#but I started by thinking about how strange it is to me that everyone acts like Frederick is only related to frasier

[usuallydyinginside]

"No One Mourns the Wicked" is about Glinda, not Elphaba

Okay, but hear me out. Wicked songs are so good at saying one thing and meaning something entirely different once you have more context. For instance, "I'm Not That Girl" is Elphaba singing about Glinda initially, then in Act 2 flips to Glinda singing about Elphaba. Because it turns out, Elphaba IS that girl and Glinda is not. When we meet the Wizard, he sings about how he always wanted to be a father. When you get to Act 2, you get the sad little reprise in the background music as he realizes that WHOOPS, he was one and he destroyed his only kid. "Defying Gravity" starts with "I hope you're happy" in the sarcastic sense and ends with them both using the same phrase to genuinely wish one another well.

"Thank Goodness" is set up as a cheerful engagement song where Glinda genuinely means "thank goodness for how great my life is" and ends in a place where she's insisting that she IS happy even as she realizes her engagement is a sham, her best friend is gone, and she's left with the Wizard and Madame M, who she doesn't even like.

You get the picture.

Basically, the whole musical is about subverting what you expect, starting with the base premise of "what if the Wicked Witch was the hero of the story" and digging in from there.

Honestly, I'd never paid much attention to the first song. It's a good opener, sets things up well, but it has some big competition with later songs. However, in the movie the staging and camera choices made me really notice it for the first time. Because you know what? Someone DID pay attention to that song, and you can really really tell.

For those who need a refresher, the lyrics to the chorus Glinda sings are: And Goodness knows The Wicked's lives are lonely Goodness knows The Wicked die alone It just shows when you're Wicked You're left only On your own I was always so busy noticing Glinda's grief over thinking Elphaba was genuinely dead that I failed to notice Glinda's grief over her OWN fate. The movie did such a good job with this because every time we get to the pink lines about being alone, Glinda IS alone. She is standing apart from the crowd who adores her. Standing above them. Standing at the center of a bunch of people yet still, isolated.

Because in the end, we know that Elphaba DIDN'T die alone. We know she wasn't on her own. We know her life WASN'T lonely ultimately. She had her flying monkey and animal friends. She had Fiyero.

And who does Glinda have?

Everyone, but realistically, no one. She is an ideal, not a person to most of Oz, just as much as Elphaba has become the token scapegoat. Where Elphaba is the "Wicked Witch," Glinda is "Glinda the Good Witch" - she is literally supposed to be the embodiment of goodness.

And what does Glinda have at the end of this whole thing (as of this song at least)? A disastrous end to her engagement, the death of her best friend, a sorceress who has hated her, demeaned her, and dismissed her from the start, and a con man who is also just a symbol more than a person.

I think it really hit me when Glinda throws the fire on the giant effigy of Elphaba. Ariana's acting was SO good there, because I'd expected us to see that private moment of horror or regret. What I didn't expect was the sort of determined and almost angry glare at the effigy.

But it makes sense. At this point, Glinda has realized that she lost everything and everyone she actually cared about.

As she so aptly puts it in "Thank Goodness"...

Though it is, I admit The tiniest bit Unlike I anticipated. But I couldn't be happier, Simply couldn't be happier, Well, not "simply" 'Cause getting your dreams It's strange, but it seems A little, well, complicated.

There's a kind of a sort of cost. There's a couple of things get lost. There are bridges you cross You didn't know you crossed Until you've crossed!

And if that joy, that thrill Doesn't thrill like you think it will Still-- With this perfect finale, The cheers and the ballyhoo! Who wouldn't be happier? So I couldn't be happier, Because happy is what happens When all your dreams come true.

Well, isn't it?

Happy is what happens when you're dreams come true.

It's not Elphaba's fault that Glinda has ended up this way. Glinda chose it every step of the way. Yet, if Glinda had never met Elphaba, (if she'd never known her, you could say), she might have stayed shallow and vain. She might never have been challenged to look deeper and realize how empty it all felt.

So as Glinda sings "No One Mourns the Wicked," she realizes that even if the Munchkins are singing about the "Wicked Witch," she's not.

She's singing about herself.

The one who traded her morals, friendship, and love for a taste of the admiration and power over those who don't really know her. The one who was so worried about being likable that she herself doesn't like who she's become.

Even after she makes things better for Oz and herself by sending the wizard away and getting rid of Madame M, it just leaves Glinda by herself as the leader and source of goodness in Oz. It leaves her on a pedestal she can never step off of.

It leaves her lonely.

Entirely alone.

[lordelmelloi2]

It's normal for teens to be attracted to other teens, hell it's normal for teens to find adults attractive, but I do think that like. The phenomenon I witnessed in the circles I saw here on tumblr and twitter where we had *Grown Men, Women, And Everyone in-Between Or Neither Or Otherwise*, people who are adults, constantly talking about how bad Castoria needed to get fucked or how much of a sex pervert she was ... I don't know how anyone can witness anyone talking like that about a teenager and not be like, WTF? It was fucked up because so much of LB6 is strictly about Castoria's trauma and neglect, how she only could rely on Ector, and how her supports have been ripped away from her, and how she's expected to do this grand act without a chance to live humanely or experience life or love... and people just wouldn't shut up about sex or petplay or fucking whatever. And she's like just a teenager. She's 16. But people kept acting like she had absolutely insane raging hormones, and projecting their own sexuality onto her, and the shit ppl wrote and drew was like... bro is she not like in dire need of some happiness that doesn't assume sex fixes everything about her? Or rather, do you idiots really think sex just cures you and everything you ever went through? Is sex the end goal of happiness for yall? It just felt demented as fuck. Like, who cares? But also why is it any of their business?

That's what drives me nuts and people talk about it seriously when it's like, American media, like I read conversations discussing how weird it is that tv runners and filmmakers love hyperfocusing in on teenage sexuality & sexualizing teenagers, how burdensome that for teens they can't enjoy media meant for their age group without *somebody* joyfully writing or trying to depict how much Sex they're having or how Sexy they are... I'm not even asexual, I just think this is a patriarchal problem that a ton of people just decided didn't matter anymore. Like it's ok to sexualize teen girls because they're teenagers. And if they're anime it's doubly okay because otaku don't care about that stuff. "Buh its Fikshon. Its make believe its pretend" type excuses made by people who think you don't passively absorb messages about how you should be acting, how you should talk, or look, or behave, depending on the positive connotation and depiction of anything in media. Like we're already aware we are slaves to advertising. Im getting ahead of myself here so let me like recap my thoughts:

- I think a ton of adults have this assumption that fictionality means 1) No teens will see it and internalize Sex = Value, 2) No adults will internalize that it's ok to treat teens like this and start behaving strangely towards teenagers

- "oh well then we should never depict teenage sexuality" How about this: Teenage sexuality has rarely been depicted with the dignity that allows teens to process real emotions about it rather than simply existing as spectacle and entertainment for pedophilic, boundary-lacking, disrespectful adults. And teens know this.

- Castoria is just so blatantly a little girl that needs like guidance and support and real ways of treating her like a person first that when I see people jump to speculating her sex life or talk about fulfilling her through sex I just want to strangle them. It is mostly adults that I have witnessed doing this and very rarely teens.

- I don't trust these adults because I think they have implicit bias directed towards being disrespectful of the boundary between adults and teenagers, they likely don't understand that that boundary is about respect, it's about treating those younger and less experienced than you with dignity and not forcing expectations onto them, they don't understand that negating that boundary is predation. A teenager is not your emotional equal. Or rather, they shouldn't be -- and if they are, and you're an adult, you need to understand your own maturity being on par with a teenager's doesn't mean you have the right to make adult expectations of a teenager. & I think that last bit as a principle applies to Many, Many things, not just sexual abuse dynamics

- I think if people try to strawman and say "well we can never talk about sex ed then" are also stupid because any sex educator will tell you there are clear cut boundary respectful ways that you can advise minors on sex ed and health that are able to answer their questions Without being disrespectful towards the minors involved or prying or treating them as equals to you.

- The older I get the more I realize the sheer and utter gap between a 16-17 yo and Any person above like. TWENTY years old and I start getting angrier and angrier the more instances I see of people talking about teens, fictional teens, teenagers in media, ETC. like they're sex symbols instead of like. Just. Kids. They're kids. They are literally kids that are growing up. My god. You do not really start to understand until you hit like 25 on average, I think, how absolutely batshit insane it is for ppl to be fantasizing about teenagers. & Quite frankly. I find it all starkly antifeminist and properly aligned with fascist ideals to be obsessed with this kind of thing as a virtue of sexual ""liberation"" or whatever people are saying these days. What exactly is liberatory about this and who does it benefit? In what way? What kind of ideas and power does this align with in our current political climate?

Asides from her being 16 years old it does make me insane when people talk about how bad they wanna fuck Castoria or how bad they need her to get fucked or something. I think these people are just straight up deranged. Maybe its bc I have kids but like theres noooo fucking way anyone who looks at Castoria and is fantasizing about anything sexual wrt her isn't a predator in some way bc how the fuck do you look at a sheltered, emotionally neglected 16 yr old like that and start immediately thinking about sex. She should be doing a nature walk field study and like playing basketball with her friends and going to hot topic not doing whatever the hell these weirdos think she should be doing lmfao

[thatscarletflycatcher]

My contrarian spirit is watching the early seasons of Frasier and trying to concoct what would be a redemption arc for Maris.

[dyketennant]

oh i can already tell i’m about to have some really unpopular opinions about the edge of sleep tv show

[girlscience]

having some thoughts today about sexuality and for the first time in a long fucking time they are positive. had an experience last night and i won't go into detail, but afterwards i was thinking "that was for me and i don't want to and would not want to ever share that with anyone else". and now i'm having thoughts today about maybe my sexuality is for me and it's not about other people. it's about what i enjoy and what feels good to me and maybe i would invite someone else into that someday, but my sexuality would exist for me even if i never had a sexual partner in my whole life. i shouldn't worry about or struggle with or try to label myself for that potential partner or my family or my friends or random people online or strangers on the street. it's just about me and what i enjoy. what makes me feel good. and for some reason that's not something i ever really realized before. my sexuality isn't a nutrition label on a can of soup, it isn't some political opinion or experience, it isn't alienating to others, and it certainly isn't a moral stance. it is an internal experience for me to enjoy first and foremost and that has nothing to do with other people.

[aperrywilliams]

My Lover Boy (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Request: "Can you write something super angsty, like the reader and Spencer have something going on, but technically, they're just friends, and then everything with Lila Archer happens? She's sad but tries not to show it to him, and he is mad at himself for getting with Lila. Derek is teasing him, and it's super angsty, but it all ends up okay."

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: You think something is going on with Spencer, something beyond friendship. But you start to question it when a case in LA pushes Spencer to spend time with Lila Archer.

Word Count: 4.6k

TW: Angst with a happy ending. Use of some strong words. Some suggestive comments. Mention of having sex. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: Thanks for the request! Keep sending them to me.

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"Hey, did you get something?" You ask Spencer when he returns to the precinct. He and Gideon were at a gallery open to obtain information for the case you are working on in LA.

Spencer shrugs. "Not really. They all were more interested in photos and the press."

"Celebrities," you huff playfully, and Spencer chuckles.

"Yeah. Something like that," Spencer agrees.

"I'm going to grab some coffee. Do you want some?" You offer, standing from where you were checking the case folders.

"Sure," Spencer accepts, sitting and grabbing a folder for himself to inspect. You pass by him and squeeze his shoulders in a gentle gesture, subtly kissing his head.

"I'll be right back," you murmur before leaving the room.

Things with Spencer have been kind of odd for a while. Sure, you still are coworkers and friends, but ultimately, it is like you both are getting to terms with the idea that something else is going on. You don't know what it is really, and neither of you has sat to talk about it.

Why? Lack of time, maybe? Fear of being misreading the signals? Both?

Whatever it is, you have been acting like nothing is happening, although you almost kissed after a bar outing two weeks ago. You would have if Morgan hadn't called Spencer when you were about to kiss outside your apartment.

After the interruption, neither of you brought up the topic again.

Now you are stuck in LA, trying to solve a case involving celebrity killings. So, of course, the media and the locals have been nailing your asses for answers.

There is no time for anything else but to try to catch the unsub as soon as possible. Hotch asked you to narrow the unsub comfort zone. It's a task that's usually assigned to Spencer, but Hotch has him tracking information from one of the possible unsub's targets: Lila Archer, an actress with a promising career ahead.

"Pretty boy now has the best assignment in this case," Derek sighs as he slumps into one of the chairs in the meeting room.

Elle and you scoff at his dramatics. Morgan points an accusing finger at you.

"If you have seen her, I'm sure you would agree with me."

Neither of you pays too much attention to Derek's tantrum and keeps working instead.

It's almost night, and when Hotch returns to the precinct with Gideon and no Spencer in sight, you raise an eyebrow.

"Where is the genius?" Elle asks.

"With Miss Archer. We need to keep an eye on her, and Reid has the rapport already," Hotch explains before asking for your progress in the task you were assigned.

How does Spencer suddenly become a bodyguard? You don't know, but don't question it. You assume Hotch knows what he's doing.

An hour later, Garcia calls, saying the cameras at Lila's property show a strange person wandering around. The fact Spencer is not answering his phone makes everyone flock out of the police station, and all of you think the unsub is trying to get into the house.

What if the unsub is already inside and hurt Spencer? Shit, you are a nervous wreck, although you try to mask it to the rest of the team.

When arriving at the house, Hotch split everyone: Morgan and Elle are assigned to the front. Hotch and you take the backyard. Gideon, with the patrols, canvass the main street.

As you approach, your heart beats faster and faster. With your gun aimed, you're ready for anything but the fact you hear laughing coming from the pool.

You are covering Hotch's back, and he is as confused as you after opening the gate.

You both see Lila getting out of the pool in a fit of laughs and Spencer, entirely clothed, inside the pool.

"Are you okay, Miss Archer?" Hotch asks, holstering his gun and checking the surroundings with his gaze.

"Oh, Agent Hotchner. I didn't know you were coming," she mentions casually, wrapping a towel around her torso.

Realizing danger isn't imminent, you holster your gun, too, and reach a hand to help Spencer.

"What the hell happened?" You ask him as you take in his drenched clothes and wet gun resting at the edge of the pool. Spencer doesn't look at you, only mumbling, "I fell."

Well, weird but not implausible, considering Spencer isn't the best-coordinated man in the world.

You help him, grabbing a towel from a chair and handing it to him. You take his gun and remove the bullets from the soaked chamber.

You want to know more about the whole situation, but before you have the chance to ask Spencer, you see Derek, Elle, and Gideon coming.

Finally, the alert came from a paparazzi who was around the house and wanted to take photographs of Lila. And regarding the pool? Lila said that she wanted a dip, and unfortunately, Dr. Reid tripped and fell.

No one says anything about it, but the looks Elle and Derek give Spencer catch your attention, as does the way Spencer avoids talking to you until you are called to return to the precinct.

Despite the incident, Lila insists Spencer stay as you continue investigating the evidence.

So you all come back to the station, minus Spencer.

You don't know why Elle instructs you to check the camera roll recovered from the paparazzi, but there you are, in a dark room, revealing what could be pieces of evidence.

What you do not expect is the kind of images that are showing before your eyes: Spencer and Lila Archer making out in the pool.

What-the-fuck?

Now, the scene you found when you arrived at the place with Hotch makes a little more sense. Spencer was entirely soaked while Lila, with a smug expression, walked into the house with a towel around her torso.

You don't know what reaction comes first. But you can recognize the deception and the way your heart shatters into a million pieces.

They were kissing. In the pool. At night. Like nothing is happening around them.

You have been working your ass to catch an unsub, and the doctor is enjoying himself with a movie star. In addition, they lied about the whole ordeal.

The tears pool in your eyes, but you are fighting not to let them fall. Not here. Not for Spencer. Not for anyone.

Why bother, anyway? You are just friends.

What? Will you ask him for an explanation?

It's not your place, even if you thought something was going on between you both.

How stupid you are. You don't stand a chance with him. Spencer only sees you as friend material.

With the entire film revealed, you shove the photos into a manila folder and leave the dark room.

Elle raises an eyebrow when she spots you walking toward her. You throw the folder over the table.

"Here's what you asked me for," you say in a harsh tone before turning around and walking out of the precinct. Elle doesn't say anything and doesn't need to open the folder to know what's going on.

When the team moves to Lila's house again a few hours later, already knowing who the unsub is, you stay behind in connection to Garcia to coordinate at the police station. You don't need to be there again.

You won't get exposed to see Spencer and Lila together.

Early in the morning, with the killer in custody and Lila Archer safe, you are ready to come back to Virginia.

During the flight, you seclude yourself in the farthest seat, headphones on and eyes closed. It works. No one disturbs you.

But you fail to notice Spencer's eyes on you the entire time.

After touching down, Hotch gathers you in the office to do the debriefing when you only want to go home.

Spencer tries to talk to you a few times, but you slip away from him every time, using whatever excuse not to speak.

Finally, Hotch officially closes the case and sends you home with two days off. Without saying goodbye to anyone, and with your heart broken, you run out of the BAU.

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Spencer looks for you when he exits the conference room, but you're already gone. His guts tell him something happened to you, and he is worried. Usually, you're open to talking to him, and with this thing going on between you both, Spencer doesn't know how to ask you about it. But even if he wants to do that, he needs to have you in the same room first.

And that will only happen once you are back at the BAU in two days.

He thinks maybe he should go to your place but refrains from the idea. Perhaps you're just tired, and he doesn't want to make it worse.

He doesn't know you sulked in your apartment the entire time, and when you all return to work two days later, you are not still talking to him.

