickly. "Not excited—well, I mean, yes, excited, but not in a weird way! Just… I thought I should wait until I wasn’t so—so—" I let out a nervous laugh, utterly failing to dig myself out of the hole I was sinking into.

Hannibal tilted his head ever so slightly, watching me with that same unreadable expression, his lips curving just enough to make my stomach twist even further.

"There’s no need to fluster yourself on my account," he said, his voice smooth, deliberate. "Some things are best expressed in their rawest form, unfiltered… unguarded."

I swallowed hard, my mind racing, trying to decipher his words. Was he talking about my message—or something else entirely?"I—I completely agree!" I rushed out, still trying to steady myself, my heart hammering against my ribs. "But—still—I mean, we should set up a time. Whenever you’d like, of course."

I offered a small, nervous smile, shifting slightly on my feet, hoping I sounded even the slightest bit composed.

Third person (Hannibal's) pov

Hannibal watched you with quiet amusement, his sharp eyes taking in every flustered movement, every nervous breath. You were trying so hard to sound composed, but the way your words tumbled out—rushed, uncertain—betrayed you.

"I—I completely agree!" you blurted, your voice carrying that same delightful eagerness from your emails. "But—still—I mean, we should set up a time. Whenever you’d like, of course."

You shifted on your feet, offering a small, nervous smile, as if willing yourself to appear more put together. How endearing. You had no idea how much you were giving away. Hannibal let the moment stretch just a second longer than necessary, letting you stew in the weight of his gaze before finally offering a slow, knowing smile.

"How about now, then?" Hannibal’s voice was smooth, effortlessly calm. "It seems the only thing occupying you at this moment is our conversation. I don’t mind in the slightest."

He watched as you blinked, clearly caught off guard. Your fingers twitched at your sides, your lips parting slightly as if scrambling for a response. You hadn’t expected that—hadn’t considered that he might take control of the moment so easily, turning your nervous rambling into something entirely inescapable.

Of course, he knew you wouldn’t say no. You had been so eager, so desperate for this opportunity, your emails practically dripping with the need to prove yourself. The way you sought validation was almost endearing—so open, so unaware of just how much you had already given away.

And now, standing before him, you couldn’t hide it. The excitement in your eyes, the nervous energy humming beneath your skin. You were trying so hard to play it cool, but he could see it all—the way your breath hitched, the way you hesitated for just a second too long.

He let the silence stretch, just enough to make you squirm, his face giving no hints to how he felt.

"Oh! Of course! Now is perfect!" she blurts out, nodding far too quickly, her voice pitching higher than she probably intended. She grips the hem of her coat, wringing the fabric between her fingers, as if the motion might tether her to reality—might stop her from unraveling beneath her own nervous energy.

How utterly transparent.

I say nothing for a moment, only watching, taking in the way she fidgets, the way her pulse flutters just beneath the delicate skin of her throat. She is trying so very hard to maintain composure, but she is failing spectacularly.

She doesn’t realize how much she gives away. How easily every flicker of emotion plays across her face. It is almost endearing—the way she fights against her excitement, attempting to suppress it, as if I cannot already see through her.

And yet, there is something else beneath the surface. Something softer, untouched by the weight of the world’s cruelty. A rare thing, fragile and sweet.

My lips curl slightly.

She swallows hard, her breath quickening, the silence stretching just long enough for uncertainty to creep in. I can almost feel the way her mind races, second-guessing herself, wondering if she has said too much or too little.

Finally, I incline my head in a slow, deliberate motion.

"Perfect," I murmur, watching as her breath hitched

A/N oh my god I think is the first fanfic I've written since I was like ten, so if you like it tell me :) and if you don't, also tell me. I hope everyone is doing well and I hope to write more, or leave suggestions! Big kisses everyone :3

[sugurizz]

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓/𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 +𝟏𝟖 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈!!

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ── Bby Boo Joo is a M E N A C E but I know a lot of us noticed him being all soft and tender (like 1% of the time) but oh well, I can work with that 💪🏼. So here’s some of the ways Jaekyung expresses his…feelings? Ig. kinda his love language.. in a way 💕…

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐒𝐊.

Also thanks for the inspo and sorry ik this ask was sent long ago 🤧. U can call me Hana but I’ve been thinking about Yuna as a new alias…idk.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: established relationship, Physiotherapist F! Reader, shared house, implied power dynamics, hints at sex/ SEXUAL content.

Living in Jaekyung’s penthouse sure made life easier for both of you. It slowly aquainted you to each other, bodies and minds. You slowly got used to his mannerisms, little habits and his little pet-peeves. The sense of pride it gave you to feel like you knew him more than anybody else sure gave you a tiny ego boost. especially him desiring you whenever his body needs it…

♥︎──♥︎ He checks on you randomly. Casually pretending to walk by your room and just making sure you’re there. He does it almost whenever he’s home with you. Sometimes getting a bit sly with it so you don’t really notice him. But you slowly learned it was his way of checking up on you, making sure you’re around him -you know- just in case…

♥︎──♥︎ He hates you not being home, especially when he’s back from overtime training. Whenever he’s feeling stressed, uneasy or just in a sour mood, he’d rather you be around him or at least somewhere he knows.

He made it obvious the one day you were away til a late hour at night. He came home from his evening workout, didn’t find you there and instantly texted you.

‘I’m home. need you to check on my shoulder.’

♥︎──♥︎ He always complains about his feather-light sleep, but snoozes like a baby whenever you’re in his bed. The nights before his matches are surprisingly best for him. He gets the best sleeping quality after he pounds the juices out your poor pussy. He wakes up before you for sure, but his cute disheveled morning hairs are sure proof of a healthy healthy nap.

♥︎──♥︎ He likes it better when you make the food. His cocky ass always claims he’s fine making it himself but eats twice the amount whenever it’s you cooking his meals. He’d pretend he’s tired and not in the mood whenever he craves your cooking cause…his ass can’t simply ask for something lol. Yet he gets all giddy and blushy when his fav smoked eel dish is ready.

♥︎──♥︎ He hates to see you in any pain. Always saying it’s just for himself though…You know, just because he wants you always safe and ready to keep him in peak condition. and NOT because he actually cares or anything.

Yet why does he still gets annoyed at you getting the slightest scratch? He frowns when he notices you wearing band-aids, having a bruise or even some random shallow cuts on your hands and he’d instantly grab your arm, staring into your eyes and asking you how’d you get the injury.

♥︎──♥︎ He likes randomly noticing you…*ahem* underclothed. booty shorts definitely trigger his inner perv. He stares at your ass when you’re standing in the bathroom, doing your skincare freshly out of a quick nighty shower. So damn shameless when he stares. Almost undressing you with the raven eyes and thick lashes. So annoying…

You usually end up taking another shower that same night, only with his thick cum flowing down your thigh the second time :3

♥︎──♥︎ He can sense whenever you’re feeling down…IRONICALLY? Sounds like a joke with Jaekyung being the dick he is LOL but trust me on this one.

He almost has a sixth sense whenever you’re sad, scared, stressed out or just if something inconvenient happens to you in general. He’d never admit it -obviously- but it bugs him if he ever caught you teary-eyed. It gets him uneasy and you can tell when his mood sometimes matches yours..

Uhhh smells like love in here *insert Jaekyung stuffing his nose with toilet paper scraps*

♥︎──♥︎ He hates when you struggle to do something by yourself instead of asking him for help. (paying bills, dealing with packages, paperwork etc…) Says they’re just ‘bs problems’ and he can solve them for you much quicker and better than you could. He’d do it himself or even pays someone to do it instead.

Besides, he’s not kidding when he says he wants all your focus on him so he’d rather everything around you gets taken care of just so you can be there for him at all times.

♥︎──♥︎ He doesn’t mind your outside life but would definitely notice when you’re all cute and dolled-up for some reason.

It’s not only about the dolly looks to be fair. He’d bend you over the kitchen counter in your stained apron and fuck you dumb or suck your tits in your goofy pattern pjs on one of his long sleepless nights…

But the time he notices you spraying your cherry fragance in the bathroom, your perky breasts sticking shyly through your dress and a shiny jewel dangling from your ankle bracelet always gets him tight in his boxers.

He walks in with his glossy eyes, same naugthy grin you see when he’s in that mood..

‘Tomorrow’s my back check-up. Better not be late.’ He steps behind you, arms lazily crossed above his chest.

You nodded and made your way through the entrance, catching a honeyed voice behind you.

‘Hey Doc. I’ll drop you by'...

…His white McLaren got you there way ahead of time. so ahead that you ended up clawing at the door close to you, the little ankle bracelet jiggling over Jaekyung’s back and your shaky arms wrapped shut around his shoulders. Begging him to let you cum in fear of missing on your little night out...

[traumawhomst]

Ok but yandere Orcs yes please

Tw: Physical abuse done by a side character, and physical violence to a side character.

(1,300 words)

Part 1

There had been a “War” with the Orc Empire for as long as you could remember, but honestly from what you could tell it was really more along the lines of scattered boarder skirmishes, one side would take ground and the other would eventually get it back.

It wasn’t really talked about much, other than the soldiers who passed through your Uncle’s Tavern, who’d rather talk about cards or romantic exploits.

You’d come home late one night from working, only to one of the barn doors was propped up instead of hanging on the hinges. A closer inspection revealed that it had been pulled off its hinges and then leaned against the other door to make it look like nothing had happened.

It was probably due to the fact that you’d been awake for roughly eighteen hours that spurred you to grab an old carving (probably dull) knife and kicked down the barn door.

The door hit the floor and a thick cloud of dust rose up and around the fallen door. It got in your nose and eyes and you couldn’t help but sputter taking a step backwards.

Your mind froze when you heard another coughing before it then started to think of the worse possible scenario. You wiped your eyes clutching the hilt of the knife and looked into the dark barn.

To find an Orc only as upright as the back wall could support, one hand raised and the other pressed against what looked to be a stab wound. Blood seeped from between his fingers and soaked his shirt and pants.

There was no anger in his eyes, his body loose and defeated. He apologized for the door and the mess he was making, promising to leave as he tried to stand up. He couldn’t get further than a single knee before collapsing again.

You couldn’t speak or move as he tried to leave, your mind struggling to understand everything that happened. Well you didn’t move until he fell again, then you told him to stop moving and you’d be back.

You nor no one else ever said you were smart, and that’s the reason you gave yourself as you grabbed clean bandages and water. You sighed at yourself before also grabbing a blanket as well.

He’d stiffened when you silently approached him until you showed him the water and bandages. He almost laughed when you knelt next to him and started to do your best to clean it. He didn’t fight or argue though, at first watching you before closing his eyes and relaxing.

He was passed out by the time you’d finished, exhaustion and blood loss finally took its toll. You watched for a while making sure his chest rose and fall before you tossed a blanket over him and did your best to prop the barn door back to how it was before.

You overslept the next morning, no time to eat before running to your work much less check on a half dead orc.

You found yourself thinking about him often, wondering how he was feeling. If he was comfortable, if he was alive. The worry was enough to keep you awake for the hours of sleep you’d lost to him.

You took more food than you usually did stealing it off plates where it had been untouched, carefully wrapping it and hiding it before your uncle could see. Just in case.

He was not dead, when you returned and was more than surprised to see you splitting the food you’d brought silently handing half to him before you stood up.

That was the first time he touched you actually grabbing your wrist without any real force. You looked at him and could see a hundred questions swirling in his eyes. Instead of asking those he just asked to eat together. He’s not used to eating alone.

And you do, you sit back down and for the first night you eat in near silence, as you two got comfortable just being near each other. He didn’t stop from leaving a second time.

His face did light up when you wished him a goodnight though

So you fell into a comfortable if odd routine. You’d spend the day working, him trying to heal in your barn and then come together for dinner. You both were orphaned before the start of adulthood, and it was nice to speak to someone about it without worry of how it would spread.

He was funny and charming, you found yourself laughing and smiling more in those few nights than you had in the years since your father died. He was easy to talk to and he seemed to enjoy it as much as you did. It was probably the fifth night when you found yourself excited to go home and speak to him.

You knew that this was dangerous, the longer he stayed the more likely he get caught the more likely you’d be thrown in jail. You told him he could stay as long as he needs to.

On the eighth night you came home later than usual, a bounce in your step that you hadn’t had in years. Even the regulars at your Uncle’s pub had noticed and started to speculate on who or what had made you smile so much. You still had to hide it, any smile would be taken as offense by your uncle who seemed to think he owned your emotions along with your father’s debt.

But tonight you managed to get twice as much as you normally did and you were excited to sit and talk with him.

And he was gone.

Panic clawed at you as you looked hoping to find him in some corner tucked away but no. He was gone. Your heart sunk as you realized there was only two options.

Either he was found by soldiers. Or…

He left without saying goodbye.

Hurt threatened to tear open your chest as stand again alone in the silence. You try to tell yourself you were an idiot to think he’d say before leaving, of course he was always going to take what he could and run. A meaner part of yourself told you that this would happen with everything you loved and enjoyed.

You shoved the food in your mouth, not even tasting anything as you just tried to eat as much of it as you could. Your stomach hurt but you’d manage to stop crying by then. You told yourself how much you didn’t care.

You slept in the barn that night unable to sleep anywhere else.

You’d over slept for maybe the first time in years ending up showing late to your Uncle’s pub. He did not take it well, throwing things and screaming, hitting you more than once.

And then someone pries him off you, and you look up and see a massive figure in armor and boots that added at least three inches. He held your uncle up in the air one hand around his neck. You watched your uncle struggle and turn purple and only then to do you think to move.

You look at the figure again, and realize they’re wearing a helmet made to look like falcon completely covering their face. They turn towards you as you scramble, dropping your uncle to the ground.

You didn’t get very far before, one solid hand grabbed your shirt and yanked you towards him. You tried to fight but they was much stronger than you and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

They pull you to the door where two Orc Soldiers waited and moved when the figure pulling you barked an order.

Three massive horses waited outside and you tried to struggle again, firmly but gently you are pushed on the up on the horse, your captor behind and the four of you were off.

[hannahbarberra162]

Uncomfortably Numb (Yan Law x Reader, 2/3)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3

Part 1

This drabble is now 12k+ words :I He's a slow burn Yan I can't make him go any faster!! Thank you @sordidmusings and @gouraminnow for beta-ing <3

“Alright, you’re all set, Penguin. Great job,” you said, giving him a pat on the shoulder before removing the paper towels from his chest. The oral surgery had been successful but it had taken hours for you to manually extract each tooth down to the root and close each wound. Penguin had a nearly complete secondary set of teeth in his mouth and each one needed to be extracted and cared for individually. Law said he’d monitor Penguin for infection and keep tabs on him in case of dry socket, which was a relief in a patient with so many operation sites.

Law had offered to be your aid again and this time you enthusiastically took him up on the offer. He had done a fantastic job the first time and it wasn’t every day that you had the world’s best surgeon handing you drills and sucking out a patient’s saliva at your command. But besides that, you found working with Law quite easy and were grateful for the help during such a long procedure. Law didn’t maintain idle chit chat or small talk and let you focus on what needed to be done. He’d even toweled off your forehead when you were sweating, causing you to startle from surprise.

“I apologize, Dentist-ya. I forget that isn’t common outside of surgery,” he said, handing you the mosquito forcep you needed.

“No apology needed, I’m sure Penguin appreciates not being dripped on,” you said as Penguin tried to give you a dopey smile. You’d had to sedate him much more than Shachi, his learned fear of dentistry making him a good candidate for twilight anesthesia. He was awake but wasn’t disruptive or unhappy, just along for the multi hour ride. At first Law had monitored Penguin’s vitals every fifteen minutes but your consistent anesthesia had him relaxing to checking only every 25 minutes. When you finally finished suturing the final socket, you stepped back to allow Law to observe your handiwork.

“Clean stitches,” he remarked, turning Penguin’s jaw to look at the other side of his mouth.

“Mm. Almost like it’s my profession or something,” you snarked, sitting down on the rolling stool. Stretching your arms you frowned at your own comment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything. Most other physicians aren’t as…kind to me as you’ve been. They’re a little dismissive of dentistry. I even went on a date with a physician who told me I wasn’t a real doctor,” you said with a light laugh. 

“How irritating. I hope you ripped into him,” Law said, closing Penguin’s mouth.

“Something like that,” you replied enigmatically. In reality you’d numbed his nerve endings so the doctor wouldn’t orgasm for a month but you didn’t think Law would find that appealing. “Penguin’s teeth shouldn’t grow back, I got them out at the root. But even so, you never know exactly what’s going to happen with fishmen teeth so if one or two reappear, I can always take them out again,” you explained to Law. “Well, if you find me again. I’m getting off at the next island but we can coordinate from there,” you added, furrowing your brow as you thought through the details. Law frowned but didn’t reply as you turned to his brother still on the chair.

“Penguin, you’re all done. Everything went well and you’re now the proud owner of only one set of teeth. I’m going to remove the anesthesia but you might be a little loopy for a bit, OK?” you said, taking off your glove. Penguin gave you a wide, toothy smile - much different than the closed mouth one you’d seen before. Using your right hand you slowly removed the anesthesia from Penguin but kept the numbing in his mouth, he was going to need it for the next few days.

“C’n I haave my teef?” Penguin asked as his head lolled to the side of the chair. Law sighed but stood next to you as you helped Penguin stand from where he had been laying on the patient gurney.

“I mean, you can keep them. A lot of people ask, but they don’t usually have so many, ” you replied. “Whoa, easy there,” you said as Penguin looped his arms around your shoulders and leaned his full body weight onto you, making you stumble. Law walked over and picked Penguin off you, pulling his arm over his shoulders to help Penguin walk. 

“Penguin, let’s go,” Law said as he started to walk with a pouting Penguin.

“Nooo, I wan’ the priddy dentiss to carry me,” he whined.

“Don’t embarrass yourself,” Law chided as he continued to walk towards the door of the operating theater. Law pulled it open as Penguin took in a large breath.

“Pfff oh please,” he said, releasing a huge gust of breath into Law’s face. “ You talk about her all tha time and I can’t embarrass myself?” Penguin nearly yelled as the door slammed shut. Your face flamed but at least Law didn’t see it. You’d been thinking about him since the previous night when you’d caught him reading your article. Law was different from other doctors you’d met - and different from other pirate Captains too. He was intelligent, considerate, protective, and treated you like a professional in your own right. He was a refreshing person to meet and you hoped you would get more from him than just a kiss.

Time passed easily on the Tang as it continued its trip to the next island. You helped out where you could and gave the entire crew dental checks and procedures as needed. You also helped yourself to Law’s medical library and spent hours curled up in his office, poring over the various texts he had. The first time you’d gone in there you stood in front of his filled shelves, completely agog. You’d seen his office on the first night but you hadn’t been focused on what it looked like, more interested in the Captain within it.

“Can I help you find something?” Law asked, causing you to jump. You hadn’t seen him since he was sitting in his chair with the back facing you; you thought you were alone when you came into the room.

“Law! You scared me! What’s wrong with you, hiding in the shadows like that!” you scolded him.

“It’s my office,” he said, sipping from a ringed mug of black coffee. He had you there , you thought to yourself.

“Hm. I s’pose so,” you mumbled as you looked back at the bookshelf in front of you. You gasped as your finger stroked the frayed spine of a copy of Fishman Anatomy and Physiology.

“How did you manage to get this? And a first edition too? This has been banned for -”

“Twenty years, since Fisher Tiger,” Law said as he continued to skim his own book. “You’re welcome to read it if you’d like,” he said, flipping a page with an index finger.

“Are you sure? I mean, I’d love to. I have small sections of it I bought illegally but I’ve never even seen the entire book -”

“It would be my pleasure, Dentist-ya. There’s a settee across from my desk, make yourself comfortable.” With shaking fingers you pulled the dull green book off the shelf, cradling it to your chest as if it was a baby. You sat opposite Law and cracked the book open in silence, eager to read the information contained within. 

“It’s time for you to go to bed, Dentist-ya,” Law told you what seemed like moments later. You blinked and looked up from where you had been reading about digestive issues common to most fishmen species. 

“What do you mean -”

“It’s 3 AM, everyone else has been asleep for hours.” You looked down at the book and saw that you’d read nearly half the book in one sitting. You closed the book tenderly and set it down next to you, patting it like a treasured cat. You made a pleased hum and stretched your arms above your head. Blinking the strain out of your eyes, you noticed Law was still watching you. He stood up and sat on the edge of his desk, stretching his long legs out in front of him so that your feet nearly touched.

“And what about you?” you teased. “Shouldn’t you also go to bed?” you asked, bringing your hands behind your head in an assumed relaxed position. It raised your chest a little bit and brought your tits into focus, something even a composed person like Law noticed. Law had only initiated kissing you the one time and hadn’t seemed interested since. Your ego had taken a hit but you were hopeful that maybe once life settled back down on the Tang you’d be able to show him the error of his ways. 