Spencer trails behind you like a lost puppy. He tries to make some conversation with you every chance he gets, but you avoid him like the plague. Spencer still doesn't know why you're acting so cold with him, so he goes to someone who might know: Elle.

Spencer walks to her desk, ready to get some kind of answers.

"What is it, Reid?" Elle asks without looking at him. Spencer clears his throat.

"Do you know if something happened to her?" he questions, referring to you. Elle rolls her eyes in annoyance before lifting her gaze to him.

"Are you kidding me right now, Reid?"

Spencer frowns in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

Huffing, Elle digs through the stack of folders on her desk, pulls out the one with the photos you developed, and passes it on to Spencer.

"Serve yourself, genius."

Spencer proceeds to check what is inside, and his cheeks immediately start to burn.

"She - she saw these?" Spencer stutters. Elle pulls a face.

"If she saw these? She developed the camera roll and gave these to me."

Spencer wants to die. It makes perfect sense, but that means he screwed it up.

"Why did she do that?! I mean, no one else could have done it?"

"I asked her to," Elle says, folding her arms over her chest.

"Why did you do that?!" Spencer squeals.

It doesn't matter why, but he still can't believe you saw everything. Spencer knows it was wrong to kiss Lila back, but for him, it didn't mean anything. His heart already belongs to you, even if he hasn't told you yet.

"What did I know that she would find out photos of you and Lila sucking each other's faces? I thought there were only pictures of Miss Startlet swimming and you stupidly falling into the pool. Isn't that you told me happened?"

Spencer Reid has rarely been left speechless, but this is one of them. A mixture of shame, regret, and anger at himself makes his stomach churn, and he wants to dig a hole to disappear.

He needs to explain to you what happened. But how could he approach the subject? You and Spencer are friends in the first place, and he didn't tell you what really happened in that pool. You had to see it for yourself in those pictures.

And thinking about your 'situationship' makes it even worse.

Spencer leaves Elle's desk, thinking about what to say and looking for the best moment to talk to you. But luck isn't by his side: in mid-morning, Hotch announced there is a case.

At least it's local this time.

In the afternoon, he spots you walking alone in one of the hallways. It's now or never, he thinks.

"(Y/N), wait!"

Hearing your name, you reluctantly turn only to see Spencer jogging to catch up with you. You want to turn again and leave, but it won't be subtle if you do that.

"What is it, Spencer? There is something about the case?" You ask flatly. Spencer knows you know it isn't about the case, but he has to assume you don't.

"I - uh. No. It's not the case. I - I just want to make sure you are okay?" His voice is wary, and the fidgeting of his hands is a tale-telling that he's nervous.

"I'm okay. I'm great, actually," you say, faking cheerfulness. Your patience runs thin, and Spencer isn't helping.

He frowns, knowing what you are doing.

"Don't be like that. I really wanted to make sure you are okay," he mumbles shyly. You cross your arms over your chest—a defiant look in your eyes.

"And why I wouldn't, uh? Something bad happened to me? There is a single reason why I shouldn't be okay?"

Spencer contemplates his response for a second. How does he say it in a way that does not sound self-centered?

"I don't know. You haven't talked to me since the last case in LA."

Spencer opts to bring up the obvious and let the overwhelming evidence out of this for now.

"And that bothers you?" You ask in a disbelief tone.

Spencer knows this isn't working.

Damn to his inability to lead meaningful interactions when he needs to.

"Yes! I mean, we - we're friends. You can tell me if something is going on."

The friend card. Spencer thinks it's the safest approach. But he's wrong. You laugh humorlessly.

"Honestly, Spencer? I don't know if we are friends anymore."

Your tone tries to be cold, but behind it, there is a tiny wavering you try to suppress at all costs.

"What? Why are you saying that?"

That's the limit Spencer reaches and pushes you to snap.

"Because friends don't lie to each other! When I asked you what happened at Lila's house, you lied to me!"

Spencer gulps because he knows you are right.

That is what he needed to say first, and not have to wait until you were who threw it at him.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, gazing at his feet.

And then again, the guilt, the embarrassment.

Why did he do it? He isn't attracted to Lila. Why did he kiss her back?

"Yeah, me too. But you know? I'm glad. I'm glad you finally found someone and that now I know where I stand."

It hurts you to say the words. Spencer can see the crack in your demeanor, and he is the one to blame.

"What? No! No, I'm not- I didn't find someone," he chimes in an attempt to clear this up. "It's not what you think."

"Isn't? I saw the pictures, Spencer. I developed them myself. I know what I saw."

"She kissed me!" Spencer exclaims, trying to get afloat because he feels he's drowning.

"So what? If that's the case, you kissed her back!" You spat, angry at the lame explanation coming from Spencer's mouth.

"It was a mistake! I shouldn't have done that! You have to believe me."

Spencer tries to take hold of your hand, but you don't let him, yanking your arm and keeping your distance from him.

"Why do you think it's a mistake? Uh? She's pretty, almost famous, she's into you. I don't think it is," you start, and Spencer frowns. "What I can't understand is why you didn't tell me the truth before I could find out from those goddamn photos. What did you expect? That I would criticize you? What would bother me about your love adventures in Hollywood? You said it yourself: we're just friends."

"(Y/N), please," Spencer tries to get to you but is to no avail.

"It's your fucking life, Spencer. Do what you want with it! But let me out of it."

Without another word, you storm out to who knows where but far away from him.

Spencer knows he fucked up big this time. And his attempt at apology made things only worse.

He didn't see you for the rest of the case. Spencer assumed you secluded yourself in Garcia's office.

From his spot at his desk, he can only see Elle's disapproving look.

There is no reasonable reason for what he did, and that consumes Spencer's brain. He doesn't like Lila. He has been pining for you long enough to be sure he loves you.

'Men are men,' Elle usually says when Derek brags about his conquests. Spencer always felt proud of not being that way. And what happens when a pretty actress jumps at him? He goes with it. Elle is right, then. He is like any other man.

The question is if he will do something to gain your trust - and affection - back. How can he fix this?

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A whole week has passed since the case in LA. The BAU looks pretty much the same as always, if not for the fact you only talk to Spencer when it is strictly necessary. The team doesn't pick up much of it, though. Only Elle knows what's going on, but she won't pester you with questions or unrequited advice.

Spencer is doing nothing extra to call your attention, although you can feel his eyes on you sometimes during the day. But you assume he got your message, and he'll go on with his life.

The problem is you can't bring yourself to do the same. You know your chances with Spencer are a past thing, but your heart still doesn't get the memo. And you try, really try to be neutral, professional, and collected. It works in the majority because nobody asks questions or refers to what happened in LA.

But the state of 'everything is fine' in you is fragile, and you know that.

It's Friday afternoon, and everyone wants to end their reports to go finally home. You see Spencer from the corner of your eyes. He is deep-writing in what you assume are the details from the last case. Elle is doing the same. You are trying to focus on your work, but the tiredness makes you go slower than you want.

Suddenly, the glass doors open to reveal a grinning Derek Morgan walking straight to Spencer's desk with something under his arm. It looks like a newspaper.

"Hey, lover boy!" Derek claps Spencer's back with a shit-eaten smirk plastered on his face. Spencer looks up at Derek with a frown. "Don't look at me like that Casanova. You are the one who didn't tell me about your little something with Miss Starlet."

Morgan places a newspaper he's carrying on Reid's desk. The cover is a photo of him making out with Lila Archer.

"W- what?" Spencer stutters as his cheeks redden. His eyes quickly move from the newspaper to find yours, and you only want to disappear. Averting his gaze, you try to focus again on the file you are reading. Elle rolls her eyes from her desk.

"My man! You slept with her that night, didn't you?"

"Morgan, stop," Spencer pleads, but Derek doesn't relent, even when the air in the room becomes way thick in instants.

"You can tell me! Is she good? I bet she is-"

"Morgan, no!" Spencer's high-pitched voice tries to make Morgan shut up.

"Come on, give me something pretty boy. She is wild in bed, doesn't she? How many hickeys did she leave on you?"

You actually cringe at Morgan's words. The sole idea of Lila and Spencer sleeping together makes you sick to your stomach.

You're about seconds to stand and get out.

Elle, who is observing the whole scenario - thing Derek doesn't - huffs in irritation.

"Why don't you and lover boy go to spill your gut about your sex life out of here? We are trying to work if you didn't notice."

Morgan frowns. Usually, Elle backs up his teasing to Spencer. But when he is about to say something again, you're - not so subtly - grabbing your things and storming out from the bullpen.

Your collected attitude goes out of the window.

All of them be damned, you think.

Spencer is standing right away to chase after you, leaving Morgan with a confused look, silently asking Elle what the hell just happened.

"I am only going to say that you are a total asshole, Derek Morgan," Elle states before returning to her files.

Meanwhile, you're pressing the elevator button, and you can feel Spencer rapidly nearing you.

“(Y/N)! Please, wait!"

When he's by your side, you intentionally look to another way.

"Not now, Spencer. Just let me go."

Just let me go. That statement has more meaning than the explicit one you're voicing.

"Morgan is only messing with me. I didn't sleep with her."

Spencer thinks blurting the truth will be enough to stop you from running away from him. But things are already more complicated than that.

"It doesn't matter, Spencer. Now, let me go."

Your insistence is more like an agonizing plea. You're so tired. There is no fight you want to engage in right now. You think you won this time when the elevator doors open, but it's short-lived as you see Spencer stepping inside as well.

"No! It does matter!"

The elevator doors close, and now only are you and him.

"Why? Uh? Why is it so important for you to tell me this?"

Your sudden raised voice takes Spencer aback. You're pissed off.

"Because - because it is the truth!" He defends.

And maybe he's right. Perhaps he didn't sleep with Lila, but your heart is already broken, and you only need space to get used to the idea and heal.

"Spencer. I already told you you don't owe me an explanation. Truth or not, it is not my business anyway."

Your tone is not angry but deflated, exhausted. Your gaze drops to the floor.

Spencer wants to scream; there is so much in his chest to say, but his brain doesn't cooperate in spilling something coherent.

"But I want it to be!" He decides to say, and he gets you to look at him again.

"What? are you talking about?"

"I want it - I want it to be your business," Spencer repeats, and you don't know what to say; you don't even know what he means.

The elevator dings and the door opens. You both stand there for a second, frozen after what looks like a confession. Or not. You're not sure.

"You don't know what you are saying," you mumble, deciding to move and pass him to walk into the parking garage.

"I know I should have said this before," Spencer continues walking after you. "I know I should have said something that night when we almost kissed. I regret I didn't."

You stop when he mentions that night. At this point, you thought he didn't care, and it didn't mean anything to him.

"Nothing happened that night," you say bitterly.

"But it should have. Don't tell me you didn't feel it," Spencer poses a hand on your shoulder to stop you from turning away again. Your eyes fill with tears, but you're fighting not to let them fall.

"And what if I did? It doesn't change anything," you shrug, a painful look in your eyes.

"It does! Because I love you and I do really want to make it up to you. I want you back. I want to amend the hurt I caused you for my stupidity."

Did he say 'I love you'? That takes you aback.

"Spencer-"

"I know I messed up. I know it was stupid to kiss Lila back. It doesn't matter if she did it first or not; you're right. But believe me, it didn't mean anything to me because she was not you. She is not you and will never be."

"You're confusing things," you shake your head, still not giving credit to his confession.

"After our fight the other day, I really thought about stepping back and leaving you alone. I have been torturing myself all week trying to conceive a life without you on it, mourning the lost of our friendship, and above all, mourning the lost of the prospect of to be your person, and you to be mine."

You can't keep your tears at bay anymore, so you let them free. Spencer cups your cheeks, and you can see tears in his eyes, too.

"But I can't. I can't let you go. Not without telling you the truth. And if you don't feel the same, that's okay; I won't push any further, and I'll leave you alone."

You can't tell him that you don't feel the same way because that would be the biggest lie in the universe. You are also sure that you love him, and that is why this situation has broken you so much.

You blink away some of your tears as Spencer looks at you, trying to read the truth in you.

"I think I have been in love with you since ever," you blurt out, with a half sob and half chuckle. "And I felt so heartbroken seeing you kissing her, and now Derek comes suggesting-" you trail off.

"Hey, don't think about that. I messed up, and I didn't say anything earlier because, to me, it didn't mean anything. I'm so sorry," Spencer apologizes, running his thumbs under your eyes to wipe some of your tears.

"How can - how can we start over?" you ask him shyly but hopefully. Spencer hastens to reply.

"The way you want it. If you want time to think, or if you want us to go slow, we can do that. If you wish to, can we go on a date first? Officially, a date? We can do that," Spencer rambles, and you smile for real for the first time in weeks.

"Yeah, we can go on a date, officially a date," you concede, and Spencer can't contain his excitement. "But, can I ask you for something first?"

"Of course. Just name it," Spencer says as his hands rub your shoulders lovingly.

"Can you kiss me now?" You request, with the most faked innocent look you can muster, making Spencer laugh.

"I can do that," he nods, looking at you intensely, gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips. Then Spencer leans down, closing his eyes at midway. You wait with batted breath until finally, his lips softly touch yours.

It's a tentative, sweet kiss. Your arms go up Spencer's shoulders until they land on his neck. His hands fall to your hips to pull you closer as the kiss deepens. It's no longer exploratory; it's hungry, messy, passionate, and you couldn't have wanted it any other way. You're sure this kiss is a thousand times better than the one he had with Lila, and Spencer completely agrees with that assessment because it's you.

That makes it perfect.

It's the need for air that makes you part after a while.

"Wow," you both say at the same time, starting to laugh like teenagers and trying to catch your breath.

When the laugh subsides, you narrow your eyes in contemplation and Spencer's eyebrow furrow.

"What?" he asks, and you look at him—a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"We agreed to a date first, right?" you ask, and Spencer nods.

"What if we skip that and make up for the lost time? What do you say, my lover boy?" you suggest, with a playful smirk on your face. Spencer's cheeks flush, but he is definitively excited with the idea. He quickly grabs your hand and runs with you to your car.

There is a lot to make it up, he agrees.

------------------ 

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers 

[briefinquiries]

Spencer Reid x Reader: Until You Do

Prompt: You & Reid have unspoken feelings for each other.

Word count: 6.7k

Warnings: blood / injury mention

A/N: This is a shameless repost (still trying to repost my fics since they got deleted. Enjoy :)

“Sorry I’m late,” Spencer says as he hurries into the briefing room. In one swift motion he slides his bag off his shoulder, laying it gently on the floor beside him, as he takes a seat in the only empty chair around the table. 

Emily nods slightly in response, simultaneously telling Spencer that his lateness was excused, while also encouraging Garcia to continue presenting the team’s current case. 

“Right, um, two people have been murdered outside of Seattle in their homes all within the last two weeks-”

While Garcia continues to speak, you let your gaze wander towards Spencer.  His eyes are intently staring at the picture presented on the screen. He looks okay today, still tired, but not as disheveled as you’ve seen recently. You wonder if maybe he slept in today, and that was why he’d been late to work.  

Prentiss starts talking about the victimology of the case when Spencer’s eyes shift and catch yours. Instantly, you’re flooded with the embarrassment of being caught staring. You swallow the lump in your throat and quickly move your gaze into your hands resting in your lap. You feel Spencer’s eyes linger on you for a few moments longer, all the while hoping that he doesn’t notice the shade of pink your cheeks are slowly turning.  

Focus, you think to yourself.You have a job to do. You turn your attention to the grisly murder scene displayed on the screen and tune back into Garcia’s voice.

“But hold onto your hats, crime fighters, because that’s not even the worst of this whole thing,” she elaborates. “On top of… all the gory things Emily just said, these poor people were all found missing parts of their liver and pancreas.” Her face contorts into a look of disgust, as if just saying the words out loud brought a bad taste to her mouth. “And check this out,” Garcia clicks a button on her remote and brings up a coroner’s report on the screen.

Reid scans the document faster than anyone else. He’s the first to speak. “They were alive when the Unsub cut out their organs.”

Garcia’s sad inhale can be heard throughout the room. “And that is why I am perfectly happy staying in the safe confinement of my bat cave while you all go out and fight evil.”

After Emily calls for wheels up in twenty, the team disperses out of the briefing room, each heading to their desks to gather their to-go bags and whatever other materials they might need for the ride to Seattle. 

“Does Spence look off to you today?” JJ’s voice comes from behind you while you rummage through the top drawer of your desk for your cell phone. She leans against your chair casually and looks towards Reid. He’s standing across the room, clutching his shoulder bag and listening intently to something Matt was saying. 

“What?” you sputter, just the sound of Spencer’s name sending you into overdrive. “How should I know?”

You realize only after the words leave your mouth how defensive they sound. You bite your lip and try to backpedal. “I mean, I don’t know. He seems fine to me.”  

JJ narrows her eyes at you, clearly not buying your act. She is a profiler after all. But before she can interrogate your strange behavior any further, you stand up, grabbing hold of your duffel bag, and brush past her towards the exit. 

The truth is, you’ve had feelings for Spencer for a while now. Longer than you’d like to admit. But you’re barely able to admit that to yourself, let alone anyone else. Especially anyone on the team.  

Your love is unrealistic and unrequited. A combination that is destined for disaster. So, despite everything inside of you screaming for you to act on your feelings, you choose to bury them.  Because that is what’s best for everyone. Everyone except for you.  

…

Spencer tries not to overthink you staring at him. Or the way your cheeks blushed that beautiful shade of pink when he caught you. He can’t keep getting his hopes up when it comes to you, though. He’s already been let down so many times.  

He thinks back to the very first week you joined the Bureau. God, he was absolutely starstruck as soon as you walked through the door. And if Luke hadn’t commented on the drool pouring down Spencer’s chin, he’s sure his mouth would’ve dropped all the way to his feet.  