“Ah, I think I might wait up,” Law said in a measured tone, breaking his eyes away from your torso.

“Wait up for what?” you asked, biting your lip between your teeth. Law looked you in the eyes, a grin coming to his face. 

“For this,” he said, standing upright and walking over to you. He leaned down with one hand gripping the settee. “Room. Shambles.”

Suddenly Law was the one sitting down with his legs spread and you were straddling Law’s lap facing him. The instant change in positions didn’t give you a headache like last time but you were still disoriented as Law put a hand on your hip and pulled you closer to him. You could feel a growing bulge in Law’s pants as your hips sat atop his own. 

“For this,” Law said, another hand reaching behind your neck to pull you into a kiss. You moaned softly as Law’s lips crashed down on yours. Law’s tongue licked the seam of your mouth to ask for entrance so you parted your lips. You pushed your tongue into Law’s mouth as his tongue met your own. Law’s tattooed hand curled into your hair and pulled slightly to keep you where he wanted you, the hand still on your hip squeezing your outer thigh. Law was setting the pace and you followed, letting him lead the kissing and angle your head to his pleasing. 

You were lost in the sensation of Law’s lips on your own and one of your hands rose to tangle in his short black hair as your other hand set on his shoulder. You found that when you gently he’d moan lightly so you repeated the motion a few times. A few minutes later, you started grinding on Law’s lap, unable to keep yourself from trying to chase your pleasure.

“Wanton creature,” Law rasped as his hand left your hip to your back, pulling your shirt over your head with your help and throwing it to the floor. His large hand splayed across your back as he pulled you closer to his own bare chest. He was warmer than you expected for someone who went around shirtless and you reveled in the feeling of his skin against your own. Law unclasped your bra with a practiced motion, pulling it off your arms and tossing it to wherever your shirt had landed. His tattooed hands cupped your breasts as he trailed kisses between them. He rolled your nipples between his thumb and index finger and you arched into his hands.

“Law, please,” you husked as he pinched one nipple harshly while rolling the other.

“Since you’re so polite,” was all Law said before he brought his face closer to begin sucking on your nipples. You jolted from the feeling of an expected metal piercing on your warm skin, causing you to move upright on his lap. Law grunted but continued suckling and gently biting your nipples, his stubble providing a pleasant burn to your skin.

The pressure was strong and relentless as Law laved his tongue over your nipples. The seam in your pants was growing wetter with each passing moment but you weren’t able to do anything about it other than grind yourself down harder on his lap. He grunted as you rubbed yourself faster but didn’t do anything other than continue to grope and suck your tits. You weren’t sure how long you were on top of him as he switched between your breasts, nibbling and sucking while you made pathetic mewling noises. A few times you attempted to change positions or unbuckle his pants but Law kept you in position easily. His lean musculature told you he was strong but you hadn’t expected him to be able to manhandle you with such ease.

“ Aah ~ c-can we…?” you trailed off suggestively and looked down at his pants. Law’s face was pressed between your breasts as he continued to massage and grope them. 

“Patience, it’s too late now. When I finally have you, it will be for the entire night, not just a few hours. The early shift will be up in about half an hour, I don’t want anyone to walk in on us,” he said as his fingers remained on your nipples. He removed his fingers but gave a sudden harsh bite to your left nipple, making you yelp. You cupped your sore breasts with your hands and held them in place of your bra. You had liked the attention, despite the unusual intensity. You pouted as you tried to get off his lap, which made Law laugh.

“Don’t pout, you’ll get what you want soon enough.” Law grabbed your jaw and angled your head down to look at his eyes. “Do not make yourself come. I will know if you do,” Law said with a straight face and harsh voice. You generally liked dom / sub games and all that came with it but his tone brokered no room for disagreement. Usually you talked about those kinds of things before engaging in them but this was pretty light, so you supposed it was ok. The next time you could discuss with Law your limits and safewords. Law was still holding your jaw as he asked “do you understand?” You nodded your agreement, unsure in the face of Law’s stare.

 “Room -”

“No, wait - let me get my -” you didn’t even finish your sentence before you plopped down on your bed in the women’s quarters, your clothes appearing immediately thereafter.

“S’ annoying, everything on his time schedule,” you grumbled as you tried to remove your remaining clothes without waking Ikkaku and Hakugan. Your panties were soaked through to your pants as you peeled them off. Normally in such a state your fingers would already be dancing their way down to your clit but something in Law’s tone gave you pause. Flicking your eyes over the clothes, you folded them up and placed them in your trunk to be washed later. You tucked yourself into your bunk with a huff as you tried to sleep off the pent up frustration Law had given you. 

The following day the Tang breached the surface of the water in preparation for docking at Coral Island. You’d been there before a few years prior and remembered it to be a pleasant place. You didn’t mind setting up shop on Coral Island for a few months - it was a smaller summer island and was known for its distinctive pink beaches. It didn’t have a Marine base,  though Marines sometimes stopped through on their way to the larger Reef Island a few week’s travel ahead. 

You were glad to finally get off the Tang even if you’d been enjoying your time spent under the sea. Despite the warm and welcoming crew, you grew restless within the Tang. Being inside the metal ship made you feel a little stir crazy, like you needed to stick your head out a window for fresh air. Now you knew a little of how Shachi must have felt, you thought as the Tang sailed into the wharf.

You had your belongings packed and ready to go but Law had encouraged you to keep them on the ship until you found where you were staying. It made sense, you reasoned, not to lug your heavy chest filled with equipment around until you booked a short term residence. You climbed the ladder to the top deck right behind Penguin and Shachi. The three of you had pushed and shoved your way to the front of the queue to get off the ship.

“Ugh! Feels so good, right?” Shachi exclaimed as he popped his head out of the hatch that led to the sail. Thanks to them you knew that the sail referred to the portion of the Tang that they could stand on when it wasn’t submerged. 

“I know! After about a week I can’t get out of the Tang fast enough,” Penguin agreed. The two of them started stripping off their boiler suits as you averted your eyes. They stripped down to their underwear in record time and without tripping over the legs of their suits, which was impressive. You idly wondered if they wore tear-aways and you hadn’t noticed. 

“Erm…what are you -”

“We’re going swimming! It’s the best feeling after being in the Tang for a while. It feels like you’ve been scrunched into a tiny ball and the water is slowly decompressing you. You should come -” Shachi put his hand over Penguin’s mouth to stop him from completing the sentence. 

“He wasn’t thinking. It’s not that nice,” Shachi said, color rising to his face. Penguin’s eyes opened wide.

“Yeah, it’s not like…anything that great. It’s just swimming,” Penguin said, unable to meet your eyes.

“Guys, it’s not a big deal. I knew what I was getting into when I ate the fruit,” you said with a laugh. Your eyes roved the waters of the bay and the foamy peaks of the water hitting the hull of the sub as the large splashes alerted you that the men had jumped in. In another life you would have loved to swim but your fruit made it a death sentence. With a deep sigh you disembarked the Tang for the docks of the island, ready to find a place to stay.

The rest of the crew had split up as they had work to complete before they were able to enjoy leisure time before the Tang left that evening. Jean Barte and Bepo were restocking medical supplies, Shachi had finished his dip in the sea and was buying groceries with Penguin and Ikkaku was buying spare parts for the sub. 

After spending some time with Bepo and Jean Barte looking at various medications, you remembered why you’d liked being on this particular island. Even though it was small, the pharmacist on the island was competent and stocked a lot of medications that even larger islands often didn’t have. You had the power to anesthetize but nothing else, you had to be able to offer antibiotics if a patient got an infection. Bepo had your hand in his (much to your delight) as you perused the aisles at the apothecary.

“Ooh, Bepo, look! They even have bacitracin!” you exclaimed as you grabbed the small tube off the shelf and turned it over in your hand. “They really have everything. This is a great apothecary so remember to stock more of your anesthetics,” you reminded the mink before placing the bottle back carefully. Bepo tilted his head and gave you a bright smile.

“I’ve got it from here. I’ve restocked Captain’s supplies thousands of times. Why don’t you enjoy the rest of the day,” Bepo suggested, shooing you away from the shelves. 

“Will I see you again before you leave?” you asked, pouting at the thought of your last bear hug.

“I’ll make sure of it,” Bepo assured you, pushing you further out of the store.

It wasn’t a bad idea to get moving, you thought to yourself. There was a lot for you to do before the Tang left that night. You went to see if you’d be able to rent the same room you had a few years prior - it didn’t leave any lasting negative impressions in your memory so it was likely good enough. 

As you walked away from the main drag of the town, you saw the familiar sight of off duty Marines. They were still in their uniforms but their happy chit chat and casual early evening drinking let you know they weren’t on the clock. The whole group looked rather young, like they had just finished basic training a few years prior. None of them were officers or in leadership positions, probably just a group of friends blowing off steam together. You paid them little attention as they passed by, until you felt a hand gripping your upper arm.

“Hey - are you that dentist lady?” a young Marine asked. He was just an ensign but based on the teeth you’d seen flashing in his mouth, he was part fishman. Maybe even Lingcod fishman, if the small uneven teeth were any indication. He had passed through the group to catch you as you walked by, making sure to speak to you with some privacy from his fellow Marines.

“Sure am,” you replied, slowing to a stop. Marines weren’t your favorite type of patients - they were often cocky and had attitudes but they were a reliable source of income. The Marines kept their own medical corps that included dental benefits but the dentists were often still in school themselves or total quacks. You spent a lot of your time seeing Marine dentist patients and fixing their work, particularly in fishmen.

“Are you the one who knows about fishmen?” the Marine asked in a quieter tone. 

“I am. I have to tell you, I’m going to be staying on the island but I’m not ready to see patients just yet. I have to set up and I’ll start seeing patients tomorrow or the day after,” you said as you tried to remove his hand from your arm. His mouth screwed up as his eyes flashed with pain as he gripped you tighter.

“Please, I’m begging you. My mouth is killing me and the Marine dentists -”

“Is there a problem?” you heard from behind you as a tattooed hand clapped on your shoulder. Swiveling your head up, you saw Law carrying Kikoku on his shoulder as he stood immediately behind you. His face held no shred of sympathy for the ensign, only cold fury.

“Wait, Law, no - there’s nothing -” you tried to tell Law that nothing bad was happening, you’d been in this situation hundreds of times before. The young man was probably in immeasurable pain and just wanted some relief. But you weren’t able to get the words out before the other Marines in the group were shouting and dropping their ales on the ground in their efforts to get away.

“T-trafalgar Law! She’s with him -” 

“He’s gonna kill us all -”

“Maybe we messed with his girlfriend -”

“I didn’t hear the Heart Pirates were here -”

“He’s gonna steal our hearts and crush them up -”

The group of Marines quickly dispersed, to the dismay of the fishman Marine in front of you. You wanted to tell him that you would see him, that he wouldn’t have to be in pain much longer. But Law set Kikoku’s tip on the ground.

“You too,” Law said, using his thumb to unsheath Kikoku. The Marine let go of your arm with a start and ran after his cohort, his legs practically pinwheeling in an effort to get away quickly. Law hummed happily and resheathed his sword.

“What the hell was that about?” you hissed at Law as you tried knocking his hand off your shoulder. His hand wasn’t moved by your weak attempts but instead gripped your shoulder harder almost to the point of pain.

“I did it to protect you,” he replied, his eyes boring into your own. 

“I didn’t need protection, that kid was in pain! He was just asking because -”

“They’re Marines.”

“I fucking know they’re Marines. Marines make up a sizeable amount of my income and besides that ensign was a fishman, he was in pain -”

“It was a ploy to get your attention in order to arrest you,” Law replied, finally removing his hand from your shoulder. Your fingers rose to touch the area where he’d gripped you, rubbing your tender skin.

“Th-that’s not true. Why would -”

“You don’t think they saw you getting off the Tang? Walking through the city arm in arm with Bepo? You’re easy pickings for them, alone and separated from the crew,” Law said, taking one step towards you.

“B-but why? I’m not a pirate -”

“You’re traveling with a notorious supernova Captain, strolling along the streets casually and laughing with the first mate. It certainly looks like you are,” Law continued in a bored drawl. You bit your lip - to someone on the outside it would look suspicious. 

“I…suppose,” you hedged. “But I really don’t think that any of those Marines -”

“Are capable of bringing you in? I don’t mean to offend you, but you’re not a fighter. I’ve seen this scenario happen before - there’s a promising doctor or nurse and they’re brought in on trumped up charges, which are conveniently dropped if they join the Marines. Or maybe you really do want to work for the Marines after all, get conscripted into their service. I’m sure they’d be happy to have a dentist like you in their ranks. Is that what you want, hm?” Law continued, taking another step forward. 

You took an unconscious step backwards, his firm tone and logical argument making you second guess the interaction with those Marines. Your eyes darted beyond Law as you tried to remember the details of the interaction with the Ensign. You couldn’t exactly remember what happened, everything had been so quick.

“Don’t feel bad, you’re not used to the way they really operate. I saw it firsthand when I was a Warlord. The truth is the Marines are a facet of the corrupt World Government and they function only in their own best interests,” Law explained, his eyes softening towards you. “Come on, the Tang will be leaving soon. You can come with us to the next island that doesn’t have a Marine presence. We’ll be in Shanks’s territory, he protects his islands well.” You nodded, as you thought over what Law had been saying. Law’s hand was on the small of your back, leading you back into town.

“Alright, I can - this island is kind of small anyway,” you rationalized to yourself. It wouldn’t be so bad to sail to the next island together, and maybe Law was right about the Marines. He really would know better than you, he had been a Warlord after all and probably had many interactions with them besides. His plan made sense, and after the next island you wouldn’t be associated with the Heart Pirates any longer. After they dropped you off, you’d take a passenger ship to another island and be all set.

The two of you walked side by side into town, Law’s open jacket flapping in the wind as you crossed through the main street. He kept his hand on your back at all times while the other was on his sword. There were many people milling about as they tried to buy last minute items before the stores closed at the end of the business day.

“There’s just one more thing I need,” Law said as he stopped and turned towards you, people walking around the two of you in the square. 

“Oh? What is it? I think most of the shops are closing soon -”

“This,” Law replied as he cupped your face with his free hand and kissed you deeply. You startled back, surprised at Law’s public display of affection. As far as you knew, Law was intensely private, not wanting anyone on the Tang to see as much as hand holding. And yet you sighed and leaned into him as he continued kissing you in the middle of the street. He leaned Kikoku against his chest as he pulled you closer to him, the sword awkwardly squished between your bodies. Law broke away, his index finger curled under your chin as he tipped your head back to look into his eyes. You flushed furiously but allowed Law to peck at your lips once more.

“Let’s go back to the Tang.”

Later that night, you were searching the infirmary storage closet for the bacitracin that Bepo had bought earlier that day. Shachi had sliced the sole of his foot on coral in the bay and the shallow wound needed tending. Normally such a cut wouldn’t be a problem but coral sometimes carried dangerous bacteria and you liked to err on the side of caution. Law was otherwise engaged and besides, you were more than capable of putting ointment on a wound. 

You looked through shelves for the antibiotic - you were thankful that every spot was labeled with the item that went above it on the shelves. Locating the bacitracin, you reached to grab the tube when you noticed that the spot for EMLA cream was empty. So was the spot for lidocaine, benzocaine, isoflurane, etomidate, and any other anesthetic. None of them had been restocked. 

The tube of bacitracin dropped from your fingers as you backed away from the shelves towards the small metal door. You took step after step backwards until you hit something solid but warm behind you. You tried to swallow but your mouth was dry.

“What are you doing, Dentist-ya?” You spun around; it was Law against your back.

“L-law, I….I -” you sputtered, unsure what to say. You wanted to double check that nothing was still in bags or crates before you accused him - the next island was a few weeks away and it would make for an awkward situation if you were wrong.

“Are you looking for an anesthetic?” Law said, looking behind you. “I would have thought that redundant,” he said as his eyes flicked over your face. Your eyes were wide - could Law read your mind with his fruit? You went for honesty, you weren’t a good liar at the best of times and especially not when you were nervous. 

“It’s just um…I didn’t think…you didn’t restock any of the topical analgesics? Or the anesthetics? I was with Bepo when he was looking at them and I just…wasn’t sure…”

“Not everything has been unloaded yet. Medications that don’t require refrigeration aren’t a top priority. They’re on the ship, watch. Room. Shambles,” Law said as a vial of lidocaine appeared in his hand. He considered you again, picking the tube of bacitracin off the floor. “What was your concern with the medication restock?”

Your face turned red as you tried to think of a way to cover your ass. “Uh, I was just, um, surprised that they weren’t there yet? The ship is so organized and it was…surprising? I was surprised?” you said as you tried to stop rambling. Law wasn’t showing any kind of expression but you had the feeling he was allowing you to hang yourself with your own rope. 

“Are you suspicious that I’m trying to keep you here?” Law asked, his eyebrow cocked.

“No? No,” you replied twice as you made sure the second answer didn’t sound like a question. Law hummed and stepped closer to you. You drew back but Law simply put the medications onto the shelves behind you, reaching just past your face.

“I take care of my own, Dentist-ya,” Law said as he moved away, out of the storage closet. The light behind him obscured his face, casting his entire body in dark shadow.

Law’s statement left you wondering when you had become his. 

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff

[thegreatgatslin]

INTRODUCING: THE HUMANITIES AND SOCIAL SCIENCES DEPARTMENT, PART 2 [PART 1 HERE]

                               ✦ MA MEILLEURE ENNEMIE ✦                                           RIN ITOSHI X READER

Y/N L/N (HSS DEPT, ENGLISH LIT) overall rating: 4.3/5 || 85% would take again || 4.3 level of difficulty

51 student ratings:

COURSE: CLASSIC POETRY COMMENTARY would take again: yes || grade: A "prof l/n is a great prof all around. she marks our essays - like ACTUALLY marks them, unlike some profs i know - and gives the best feedback. she makes lectures interesting, even if we’re learning about the driest classical poetry known to man."

COURSE: MODERN LITERATURE ANALYSIS would take again: yes || grade: A "she buys us snacks when we ace her quizzes i love her to bits"

OLIVER AIKU (HSS DEPT, EUROPEAN HISTORY) overall rating: 4.5/5 || 90% would take again || 4.0 level of difficulty

52 student ratings:

COURSE: THE RISE AND FALL OF AUTHORITARIAN REGIMES would take again: yes || grade: B "how is this man still single??? we have to set him up with prof [REDACTED] from [REDACTED] department someday..."

COURSE: THE LEAGUE OF NATION'S SUCCESSES AND FAILURES would take again: yes || grade: A+ "prof oliver?? aiku??? (we don't know which is his first name still) is one of the best educators i've ever had the privilege of meeting. he truly cares for his students and how they learn, and he secretly extends office hours for us sometimes!"

YOICHI ISAGI (HSS DEPT, PSYCHOLOGY) overall rating: 4.7/5 || 78% would take again || 3.9 level of difficulty

70 student ratings:

COURSE: SOCIAL COGNITION would take again: yes || grade: A- "his case studies are oddly specific sometimes and he gets a little too excited when he asks us for our opinions... but he's fun and relatable! highly recommend taking prof hiori's courses along with prof isagi's since they complement each other's so well"

COURSE: MENTAL HEALTH AND DISTRESS would take again: yes || grade: B "once i caught him in an empty classroom rambling on about puzzle pieces forming?? (he's an oddball but he's MY oddball)."

YO HIORI (HSS DEPT, PSYCHOLOGY) overall rating: 4.6/5 || 70% would take again || 3.8 level of difficulty

59 student ratings:

COURSE: SIGMUND FREUD AND HIS THEORIES would take again: yes || grade: B+ "professor hiori might seem like a innocent guy, but just going off how much he knows about sigmund freud... yeah i firmly believe he's a closeted FREAK. chill guy tho."

COURSE: SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS would take again: yes || grade: B "i take prof ness's ethics courses too and prof hiori's classes really help me understand them better"

taglist: @bakery-anon, @shidousveneers, @swelterweather, @ranzess, @saeyari, @blueballslock, @rroxii, @hellothere9597, @inojinieeee, @arwawawa2, @ihsoti, @shironagi, @cyberheartrebel (open, reply to this post to be added)

© thegreatgatslin || ✦ series m.list ✦ || ✦ M.LIST ✦

[garpen]

My January 2025

1) I deleted my gender, pronouns, sexuality, and spirituality off of all my public accounts (with my name and face) after you know who was elected. Having conversations with my ama about packing go bags just in case. Stock piling on necessities and food just in case.