He’s even more intrigued the more he gets to know you- or rather, not know you, as time went on. Your incessant need for privacy peaked Spencer’s interest. You are mysterious, and Spencer’s always loved a good mystery. 

“Would you want to get dinner with me tonight?” Spencer had asked you, only a month after you’d joined the team.  

He still remembers how nervous he was, his clammy hands clutching tightly to the strap of his bag. He had to remind himself to breathe or else he might have passed out. 

You barely looked up from the paperwork at your desk before turning him down. “Can’t tonight, I’m playing catch up,” you had said, your voice was void of anything even resembling interest. 

“Don’t give up,” Luke had told him, clapping his shoulder roughly in the elevator. “I think she’s into you. Just ask again in a couple days, maybe she really was just busy.”

Now that his confidence was shaken, it took extra convincing in order to gain enough courage to ask you to dinner a second time.  His stomach was full of butterflies, which Spencer always thought was a stupid analogy until now. But he swears he can feel their wings fluttering around inside of him as he approaches you, putting your coat on and ready to head home. 

“Uh, H-Hi,” he stutters. “Do you want to grab some dinner? With uh, with me?” He can hear the shakiness in his own voice.  

“Sure,” you had replied, looking up just as you finished doing up the last button on your jacket.  You pushed the hair out of your face and smiled at him before turning around to face your coworkers. “Hey- JJ, Pen, Rossi. Spencer and I are gonna grab dinner, you guys in?”

All the butterflies in Spencer’s stomach instantly stilled.

You had made it painfully obvious to Spencer that you were not interested. And he wasn’t one to push. 

Spencer tried getting over you. He tried stifling his feelings, ignoring the way he’d drop anything as soon as he heard your voice, or the way his spirits would instantly be lifted if Emily assigned the two of you the same task during a case. He tried not to notice that your favorite breakfast was toast with avocados or that you always bite your lip whenever you were stressed. And he tried not to pay attention to the fact that you liked your coffee with honey and jiggled your leg whenever you had to sit in one place for too long. Because that’s not the type of thing coworkers noticed about one another. 

But you had a way of always pulling him back in.  Like that morning you brought Spencer a coffee. You had laughed and said the barista messed up your original order, so you got that one for free, honestly it was no big deal. But Spencer tasted the hint of cinnamon and extra cream, and smiled to himself. He spent the entire morning dwelling on the fact that you also knew exactly how he liked his coffee.    

Or, like when he’d catch you gazing at him during the briefing meetings. 

He’s almost sure that it was nothing. He did barge in late, afterall. Everyone stared at him, right?  So why can’t he stop thinking about it?

…

Seattle lived up to its rainy reputation. From the minute the team lands, the skies were dark with storm clouds.  

Currently, you are all held up at the police station. After coordinating with the captain and deputies, you all start setting up in the back conference room. You work with Matt to start tacking up the info you already knew– pictures of the current victims, lists of possible witnesses all within a three mile radius of each crime scene, and any evidence that had been found.  

Spencer immediately delves into cracking the geological profile, he has his nose practically pressed into the map of the area an officer had provided, seeing things no one else could. While the rest of the team worked through the Seattle PD’s casefiles, Garcia is on speaker phone, the light tapping of her keys can be heard faintly in the background.    

“Garcia, any known connection between the victims?”  

“Not that I can immediately see,” her voice rings through the speaker phone. “Katie is a second grade teacher, Ethan is a personal trainer at the local gym.”

“No gender preference,” JJ says while comparing the driver’s license photos of the victims. 

“No race preference either,” Luke observes. 

“Probably not surrogates,” Rossi drums his fingers together, too many differences.

“We have to be missing something,” Tara’s eyes wander from the photos of the victims.  

“I’ll keep digging,” Garcia assures you all. “I just might need to get my bigger shovel.”

That evening, a third victim is found just across town.  

“Luke, Matt– I want you to head to the dumpsite, canvas the area.” Emily orders. “Y/N, head to the coroner and check if the MO is the same for this victim as it was for the other two. See if you can find anything out about the missing organs. That has to mean something, we just don’t know what yet. JJ, Rossi, can you check out the victim’s house? Maybe we can start narrowing in how these people are all connected. Tara, the victims' family will be here soon. I’d like you to talk to them.”

Emily turns her back towards Spencer. He’s drawing lines on the map. “I’d like you to stay here, Reid. Maybe that third dumpsite can help you narrow down the geological profile.”  

The team all nod in agreement, before beginning to disperse out of the conference room.  

Garcia’s soft voice can be heard through the speaker ordering everyone to “Be safe!”

…

Once Reid is able to finish up his geological profile, pinpointing the Unsub’s comfort zone within the city, he really starts to feel like they’re closing in.  

“Using the abduction and dumpsites for each victim, I was able to narrow it down to this area,” Reid explains to Emily, drawing the lines on the board. Connected, they formed a small radius. “I think the Unsub lives in one of these three neighborhoods. Matt and Luke are in this area,” he points to one district. “And JJ and Rossi are here,” he points to the second. “If it’s alright, I’d like to head out to the last neighborhood, Medina. I’ll talk to the witnesses there and see what I can find out?”

Emily nods, “Good work, Reid.”

With Spencer gone, Tara and Emily are the only two left at the police station. Emily continues pouring over the evidence while Tara speaks to the victims’ families. About fifteen minutes after Reid leaves the precinct, Emily gets a call on her cell.

“What do you have?” 

“Emily, I think I might have found the connection we were missing between the victims.” You say through the phone. You’re at the coroner’s office still, the bodies of the three victims laid out in front of you. “The doctor said each of the victims had the blood type AB-negative.”

“That’s the rarest blood type,” Emily adds. 

“Exactly. Which could be a coincidence, but the fact that he’s removing organs makes me wonder– what if he’s trying to do a transplant?”

The pieces missing from the profile slowly start to click together in Emily’s mind. “Good work,” she says quickly. “Can you stay on the line for a minute? I’m going to patch Garcia through.”   

“Yeah,” you confirm. You wait a few moments before you hear a dial tone. After only one ring, the line connects. “Garcia, I need you to tell me if any of the names on our lists are suffering from fatal illnesses involving either the pancreas or the liver.”

Emily can hear the clicking of Garcia’s keyboard keys on the other end of the line as she works. 

“Zilch,” she says, disappointment evident in her voice.  

You sigh, but your gut really told you that this was important, so you pressed on. “What about family members of the names on our lists?”

After a few moments of searching Garcia inhales sharply. “There’s a Philip Gardiner on our list and his father, Joseph Gardiner, is currently suffering from stage 4 pancreatitis cancer.”  

There’s a brief pause before Garcia adds, “His medical records show that his father has AB negative blood type.”

“How would he know which victims have the same blood type as his father?” You ask. 

There’s a brief pause before Garcia says, “Philip Gardiner is a medical assistant at the family practice in Medina.”

“Let me guess–” Emily’s voice trails off. 

“All three victims were patients at that practice.”

That’s all that Emily needs. “What’s his address?”

“Already sent to all your phones.”

“Thanks, Garcia.” 

In a haste, Emily dials in the remaining members of the team. One by one, each group answers.  Everyone except for Spencer. His phone hits his voicemail, but Emily continues anyway. 

“Guys, I think we got him. A guy named Philip Gardiner, he was on our list of witnesses. His father has stage four pancreatitis cancer and we think he’s trying to find a healthy pancreas to give to his father.”

Emily looks up the address on the map Spencer so carefully drew out. She runs her finger along the map before finding the exact address.  

Meanwhile, you hear the ping of Garcia’s text ring through your phone. When you check the GPS distance, it says you’re only a mile away. In a haste, you offer the coroner a quick ‘thank you’, before heading out of the medical examiner’s room.  

“I’ve got his address here on the map,” Prentiss explains. Her finger trails around the region of the Unsub’s house, her heart stopping when she realizes that was the area that Reid was going to question witnesses… Alone.  “Penelope,” she says, her voice higher than usual. “Give me the list of witnesses in the Medina area.”   

Garcia begins rattling off a small list of names through the phone. But she inhales sharply after a moment before reading out the name, “Philip Gardiner.”

“Reid went to question the witnesses in the Medina area. He left just over an hour ago,” Prentiss explains.  

“What?” Your voice rings loudly on the line, as you hoist yourself into the SUV. Your entire insides fill with dread. 

“Can we try his phone again,” Matt suggests. 

“I’ve tried three times now, the first time it rang, but now it’s going straight to voicemail,” Garcia says worriedly.  

“Who’s closest to Medina?” Luke asks.  

“I am,” you say, checking your GPS. You’re only a few minutes away from where Reid was. Instantly, you fumble with your keys before harshly turning them and throwing the vehicle into gear. On impulse, you began speeding down the road in the direction of Spencer, pressing the pedal continuously harder.. 

“I want you to wait for backup,” Emily declares sternly. “This Unsub is armed and dangerous, I do not want you going there alone.”

“Emily–” you argue. Your knuckles are growing white with how hard you’re gripping the wheel. The sheer thought of Spencer, alone with that monster, makes you cringe. He had no clue that he was walking into the house of the Unsub– therefore he could have been jumped, or blitzed, or worse… You shake the thought out of your mind and focus instead on the road ahead. 

“Wait for Alvez and Simmons, they’re only ten minutes behind you,” Emily says over the phone.  

You shake your head, even though you know none of them can see you. “No, no, no,” you say, your voice starting to waiver. “No, that’s too long– he doesn’t know–”

“We’re on our way now,” Luke’s voice rings through the line.  

“It’s Reid–” you gasp, your eyes filling with tears. “I can’t leave him in there alone.”  You can’t stand the thought of Reid being hurt, when there’s the possibility of stopping it. If you go there now, you can save him– but if you wait for backup, like Prentiss suggested, he could die. 

“Y/L/N,” Emily states sternly. “I am ordering you to wait for backup, is that understood?”  

You continue speeding down the road, the Unsub’s house just up ahead. You can see Reid’s discarded vehicle parked on the side of the street, confirming what you already knew. He’s there. Your heart clenches in your chest.  

“It’s Spencer–” your voice is just above a whisper. You have direct orders from your supervisor.  Direct orders you know you need to follow, or else there would be serious repercussions. You could be demoted, or transferred, or fired from the Bureau all together. But then you imagine Spencer’s face, and you pictured the crime scene photos from the case. What if Spencer wound up like all those other victims? Cut up and discarded on the side of the road like a piece of garbage? You imagine him in there– alone with the Unsub, wondering if anyone was coming to save him. Yes, you think. You’re coming to save him. “I can’t wait, Emily. I’m sorry.”

You only hear the beginning part of her protest before you end the phone call with a click. You waste no time in launching yourself out of the black SUV, weapon drawn and quickly approaching the front door of the house.  

The drizzle that had been steady since that morning has turned into a hard rain fall. It makes seeing anything around you increasingly difficult. But once you approach the Unsub’s porch, you’re able to take a peek through the windows.  You’re hoping to see any sign of Spencer,  but instead, the curtains are drawn obstructing your view. 

With your heart beating wildly underneath your own chest, you burst through the unlocked door of Philip Gardiner’s home.  

As soon as your eyes adjust to the darkness inside the house, you’re shocked by what you see.  The first thing you notice is Reid. He’s kneeling on the ground with his hands placed above his head. His gun was laying on the ground five feet away from him, discarded like he’d been ordered to drop it. The second thing you realize is that you’re outnumbered. Because not only is Philip Gardiner pointing a gun at Spencer, but his father, Joseph is as well.  

You realize that you just assumed Philip’s father was incapacitated, too sickly and unwell to play any part in these murders. But now you can see that obviously isn’t the case.  

All eyes turn towards you upon your sudden entrance. But you only look at Reid. His sunken eyes widening when he sees you.    

“Put the gun down,” Philip orders, his voice deep and thick with malice. Joseph steps forward and grabs the back of Reid’s head, hoisting it back. He presses the barrel of his pistol right into Reid’s temple.    

“Okay,” you say instantly, trying not to panic. “Okay, okay–” you slowly start to lower your gun.  “I’m putting it down.” Don’t shoot him, don’t shoot him, your mind raced.  

You slide your glock across the floor towards Philip and his father carefully. The younger of the two Unsub’s wastes no time in scooping it up off the floor, before aiming his own gun at you.  

“Why’re you here?” he bellows, his voice shaking with emotion. “Why can’t you people just leave us alone!”

You take a deep breath, a feeble attempt at steadying yourself. “Philip, I’m here to help you,” you say calmly. 

The confusion on his face urges you to continue. “Actually, I’m here to help your father,” you tell him.

“My father?” he asks, his voice littered with skepticism.  

“That’s right, I heard he was sick.”

Philip steps closer to you, the gun never wavering in his hand. “That’s right.”

“I’m here to help. You need a transplant. Pancreas, right?”

Philip’s eyes widen and that’s when you realize you’ve gotten him right where you wanted him.  “Your father is AB-negative, right? That’s the rarest blood type, it’s hard to find a match.”

Your eyes dart to Spencer quickly, who’s still kneeling on the floor. He’s looking at you with desperation and fear plastered over his face. You wish he could read your mind, could hear what you were thinking. You are going to get out of here, you’d tell him. I am going to make sure that you get out of here alive.  

Even if it means I don’t. 

“He can’t help you. He won’t be a match,” you tell them, gesturing towards Spencer.  “But I am.”

“Is this a trick?” Philip asks, his hand was starting to shake from how firmly he was holding the gun. 

“No,” you say, shaking your head in unison with your words. You’re surprised at how calm you’re starting to feel. “No tricks. Just a trade. Let him go, and you can take me instead. Cut me open, take what you want. Just– just let him go,” you plead.  

Philip and his dad both nod slowly.

“Okay,” you say, slowly walking towards the unsubs, your hands raised in the air to show them you aren’t going to play any tricks.  

“What’re you doing?” Reid’s voice is high pitched and panicked. He’s looking frantically at you for answers 

But you ignore him.  

“Let him go,” you urge Gardiner. He nods, and his father uses the fist full of Reid’s hair he still had a hold of to hoist him up on his feet. 

Reid stands, but his eyes remain trained on you. “Y/N, stop– what’re you doing?”

Gardiner grabs a hold of your vest when you’re close enough, tugging you into his embrace. He bars his arm around your neck and plants the gun on your temple. “Go–” he orders Reid.   

Spencer’s stumbling towards the door. “No, no, no–” he stutters. 

“Go, or I’ll shoot her right here,” Gardiner orders. You feel the hard, cold barrel of the gun press deeper into the tissue of your temple, but you still don’t shake. Spencer is going to be safe, you think. That’s all that mattered.  

Reid’s eyes are wide and watery. He’s looking at you wildly, like his genius brain can’t comprehend anything that’s happening.   

But you nod towards him reassuringly. “Spencer, it’s okay,” you tell him, surprised, yet again, by how calm you feel. “Go, it’s okay.” 

It was an easy choice sacrificing yourself for Spencer. The concept of death was scary, but the idea of losing Spencer? That was just unbearable. Plus, there’s no doubt that he’s infinitely more valuable to the team than you are. You know they’d mourn your loss. But they’d get over it, you were replaceable with any other agent. But Spencer? That would leave a wound no other profiler could fill. 

You catch one last glimpse of Spencer before Joseph Gardiner's dad escorts him outside of the house. As the door shuts, ensuring Reid is safe, you’re finally able to exhale the breath of air you’ve been holding in. Spencer is going to be okay.  

“Come with me,” Gardiner orders gruffly. He grabs you by your elbow and drags you towards the back of the house. You stumble on your feet, trying to keep up with his pace. Gardiner leads you all the way through the hallway, around a corner, and through the sliding back door. The exit leads to a deck on the back of the house. It looks old, with chipped red paint and clutter scattered all around it.  

You make your way across it and down a few stairs. When your feet hit the ground, they squish from impact on the wet grass beneath them. Gardiner leads you just a few feet forward. Attached to the back of his house is a cellar door. He undoes the latch before hoisting it open, revealing a pitch black basement. 

“Get in,” he orders, pointing the gun right between your shoulder blades.  

You hesitate briefly, which proves to be a costly mistake. Gardiner hoists the pistol back and rams it into the side of your head. Your entire body whips forward and you stumble on your feet.  “I said get in!” he screams. 

As you feel the blood already trickling down your temple, you nod.  

Taking one step forward, you begin descending into Philip Gardiner’s basement.  

The first thing you do when you’re fully inside is gasp at the smell. It ensnares all of your senses, completely overwhelming you. The back of your hand pressed against your nose does little to mask it.  

Gardiner climbs into the basement after you and turns on a light, illuminating the horror scene in front of you. There are surgical tools and blades on a metal tray wheeled next to a bed with restraints. The bed has dark, crimson blood still on it.  

You’ve walked into horror scenes, much like this one, a countless number of times. But now that you knew this scene was set for you, it sent unsettling shivers down your spine. Better you than Spencer, you remind yourself. The thought makes you instantly feel calmer.  

Gardiner grabs a pair of zip ties on top of the shelf and throws them towards you. “Put them on,” he orders. You nod, and quickly obey him, your head still throbbing from the last time you hesitated. 

Now that you’re restrained, Philip steadily works to set up equipment by placing a wide variety of tools on the metal tray. You realize that he was getting ready to kill you.  

Despite the obvious fear running through your veins, your mind slowly begins to wander to Spencer. The look on his face when Joseph hauled him out of the room, away from you, is burned into your mind. The hurt, the fear, and the confusion all on full display. But he is safe now, and that is all that mattered. 

You wonder if Spencer would figure out why you took his place tonight. You wonder if he’d realize that it wasn’t even an option for you not to, that you had no other choice. You wonder if he knew you couldn’t live without him, or would ever want to.