3) I got hit by a car (ER doc gave me the all clear, so no worries)

3) My PCP sent me back to the ER two days later due to a neurological issues and possible brain bleed (Doc gave me the all clear, so no worries)

4) The hospital I was in caught fire (It was put out relatively quickly, so no worries)

5) Watched a man at said hospital die (I used to work in as a SS in a SNF/Rehab with tons of geriatric patients so I'm desensitized to death, so no worries)

6) My card information was stolen to pay for someone's onlyfans subscription (card has been canceled and I am in the process of getting a new one, so no worries)

See parts 1-4, and 6: Here

7) One of my dogs got out and ran away (we got her back after a few hours, so no worries)

8) My sorta ex's (we're still good friends it's been four years) crush asked me out and I rejected them. Funny actually bc they've tried setting me up with another one of their friends awhile back ago. Dang I got three bitches in that friend group, I didn't realize I had game like that (we're all chill though I think, so no worries)

Not gonna put the whole convo, but here's a snippet:

9) Many friends, family, and family friends are contacting me and saying we will not be able to see each other for a long time bc ICE raids are happening nearby and we are all very worried. Discussing with my ama that if something happens and we need to leave the USA, which family/friends would be best to go to in Mexico. (I am very much white passing but the fear is still there as both my parents are from Mexico, and especially worried for my non-white passing family members and friends)

Just one example-

10) Someone made a fake Instagram account pretending to be me. And tried to take money from my friends/family. One of my siblings was dead ass a minute away from sending them $150 (literally happened today at the very end of the month, but my peeps have already started to report and block them so no worries).

✨Can't wait to see what February has in store for me ✨

[kaleldobrev]

Getting Back into the Swing of Things (1) — The 15 Year Problem Series

Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester & Unnamed Hunter Boyfriend (OC)

Series Summary: Needing help on a poltergeist case, you ask fellow hunter Sam Winchester for help. Despite having a broken arm, Sam agrees to help you. But, just as he’s about to head out and meet you, Dean tells him that he’ll take his place and help instead.

Chapter Word Count: 2.2k

Chapter Warnings: Cursing (4x), Age Gap (15 years) & Minor controlling behavior

Authors Note: A prequel series to the Old Man Universe (OMU) on how Dean and reader met | Takes place a few days after Dean is cured from being a demon in 2016 (please read this post for reasonings why it’s 2016, not 2014) | Don't worry, as Dean and reader meet in the next chapter! | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

⋆ The 15 Year Problem Masterlist ⋆

⇠ Go Back & Read the Prologue

Dean tossed and turned, still unable to fall asleep despite what seemed like hours trying. He smelled blood in his nose, felt it on his lips and tongue; smiling with pure bliss. He could feel his hand gripping the First Blade, and he could hear the heart beats of people fading fast as he looked into their eyes. His throat felt dry all of a sudden. “Fuck,” he mumbled to himself.

Removing the covers from himself, he swung his body, his feet flat on the floor as he rubbed his face. Letting out a huge sigh of frustration, he got up from his bed and made his way to his bedroom door; deciding that maybe a few drinks could make him get a bit sleepy. But he knew deep down that wasn’t going to work — he just needed an excuse to get up and walk around.

As Dean started making his way toward the kitchen, he noticed that Sammy’s door was open halfway, the light of the room still on. A puzzled look appeared on Dean’s face, surprised that Sam was still up. He figured after curing him, he would be knocked out for the next couple of days, or at least taking it easy.

He heard drawers opening and closing, not remotely quietly. Standing in the doorway, he saw Sam packing some clothes into a duffel bag, slightly struggling as he did so, as he was down an arm. “Heading out somewhere?” Dean asked, after knocking on the doorway.

Sam looked up, barely smiling. He looked almost half asleep. “Uh yeah. A hunter friend of mine asked me to help her with a poltergeist case. Should be only a few days.”

“A poltergeist case uh?” Dean questioned, intrigued. “Where at?” He scratched the back of his head as he walked into Sam’s bedroom, trying his best not to sound too excited about the case.

“Tulsa. It’s about a five and a half hour drive from here, and I promised Y/N I’d meet her at the motel in town,” Sam said, zippering up his duffel.

“You sure you’re good to go Sammy? I mean, your arm is still broken,” Dean said, pointing at his arm. “Why don’t I go instead? I could use a nice and easy case to get my sea legs back.”

Sam looked at his brother with a bit of hesitancy. “I don’t know Dean…” his voice trailed off. Even though Sam had talked to you about Dean, he wasn’t sure how you would react to Dean showing up instead of him. Based on the short amount of time he had known you, he feels that you and Dean would get along really well as your hunting styles were scarily similar at times, and your personalities rivaled each other. But yet, you didn’t know Dean, and he knew you’d rather hunt alone than hunt with someone you didn’t know.

“Sammy, your arm is broken. No offense, but how much help are you really going to be to her? She might as well just do it by herself,” Dean said, and Sam knew that his brother had a point. He was right, as much as he hated to admit it.

Sam sighed, almost defeated. “Alright, alright. You’re…you’re right,” he said, slightly swinging his casted arm. “Just let me give her a heads up first okay?”

You looked out straight in front of you as only darkness could be seen for miles and miles. Your hands had a tight grip on the wheel to the point that your knuckles were almost pale and white. The loudness of your windshield wipers drowned out what you were currently listening to — The Clash.

There was no traffic, no cars— just you, the rain, and the complete darkness except for your headlights. You sighed, thinking about your boyfriend, how conflicted you felt about the whole thing. On one end, you were tired of the bullshit and were ready to call it quits with him. Why be with someone who makes you miserable? You heard your mom’s words echoing in your brain, so loud as if she was sitting right next to you. On the other end, you wanted to give him another chance as people who understood the hunting life was few and far between.

You didn’t necessarily want to be alone, but it was something that started to look more and more appealing. You were 22, still young and had time to find someone. But who? Another hunter? A civilian maybe? No, no civilians, you thought. Too risky. You needed someone that knew the life.

As if snapping you out of your current thought, your phone started ringing, the buzz of it slightly vibrating your seat. Since there were no cars on the road, you pulled off to the side, and answered the phone. "Hey Sammy," you said, "where are you?"

"Hey Y/N, I'm uh...still back at the Bunker," his voice sounded so tired and defeated.

You raised a brow in confusion. "What do you mean you're still back at the Bunker? You're not coming to help me?" You would be lying if you weren't disappointed. Although you had only known Sam for a short amount of time, he was someone that you genuinely enjoyed hunting with; not only because he was a legendary Winchester, but because he treated you like his equal, despite your age.

"Remember when Cas helped me on a case a while back and I ended up breaking my arm?" He said, and you nodded, even though you knew he wasn't able to hear you. But he took your lack of an answer to continue speaking. "Well, it's still broken. And I didn't want to say no when you called for help because you were such a big help to Cas and me, especially me, when Dean were gone."

You didn't want to give the impression that you were disappointed, even though you were. But you understood where Sam was coming from; and the last thing you wanted to do was force him to drive all the way to Tulsa just to sit in the motel room. "I really appreciate you saying yes, even though you're kind of out of commission. It...it really means a lot."

"Listen, I know you can pretty much solve this case in your sleep but..." he paused, sighing, almost as if he was afraid to say the next few words. "Dean offered to help you."

You were completely silent, which was a rarity for you. It wasn't like you didn't appreciate the help, but you were iffy about it as you didn't really like working with people that you weren't really familiar with. Yes, you've heard countless stories from Sam about his brother, and knew he was a good hunter; but the thing that scared you was, when it came down to it, would he just leave you for dead to save himself?

"I know you don't usually work with people you aren't really familiar with but," he sighed again, and you knew if he was in front of you right now, the puppy dog eyes would be in full force. "He's a great hunter, Y/N, and he wouldn't let anything happen to you. If something bad happened to you, he would never be able to forgive himself."

How could you possibly say no when Sam was practically telling you how good of a person his brother was? "Sam —"

"You'd be doing me a big favor, Y/N. I think this case would really help him get back into the swing of things," Sam said. Now you definitely couldn't say no.

You took a deep breath, sighing. "Okay," you said simply, giving in to Sam’s plead.

"Thanks Y/N, seriously," his tone sounding a bit happier now that you agreed. "I already gave him the address to the motel we agreed to meet at. He should hopefully be there right around the same time as you are."

"But you guys are almost six hours away," you stated with a raised brow. "Is he teleporting there?"

Sam chuckled at your comment. "No, no. He uh...he's a bit of a speed demon," Kind of like you, he wanted to add.

"Ah, so like me," you said. Sam couldn't help but smile at the comment, finding it funny that you had thought the exact same thing as he had. "Alright. Um, does he need my phone number or?"

"I kind of...already...gave it to him...sorry..." his words trailed off, almost embarrassed, like you had caught him red handed. You sighed, slightly annoyed. You didn't like when others gave out your phone number without asking you first, but then again, your boyfriend — which was soon to be your ex — was something he did quite often behind your back.

"He still driving the impala?" You asked, but before Sam could answer you, you continued with your thought, answering your own question. "Never mind, that was a stupid question," you slightly chuckled to yourself. "Of course he's still driving the impala."

Dean held the steering wheel tightly in his hands, loving the feeling of the leather at his fingertips. It had been far too long since he'd driven Baby, and it was one of the things that he truly missed while he was gone. "It's just a car Sam," his words rang out; and those words gutted him, because Baby wasn't just a car: she was home.

As he drove, his music was low, not loud like he usually preferred it, as he was currently admiring the simplicity of his surroundings. The rain hitting the windshield and being quickly wiped away, the darkness of the road that was only lit up by Baby's headlights. He felt comfortable and at ease; something driving always helped him to feel. He felt at home right now.

You didn't really know what to feel right now as you were debating back and forth on how your first meeting with the infamous Dean Winchester was going to go. According to Sam, the two of you would get along great, as he's made comments along the lines of, "You sometimes scarily remind me of Dean," which you weren't sure if you should take as a compliment or not.

Some of the stories Sam had told you about Dean impressed you, but then there were some where you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the stupidity. With some stories, you wondered how he wasn't dead already, then again, both Winchester's have died and came back countless times as death didn't seem to stick. You couldn't help but wonder what made them so special. Maybe they are God's favorites, you thought; and you couldn't help but chuckle.

Pulling into the motel parking lot, you let out a small laugh, seeing Dean's impala already in the parking lot. He really is a speed demon, you thought. Wonder what time he got here? You wondered.

As soon as you parked your vehicle, your phone began buzzing, and you looked at the name on the caller ID. Your blood started boiling seeing your boyfriend's name. "You have to be fucking kidding me," you mumbled to yourself.

At first, you were going to ignore the call, as maybe he would think you were still driving. But there was no way you would be able to give that illusion as there was no traffic on the road when you left because of the time. With gritted teeth, you answered the call, trying your absolute best to remain calm. "Hey," was all you said.

"You get to the motel yet?" He asked, his tone implying that he already had that knowledge somehow.