Philip Gardiner continues stalking around the room. The knives laid out on display make you nauseous. You combat it by taking slow, deep breaths, all while repeating the mantra in your head; he was safe. 

Except suddenly, your mantra is interrupted when the latch to the cellar door bursts open with a bang. Two tall, muscular figures descend down the stairs and into the cellar, their guns drawn.  

“Drop it,” Luke orders sternly, he’s moving in towards Gardiner with a look of pure hatred on his face. Philip raises his hand above his head, the scalpel still clutched tightly in his grasp. But Luke is quick to disarm him before grabbing a pair of handcuffs and clicking them around Gardiner’s wrists.   

Matt, meanwhile, attends to you. He uses his knife to break through the zip ties that have managed to almost cut all the circulation off from your wrists.  

“Let me see,” he says softly, tending to the cut on your forehead. You only now realize that the blood oozing from it had mostly dried, caking itself to the side of your face.    

“I’m fine,” you grumble, trying to stand up. Luke drags Gardiner past you and Matt and up the stairs.  

“That doesn’t look fine,” Matt says. “You’re going to need stitches.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, raising your hand to touch the wound. Despite your efforts, you wince at the contact. As you finally make it to your feet, you’re woozier than expected. You waiver slightly in place, your head spinning.   

“Easy,” he says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.  

“Said ‘m fine,” you grumble again.  

Matt nods and adds sarcastically, “Whatever you say.”

He leads you out of the basement, his hand never leaving your shoulder. It’s not until you’re outside, in the cool night air, when you see an entire scene unfolding around you.  

All four of the black SUV’s are parked outside the Unsub’s house– yours with the driver’s side door still wide open from when you’d previously left it in a haste. There’s also an abundance of squad cars gathered, their lights flashing blues and reds, reflecting grimly in the dark. There’s two ambulances parked near the road, two medics rushing frantically towards you.   

“Where’s Reid?” you ask Matt, your eyes searching the crowd for him. 

“Medic’s checking him out right now. He’s okay though.”

You sigh a breath of relief, exhaling tension that you didn’t even realize was still inside of you.  That’s all that mattered. You can handle everything else. 

At least that’s what you thought. You groan when you see Emily jogging over, her vest still strapped on.  

After disobeying her direct orders, you immediately know you were in for it. 

“Matt, how is she?” she asks, refusing to actually look at you. 

“Banged up, possible concussion– I think she’ll need stitches.”

“I can hear you,” you say, wondering why the two of them were talking about you like you were unconscious, or not even present. 

“Get her to the medics,” Emily orders. “We’ll talk later,” she says, her dark eyes piercing yours. 

You nod slowly. You’d gone against her wishes and broken her trust. The adrenaline that had previously been rushing through your body prevented you from originally seeing that. But the rush is starting to fade, and in its wake left a tremendous amount of guilt and shame. You never meant to cross Emily. You had only wanted to save Reid. She had to understand that, right?  

Either way, you made a choice, and now you’d pay the consequences. But it was an easy choice. One that you would make over and over again. Because you’d always choose Spencer, no matter what.  

Matt only lets you go when the medics reach you. They lead you the rest of the way to the ambulance, where you sit on the edge of the back door. The EMT wraps a coarse blanket around your shoulders before starting an exam. He shines lights in your eyes, asks you repetitive questions, and checks your wound. After a while, you zone it all out.  

Until you see him. 

He’s walking past the second ambulance with his hands stuffed in his pants pockets. He has a small bandage placed just above his left eyebrow. You gaze at Spencer, checking him over. He looks okay, other than the bandage, he’s unharmed. You exhale another breath of relief. When he locks eyes with you, you can’t help but smile.  

He keeps his gaze locked on yours, but he doesn’t smile back. Instead, his face remains stoic and serious, his eyes glaring with anger, before looking away. He turns on his feet and walks towards one of the black SUV’s, climbing into the front seat and snapping the door shut  Your smile quickly melts away. 

… 

On the plane ride home, you take a seat directly across from Spencer.  He’s got his nose already stuffed in a book. He doesn’t even glance up when you sit down.  

“Spencer,” you say, trying to get his attention.  

But he ignores you.  

“Reid,” you huff, quickly growing frustrated by his silence. 

Spencer snaps his book shut suddenly and stands up from his seat. Without so much as a single glance he strides across the jet and finds a seat next to Luke and Matt. He crosses one leg over the other and opens his book back up again, going back to his literature like nothing had just happened– like he hadn’t just ripped out your entire heart. 

You’re in the process of biting back tears when Emily replaces Reid’s seat directly across from you. You tuck your feet up on the seat and wrap your arms around yourself, trying to take up less space, or better yet, disappear altogether. 

For a moment, neither one of you speaks.  

After a few seconds, Emily sighs. “How’s your head?” she asks, breaking the silence.  

“It’s fine,” you mumble. That’s a plain lie. Your head throbs. But it’s nothing compared to the ache inside your chest.    

“You were out of line.” Emily states calmly.     

“I know,” you whisper, refusing to meet her gaze. 

“I gave you a direct order–”

“I know,” you repeat. 

“When I give you an order, I need to be able to trust that you’re going to follow it. If this team doesn’t have trust, this team doesn’t have anything.”

You nod, your cheeks flushing hot. She’s putting you on the spot, and speaking loud enough for the entire jet to hear. You deserve it though, you know you did. 

Emily lets out a sigh, her tone suddenly softening and her voice growing quiet.  “What were you thinking?” 

You bite your lip harshly, fighting to hold back the sob boiling in your chest. You wipe your cheeks feverishly before replying. “I was thinking better me than Spencer,” you whisper. “I’m replaceable. He’s not.”

Emily shakes her head.  “You are important to this team.”

You stare down at your lap, unable to truly hear the words Emily was saying. 

But she reaches across the gap and gathers your hands in hers. “Listen to me,” she says sternly. You finally gather up enough courage to look up. “You are important to this team.”  She repeats the words slower and enunciates them more. 

You slowly nod, letting them seep into your skin. You aren’t sure if you believed her, but it’s a start. 

“Okay,” you say. Slowly, you pull your hands away.  

“Do you want to tell me what else is bothering you?” she asks gently. 

You bite your lip harder. You aren’t sure if you can trust yourself to speak without crying.  

“I did it for him,” you finally say. “Because I wanted to keep him safe. But now he’s so angry at me.”

Emily scoffs at your statement, making you narrow your eyebrows in confusion at her.  

“Yeah, right,” she says, amusement dancing in her words. 

“He won’t even look at me,” you say quietly. “I mean– I get why you’re mad at me,” you admit. “I disobeyed your orders, I broke protocol– you could’ve gotten in trouble if anything had happened. But I don’t understand why he is too,” you admit, your voice breaking slightly. “I was just trying to do the right thing… And now he hates me for it.”

Emily shakes her head. “I may not know much, but what I do know is that Spencer Reid isn’t capable of hating you.”

…

Reid hurries off the jet before you’re able to talk to him, which is what you’d been planning since taking off in Seattle. You groan and wonder if maybe you should just give him space. Clearly that’s what he wants.  

But, when you’re back inside the BAU, cleaning out your desk. Just as you’re about to go home, you look up and see him in the briefing room. Through the glass, Spencer’s thin frame can be seen cleaning up some case files that were left on the table. His back is to you and suddenly, the idea of cornering him in there entered your mind. He has to hear you out, he has to understand why you did what you did.  

Before you can chicken out or change your mind, you hurry upstairs and hoist open the glass doors to the room. Spencer turns around, your sudden entrance jumping him. His face actually looks angrier when he realizes it’s you entering his space. 

“Spencer–” you say, your voice already cracking. You aren’t sure how you’re going to do this. 

“What?” he snaps back harshly, the first words he’s spoken to you since the event. His eyes are sunken and tired, his hair disheveled and messy– still you don’t think you’d ever seen someone so beautiful in your entire life.  

“What did I do?” you plead. 

“Are you kidding me?” he says in disbelief.  

“I just– I was trying to do the right thing,” you explain. 

But Reid cuts you off. “You completely disobeyed Emily’s orders,” he takes a step closer to you.  “You were reckless and selfish and stupid and–”

Your eyes widen. “Selfish?” 

“Yes, selfish!” he bellows, his hands raising in frustration. “You broke protocol. And willingly put yourself into the arms of an Unsub, just so that you could play the hero!”

“I was not trying to be a hero!” you start to raise your own voice in defense. 

But Spencer shakes his head. “Then why’d you do it?”

By now, you’re biting your lip so hard you can taste blood. The anger and frustration you’re feeling towards Spencer left a bad taste in your mouth. Why can’t he understand, why can’t you make him understand?

Did you have to spell it out?

“I did it because I couldn’t stand the idea of something bad happening to my team,” your voice is low. “Even if that meant something bad had to happen to me.”

Spencer stands still, his gaze never softening. After a few moments you speak again. “It worked, didn’t it? I don’t get why you’re so upset–”

In a rushed tone, he blurts out, “I’m upset because you put yourself in danger! I could have lost you!”

Spencer’s words take you back. And you find yourself speechless. Your face immediately softens as you try to absorb what he said, but you’re exhausted and concussed and honestly, don’t trust your own judgment at the moment. 

All you can manage to mutter out is a soft, “Oh.”

Spencer’s anger seems to slowly be melting into just plain sorrow. It hurts to see him looking like he’s in pain. 

“Why would you sacrifice yourself like that?” he asks, his voice is gentler now. 

“Because,” you whisper. It seems like you do have to spell it out for him. “Because that seemed more bearable than the idea of anything happening to you.” The words spilled out of you uncontrollably. You've kept your feelings a secret from Reid for so long, you’re afraid what would happen if you finally revealed them. “The truth is… I’m kind of in love with you. And I couldn’t live with myself if anything ever happened to you.”

At that, Spencer's mouth fell open slightly, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  

He takes another step forward, and in that moment, for the second time that evening, you wish you could disappear, just dissolve into nothingness, out of sight. You’re feeling so vulnerable, so exposed, you wish you could take the words back– just suck them right back into your mouth and keep them there, a secret forever. 

But Spencer speaks softly, interrupting your thoughts. “What?”

You shake your head. “Don’t make me say it again–”

“I love you too.”

You hear it– but you don’t believe it. Because it can’t be true. 

“Please,” you whisper, wondering if this was just some cruel joke. There is no way Spencer could love you back. “Don’t mess with me. I can’t take it, not from you.” 

Reid shakes his head. “I swear to you, I would never joke about something like this.” 

“Don’t–”

He takes another step forward and reaches his hand out, touching your cheek softly. His fingers graze your jaw line. “I am in love with you, and I have been for quite some time. Pretty much since the first day I met you. That’s why I was so angry today– imagine if I’d done that to you– taken your place in that house– forced you to leave me with that monster.”

Just the thought made your blood start to boil. The idea of Spencer actually loving you back was just over the horizon– the thought that maybe it’s true was within reach. 

You bite your lip nervously, the feeling of Reid’s thumb gliding across your skin sends shivers down your spine. “I don’t know if I can believe you,” you whisper. 

“Then I’ll just keep telling you,” Spencer says softly. “Until you do.”

[bolognamayhem117]

Hot Take: Astarion does NOT hate flowers. You just missed a few subtle hints through Act 1 and early Act 3.

Astarion's negativity is directed toward just about anything remotely pleasant as you move through early act three, starting the moment you leave Wyrm's Rock. First thing after Gortash's coronation he marvels near tears at the colors of the city in daylight. If you ask if he's alright, it pisses him off.

There's other instances I can't quite remember but he's a straight crank throughout early Act 3 and it took me several hours of gameplay to have a lightbulb moment about his newly crappier attitude.

He just spent the last two hundred years seeing everything in the overwhelmingly warm dim tones of indoor lighting via sconces, rushlights, and braziers, or the dingy blue gray of moonlight outside. Daylight colors are something he had more than a lifetime to forget and now that he has a chance to remember that vibrancy in his own home town, he knows he's going to have to forget it all over again either by death or by remaining a vampire spawn forever. The worm isn't going to live rent free in his head forever, and killing Cazador to ascend in his place likely feels like an insurmountable and impossible fight against a literal titan who could stomp him flat without a corm of effort.

He doesn't hate flowers, he hates EVERYTHING right now because it's all going away very soon and if he convinces himself he hates everything then he won't miss it when it's all gone again. He was denied this for two hundred years and he's PISSED at what was stolen from him and PISSED it's all going away again.

He behaved similarly in Act 1 about anyone besides him enjoying physical intimacy. Some of this content was cut, to my best knowledge, but the overwhelming majority of his dialog addressing the PC romancing anyone but him are negative or backhanded. This is for two reasons, I think. A: his Simple Plan just dissolved right before his eyes when you chose someone else which in his mind means he has zero safety net, and EVERYONE gets to enjoy sex (key wording being ENJOY, not simply having) except him... And it pisses him off.

He also gleefully interrupts the bug bear and the ogress, I think for the same reason as the above paragraph, being: If he doesn't get to enjoy intimacy neither do they.

He reacts with anger and disgust at anything he's being unfairly denied. Which... That's fair. His feelings are valid, but his reaction to it is pretty shitty and meanspirited.

The other companions I tend to keep in my party, (that is Lae'zel, Halsin, Karlach, and Wyll) however, are actually appearing to behave pretty patiently with him in Act 3 which I find interesting.

In the instance with the flowers Karlach doesn't bother trying to convince him otherwise of his opinion, she just tells him how they make her feel instead and rather than getting snippy or doubling down he more or less agrees to disagree. I also don't recall anyone disagreeing with Astarion during Gale's last quest tasks when he mentioned that he quit praying to gods who wouldn't hear him a long time ago but to be fair, I think the gods did everybody in this crew dirty and they all know it. It seems like they're consciously giving him the space to be mad about things, is what I'm saying.

Everyone I know including myself who crawled out of a long-term hot garbage situation kinda went wild for a bit with freedom, spoke poorly, behaved strangely, had extreme emotional reactions to things, and made some particularly terrible choices. I think that's just a part of recalibrating yourself, healing and learning how to be okay again.

Point is, I wouldn't conflate too many of the turbo-negative things he says with how he actually feels about anything. We certainly know what he says and what he feels are two very different things.

[jenscx]

HIT ME UP — uchinaga aeri

aeri’s never had much luck with love. countless blind dates, dating apps, mutual friends, nothing came out of those. but wait, who is that girl in her best friend’s instagram and why is she so pretty?

tags fluff, no angst, non-idol au, open your eyes to see jiminjeong, mutual pining (for literally a sec), cursing, aeri pov centric

wordcount 6.0k

🎙️ author’s note: happy aeri day! lots of love to our favourite hot girl gigi 🤍 can’t express how much i love aeri and her contribution to aespa as a member >< i hope that everyone enjoys reading this fic and for aeri to enjoy her birthday!

uchinaga aeri, half-japanese and half-korean, age twenty three, has never dated anyone before in her life. well, not officially. she doesn’t really count the situationships or talking stages she’s had. aeri would say that the lack of love in her life would be due to her bougie choices in character. her taste is just a little more refined, detailed, specialised, whatever you want to call it. jimin calls it picky while yizhuo applauds her for knowing what she wants in a partner.

something that definitely attracted her would be a strong personality, a little bold and courageous but also sweet and caring. isn’t that a nice criteria to have? aeri doesn’t think she’s asking for much here. yet, her simple standards seem a reach too far compared to the personalities she’s met lately. even jimin can’t help but wince at the blind dates aeri has gone on.

because aeri loves everyone, as long as they’re pretty, she’s been on dates with many, regardless of gender. and well, she can’t really say that one outweighs the other. this one guy she met at the gym had told her she needed more tips on weightlifting and had gone into a rant about protein shakes.

needless to say, as much as she loves the gym, aeri could not really stand an hour long conversation about protein shakes of all things.

and that girl who seemed way more interested in the oat milk in aeri’s latte than her. that was a strange date. aeri scrunches her nose in distaste at the reminder. another date she’d been on, helpfully supplied by yizhuo, the girl was gorgeous and incredibly sweet. but the moment aeri had said she was a scorpio, her date started acting like aeri killed her dog. which, by the way, she never would. she loves dogs and even has two cute ones herself! and then her date had the nerve to storm out of the restaurant too. what a shitshow.

(“oh… maybe i shouldn’t be friends with her either,” yizhuo comments after aeri recites the incident to her.

“do you think she’ll burst into flames if you tell her you’re a scorpio as well?” jimin asks, so genuinely that aeri almost chokes to death while laughing.)

anyway, so what if aeri’s luck with dating is trash? her life has been fine for twenty three years and it’s not like having a partner will drastically change her for the good. she’s been enjoying this single life. she never has to update anyone about her whereabouts, she doesn’t have to reply to texts immediately, everything she buys is for herself. what a wonderful life. some call it miserable, others call it unhealthy. she calls it being free.

okay, maybe it is a little sad coming home to an empty apartment with no one to greet her. aeri does feel envious when her friends meet up and they talk about their own significant others. but that envy isn’t enough for her to throw herself down into that torturous rabbit hole of dating again. if only she had a friend that she could fall in love with or something. like a cute friends to lovers situation. or if she tripped and fell over the love of her life. the stars aligned, ‘we’re soulmates’ type.

not to mention that ever since moving back to korea from the states, her parents have been pressuring her to find someone. while korea and japan aren’t aeons apart, aeri doesn’t really have the comfort of family. her friends do offer some semblance of home but it just doesn’t feel the same. after confiding in her mother, aeri was told that a partner would fill in the gap her parents left.

she’s getting a little delirious and the idea of falling in love has become more of a chore than blessing. aeri slumps against her bedframe, scowling at her phone blowing up. if she were still on a dating app, the notifications could be due to matches or dates that were too clingy. but she’s sworn off dating apps for good and that chain of messages could only be sent by yu jimin.

jimin [6.19pm]:

omg guys

i think i just met the loml

holy shit shes so cute

im in love

can sm1 find her @

yizhuo [6.20pm]:

who

jimin [6.20pm]:

uhmmmmm

minjeong?

her cup says that

yizhuo [6.20pm]:

are you serious 😐

jimin [6.21pm]:

STOP SHES LOOKING AT ME

AAAAAAA

aeri [6.22pm]:

girl shut up

she throws her phone aside as jimin’s cries for help go unanswered. jimin breaking down would be cute if aeri wasn’t going through an existential crisis right now. the thought of never finding someone truly for her looms over her head. her whole ‘i don’t need a man’ (or woman) persona crumbles instantly the moment she reaches her bedroom. the facade falls immediately, only leaving behind a lonely girl who just has bad luck.

jimin continues to flounder around and seemingly the pings stop (aeri lets out a sigh of relief), before they come back in full force in the form of a video call.

aeri reaches for her phone and waits a few seconds just to torture jimin before picking up.

“uhm, hello?”

“oh my goodness— what is wrong with you two? have you not read my messages!” jimin whispers harshly. a grainy, pixelated version of her friend appears on screen. the only recognisable feature of jimin is her pale, glowy skin shining in the moonlight as her dark hair wisps around behind her.

staring blankly, aeri repeats, “hello?”

“hi, yes! okay, so i just met this girl and—”

yizhuo’s voice cuts through, “does it really count as meeting her though?”

aeri sees jimin rolling her eyes before she reluctantly pouts, “no, but that’s not the point. the point is that she’s really cute, like marriage-worthy cute. and i need her instagram now.”

“you think we can find it?” yizhuo asks, unamused.

“well, she was wearing our old high school jacket and you guys know a lot of people!” jimin’s logic, sometimes flawed, did make sense to aeri this time. she and yizhuo were like social butterflies back in high school and jimin’s assumption would be right.

“what was her name again?” aeri asks, just to get jimin to shut up. for a girl that was so elegant and graceful, jimin really was a loser sometimes. it was difficult at first to adjust from the girl crush jimin to the loser jimin but after being friends for so long, aeri has learnt to accept both sides of her personality.

jimin perks up, her forehead gleaming on the screen, “minjeong! isn’t it such a cute name? cute name for a cute girl… heh. she looked like a puppy too, like a tint maltese. she has short blonde hair too. almost shoulder length?”

aeri isn’t too sure on how the description of her looking like a maltese helps in their investigation but whatever floats jimin’s boat, she guesses. she watches as yizhuo disappears from the frame and jimin walks home, humming to herself.

a few minutes later, while she and jimin are discussing new hair colours, yizhuo pops back into frame, exclaiming with glee, “i found her!”

and aeri can only watch as jimin trips over air, almost in slow motion, and face plants into the ground.

“c’mon, ningie! please!” aeri widens her eyes while jimin almost gets on her knees, her hands pleading. who knew jimin would get so desperate for some girl’s instagram? definitely not aeri.

yizhuo only huffs, “i want something in return.”

“anything! really!” the older girl is so close to downright begging that aeri considers stepping in for a second before yizhuo inevitably reads out loud, “mj underscore zero one zero one and i want free lunch for the rest of the week. aeri unnie included.”

aeri grins brightly as jimin scrambles to type the username into her search bar. she fist bumps yizhuo, smiling at the thought of free food.

“oh my gosh, thank you!” jimin squeals, planting a wet kiss on yizhuo’s cheek.

“how’d you find her instagram?” aeri asks curiously. yizhuo shrugs, wiping the lipstick mark left behind coolly, “my friend follows her. asked around for a bit and now people think she owes me money or something.”

aeri stifles a giggle at that and turns her attention back to jimin, who’s still staring at her phone in awe. her fingers are fervently scrolling and swiping, tapping away on the screen. jimin’s devotion to find this mystery girl’s instagram is insane and it brings out the slightest bit of curiosity in aeri.

hence, she peeks over jimin’s shoulder and for her lacklustre description of minjeong, it’s well-fitting, surprisingly.

“she does look like a maltese,” are aeri’s first words. jimin swerves her head back, smiling widely, “i know right!”

“oh, she’s really cute,” aeri notes. minjeong is pretty, like a doll. jimin sends her a withering glare but she just ignores it. the girl is pretty, but not her type. and she definitely isn’t planning on competing in some competition for minjeong’s love alongside her own best friend.

“she’s friends with a lot of unnies,” yizhuo says, listing them off her fingers, “nayeon unnie, jeongyeon unnie, momo unnie— well, that whole friend group. jennie unnie too. and you know mijoo unnie? she’s friends with her too.”

jimin visibly deflates while aeri tries to cheer her up, “but they’re all friends only though, right?”

yizhuo nods, “yup, i haven’t heard of minjeong ever dating anyone either.”

her comment resonates with aeri and a small part of her commends minjeong for not succumbing to the horrors of dating.

with aeri’s words of encouragement, jimin continues to scroll, albeit slower now and not as enthusiastic. she eventually reaches the end of all of minjeong’s posts and hastily scrolls back up.

“check her highlights too,” aeri demands, terribly invested. jimin follows suit, clicking on the first story highlight. it’s full of food that has aeri salivating and jimin swallowing her saliva. yizhuo only watches on, uninterested.

then, jimin clicks on one that’s named ‘solos’ and aeri hears her choke up. the highlight is filled with selfies and photos of minjeong. all very cute and adorable. she internally rolls her eyes and begs jimin to hurry through the stories instead of staring intently at each one. minjeong’s feed is nice, aeri thinks. it’s clean and simple but it still shows enough of her personality.

when jimin finally swipes to the last highlight, aeri’s jaw visibly drops.

“oh my god,” she gapes, snatching jimin’s phone away into her own hands, “who is that?”

“hey! give it back!”

“stop it!” aeri swats jimin’s hand away and with miraculous strength, evades all of her reaches and manages to zoom into the story. minjeong, her face propped up by her palm, and next to her, aeri believes is aphrodite reincarnated. bright doe eyes, pouty lips— oh, aeri might be in love.

she was about to discover if it was possible to lose her voice solely from screaming inside her head.

“oh shit, do you think that’s her girlfriend?” jimin gasps as soon as she sees the story as well and the fight for her phone goes forgotten. they both stare in bewilderment at the photo.

yizhuo eventually pries their fingers off jimin’s phone, sneering, “close your mouth, both of you. she’s y/n.”

aeri jumps into action at her words, “you know this girl? who is she? what’s her name?”

“calm down, damn.”

“sorry— this is the literal love of my life?”

jimin frowns, “that’s what i said about minjeong and you called me deluded.”

ignoring jimin.

“i don’t know her, i know of her,” yizhuo rolls her eyes again. aeri purses her lips at the brattiness of the youngest. since when was their baby so sassy? maybe jimin was too irritating. aeri would understand if that were the case.

“just stalk her account. minjeong definitely tagged her somewhere or she’s in the comments,” jimin suggests.

aeri hollers, “you’re a genius!” it’s her first time saying that to jimin.

through sheer determination and will (yizhuo calls it stupidity), she manages to find minjeong replying to a certain commenter.

mj_0101 been away

view all comments

1eeyn i see how it is.. no creds at all

↳ mj_0101 photo creds to my bae

“bae?! jimin— oh my fucking god!” aeri screeches and thank god they’re in jimin’s room and not in public. yizhuo has the gall to cover her ears even though aeri’s been on the receiving end of her dolphin shrieks before.

equally distressed, jimin lets out a choked sob, “of course the pretty girls are dating!”

“guys, i just said they’re only friends.”

“and how do you know that?!”

yizhuo shoots a glare and jimin immediately cowers beside aeri.

“because i know them, duh. y’all are stupid. the moment you two see pretty girls it’s like your ability to think disappears.”

well that, aeri can’t disagree. her brain had no thoughts when she first saw minjeong’s story. just sunshine and rainbows. maybe the distant chiming of wedding bells. or a white, sparkly dress with a long train.

as she gets lost in her thoughts, jimin pries her fingers away from the phone, detaching them carefully. when aeri frowns at her action, the older one merely shrugs, “stalk her on your own phone.”

begrudgingly, she does so, searching up this mystery girl’s instagram. it’s pretty empty, mostly just pictures of nature and food. sometimes she throws in a selfie that makes aeri’s heart clench.

“fuck,” she groans, feeling her throat choke up, “she’s so my type.”

jimin nods in agreement even though aeri’s sure she didn’t hear a word she said. yizhuo rolls her eyes (how many times has she done that?).

“you think she’s into girls?” aeri asks, showing yizhuo a story highlight of some vinyls with clairo’s one right at the front.

“maybe. i don’t know her too well. i heard she’s kind of scary though, like cold and intimidating. she punched someone for picking on minjeong once.”

aeri lets out a huff, one of sheer amazement. lord knows she needs a woman who can fight.

“aeri-ah,” jimin suddenly calls out from her bed.

“yes?”

she gulps, swallowing harshly, “if you text her, i’ll text minjeong.”

yizhuo hums, “you two do that.”

she mulls it over. texting this pretty girl? who’s insanely her type? maybe. what if you were an asshole though? she’s not too sure about whether minjeong would be friends with you if you were mean but she thinks back to your face.

god, she needs you biblically.

“okay, let’s get girlfriends!”

she doesn’t text you at all. it’s a little embarrassing to admit but aeri’s scared! what if she just gets ignored? she couldn’t get her ego bruised like that. and jimin’s no help either! constantly texting her to dm you first even though aeri knows that jimin stares at the empty private chat with minjeong every night.

what she does do is first of all, create another account that’s completely blank, void of any recognition for aeri. then she watches your stories. on repeat. and on one uneventful tuesday, your profile lights up with a ring around it. aeri can’t help herself from viewing it immediately.

and maybe she shouldn’t have, since she’s seething by the time yizhuo texts her.

yizhuo [1.43pm]:

hey guys…

has any1 seen y/n’s story?

jimin [1.44pm]:

minjeong’s account is burned into my screen

but no ☺️

aeri [1.44pm]:

i’m gonna kill myself

jimin [1.46pm]:

😨⁉️

she almost actually throws her phone this time. aeri wants to die. she wants to puke.

what the actual fuck.

her phone rings— she picks up on the first ring.

“so…” yizhuo starts awkwardly.

“what’s going on?! aeri, don’t kill yourself?! you’re my best friend and i might also die without you! i love you, aeri—”

aeri cries out, “she has a girlfriend!”

the other side of the phone goes eerily quiet before jimin’s forehead pops up on screen and her eyebrows are nearly touching her hairline.

“WHAT?!”

“she just posted a photo of her kissing some girl’s cheek!” aeri screeches.

yizhuo winces before adding unhelpfully, “her girlfriend’s pretty though.”

“not the point— also yeah, agreed. but still! what am i gonna do now?!”

jimin frowns, “you can still be friends with her, right?”

“well… i was going to try to hit her up first,” aeri pouts, feeling devastated. she hadn’t even gotten a chance to woo you, and no way was she going to get in the way of a happy relationship! aeri was many things, but she wasn’t a homewrecker.

“maybe you can salvage a friendship out of this,” yizhuo suggests thoughtfully. aeri nods. maybe she should at least try to be friends rather than pursue a romantic relationship. she needed to expand her social circle anyway from just jimin and yizhuo.

“jimin, this means you have to text minjeong now.”

“what?! i’m not ready!”

“it’s just a text! like her story or something!”

jimin stares at her through the screen, affronted. aeri connects the dots quickly enough, “wait, don’t tell me you have been liking all her stories?”

“okay, maybe i have! that’s not a crime. and she liked one of my stories back! the one i posted when we went to eat hotpot! i’m way farther in this than you are—”

aeri hangs up. she can’t deal with a gloating jimin right now.

she needs a clear mind. she needs to think about her next course of action. all that was occupying her mind during the past few days was a wedding with you, but now aeri has a few adjustments to make.

swiping back to your story, aeri frowns. she clicks to the previous one. it’s a photo of you playing with a dog, an adorable samoyed. the background has a few other dogs, so you were probably at a dog cafe.

with your girlfriend, aeri sighs.

she types out, ‘omg where is this?’ it feels friendly and innocent enough. and aeri totally knows which dog cafe you’re at. it’s a rather popular one that she has visited herself.

before aeri can even think again, she sends the message.

god, she should really stop letting jimin get to her head.

within seconds, there’s a reply that makes aeri’s heart soar.

[aerichandesu] 1eeyn

it’s winters village in hongdae!

you’re really pretty btw

score! aeri’s got this in the bag!

she enters the chat and replies with a speed that makes the flash quiver.

aerichandesu [2.10pm]:

omg thankuu ��

you’re super cute too

you don’t reply but aeri spots the tiny green circle next to your name. you’re online. but why aren’t you replying? was there nothing to reply to? aeri feels her heart sink a little lower. the chat doesn’t pop up with another message and aeri throws her phone aside.

she can’t let a girl plague her mind! aeri’s better than this! puffing her chest out, aeri gathers all the grit and willpower she has in herself and leaves the app.

aeri continues this pattern for the next few days; every time you posted a story, she would slide up. it only started to feel a bit one-sided when you started replying with short and curt responses. maybe you got weirded out by aeri, and she wouldn’t even blame you. sometimes she would send messages at midnight and wake up in the morning, cursing the vulnerability she had previously. she would read back at the chat, cringing at her overeager attitude. even jimin called her out on it! and if even jimin found it weird, aeri must have seemed absolutely psychotic.

“girl, i think you have to stop,” yizhuo says one day.

“stop with what?” aeri asks but she knows damn well what yizhuo’s talking about. jimin’s head perks up, her cheeks stuffed with ramen that aeri so graciously cooked for her when the older had complained about her hunger.

after swallowing, jimin giggles, “your little thing with your girl.”

“uhm, what?”

“i think you’re creeping her out,” yizhuo shakes her head, “if i had this stranger, no matter how cute they are, constantly texting me first, i would be a little scared.”

aeri pouts, feeling admonished, “i haven’t texted her in two days. she isn’t interested.”

“oh thank goodness,” the chinese girl sighs in relief, “i thought you went all joe goldberg on her.”

“i’m not joe! and i would never do that to someone!”

“well, i was worried anyway.”

jimin nudges her shoulder, “there’s a lot of fish in the ocean, right?”

rolling her eyes, aeri pinches at jimin’s side, “imagine if i said that about minjeong.”

“why would you ever say that about minjeong?” jimin furrows her brows, “and i actually texted her.”

aeri shoots up, the thought of her disastrous love life long forgotten as jimin reveals this new information.

“you did?! holy shit, congrats dude!”

jimin looks away, sheepish, “i replied to her story and she said that she remembers me from school. i don’t know how i missed seeing someone like her around. she said she really likes bowling, so i’m thinking of bringing her to bowl.”

genuinely happy for her friend, aeri pats her on the back while yizhuo gives a pleased nod. aeri kind of wishes her endeavour with you could go this smoothly. she certainly doesn’t remember you from school, nor does it seem you remember her. maybe you just weren’t in the same classes.

“guess it’s just me now, huh?” aeri laughs, despite the slight embarrassment she feels from being ignored.

jimin pouts, “you’ll find someone better.”

aeri thinks of the way her heart flutters when you reply or post something new, and she thinks that she’s never felt this strongly attracted to someone before without even knowing them.

yeah, she doesn’t think she will.

aeri’s totally fine. she’s gone two weeks without even glancing at your profile and she’s okay. there were some withdrawal symptoms at first, like the increasing urge to reply to your story or like it, but aeri’s determination outweighs her adoration. thus, she lives life without ever thinking about you again.

(that was a lie. she still wonders about it at night.)

yizhuo had applauded her ‘getting over’ you and so had jimin, who was barely online nowadays because she was hanging out with minjeong. aeri’s glad her best friend has found someone she likes. and she’s over the moon that jimin has found a new victim for her teasing. apparently, minjeong had better reactions, so yizhuo and aeri cheered knowing minjeong would suffer now.

jimin had been bugging them to finally meet minjeong and hang out as a group for the longest time. aeri doesn’t know if she actually brought her to that bowling date but the restaurant they picked out is expensive and jimin’s paying. so naturally, she agrees instantly.

what jimin doesn’t say is that minjeong would be bringing someone along.

coincidentally, you.

hence, aeri’s sitting right across from you, not daring to lift her head up in fear that she might make eye contact. after acting so desperate in your dms, aeri would rather die than face you directly.

you stare at her bizarrely as minjeong introduces you to jimin’s friends.

“this is yizhuo and aeri, we all went to the same high school together,” minjeong informs you, “but i don’t think we ever crossed paths before.”

“no, we haven’t,” you confirm. aeri glances at you meekly before darting her gaze to the menu.

“nice to meet you, y/n,” yizhuo smiles sweetly, making up for the silence that aeri provided. you’re still a little confused as to why aeri wasn’t talking right now.

maybe she thinks you don’t recognise her? but you do. she’s the pretty girl that randomly popped up one day and started replying to your stories.

“nice to meet you too,” you grin, “nice to see you in person as well, aeri-ssi.”

you watch, surprised, as aeri barely acknowledges your words, only nodding slightly. wasn’t she quite bold online? why was she acting like this now?

“shall we order?” jimin asks, snapping the menu shut. after calling over the waiter, you shift your eyes back to aeri, staring appreciatively at her outfit. one thing you noticed from her instagram feed was that she dressed well. you wanted to ask her where she shops but she seemed a second away from exploding.

you whip out your phone, earning a flinch from aeri.

y/n bae [7.24pm]:

is smth wrong w aeri?

mindoongie [7.24pm]:

uhmm idk 😓

idt she’s usually like this

jiminie said she’s quite sociable

awesome. so that meant you were the problem.

resting your head on your palm, you turn your attention to yizhuo, asking, “what are you currently studying?”