"I just pulled in," your answers were short, as you were still mad at him from before. Although driving was one of the things that calmed you down and made you feel at peace, for some reason, this argument in particular really made you angry.

"You said you would call me when you got to the motel," he sounded mildly annoyed, but disappointed at the same time.

You rolled your eyes. "Fucking hell," you mouthed. "I just pulled in. You didn't give me enough time to even call or text you." You took a deep breath, feeling yourself getting ready to boil over. "This is me telling you that I have reached the motel and may not be able to talk to you over the next couple of days, okay?" You weren't asking him; you were telling him; trying to make it clear that you couldn't talk to him. Of course you would be able to, but you didn't want to, as this case was a way for you to get the edge off. It was a way to kill something without killing him.

"I love you," he said, and for some reason him saying those three little words surprised you. He rarely said them to you, even though it was something that you had said to him regularly. The only times he ever seemed to say those three little words to you was during or after sex, or when the two of you had gotten into a rather nasty argument.

You didn't want to say it back to him, as love was the very last thing you felt for him in this moment. But you almost felt like you needed to, so he wouldn't feel like anything was wrong between the two of you. Then again, you didn't want to gaslight him the same way he always seemed to gaslight you. "I'll see you in a few days," was how you decided to answer, as those were the most genuine words you felt you could say to him.

⤑ Move Forward & Read Chapter 2

Tag List: @roseblue373 | @snakebxtez | @deanwanddamons | @missy420-0 | @hannahisthebanana | @madzzz0797 | @livingordeadwhoknows | @grx-deanslovr | @nancymcl | @jacklesbrainworms | @savagemickey03 | @deanbrainrotwritings | @rachiem4-blog | @syrma-sensei | @justletmereadfanfic | @deans-daydream | @midorimachisenpaii | @anamiad00msday | @beansproutmafia | @queenie32 | @deansbbyx | @deans-spinster-witch | @ficmesideways | @frozenhuntress67 | @coldspoons | @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden | @androah | @zulema222 | @k-l-a-w-s | @the-achievementhunter | @k-slla | @mrlonelycat | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @ladysparkles78 | @jackles010378 | @zepskies | @mrsjenniferwinchester | @globetrotter28 | @missscarlettangel | @foxyjwls007 | @Imhf1

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 15

Hey guys this story is back! I feel like it's nearing the end, but we'll see. I'm hoping for another couple of chapters (than the two have backlogged anyway) at least, but I'm not sure. Steve and Eddie are already freewheeling toward each other and I have learned when that starts happening either one or both of them hit the gas and they go from zero to sixty faster than NASCAR on race day.

Steve tries to get a job, has a good cry about it, Robin is bestest and they try the mall.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10  Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

~

Steve sat at the desk, phone pressed to his ear, newspaper next to him, and paper and pen in hand.

“Hi, may I speak to the manager?” he asked in his best customer service voice. “Thank you.”

Once the manager was on the line, he began, “Hello, sir. I’m looking at your ad in the help want ads and was wondering if the position was still open?”

Steve shoulders slumped. “I see. No, of course. I’m sure your nephew will just be absolutely smashing at slinging those hamburgers. Thank you for your time.”

He set the phone down in its cradle and put his head in his hands. He had been on the phone for the last two hours calling up people for job interviews and he was utterly exhausted.

Everyone of them had turned him down. Not taking anymore applications at this time, the job has been filled, or in the cases he actually got far enough to tell them his name, they would straight up hang up on him.

He didn’t want to work in the mall, but it was looking less and less likely he’d get a job inside Hawkins.

Which meant that Joyce was going to be on his ass again. She had gotten so insistent in him finding a job, that he was forced to stop going over there, choosing to hang out with Will and Ellie at someone else’s house.

God, he got more peace at the Wheelers and Mike was openly hostile ninety percent of the time. So that was really something.

Steve picked up Eddie’s latest gift. It was a giant canary plushie. It was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever seen. He loved it. He hugged it close.

“I miss Eddie, Kenny,” he murmured into its beak. “I know he’ll be home in a couple of weeks, but I miss being able to have him tell me I’m enough. That my worth isn’t dependent on what other people think of me.”

Steve stood up and carried Kenny over to the bed, where he fell asleep, tears falling into the soft material of Kenny’s neck.

~

He woke up slowly to soft music being played. He opened his eyes and blearily looked around. There on the sofa reading a magazine was Robin. She was listening to Blondie on his boombox but it was at a respectful volume so it wouldn’t wake him.

He had long since given her permission to just come in when she had a gift from Eddie or if she just want to hang out. As long as he wasn’t getting a shower or getting dressed, he really couldn’t care less.

Steve sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes. Next to her on the sofa was a large box.

“Hey, dingus,” she said without looking up. “I took the opportunity to order us dinner.” She looked at her watch. “It should be here in about five minutes.”

Steve slid off the bed and padded over to the sofa where he flopped gracelessly next to her.

Robin set down the magazine and looked at him properly. “Still can’t find a job, huh?”

He shook his head and pulled his knees up to his chest. She gave him a big hug and just held him until the food arrived. She rolled the food cart over lifted the cloche with gusto.

“Tada!” she said triumphantly revealing the mountains of fries, mashed potatoes, pizza, onion rings. All of Steve’s favorite things. “I figured you’d want some pick me up food and I went all out.”

“If we weren’t both gayer than the day is long,” Steve sighed happily, “I’d marry you.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek pulling out a slice of cheese pizza. He munched, grinning around the slice.

“Gross,” Robin said grabbing a handful of fries. “I mean the pizza not the marrying thing, because I agree. No, your pizza tastes are abysmal. Plain cheese? No meat, not veggies, nothing?”

Steve swallowed and set the pizza down. “It’s all my mom would let me have. Even when I’d go to parties and shit, she’d insist on them having a cheese pizza for me.”

“Okay I take that back,” Robin said. “Eat your cheese pizza, dingus. It makes you happy. But if I ever see your mother, I might accidentally scratch her eyes out.”

Steve picked up the pizza again, but paused with it half way to his mouth. ‘How do you accidentally scratch someone’s eyes out?”

Robin batted her eyes prettily. “I wouldn’t know, officer, I blacked out. The next thing I knew I was washing the blood off my hands.”

Steve threw one of the throw pillows at her head. “Don’t quote musicals at me!”

“Ha!” Robin crowed in delight, clutching the pillow to her chest. “The fact that you recognize it makes you the chump, not me!”

Steve opened his mouth to protest but then his eyes went wide when he had no argument for that.

“I’d love to see proper theater, you know,” he said dreamily. “Like with a proper orchestra and not just a tinny tape that skips in places and actual actors instead of Old Mr. Abernathy trying to play Hamlet.”

Robin winced. “He couldn’t even remember ‘To be or not to be’ and that’s like the one line everyone knows.” She shoved more fries into her face.

“Maybe when I get out on my own,” he said, snagging one of her fries right off of her plate, “I’ll go see plays in Indy or Bloomington.”

“You’ve just got to take me with you,” she huffed, grabbing the half bitten fry right out of his mouth and shoving it in her face. “I’ve been saving up all the money I’ve been getting from this job so I can get driving lessons at school. I won’t be able to drive my parents’ care very much, but it would still be nice to say I have it.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something but she held up her hand. “I know what you’re going to say and the answer is no. No, you can’t pay for my drivers’ ed classes. Because I want to pay for that myself.”

Steve pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s the point of having all this money if I can’t treat my friends to a little thing like a new car or new bikes.”

The new bikes were still a point of contention between Joyce and Steve. He had bought all of them new bikes and gear with exception of Max where he bought her a new skateboard and gear. All in their favorite colors. But she refused to let Will take his. She said it wasn’t his to spend and therefore to take it back until he could buy it with his own hard earned money.

Will stopped talking to his mother for a couple of days after that.

And Steve hadn’t blamed him, so he told Will to leave it at Mike’s and ‘borrow’ it when ever they rode out places. Joyce couldn’t stop him from doing that.

“I’m not saying not buy me a new car,” Robin huffed a little laugh. “I’m just saying I want to pay for the lessons myself. It’s more of an accomplishment thing.”

Steve perked up and batted his eyelashes at her. “Really? I can buy you a car a gift for passing your test? You’ll really let me?”

Robin laughed and threw a fry at his head. “Yes, dingus, you can but me a car. I talked it over with my parents and I told them that Eddie wanted to get me a car for all my hard work and that you’d be the one helping me pick it out.”

He grabbed the fry and threw back at her, it landing in her hair. “Oh that’s smart. I bet they had all sorts of restrictions on it being sensible and shit.”

But Robin shook her head. “My parents were hippies, not stupid. They know that if they try and restrict me I will come home with the reddest, wildest hot rod they’ve every laid eyes on.”

Steve laughed. “God, can we introduce them to Joyce? Because it sounds like they could teach her a thing or two.”

“I know right?” Robin said rolling her eyes. “Eat your pizza, you heathen and the next time I come I’m bringing proper Domino’s pizza with all sorts of toppings and you can find you actually like. In the mean time, open this present that is digging into my side.”

Steve reached out for it with grabby hands. “Oooh, I really liked the plushie from yesterday. I named him Kenny. Kenny the Canary.”

“Because of course you did,” she said dryly, handing over the package to him.

He could tell it was clothes just from the shape of the box. There was just something about them that screamed ‘hey I’m clothes!’ Inside was the most beautiful yellow cardigan. It was soft and warm.

The note said, “It may be hotter than balls in Hawkins, but up here in Canada, the weather is pretty mild. Not quite sweater weather, but I saw this and just had to get it for you. Just ten more days, little Canary.”

Steve buried his face into the softness of the sweater and nearly squealed in delight. Eddie had sprayed it with his cologne. Oh this was exactly what he needed.

Robin took the card from him and smiled. “He seems to really like you. I know a lot of the people you hang out with give you shit about Eddie and the money running out on you, but Steve, the way he writes these notes sound like someone who genuinely likes you.”

Steve set down the sweater with a sigh. “I know. But it’s the imbalance I’m worried about. I’ve already been called a gold digger. I don’t want that.”

Robin frowned for a moment. “My mom is making me apply for jobs at the mall. She says I can still do this, but she wants me to know ‘what real work is’.” She put air quotes around the last part. “Which is bullshit, but I’ll do it so I can keep doing this.”

She scooted over to him and put her arm around him. “So come with me and maybe we can get a job together, shove it everyone else’s faces, yeah?”

Steve nodded and curled up into her side. She was the only one besides Hopper who knew who his benefactor was and could offer a different perspective than anyone else.