“oh, i’m doing fashion design,” she answers, twirling the knife.

“that’s interesting. could you ever design something for me one day?”

yizhuo chuckles, “i’ll cast you as my model if i get big. what about you?”

“i’ll definitely pursue something in modelling but i’m studying medicine right now.”

engrossed in your conversation, you barely notice aeri’s pout. the girl seemed a little too timid and shy as to what you’ve seen online. and minjeong and jimin seemed to be talking about something else.

“y/n, are you dating anyone right now?” yizhuo asks suddenly. you falter, recalling the girl you had just broken up with a few days ago, “ah, no. not currently.”

in your haste to recover, you miss the nudge yizhuo gives go aeri.

spurred on, aeri asks, “do you have time to date while studying?”

“hm, it was manageable,” you reply, “it got tiring when she needed a lot of my time though.”

aeri stares at you wistfully before coughing.

you wonder why she asked that.

[aerichandesu] 1eeyn

hi, can u help me say thanku to jimin?

for taking care of my best friend

aeri blinks at the message. it’s the first time you’ve texted her first.

aerichandesu [10.43pm]:

sure

she still feels awkward for acting so desperate previously. it doesn’t feel right to act like that anymore. and aeri does feel a little bad for how cold she was during dinner.

1eeyn [10.44pm]:

thank u aeri chan

aeri-chan? where did that come from? suddenly, she feels the stutter in her heart resurfacing after she had tried to bury it.

1eeyn [10.45pm]:

we didn’t get to talk much, huh?

aerichandesu [10.45pm]:

no sorry

i wasn’t feeling well

it feels like the safest lie she can tell.

1eeyn [10.46pm]:

that’s a shame

are you feeling better now?

aerichandesu [10.46pm]

yes, i am

1eeyn [10.46pm]:

that’s good

rest well aeri-chan 💗

oh my god, aeri needs to text the group chat!

over the next few days, you were relentless with your texts. it felt like you and aeri had swapped roles. she didn’t know to adapt to this new side of you without seeming like a bumbling fool. you would send selfies! selfies! asking aeri for her opinion. the first time you sent one, aeri’s nose started bleeding and she scared jimin half to death, thinking aeri was dying.

(“she sent me a selfie! of her face!” aeri wails, covering her nose with bloody tissues.

jimin grimaces at the blood, “well, yes. selfies are usually of someone’s face.”)

then, you would send your outfits, or whatever you ate that day. slowly, aeri started warming up to you too and would begin to send her own photos. normally she would send photos of her dogs or jimin and yizhuo being silly. then they evolved into selfies.

aeri likes what she has with you right now. you were building up a friendship that aeri appreciated. she liked your humour and personality as well, complementing her own rather nicely. minjeong and jimin begin dating as well, making your proximity even closer as the two would constantly drag everyone to hangouts. to be frank, aeri can’t believe that this all started because jimin saw a cute girl at a cafe, but somehow, it makes sense too.

how an insignificant moment such as minjeong deciding to buy coffee that day helped aeri gain two new best friends, she would never know. but she liked it. it felt like fate. leaning on your shoulder, aeri shoves a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“no scary movies please,” jimin begs, tugging at minjeong’s shirt. yizhuo laughs and eggs minjeong on to pick a horror film while aeri stares at her best friends affectionately.

“you like scary movies?” you whisper to aeri.

she shakes her head, already feeling shivers run down her spine at the thought of being jumpscared countless times. jimin’s reaction would be funny as hell. but no way was she sacrificing her own sanity for something like that. if she wanted jimin to go insane, she had ten other ways to do that.

“nooo not the conjuring please!”

aeri cowers into herself, dreading the night already. this was a weekly occurrence, having a movie night at jimin’s apartment. it started with just the three of them and then minjeong and you got invited soon after. the honour of picking a movie was passed down every week and aeri detests it when it’s minjeong’s turn. that girl would pick scary films just to annoy jimin and aeri always gets caught in the crossfire somehow.

“don’t worry, minjeongie wants to watch despicable me tonight. she’s just playing with jimin,” you comfort. aeri nods as minjeong hovers exceptionally long on the nun before finally moving to despicable me. jimin cheers in exhilaration and yizhuo boos.

“oh my gosh, babe! i love the minions!”

“minions and despicable me are two different movies!” yizhuo sneers. just as the movie starts, jimin, minjeong and yizhuo begin bickering. aeri knows how the argument will end— with jimin apologising and minjeong and yizhuo emerging victorious.

a gush of hot air beside her ear makes her jump, “they’re cute, aren’t they?”

aeri follows your gaze to where jimin and minjeong’s fingers are interwoven even though they’re arguing.

“yeah, silly but cute.”

you chuckle, slipping your hand into aeri’s under the blanket, “we can’t lose to them, right?”

she gets caught off guard for just a second before bouncing back.

“no, i’ll never lose to jimin.”

your laugh makes aeri’s cheeks heat up slightly. as you ramble on about the movie, she listens to every word attentively, wanting to savour the smoothness and richness of your voice. her smaller hand stays tight in your bigger one, feeling the warmth emitting from your palm.

aeri’s heart feels content.

she’s happy here, being friends with you.

unfortunately (or fortunately), the friendship doesn’t last for long.

after that particular movie night, aeri has noticed a change in your behaviour. you’ve become touchier, for lack of a better term. more lingering touches around her shoulder, hands, waist, wrists, wherever her skin was. you would gaze into her eyes before smiling shyly and looking away. you would offer to bring her lunch even though she knows you’re busy with your internship. not to mention the influx of messages. if aeri thought your selfies were bad for her heart before, it resembled a tsunami drowning her heart now.

photos, of every kind, most of them in your scrubs and uniform, smiling at the camera gleefully, as if you weren’t working an all-nighter. and on your off-days, aeri finds you staying up to talk to her. she’s busy during the day, so she doesn’t really check her phone often. when she finally does, she’s welcomed by your chat. the once intimidating girl that she admired online had turned into the girl that camped in her dms.

she had asked before, why you would text her so much. your response had been equally confusing, asking her back if she wanted you to stop. of course not. the aeri a few months ago wished for days that you would reply with more than four words. now, it seemed like you constantly had paragraphs of stories to tell her. not that she was complaining.

then, one day, the messages stop. aeri’s a little bewildered when she checks her phone and nothing’s there but she goes to bed anyway. maybe you were working a really long shift? sometimes she would catch you at four in the morning, so perhaps you were catching up on some much needed sleep.

but when she wakes up the next day, there’s only a lone message asking for her to meet you.

aeri agrees, yet she can’t help but wonder about the spontaneous nature of the message. it was sent in the morning, so it seemed like you had been thinking about it all night.

after dressing herself, she left her apartment, nervous but excited at the prospect of seeing you again. the last time you met face to face was over a week ago and aeri’s suffering from y/n drought.

you had requested to meet at lunchtime and when aeri arrives at the restaurant, you’re already there, seated and deep in thought.

“hey,” she greets, “slept well?”

you didn’t, but you nod anyway.

“did you have a shift yesterday?” aeri asks as you order your regulars.

“uhm, no. sorry i didn’t text you, i was busy doing something else.”

“nah, it’s fine. i was helping ning with her designs anyway.”

you nod stiffly and aeri reaches out a hand to cover yours, “are you good? you seem a little off.”

“i’m fine!” your voice comes out squeakier than usual but aeri brushes it off.

“so, what’s up?” she finally asks.

you tap your fingernails on the table, gulping harshly, “i just wanted to talk.”

“mhm, sure.”

“i wanted to know… well… uhm, if you were still interested in me,” you ask, eyes flickering to aeri hesitantly. aeri gapes at you before stammering, “wh-why? what— what do you mean?”

you inhale sharply, “i know you were interested in me at the start, but are you still interested now?”

aeri withdraws her hand, “uh, why?”

furrowing your eyebrows, you grit your teeth, “please just tell me.”

“uhm. well… yes? but why—”

“because i’m interested. and i want to find out if the feeling’s the same,” you blurt out. aeri’s eyes widen considerably and if your heart wasn’t racing a mile, you would coo at her cuteness.

“if you were interested before… why didn’t you say anything?” aeri asks, her voice trailing off at the end. you sigh, pinching your nose bridge, “i was dating someone at the time. it wasn’t right for me to encourage someone who liked me that much.”

aeri nods, already feeling guilty for her desperation before.

“i’m sorry for my coldness but i could already tell you were interested in me and as someone who had a girlfriend then, i couldn’t message back with the same eagerness,” you explain.

“no, it’s fine. that was a stupid question but uhm, i thought you didn’t like me back.”

“we became friends first, then i started to have feelings for you. as i learnt more about you, i started to like you more.”

aeri feels a little silly with her immediate infatuation. huh. maybe she got her ‘friends to lovers’ trope after all.

“i hope that now, i can take you on a date?” you ask and how can aeri refuse that? your bright, gleaming, expectant eyes? aeri felt her heart crushed with adoration.

“yes, obviously. you’re my ideal type and everything. you know i had thoughts about our wedding when i first met you—”

“oh, is that why you were so quiet that night?”

“yeah, you just looked really pretty under the lighting and i already started to imagine how you would look like dressed in all white and how our wedding would seem, maybe i would pick yizhuo as my maid of honour and minjeong could be yours but jimin would totally throw a fuss and—”

you smile widely as aeri babbles on, chiming in every once in a while to insert your own thoughts.

when she finally finishes, the expression on your face makes her whole being ascend.

maybe all those useless blind dates with shitty luck amounted to her finding the love of her life.

thank you! aeri would later exclaim to that horoscope-obsessed girl and the gym rat. who knew that those catastrophic dates would finally gift her you, her first girlfriend (and last!).

[solxamber]

This is a funny lil idea I just had but have you ever thought about rook and a reader that acts like his behavior is normal? Like, they know he's literally stalking them but is perfectly fine with it for some strange reason.

And when they finally do start dating, everyone is either

1. Convinced that he’s threatening your life

Or

2. Judging you like crazy because WHY

Totally Normal Romance || Rook Hunt

You've fallen hard for the hunter and you're dating! But when you tell your friends the good news, they immediately try staging interventions. Huh, I wonder why?

thank you for waiting! I loved the idea a lot and it became way longer than I expected but I hope you like it!

You’ve somehow managed to fall into a relationship with Rook, the Academy's resident “Hunter” and renowned tracker of students who can't even attempt to hide without him finding them.

Most people would be a little alarmed—okay, extremely alarmed—by Rook’s knack for showing up whenever you breathe a little too loud. But you? You’re weirdly, unapologetically chill about it.

The day starts as it usually does. Rook is outside your door bright and early, practically sparkling, ready to report how many steps you took in your sleep, how many breaths you exhaled, and what percentage of your dreams contained images of his dashing silhouette.

You nod, acting like he’s merely sharing the weather, and go about your morning. People are whispering in the hallways; they’ve noticed that the school’s “greatest hunter” is now your personal shadow.

Some think you're being held hostage in an unholy union. Others are convinced you’ve cracked under the pressure of Rook’s endless poetic monologues and have, in fact, lost your mind.

When the two of you officially start dating, the rumors take a delightful nosedive into the surreal. Rook is, naturally, over the moon, reciting sonnets about your “captivating acceptance of his pursuit.” Friends beg you to “see the red flags.”

You just smile as Rook emerges from behind a tree on your morning jog to hand you a flower he found “radiant with the essence of your aura.”

Intervention Attempt 1: Adeuce

You’re just sitting down to lunch when Ace and Deuce suddenly approach you with identical expressions of horror and determination, like they’ve somehow stumbled into a horror movie and taken it upon themselves to rescue the clueless protagonist. Ace, as usual, decides to take the lead.

“We need to talk. About... him.” He jerks a thumb toward Rook, who’s lurking—quite visibly—behind a tree, watching you with a delighted grin as if the entire world is his favorite reality TV show.

You shrug. “Rook’s just being his usual sweet self.”

Deuce’s mouth falls open. “That’s... sweet? The dude’s literally hiding in a tree to stare at you.”

You wave a hand. “He’s just thoughtful, you know? He knew I needed a pick-me-up yesterday, so he waited in my closet for two hours just to surprise me with a motivational haiku.”

Ace’s expression is somewhere between pity and disbelief. “You’re serious? That’s... sweet?”

“Uh-huh.” You pop a fry in your mouth, unfazed. “Honestly, it’s kind of nice to have someone that dedicated.”

Ace and Deuce share a silent, horrified look, one that clearly says, Our friend has lost it. Then, Ace leans in close. “You know, if he’s threatening you, you can blink twice or something. We can handle him.”

You burst into laughter, almost choking on your fry. “Guys, come on! Rook’s harmless. It’s just his way of showing affection.”

Behind the tree, Rook notices you laughing and beams even wider, waving with both hands like you’re his entire world. Ace sighs, looking like he’s just signed up for an impossible mission. Deuce’s brows knit together in concern, like he’s mentally preparing himself to guard you from the “danger” Rook apparently presents.

Intervention Attempt 2: Leona

Leona lounges on the couch as you walk into the room, looking way too relaxed—except for the sharp glint in his eye as he watches you. You know that look; it’s the we need to talk look, though Leona would sooner eat his tail than say it outright.

“You know that guy who keeps creeping around you?” he starts, his tone casual, as if he’s talking about the weather. “The hunter dude?”

“Oh, Rook? Yeah, he’s great!” you reply with a smile, clearly missing his hint.

Leona raises an eyebrow, looking faintly amused. “Great? The guy basically tracks your every move like a lion on a hunt. He’s probably memorized your breathing patterns by now.”

You laugh it off, waving a hand. “Leona, you make it sound creepy. Rook’s just… committed.”

Leona smirks, leaning back with a lazy yawn. “Committed to what, stalking you?”

You shrug. “It’s romantic in its own way! He writes poetry about me, makes sure I’m always safe... It’s kinda nice knowing someone’s always watching out for me.”

“Watching out for you,” Leona mutters, barely concealing a snicker. “Sure. Or just watching you.” He tilts his head, examining you as if you’re some rare species that’s suddenly shown up in the savanna. “You sure he hasn’t put a spell on you? You sound completely out of it.”

You smirk. “Leona, you’re just not used to people showing appreciation.”

Leona narrows his eyes, amusement flickering in his gaze. “You keep saying stuff like that, herbivore, and I’m gonna assume you’ve completely lost it.” He yawns and flops back onto the couch, muttering under his breath, “That crazy hunter and his weird haikus…”

You walk away, oblivious, and Leona just shakes his head with a smirk, quietly wondering if he’ll end up having to pry Rook off of you someday.

Intervention Attempt 3: Riddle

Riddle stares at you over his teacup, his brows knit with concern as you talk about your latest “date” with Rook. You've barely started describing his newest poetic declaration when Riddle sets his cup down, looking thoroughly alarmed.

“I… don’t understand,” he interrupts. “Did you say he was waiting in the shadows outside your dorm window at midnight? And he… recited sonnets?”

You nod, completely unbothered. “Oh, yes! And he was so sweet about it. He even had a rose between his teeth, Riddle. He really went all out.”

Riddle’s expression looks like he’s been hit with cold water. “And you… didn’t feel unsafe?”

“Why would I?” you laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s Rook. He’s just being his passionate self.”

Riddle’s face hardens, and he stands up, clutching his teacup with barely contained fury. “This is unacceptable! You must report this immediately—stalking is a severe issue! You don’t have to tolerate this treatment, no matter how he frames it!”

You blink, surprised. “Riddle, it’s really okay. He’s not stalking me; he’s just… really attentive.”

Riddle’s lips thin, and he looks at you with pity, as if you're just too naive to understand the danger you’re in. “It’s worse than I thought,” he mutters, eyes blazing. “He’s… he’s manipulating you into thinking this is acceptable!”

Riddle finally sighs, shaking his head. “If you’re too afraid to tell him off, I’ll do it for you. As a dorm leader, it’s my duty to protect students in my care.”

“Riddle, I appreciate it, but I don’t need protection,” you insist, patting him on the shoulder. “Rook is harmless.”

Riddle huffs, looking like he’s already planning out the verbal lashing he’s going to deliver to Rook the next time he sees him. “You’ll see,” he says. “When you realize the danger, remember I warned you.”

You just smile, and he glances at you like you’re a sheep walking happily into a lion’s den.

Intervention Attempt 4: Malleus (And Lilia?)

When Malleus summons you to Diasomnia for what he calls an “urgent matter,” you’re intrigued. However, when you arrive, his expression is downright grave. The flickering candlelight gives his face an eerie glow as he looks at you, his usually calm demeanor laced with worry.

He leans in close, and his eyes narrow. “I understand you… spend much time with Rook,” he says, voice almost a whisper.

“Uh, yeah? We’re dating,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Malleus blinks, clearly taken aback, as if he was expecting an entirely different answer. “So you willingly… permit him to lurk in the shadows around you?”

“Well, yes, he’s got that whole poetic ‘silent protector’ thing going on.” You shrug, but Malleus doesn’t look any less alarmed.

“I see,” Malleus says, more to himself than to you. “So he’s already gained control over you.” He sighs, looking deeply concerned. “Fear not. I will protect you from him.”

Before you can respond, Lilia, who’s been silently watching with a smirk, bursts into laughter.

“Oh, Malleus, you’re taking this far too seriously,” he cackles, clapping a hand on Malleus’s shoulder. “Rook isn’t dangerous—well, unless you count bad poetry as a weapon.”

Malleus doesn’t look convinced. “You find this funny?” he asks, frowning.

“Of course I do!” Lilia grins, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. “They’re dating, Malleus. Rook doesn’t even know how to scare a fly when it comes to them.”

Malleus turns back to you, still worried. “Are you… certain you’re safe?”

You nod, but the look of pity in his eyes says he’s clearly unconvinced, as if he thinks you’re only defending Rook out of fear. Meanwhile, Lilia gives you a wink and a mischievous grin, enjoying the absurdity of the whole situation.

Intervention Attempt 5: Azul

You’re strolling past the Mostro Lounge, hoping to grab some food, when Azul intercepts you, looking unusually serious. He gestures for you to follow him into a private corner, glancing around as if he's worried someone might overhear.

“I understand you’ve been spending quite a bit of time with Rook,” he says, his tone grave, though there’s a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s already calculating something.

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, we’re dating.”

Azul’s expression shifts to something between shock and pity, as if he’s just heard you’ve taken up with the Grim Reaper himself. “Dating? So… you’re aware he’s stalking you?”

You shrug. “He’s not stalking—he’s just keeping an eye out. Very vigilant, actually.”

Azul’s face darkens. “Right… vigilant.” He clears his throat. “In that case, allow me to offer the services of Floyd and Jade for your… protection.”

You blink. “Protection?”

“Yes. For a reasonable price, of course,” he says with a smooth smile, back to his usual self. “Consider it a sort of… insurance in case this arrangement with Rook takes a… dramatic turn.”

He leans forward, lowering his voice. “Imagine if you had two skilled guards who could tail him as closely as he tails you.”

Before you can respond, Floyd appears out of nowhere, draping an arm over your shoulder and grinning. “We could totally scare him, too. Make him feel like he’s the one being hunted!”

Jade nods from behind him, his smile too sharp to be comforting. “Yes, we’re more than happy to shadow Rook if you’d like.”

You stare at the twins, whose predatory smiles seem to stretch further the longer they look at you. “Guys, I appreciate the offer, but Rook’s fine. I’m not being held captive.”

Azul raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t push, instead sighing in that dramatic way of his. “Very well. The offer stands should you need it. Just remember: one word, and we’re at your service.”

As you walk away, you catch a quiet exchange between the twins.

“Do you think we’d even get the chance to tail him, Jade?”

“Hmm… I’d say it’s more likely he’d follow us, Floyd.”

You shake your head, amused. Only Azul would find a way to capitalize on your love life.

Intervention(?) Attempt 6: Vil

You’re backstage in Pomefiore, helping Vil with his costume adjustments for his latest role when he pauses, hands on his hips, giving you a long, evaluative look.

“So… you and Rook?” he finally says, an eyebrow raised with an almost resigned air.

“Yeah.” You grin, shrugging. “I mean, he’s… intense, but it works.”

Vil sighs, pressing two fingers to his temple as if that would ward off the headache he’s certain to get from this conversation. “You realize that most people would find his behavior concerning, right?”

You wave him off. “He’s harmless. Just… expressive.”

He gives a soft, humorless laugh, as though he’s not sure if you’re just that naive or that confident. “You’re both completely mad, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you say, leaning back with a shrug. “But I like it that way.”

Vil sighs again, and there’s a glimmer of a smile, even if it’s hidden behind a look of sheer exasperation. “Well, at least he won’t make you look bad. He’ll be too busy swooning in the background to do anything truly reckless.” He adjusts your collar with an air of finality, giving you a nod. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

And with that, he returns to his preparations, mumbling something under his breath about how only you could take Rook’s intensity as a “feature” rather than a “warning sign.” But you catch the faint smile on his face as he walks away, leaving you feeling oddly reassured.

Final Intervention: Idia

Idia’s “intervention” is the sort of spectacle that would probably have your other friends dial emergency numbers if they walked in. He's got his laptop perched on a stack of comics, his tablet propped up, and an honest-to-Seven laser pointer he’s brandishing like it’s going to physically ward off any poor life choices.

He points at his first diagram, titled in neon-green font: "Why Your Boyfriend Should Not Be Tracking Your Every Move Like a Supervillain”. It's complete with cartoonish red arrows and diagrams that could pass for an undergrad thesis on questionable behavior.

Rook’s sitting beside you, nodding along with a strangely approving look, as if Idia's crude drawings are just part of the "unrefined genius" he'd expect from mere mortals.

When Idia clicks to his next slide—a very intense pie chart on “Reasons You’re Definitely in Danger"—you shrug. “Look, Idia, everyone’s got their quirks, right? He leaves poetry scrolls for me; you send messages only through encrypted text channels with six layers of memes as the header.”

Idia stares at you, blinking, and drops his laser pointer. It rolls pathetically across the floor, and he looks like he’s two seconds away from fainting. “Th-This isn’t the same! I don’t leave my IP address in your flowerbeds!”

Rook, thrilled, interjects. “Ah, but would you not feel a poetic stirring in your heart if you did, monsieur? Every new line I compose is a love letter to the chase!”

Idia sways. You’re genuinely worried he might black out.

Life, as it turns out, continues with a healthy dose of Rook’s “love language,” which to everyone else looks like the dictionary definition of a security risk.

Yet, you find yourself smiling every time he swoops in with that glittering look in his eyes, poetry scrolls under his arm and a thousand strange ideas.

And even if everyone around you is either looking into exorcisms or planning escape routes, for you, it’s just another day of living your best life.

Masterlist

[r6eduss]

Would you do a jealous daryl fic? Im pretty open to whatever, I just like it when he gets all riled up.

Play Date.

•Summary: You confess to Daryl, but he doesn’t take it serious, leaving you heartbroken. But when he sees you with Spencer the next day, it sparks jealousy in him he didn’t know he had. (Fem reader)

•Warnings: 18+, No established relationship, angst, fluff

•Word Count: 3.5k

•Setting: Alexandria

•A/N: thank you for the request anon! I’m sorry if you aren’t happy with the results. It took me awhile to write this 🫶🏼 I think if Daryl were actually in a relationship with you, he’d be more trusting so he wouldn’t be as jealous.

The walls of Alexandria were a stark contrast to the world outside. It wasn’t just the literal separation between life and death, safety and chaos; it was the reminder of what life had been before everything fell apart. It wasn’t long ago that the world had been buzzing with electricity, the hum of cities, and the simple luxuries they all took for granted. But now? Now, the very idea of safety felt alien.

You glanced over at the furniture as you walked around the home you had been given, the group clustered around you like a protective herd. You all had been in Alexandria for only a day or two, and even though everyone was supposed to be settling in, there was an air of distrust hanging over the group. Rick, in particular, was on edge, his eyes scanning every corner of the street for unseen threats.

Daryl, meanwhile, looked as out of place as he felt. His clothes were worn and dirty, his hair hanging down over his face, but it wasn’t just his appearance that set him apart from the clean-cut Alexandrians. It was the way he held himself, like a caged animal, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

You’d known Daryl long enough to recognize the signs. He didn’t belong in a place like this, and he knew it. Hell, none of them did. But Daryl? He was different. He’d always been more comfortable in the wild even before the fall, so here, with their pristine houses and manicured lawns, he felt suffocated.

When Deanna invited everyone to the party, Daryl’s reaction was immediate and expected.

“I ain’t goin’,” he grunted, not even looking at you as he adjusted the strap on his crossbow. He was standing on the porch of the house you were all sharing, still on edge about sleeping inside, feeling a need to stay outside and keep watch to protect them from any and all possible dangers.

“Daryl…” you started, your voice soft, knowing that reasoning with him required patience. “It’s just for a little while. We’ve been out there so long, and Deanna’s trying to make us feel at home. I know it’s not what you want, but could you come? For me?”

Daryl stopped, his fingers stilling on the strap, and he turned to look at you, his blue eyes piercing through the shadows of his messy hair. You saw the hesitation in him, the way he always struggled with doing things for others when they weren’t strictly necessary for survival. But you weren’t asking for much—just his presence.

“Fine,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes. “‘But I ain’t puttin’ on no tie.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Deal.”

The party was already in full swing by the time you had arrived. People were mingling, drinks in hand, laughter filling the air in a way that felt foreign to the group that had spent so long fighting for their lives. It was strange, surreal even, to see people acting as though the world outside wasn’t in ruins. You noticed how uncomfortable Daryl looked almost immediately, his broad shoulders hunched in his black button up shirt while his eyes scanned the crowd as if he were looking for an escape route.

Daryl didn’t say much, hovering behind you like a shadow, his discomfort evident in every tense movement. People from Alexandria approached you, eager to learn about the new arrivals. They asked questions—about where your group had came from, how long they’d been on the road, and how you were all adjusting. You answered politely, but there was always a part of you that held back, a part that still didn’t fully trust this place.

Daryl, meanwhile, was grateful that no one spoke to him, even if the reason they didn’t was because they feared him. He stayed quiet, following you from conversation to conversation, his eyes flicking between you and the people who approached. He felt out of place, like he didn’t belong among these clean, well-fed people who seemed oblivious to the horrors faced outside those walls. But he stayed because you, the person he loved, asked him to.

Eventually, Deanna approached, her smile warm as she introduced you and Daryl to her husband, Reg.

“It’s so nice to meet you both.” Reg began, glancing between the two of them with a kind smile. “So, how long have you two been together?”

Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you quickly corrected him, laughing nervously. “Oh, no, we’re not… we’re not together.”

Daryl stayed silent, his heart was racing but he said nothing. He wasn’t sure what to say, anyway. The awkwardness of the moment hung in the air for a second too long before Deanna’s smile widened knowingly.

“Well, you make a good team,” she said before moving on, leaving them both standing there in the midst of the party.

You felt a strange mix of emotions swirl inside you—embarrassment, confusion, and something else you couldn’t quite name. You glanced at Daryl, but his expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Before you could say anything, Spencer appeared, smiling that easy, charming smile of his as he greeted you. Daryl tensed immediately, his eyes narrowing as Spencer completely ignored his presence and focused all his attention on you, like everyone at this party had done.

“Glad to see you’re fitting in,” Spencer said, his tone just a little too smooth. He leaned in slightly, his body language relaxed but… suggestive. You noticed it, but tried to push the thought aside, assuming you were reading too much into it.

You both made small talk for a few minutes, Spencer doing most of the talking while you nodded politely, trying not to let your discomfort show. Daryl, on the other hand, could see right through Spencer’s act. He recognized the way Spencer’s eyes lingered a little too long, the way his smile was just a little too practiced.

His jaw tightened as he watched Spencer flirt with you right in front of him. It wasn’t that he thought you were his—but the way Spencer looked at you, like you were a conquest, made him feel frustrated, made him feel emotions he’s never felt for anyone before, feelings he didn’t think he was capable of feeling.

“I’m gon’ get a drink.” Daryl muttered under his breath, though he had no intention of actually getting one. Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed for the door, needing to get away before he did something stupid. You barely noticed as he walked away, too caught up in Spencer’s conversation. It wasn’t until Spencer asked, “So, do you have a boyfriend?” that your mind shifted to Daryl.

You paused, your heart skipping a beat as you thought about your feelings for Daryl. You weren’t together, but you couldn’t deny that your heart had long since gravitated toward him.

“No,” you finally answered, voice quiet.

Spencer’s smile widened, and before you could say anything else, he asked, “Then how about we go out sometime?” The question caught you off guard, but you recovered quickly, offering him a polite smile as you shook your head. “I’m not really interested, I’m sorry.” You couldn’t really handle the awkwardness of the conversation, so you began to walk away, but Spencer wasn’t one to take no for an answer. His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist a little too tightly, his smile fading into something harder. “Come on,” he said, his tone insistent. “It’s just a date.”

You tensed immediately, your eyes narrowing as you tried to pull your wrist free. “Let go,” you said firmly, your voice was low enough that no one else at the party noticed.

For a moment, Spencer hesitated, his grip tightening. But then he seemed to remember where they were—surrounded by both Alexandrians and people

of Rick’s group—and he released you, his expression shifting back into a smooth, apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that,” he said quickly, but the red mark on your wrist told a different story.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, heading toward the table with the drinks to look for Daryl. But when you got there, he was nowhere to be found. What you did see, though, was Spencer already chatting up Sasha, his flirtatious smile back in full force.

You sighed, feeling a wave of disappointment wash over you. The night wasn’t turning out the way you had hoped. You wanted to enjoy it, to maybe have a quiet moment with Daryl, but instead, it felt like everything was falling apart.

Needing some air, you stepped outside, the cool night breeze brushing against your skin. It didn’t take long to spot Daryl, leaning against a nearby fence, a cigarette between his lips as he stared out into the darkness.

You approached him slowly, your heart still racing from the interaction with Spencer. As you got closer, Daryl’s eyes shifted to you, and the moment he saw the red mark on your wrist, his entire demeanor changed.

“Wha’ happened?” he asked, his voice rough but laced with concern.

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, but you knew there was no point in lying to him. “Spencer grabbed me when I tried to leave,” you really didn’t want to already start problems. “It’s fine. He let go.”

Daryl’s expression darkened instantly, his jaw clenching as he tossed the cigarette to the ground, already turning to head back toward the house. “I’m gon’ kill ‘im.”

“Daryl, wait,” quickly, you stepped in front of him and placed a hand on his chest to stop him. “It’s fine. I just… I want to spend the night with you. Not dealing with that. Please.”

He stopped, his fists still clenched, his eyes blazing with barely contained anger. But something about the way you said it—the way you asked him to stay with you—made him pause. He looked down at you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to calm the storm inside him.

“If he gets near ya again, I swear…”

You smiled softly, touched by his protectiveness. “I know. But you don’t have to worry. I’ve got you—and the rest of the group—watching out for me. I’m fine.”

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground as he struggled with the emotions swirling inside him. He wanted to protect you, wanted to make sure no one ever laid a hand on you, but there was something else gnawing at him—something he didn’t quite know how to deal with.

Jealousy.

He didn’t think he had a right to feel it, but it was there, a bitter taste in his mouth. Spencer was younger, cleaner, probably the kind of guy you deserved. And him? He was older, rough around the edges, scarred in more ways than one.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, you spoke again, voice steady. “Daryl… you don’t have to worry about Spencer or anyone else. My heart… it already belongs to you.”

For a moment, Daryl froze, his mind going blank as your words sank in. He looked down at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. You couldn’t be serious. There was no way someone like you—someone strong, kind, beautiful—could feel that way about him.

A defensive scoff escaped his lips as he shook his head while giving your shoulder a playful nudge.

Your smile faltered, and you felt the sting of his actions deep in your chest. You’d laid your heart bare, and he’d brushed it off like it was nothing. But you didn’t let the hurt show. Instead, you forced a small laugh, playing it off like it was a joke.

But inside, your heart was breaking.

Without another word, you turned and began walking back in the direction toward your shared home with the others, your chest tight with the weight of his rejection. You felt like you had taken a leap, only to be pushed away, and now all you wanted to do was disappear.

Daryl watched you go as he lit another cigarette, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t untangle. His jealously, his feelings for you, things he’d never discuss out loud.

After arriving, you realized you were alone in the house. Everyone was still at the party and the silence was too deafening, leaving you unable to shake the pit in your stomach. The night stretched on endlessly as you rested on the worn-out couch, staring at the ceiling, the events of what happened playing on a loop in your mind.

Rejection. The taste of it still burned in your chest. You had put your heart on the line, and Daryl didn’t seem to notice. It had felt like a punch to the gut, leaving you winded and second-guessing everything. He hadn’t even said anything real—just brushed it off like you were joking, and now, the quiet gnawed at you, making you feel smaller by the minute. Maybe he didn’t feel the same, and that thought consumed you throughout the night.

The next day passed in a blur. You barely caught a glimpse of Daryl, knowing he was out with Aaron, who had given him a new job as a recruiting partner after he had invited him over for dinner. Every step he took away from you felt like another brick in the wall that was forming between you two. You wrestled with your feelings, considering maybe it was time to let loose.

And maybe it was time to open your options with someone else.

That afternoon, while you sat on the porch, a warm breeze brushing against your skin, Spencer appeared, looking sheepish. “Hey, about yesterday...” His voice was shaky, unsure. He shifted on his feet, his gaze darting to the ground before he finally met your eyes. “I’m really sorry for grabbing your wrist like that. I had too much to drink and I was way out of line.”

You remembered the incident from the party—the way he had grabbed you, too rough, too desperate. But now, seeing the guilt in his eyes, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pity.

“It’s fine,” you forced a small smile. “You were buzzed. I totally get it.”

Relief washed over his face, and he grinned, more confident now. “So... what about that date?”

You hesitated for a moment, your heart still aching for someone else, but the thought of moving on, of trying to distract yourself from the pain, seemed tempting. Maybe you could use Spencer to forget Daryl. “Sure,” you replied, surprising yourself with the ease in your voice.

The date was... fine. That was the best word to describe it. Spencer talked a lot about himself—his job before the fall, his family, the world he missed. He asked you questions too, seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, but as much as you tried, you couldn’t really care. His words barely made a dent in your thoughts, because they were always somewhere else—on Daryl.

But Spencer, oblivious to your disinterest, seemed to think it was a success. He walked you home afterward, his arm brushing yours every now and then. You found yourself laughing at some of the things he said, more out of politeness than anything else, but for a moment, it almost felt normal. Almost.

As you approached the front porch, you failed to notice Daryl.

He stood there, not far from the house, just returning from his run with Aaron. He froze, his eyes locked on you and Spencer, his face hardening into something unreadable. Daryl just watched, hands clenched at his sides with his jaw tight.

By the time you reached the porch, you felt tired in more ways than one. As Spencer gave you a final, confident smirk, promising to see you again soon, he finally left. You were lost in thought. The silence wrapped around you, and for a while, you almost forgot about the strange encounter—until you spotted Daryl walking right towards you.