“But in the mean time,” Robin said softly, “maybe talk to Hopper about getting Joyce to knock it off.”

He shook his head. “He’s tried. She has straight up told him that until he tells her who it is who’s funding you, she won’t drop the job thing.”

Robin winced. “And if she finds out who it is, she going to be worse. I haven’t met someone who wasn’t an adult when he left other than Hopper who liked Eddie Munson. I mean the only reason my parents are letting me do this is that Uncle Justin vetted the job and that Corroded Coffin would be on tour, while I stayed here in Hawkins.”

Steve sighed and sat back up. “That’s not even the biggest problem with them knowing. It’s having to explain where I was that Eddie would have seen me to help me out.” He changed his voice so it was higher and clutched his hands to his chest. “Yes, Mrs. Byers I was underage drinking at a bar in the hopes of getting laid so I had a place to sleep!” He dropped back down to his normal tone. “Yeah, like that will go over well.”

“Ooh,” she said with a grimace, “yeah I could see how that might cause waves with the parents. Like tsunami level waves.”

“Pretty much!”

Steve flopped his head back on the back on the sofa. “God, what a fucking mess.”

“Maybe just tell them you were going to see your cousin, Monty,” she suggested, “and you were smoking outside when you met Eddie. See if that goes over better.”

He let out a shuddering sigh. “Maybe. I know Monty would back me up if that’s the case. But I would rather wait until Eddie got home and see what he says.”

Robin nodded sagely. “That’s fair.”

~

They had decided to let Robin get all the applications and bring them over to Steve in the food court. He had ordered them a couple of large Orange Juilus’s and two huge slices of pizza from Sbarros.

She handed him a pen and they got to work filling out all the applications, by the time they were done, Steve’s hand cramped and he worked his fingers open and closed to try to get the muscles to work again.

Robin rolled her eyes, but wisely said nothing as she gathered up their applications to return to their stores.

Robin got three call backs, but Steve only got one. Thankfully it was one that Robin had also got, but it was Scoops Ahoy, the ice cream shop with the little costumes and silly hats. They were both hired on the spot.

~

Sorry if you saw chapter sixteen on here, too. I'll post it later!

Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24

Tag List: SIX SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

8- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

9- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts

10- @fearieshadow @kultiras @thesecondfate

[asunflowerana]

a good kind of nuinsance — Suna Rintarou

summary: you have a big project coming up, and to make things even worse, you're forced to work with the most stupid, handsome moron on campus.

genre: comedy, enemies-to-lovers trope.

n/a: not me pretending i'm the best friend haha. also, good reading!

“It will be fine!” She said. “It could be worse, trust me. And it will end soon!”

You wish you could stop believing in your best friend.

College is already a nerve-wracking place to deal with it, increasing even more in junior year. You need to work on your assignments, do presentations, fight yourself everyday to not procrastinate 24/7 or call off sick ‘cause your bed is too appealing; and in the end, you always freak out with your final exams, coffee becoming your best friend and clock your worst enemy.

What you don’t understand though, is why, in such a chaotic atmosphere, you still need to do group work?

And why, of all the people on this big campus, you got paired up with Suna Rintarou?

The struggle is real.

It’s not that you hate him. No, that’s not the case at all. It’s just that spotting his face alone is enough to make you want to change sidewalks even if the traffic signal is green and Formula 1 is happening on the street.

It all started with a single bump on the cafeteria entrance. His unnecessary hard body bumped against you and your hot chocolate cup, making all of your precious drink spill and fall into your previous white All Stars sneakers, staining the fabric and burning your skin to the soul.

And that boy had the nerve to mumble a “Watch where you’re going” before giving you a cold shoulder and leaving in a hurry.

Tables turned and you had your redemption one day later, refusing to lend him your notes of an important assignment, useful for the upcoming exams. It’s not your fault that his bicycle tire got pierced on the way to class, he should have been prepared and woken up early like every poor student in this college.

This “not so pleasant but still fulfilling” war has been going on between you guys for weeks. But unfortunately, his presence became more than a nuisance to you, and you absolutely detest now the way your heart flutters when you see that punk walking on the hall with that stupid, pretty face.

Annoying, handsome, punk.

And since your “so called” best friend knows about your hidden feelings, she decided to come up with a stupid solution for it.

You, her, Suna and Bokuto Koutaro, her adorable but very much ingenuous boyfriend, were supposed to do the group project together at a cozy cafeteria a few blocks from the campus main building, known for their delicious milkshakes and pretzels.

Nowhere to escape, you accept the invite, hoping your friend could take your mind away from Suna’s intruding. That, until Bokuto shouts:

“Shoot, I forgot there was practice today!” So exaggerated, he totally has no vocation to be an actor.

And your bestie had the audacity to join the act, forcing out a grimace. “Sorry guys, but we need to go.” She announces, not sorry at all, Bokuto taking her backpack with him like the doting boyfriend he is. “Please enjoy our milkshakes, we’ll text you later to see what you guys decided!”

“Good dat— I mean…. Bye!” Bokuto takes her hand and storms away from the cafeteria.

You can only sigh, disappointed at yourself for not predicting this might happen.

“Did they really leave us?” Suna asks incredulously, noticing the filled notebooks the couple left on the table. “They even made their parts already!”

You turn your gaze to him, feeling the beginning of a migraine.“Look, I’m not thrilled to work with you either. But the faster we start, the faster we’ll get rid of each other.” You proposed with little patience, taking a sip of your friend’s untouched strawberry milkshake. “Now, take that milkshake and let’s finish this quick.”

He huffs, but your surprise doesn't fight with you on this, and you both start a two-hours circle of working in silence, bickering at each other and working in silence again, making small progress with your parts on the project. You even start to agree with each other, Suna finding your suggestions “smarter than expected”, and you finding his ideas “not so bad for a moron”.

It’s strange, the feeling of being in agreement with Hajime on something, and it's noticeable his efforts of making the process as peaceful as it can be. This friendlier side looks actually cute on him (not that you were checking him out for the past thirty minutes), so you decide to be nice too, for the sake of good grades.

It only lasts a few minutes, and soon you’re arguing again.

“The information needs to be in Z. No one will pay attention if you fill the poster with notes all over it!” He argues one more time, trying to prove his point about the best position to the notes.

“But we need to put all the information we gathered! If we do it your way, we’ll need three more posters , and that's a waste of paper!” You defend your point as well, not wanting to back down from your proposition to the project’s presentation. 

“Well, if you want to really save paper, then you should stop wanting to put everything we wrote down inside a poster, when we don’t have to!”

“We do, if we want good grades in this class. Oh wait, I forgot, you don’t really know what it's like.!”

You’re both staring at each other dangerously, breath heavy and quick, like two bulls ready to strike each other. Thank goodness you’re in a distant booth, or you guys would probably be kicked out by now for the shouting.

Suna runs his hand over his black locks, tired of this unfinished argument. “You’re too annoying , you know that?” He hisses. 

“And you’re so stubborn, argh, I can’t stand you in my head anymore!” You almost shout out your frustration, letting slip the last words by accident, but lucky for you Suna’s too angry to catch what did you mean.

“Well, I wish you could leave mine too, but you’re still there every day!”

You’re shocked. Your heart’s pace fastens and your body suddenly feels numb, completely bewildered by his confession. Suna avoids eye-contact for a few seconds, staring at the table with a terrified look, his face reddening as the seconds go by. Why did he say that to you?

“I—” He clears his throat, trying to come up with a quick excuse to cover his mistake.“ I didn't—”

“What?” But you don’t leave room for excuses. “You didn’t mean you like me?”

His eyes widens. “No! I…. I….” He sighs. “ I didn’t mean to say it like that! But if you really want to know… yes. I like you. " He moves his eyes in your direction, taking your features for a moment. "Even if you get on my nerves every single day, I can’t get you out of my head. And I know we’re not on the best terms, but I can’t just pretend anymore…” He doesn’t need to finish his line. You’re just so overwhelmed with his confession, that staying a few moments in silence makes Rintarou take that as a rejection.

“I should go.” He begins to rise from his chair, but his movements are interrupted as you quickly hold one of his wrists, preventing him from moving away. He looks at you surprised.

“Would you find it strange if I said that I can’t pretend anymore either?” You can’t say the right words aloud yet, timid of what he might do with your confession, but the growing, pretty and genuine smirk on his face tells you made a good decision by opening yourself to him.

“I guess I own you a hot chocolate, then?”

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.

[thir10th]

The getaway pt.1 - Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

ALL OF THESE CAN BE READ AS STAND-ALONES

summary: you and Emily have been dating for several months now. When you finally get a free weekend, you decide to go on a little secret romantic getaway. tw: nothing yet, just fluff, a tiny bit of suggestive content but it's literally just a conversation, nothing else. secret relationship. a/n: you guys seemed to really like the idea so here it is! this first chapter so it's mostly to set the mood

Your leg shakes under the dinner table, waiting for Emily to finish up cooking dinner, her body swings around the kitchen, moving fluidly and confidently at the rhythm of the music she had chosen to play to set the abience.

You know she loves cooking, but you also know after getting home from a week-long case, this is the last thing she wants to do.

She always insists: "no baby, i'll cook, you can just sit there and look pretty, let me take care of it" and you loved her for that, but it hasn't been 12 hours yet since you had chased an unsub for three blocks.

She deserved a break. You both did. You had already decided that.

The pasta plate she sets in front of you with a big smile takes you out of your head, you smile back, it smells amazing, there's no doubt about it.

"I'm starving" she says, dropping on the seat in front of you, grabbing a fork and rolling up the spaghetti.

You move the pasta around, looking at her eat, trying to decide how to phrase it.

"what?" she asks mouth-fulled, noticing your stare.

"I wanted to ask you something" she leaves the fork, slurps up one last spaghetti hanging from her lips, and wipes her mouth with the napkin. Now you have her full attention.

"ugh, I'm... flattered, but-" she says in a sarcastic tone, but you cut her.

"relax, Em, I'm not asking you to marry me" she chuckles "i was thinking... you know how, if no case comes in tomorrow by five, we are having the whole weekend for ourselves, right?" you start.

"yeah, why?" she asks impatiently.

"well, I was talking to Penelope the other day, about how she had found this amazing hotel with Kevin, how they had had the best time, with activities for couples, good food, a big pool, you know, all that" she listens carefully at your words, without interrupting you, takes a sip of her wine, and nods, considering the idea.

"ok look" you grab your purse, taking a booklet you had printed out specifically for this conversation, hoping the images would convince her, you hand it to her so she can take a look.

She runs her eyes, scanning the photos on the booklet and reading over the information.

"it's been a long week, you deserve a break. We deserve a break" you conclude.

"Ooh- each room has a hot tub, and full time room service! and a steam room too?" she points out, looking at the pictures.

"And a balcony with views of the pool from every room! this could be it, Em, it's perfect for us." you add, after spending the whole trip back on the plane looking at their website, you had pretty much memorized it.

Emily angled her head to meet your eye. “If I have my way, you’ll be too occupied to appreciate the views.” the playfulness of her words making you smirk.

"So is that a yes?" you sigh in relief.

"Of course, sign me up!" a wide smile of excitement crosses her face, you let out a triumphant sound, shooting from your seat, walking up to her to grab her face and kiss her lips.

She grabs you by the waist and pulls you to sit onto her lap, your arms surround her neck, her grip tight on your hips to hold you in place.

"Oh, this is gonna be so nice! Think about it, no kids, all inclusive hotel for couples, no more hiding, nothing to worry about, just swim, and sex, and food" she grins at your words, her thumb traces slow circles on the skin left uncovered your shirt

"I could get used to that" she says kissing you again, this time longer, lovingly.

"honey?" she says, pulling away. "Yes?"

"You have already made the reservation, haven't you?" her profiling skills really never fail to amaze you.

"they had an excellent limited time offer, and i was pretty confident you were gonna say yes once I'd show you the booklet" you admit, and she chuckles, instead of getting upset, she just smiles at you and pecks your lips

"what have i done to deserve you?" she says, the dreamy sound of her words making you blush.

"well, dinner just now, and i believe i heard you say something about that balcony? with the views?"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

She frowns at her computer, sitting on her desk, she has been staring at the screen for a considerable amount of time now, you quietly walk behind her.

"exciting, isn't it?" she doesn't hear you coming by, your words startle her making her jump in her seat

"you scared me" she mutters so no one can hear the conversation.

"sorry" you sit on her desk, right in front of her "i just thought if you're gonna spend the last fifteen minutes staring at the clock, we should do it together"

She tries to fight the smile that threatens to spread on her face, she bites her lip and gives you a loving look with her big doe eyes.

"you know, this room is full of profilers, if they saw you here in my desk only a couple of minutes far from five, they might suspect something is going on here"

"something like what? no one has even noticed i'm here, i seat on your desk everyday, nothing new" you say, her eyes leave the computer screen to look at you now.

"oh, i don't know, something like: we have been dating for three months and as soon as we leave this building we are driving two hours to spend our weekend on a hotel resort for couples?" she says sarcastically.

"i just thought it would be fun to watch when the clock strikes 5:00 together, you know, just like in new year's eve, but without the kissing for obvious reasons. Although there will be plenty of that this weekend" she bites her tongue at your words. Teasing Emily has always been so much fun for you, since it's usually the other way around that she teases you.

"the last thing i want you to remind me is how we are actively lying at the people we care most about" she argues, trying to keep her cool

"well, no need to worry about that anymore" you say, and when you both look at the screen, the clock has turned. 5:00 pm, no case has come in, we're free" you state. You stay there, sharing a moment, you stare at each other's eyes.

"god, but how i wish i could kiss you right now" she mutters breaking the silence, her eyes move down to look at your lips, and just for a moment you consider the possibility of sending it all to hell and kissing her senseless right then and there.

"y/n, any plans for the weekend?" Morgan's presence takes you by surprise, he comes behind you carrying is bag, so close, it had been so close, but you'd have to pull up with your coworker's teasing too.

"uhm, yeah, well, not much, no, just, a movie maybe, but who knows really?" you say, Emily tries hiding her grin, but fails.

"did you hear about Prentiss' weekend?" Morgan asks, you shoot a look at her

"ugh, no, big plans?" you say looking at her, lifting an eyebrow in faked confusion

"She, is going away with her girlfriend" he teases, a cocky smile on his lips.

"a girlfriend?! Prentiss! who is the lucky girl?" you say, a little louder than intended. She looks annoyed now that you're joining the teasing from you coworker.

"it's a secret, apparently" Morgan explains, Emily opens her mouth to speak, but only a defeated sound comes out.

"what? really?" you keep up the play, but she shoots you a look of warning, one eyebrow up, her arm on her hip.

"ok, you know what? I'm gonna leave now, you guys can speculate all you want" she takes her bag, and walks to the elevator, you and Derek follow her closely, she does her best to hide her smile.

"hey, I myself feel pretty offended that she won't tell us, after all we've been through, don't you think I deserve a little better?" he says, holding his hand to his chest, while you three wait for the elevator.

"Now, I'm having some ideas of what you deserve right now" the slightly threatening tone of her voice makes your heart throb. You just want to let her push you against that elevator door, let her do whatever she wants to you.

"you know what, I think I'm gonna keep it to myself, just this one time" she concludes, getting out of the elevator, Morgan whines, but she doesn't let it go.

"ok, this way for me" he says, turning right to go find his parking spot

"I'll walk with you" you tell Emily, the corners of your lips curving into a smile. You both say goodbye to Morgan, he leaves with one last "i hope you have a nice one, Prentiss!" and leaves.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Entering the room, you realize how more spacious and comfortable it is that you though, although you should've guessed, considering the fact that i could fit a hot tub on one corner, a full bathroom and the king-sized bed without making it feel narrow.

The hotel bellboy opens the room for you, hands you both of your keys, and leaves. Emily had already taken it upon herself to carry the bags, as they aren't all that heavy. Plus she loved doing those kinds of things for you, carrying your bags, the kind of things you would tease her about for being the chivalrous kid of girlfriend.

After all, you're only staying for a weekend, even if Emily didn't really understand that you don't actually need that many pairs of shoes for only just two nights total.

You look around everywhere, walk to the bathroom, the shower is perfectly big enough to fit you both, and two sinks. You check the hot tub, nd finish your tour by walking to the windows and opening the curtains.

The broad balcony has two chairs, and direct views to the pool, you're high enough to go completely unnoticed by anyone who looked up from it.

You drop to the big bed, star-fished out, meanwhile Emily leaves both your bags right next to the bed.

You sit up, standing to meet her as she looks around the room herself, appreciating the size of it.

"wow, this is almost bigger than my living room" she says, still surprised.

You walk up to her, grab her by the hips and pulling her to you "what do you think?" you ask, she surrounds your neck with her arms, and kisses you sweetly.

"mh, i love it" she purrs, a soft smile on her lips, and kisses you again, this time softer, longer, her lips soft and reassuring, making sure you knew how much she loved it.

"and I love you" she says, her hands running through your back now, "even if you just spent a considerable amount of time mocking me" she adds, and you chuckle.

"it was perfect, he doesn't suspect a thing!" you try to defend yourself, but she's already kissing your neck, finding your pulse point that she knows drives you crazy

"yeah but you didn't think i'd let you just get away with it just like that, mh?" she says, trapping your earlobe between her teeth and biting it softly.

"well, as much as you know i want this, we have to go down for dinner, because someone claimed she didn't need any directions to find the parking lot, and that took about, half an hour" you say teasingly, giving her a soft swat on her ass, unwrapping your arms off her waist to hold her hand.

Emily pouts at the loss of contact, interwining her fingers with yours "well, i found it didn't i? yes, it might have taken me a little longer than expected...."

"half an hour, Emily! We are gonna miss dinner, c'mon, and you can think about how to 'not let me get away with it' when we get back" you grab the room key, and pull her with you, walking out and heading to the elevator door.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

okkk what are we thinking? this was an introduction more than anything, just to set the story.

Feedback here would be greatly appreciated, specially because if you guys have any ideas on how i should continue, or any specific scenarios, i'd be happy to try to add it!!

Like & reblog as always, I'll be publishing the next chapters as i write them so stay tuned for that <33

[triviallytrue]

I see the benefit in “was able to follow along each step and check for myself that the stated claim was true” but I’ve also seen people say the private vetting process can include things like “had a phone call with them where they fluently spoke the Palestinian dialect of Arabic” that can’t be checked by everyone, or “privately showed me their ID/birth certificate/bank info/official documents”, which probably shouldn’t be publicized. if these sorts of things (which seem fairly reliable if true) are indeed being involved in the process in at least some cases, how do you think people should vouch for that beyond a “trust me it’s vetted” without further clarification, or is it impossible to do so from your perspective since they could just lie?

so my suggested solution to these would be:

post a recording of the phone call, so that other Palestinian Arabic speakers can also attest that it's true

post redacted, watermarked versions of official documents

but you're getting at a very big problem: it takes a lot of information to vet people. the post i reblogged was only able to vet that one fundraiser because she's a PhD with a linkedin, instagram, tiktok, and pictures of her on a scientific organization's website. most people won't have that.

at a certain point, it also becomes a nightmare for the vetters (all or almost all of whom i suspect are just people trying their best in a horrific situation). if it takes an hour (or more) to fully vet one single gofundme, there are a single digit or low double digit number speakers of Palestinian Arabic on here with blog histories that stretch back before October 7th with the ability to vet people, and hundreds of gofundmes... well, you do the math.

this is the kind of work that is normally done by people who are paid to do it full-time, in a centralized fashion, not ad-hoc on the internet. amateurs are going to make mistakes - i've seen blogs successfully filtering out unsophisticated scammers, but this current discourse has already rooted out at least 3 scammers who made it onto the vetted lists. it's asymmetric - scammers can do this full time, hone their methods, figure out what exposed them last time and fix it, and overall iteratively improve the credibility of their scams, but vetters can't really keep raising the standards with the time and resources they have access to.

so unless we make the standards so high that they exclude many actual Palestinians (standards like the ones used in that ask), i think there will be some risk of even vetted fundraisers being scams. how big? 1%? 5%? 10%? i don't know, but it's definitely nonzero, and based on the uncovered scams so far, they are diverting thousands of dollars (possibly tens or hundreds of thousands) away from actual Palestinians.

which is why i think people should just donate to the UNRWA. there's a 100% chance your money will go to helping real Palestinians, and while it won't be as impactful for an individual as getting them across the Rafah crossing, that's only an option for a very small percentage of Palestinians anyway. as said before, there are 800,000 Palestinians in Rafah, something like 500 of which cross each day. those that can't cross and the Palestinians in other parts of Gaza deserve aid as well. people are at risk of starvation and have very limited access to medical care. donation to the UNRWA and organizations like it doesn't free anyone, but it does keep them alive, and the money doesn't end up in the pockets of corrupt Egyptian border officials who will wring every penny they can out of Palestinian refugees.

people are, of course, welcome to do whatever they want with their money, but those are my 2 cents.