“Hey, Dary—”

Before you could finish, Daryl’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist—not rough, but firm enough to pull you toward him. His face was a storm of anger, jealousy, and something else you couldn’t quite place. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, like he was barely keeping it together. He dragged you into the house, slamming the door behind him with a force that rattled the frame. “The hell ya doin’ with tha’ asshole?” he spat, his voice low and accent thick, filled with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean? We were just talking.”

Daryl scoffed, pacing like a caged animal. “Talkin’? That son’of a bitch touched ya, now yer walkin’ ‘round with him like it didn’t mean nothin’.”

You crossed your arms, defensiveness rising in your chest. “He apologized. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

His eyes flashed, and you could see the fury bubbling just beneath the surface. “Not a big deal? He hurt ya!” His voice was louder now, frustration pouring out of him.

And then it hit you—why he was acting this way. Was he... jealous? The realization made your blood boil. After he brushed you off, now he wanted to care? Now he wanted to feel something?

You snapped, your voice laced with anger. “So what? It wasn’t nearly as bad as you hurt me! So stop acting like we’re together when you clearly don’t care!”

Your words hung in the air, cutting through him like a knife. You watched as Daryl’s expression shifted from anger to confusion. “What?” His voice was quieter now, unsure.

Your heart clenched, the weight of everything you’d been holding in finally crashing down on you. “Last night,” you began, your voice was softer now, but still trembling with emotion. “When I told you my heart belonged to you... you acted like it was a joke.”

His breath caught in his throat. He remembered. The way he had shrugged it off, laughed it away, thinking you were just messing around. He had never thought, not in a million years, that you could feel that way about him. A girl like you? Loving a guy like him? It was laughable.

But now, seeing the pain in your eyes, it wasn’t funny at all.

“I... I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice thick with regret. “Thought ya were just messin’ ‘round.” He trailed off, unable to find the right words.

You sighed, the tension slowly ebbing away as you took in the sight of him—this man who had built up walls so high, he couldn’t even see when someone was trying to climb them. “Why would I joke about something like that, Daryl?” you asked, almost pleading. Maybe he was used to Carol’s humor, or maybe he didn’t think he deserved you.

He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Dunno,” he muttered. “Didn’t think redneck trash would be worth yer time.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. The way he saw himself, the way he spoke of himself—it hurt. But in this moment, the vulnerability in his voice, the way he couldn’t even look at you... it was endearing.

“Daryl...” you called softly, stepping closer, your heart pounding in your chest. You reached out, gently placing your index finger and your thumb under his chin, tilting his face up until his eyes met yours. The closeness between you made the air crackle with anticipation.

His eyes flickered between your gaze and your lips, nervous, unsure. He bit the inside of his lip, fidgeting with his fingers, and you knew—he was waiting for your next move.

With a steady breath, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but as his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, it deepened. When you finally pulled away, you stayed close, your lips brushing his as you whispered, “Of course you’re worth my time.”

Daryl’s eyes were wide, his breath shallow. For a long moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to convince himself that this was real. Then, in a quiet manner, he cleared his throat. “I love ya.” The words left his mouth in a very subtle whisper as you felt his breath against your lips.

Your heart stopped, the world seeming to freeze for just a second. He... loved you?

“I love you too, Daryl,” you whispered back, smiling before leaning in to kiss him again.

After a long, tender moment, you pulled back, and Daryl glanced away, embarrassed. “Ya still gon’ hang out with tha’ guy?” he asked, his voice gruff but his tone soft.

You laughed, completely forgetting about Spencer. “No,” you cupped Daryl’s cheek gently, making him revert his gaze back to you. “I have you. That’s all I need.”

@vampiresluv

[deathbyday]

-'⁠🫧*⁠.⁠✧ MOUTHWASHING ✧.⁠*⁠🫧'⁠ -

“How could we end up here..?”

Daisuke x implied F!Reader

!Reader is implied to be female, but anyone can read this. I apologize if I use she/her pronouns! (so please correct me if you see any mistakes regarding that<3)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Written By: DeathByDay

(Also written on Mobile)

————

You were screwed right from the beginning.

The way everyone acted was so.. strange. But of course, you didn’t think anything of it because you ultimately assumed it was just their quirky personalities. You weren’t taught to make fun of anyone, which was hard knowing that everyone else had the privilege of making fun of you. You just couldn’t do anything back.

You sighed, swallowing your saliva that had built up while you stared at the room’s ceiling. You knew you weren’t a good fit for the job, you knew almost nothing about space.

You felt yourself start to sweat, causing you to lean down, bending your knees as you practically press your face into the small bag you’ve brought with you on this journey. You start fumbling with the bag, searching for the one thing you've ended up forgetting to bring. Deodorant.

“Shit..” You groan weakly, mentally smacking yourself in the face. How did you forget to bring something that important? You sit down crisscrossed on the hard floor beneath you, not prepared to ask anyone for help with your small issue. You had two choices; end up stinking for the rest of the journey, or work up the courage to ask someone else on board for deodorant.

You decided to go with the second option. You really didn’t want to make an impression as someone who’s stupid enough to forget about simple hygiene, but staying stinky would’ve been even worse. You stood up and walked towards your single room’s door, knowing who to go to. Anya. She was the only other female on the whole space freighter. If you went to any of the men, they probably would’ve laughed in your face for how stupid you were acting.

You briefly talked to Anya as you boarded this morning, but you didn’t think you would have to ask her for anything. But she seemed nice enough. You worked up the courage as you walked around, making sure to stay out of anyone’s sight.

You swallowed your saliva once again, weakly knocking on the woman’s door. You didn’t even know if she was in her room or not. You waited a few seconds before you heard a small, “Come in!” from the other side. You could’ve just ran back to your room and locked yourself inside, but you decided to be brave for once and open the door.

“Anya?” You let the door swing open before stepping inside, taking a look at her bedroom. It wasn’t too dirty, but definitely wasn’t neat either. You shrugged it off and glanced in her direction, fidgeting with your fingers while doing so.

She turned towards you, her eye bags clear as day. ‘Maybe she didn’t get a lot of sleep last night..’ In all honesty, you didn’t get much rest either. You were fearing for your life while attempting to pack your bag. She tilted her head, waiting for your question.

“Do you have any deodorant I can borrow?” You whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear your conversation. This was already embarrassing enough, you didn’t need anyone else knowing. She slightly nods, giving you a soft smile as she turned towards her bag and opening the front pocket, taking out a travel-sized bottle of jel deodorant. “You can just keep it, I brought more.” She states.

She turned back towards you and held out her arm, deodorant in hand. In your eyes held a small a glimpse of hope as you took it out of her hand, quickly thanking her before speed walking back to your own room. Shutting the door, you took the cap off the jelly substance and let it roll underneath your arms. You sighed happily, grateful someone was kind enough to lend you a hand.

————

You sit up against the headboard of your bed, staring into space once again. You couldn’t sleep and you were already bored, seeing as all you had to keep you occupied was the job and sleep.

You didn’t really see an effort to make any friends, especially with that Jimmy guy. He seemed stressed out and you didn’t want to make him angry. The captain barely spoke to anyone, which was understandable, so you haven’t see him very often.

Anya seems nice enough, though. She gave you gentle smiles as she passed by you today. You really need to talk to her more. Attempting to talk to Swansea was.. challenging to say the least. He always has that weird expression on his face, which scares you in a way. But you still said your greetings as you made your way to the kitchen to make yourself a drink earlier that day.

There was another guy right beside him, too. Daisuke, his name is. He gave you a quick wave before turning back to his boss. You bite your bottom lip, shifting your body to let your head lay against the softness of your pillow and your body rest against the sheets.

You didn’t even know if the sheets were clean, but you were grateful you even got your own bed. Let alone your own room. You lean over and grab the thin tan blanket before covering your body in attempt to shield yourself from the cold. You peak at the digital clock on the bedside table, checking the time.

1:32am

Really..? Your eyes widen a bit in disbelief before you immediately shut your eyes, tussling with the blanket as you try to get into a comfortable position. How dumb could you be to fall asleep this late at night? You need to be up by 6:30.

You snuggled against the sheets, ignoring the pain in your chest. Your face muscles relax as you drift off to sleep, eventually taking you from reality. You felt calm for the first time in a while.. it’s sad it didn’t last very long, though.

You almost scream as you get woken up by a loud bang on your door. You gasp as you sit up right, your hand gripping your chest. Small drips of sweat form from your forehead as you turn your head to the door. “Y/N? Time for breakfast!” Daisuke’s voice echoed from the other side.

Hearing him call for you made a chuckle escape your throat as you rub the sleep away from your eyes. You groan softly, quickly standing up and getting changed into your uniform. It was a bit loose, but you didn’t mind it much. You look in the small mirror on the wall beside the door, making sure you looked at least a little presentable before walking out.

You opened the door and made your way towards where everyone else sat, a soft expression filling your face after only a few steps out of your room. You didn’t know your way around yet, but you ended up in the right path in just a few minutes.

You walked in the room seeing Anya, Swansea, and Daisuke sitting at the lounge table, bowls filled with cereal. You stepped up to them, giving them a short-lived wave before sitting down beside the black haired woman. Swansea looked towards you and started speaking.

“So, how’d your first night go in that godforsaken bed?” He grumbles softly, taking a bite of his breakfast. The brunette haired male seated beside him suddenly pouted, turning his head to look at the older man. “You didn’t ask me that..” He whispered before getting kicked from underneath the table. “Yeah, well, I didn’t care.” Swansea retorted.

You raise a brow but decide not to question it. “I think it went alright. The blanket is a bit thin and the bed feels like it’s made of rocks, but I’ll manage.” You give a not-so-confident nod, taking the cereal box out of Anya’s hands as she held it towards you. Swansea gives you an understanding shrug before going back to his food.

You turned your attention to Daisuke, asking him the same question Swansea asked you. “What about you? Did you sleep well?” You shook the box, pouring the cereal into your bowl. You were informed that the only new recruits in the Tulpar was just you and Daisuke, so you didn’t need to ask Anya or Swansea.

Daisuke looked up from his own dish, his words coming out muffled as he chewed on his cereal. You let your lips curve upwards into a smile as your head nods along, attempting to understand his words. You grabbed the milk and poured it into your breakfast, staring at it in satisfaction as the cereal soaked the white liquid up.

You couldn’t help but feel a pair of eyes watching you all from across the room. Naturally, you turned your head to see the dark haired brunette who frowned as he stared directly at you. ‘Jimmy.’ You gulped down your cereal before giving him a smile, attempting to be friendly.

Although you tried to be sympathetic, the expression on his face didn’t change. His arms remained by his sides as he walked towards the four of you. You avoided eye contact, feeling too awkward to continue staring. You go back to eating, careful not to slurp the milk that laid on the spoon.

‘Could’ve been worse..’ You thought, grateful that you weren’t stupid enough to actually call out to the man and say hello. It was obvious he wasn’t in the mood, and you could tell by his facial expression.

“When did everyone wake up?” He asks, breaking the unbearable silence. Swansea raised a brow as everyone turned their head to look up at Jimmy. “Why does it matter? We’re up and ready.” He ignores the question, taking another bite of his breakfast.

You look between the two males, confused why it seems like an argument is about to break out between them. You lift your head up and watch Jimmy’s brows furrow. Anya watches carefully, eyeing him with a fearful gaze. Daisuke continues eating, almost like he was enjoying this.

“You were supposed to be up at 6:30. Anya, what time is it now?” You turn your attention over towards the black haired female, wondering what time it was as well. You thought that Daisuke had woken you up around the time everyone was supposed to be awake at, but you guess you were wrong.

Anya adverts her eyes to the clock that sat on the wall of the kitchen before sighing and turning her head back towards Jimmy. “7:12.” She replied, her voice quiet. It seemed like she was afraid of something, but you didn’t know what. Jimmy nodded before slamming his left hand down onto the table, causing the box of cereal to get knocked over.

You flinch, not understanding why the man was so upset with you all getting up a few minutes after you were supposed to. It didn’t make sense. “That’s right. That means you four got up after the time you were expected to be awake and ready.” Swansea opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“It’s not a big deal. Don’t be so upset over us getting up a few minutes after 6:30. I’m pretty sure i was woken up at 6:35!” You argue back, not wanting this to escalate into anything it doesn’t need to be. Jimmy stared down at you like he wanted to kill, making you back off in fear of getting yelled at.

You glanced at Daisuke, wondering if he could help the argument calm down. You were lucky enough to catch his eye. He seemed to know what you were thinking because when he looked up at Jimmy and spoke, his voice was calm.

“You don’t need to get mad at us for a little mistake. Besides, it’s the first day! Chill out, man.” Although Jimmy was clearly upset by his words, Daisuke didn’t back down like you did. You gave him a smile, your eyes filled with gratitude.

He felt your gaze linger on his face, making him turn his head towards you. He gave you a soft smile, appreciative that you’re grateful for his backup.

Maybe this place won’t be as bad as you thought.. as long as you have them around, anyway.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

author’s note

first chapter done!! hopefully this isn’t too bad. I haven’t written fan fiction in a while, so I may be a little rusty. next chapter is already being written, though!

as I’m writing this, half of the second chapter is done, so I’ll get that posted in a few days. bye for now!!<33

(not proofread, but skimmed over.)

[itsmearia01]

Past Love || Chapter 1

Various! Yandere! Jujutsu kaisen x Sukuna's past wife! Yuji's best friend! F! Reader

A/N : English is not my first language, sorry if there are some wrong words. This is the chapter 1, you can read the prologue and Chapter 2. Enjoy!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Prolog | Chapter 2

Series summary : You always get the same nightmare over and over every night. You feel annoyed but can't do anything about it. On the other hand, your best friend who suddenly becomes the vessel of a cursed king brings your nightmares to reality. I don't know what happened but the people around you started acting strangely.

Series warnings : Non-con, dub-con, yandere, stalking, kinks, gaslighting, blackmail, overtism, smut, NSFW, Minors DNI, all character 18+ (but first years still first year, try to make sense), sex, rough sex, oral sex, dom/sub dynamics, blood, manipulation, corruption, mind break, forced relationship, yandere character being their own warning, mind control, possessive, kidnapping. ⚠️Jujutsu kaisen character was not my original, credit to Gege Akutami as original author! There's a few OC as my originally made character. If you don't like/ you hate this kind of story, please go.

You are grateful because last night you prepared bento and breakfast you made by yourself for your father and your brothers. And even though you're in a rush, you don't forget to bring your lunch.

And you brought 2 bento. One for you and one for your best friend, Yuji Itadori. Yes, you are itadori's best friend or what you usually call Yuu. How are you not attracted to him? He's totally your type. He is gentle, kind, compassionate, and patient.

During lunch time, you visit his class. But did not find him. Someone from his class said he was on the field with the sports club members.

"Yuu!" You scream his name and he looks up.

He smiled and ran towards you. "(Y/N) Sorry I didn't tell you I was here."

Yuuji approached you. he explains his paranormal club is about to be disbanded and he needs to win the bet so that doesn't happen. "Really? You ask, with a worried face. "yeah, but don't worry bun. I win it!" He said with big smile on his face. You both sigh together and you both chuckling and laughing together.

It doesn't feel like you have arrived at the paranormal club room. There are also your two senpais. You all eat your bento together and you fall asleep.

"HAH-HAH-HAH- That dream again! W-wait where is Yuu and everyone else?" You woke realizing you're the only person there. And it's late, the sun replaced by the moon. You quickly grabbed your bag and rushed out. You searched the corridor hoping to find Yuuji. You think, why didn't Yuu wake you up and instead leave you? It's already night and the atmosphere is very quiet...

You can't help but get goosebumps.

BRAK!

You suddenly hear a loud sound. What's that? It comes from above. You see someone you don't know black hair boy. Suddenly something hit that person...

YUJI!

"YUU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING." you run towards your boyfriend but soon stopped when he looked at you. “T-that mark!”

That's Sukuna's mark! The one who's always on your dream.

"(Y/N)? You-Y-you (Y/N)(L/N)?!"

"S-sukuna..."

He approached you and you slowly back off to the edge of the building, you looked down and just swallowed done. "DON'T HURT HER!" say a boy behind Sukuna. Sukuna heeded the remark and Pressed your cheek with his hand. "Do you remember me, my dear (Y/N)?"

BRAK!

Suddenly someone kicks Sukuna from the side and pulls you in his arms when you almost fell off building. "Didn't I say to protect civilians, Megumi?” said that person. It turns out a black hair boy named Megumi.

You continue to see the person who is still hug you. Tight. White hair...

"Y-you're a member of the Gojo clan?" that person looking back at you. "How do you know, Princess?"

"We don't have much white hair in this country." You say. And he hummed. I don't know why you feel nervous to see, his smile more feels like a smirk.

"Hmm, interesting... What's your name beautiful princess?" he asked.

"(Y/N), my name is (Y/N) (L/N)"

When you say that he's a little surprised… Then his grin grew wider, wider than before as if he had just heard the most heartbreaking news his life.

"(L/N) huh? Is this fate? The Gojo family and (L/N) are business partners and establish close relationship." You freak out a little as he grabs your chin and gets closer to your face.

"So (Y/N), my name is Gojo Satoru. I was a jujutsu high tokyo teacher. Nice to meet you, Princess."

His face is getting closer and your lips almost touching, but prevented by black-haired boy around your age that you know his name is Megumi. "S-sensei..." he said while walking away balance towards you. he held stomach and as if awakening from hypnosis, You remember Yuji.

"YUU!" You screamed approaching Yuji releasing yourself from the young Gojo's arms. You approached Yuji's body that was lying down unaware. You see the wounds all over his body.

You took your hands out and placed them on Yuji's stomach. Light goes out from your hand and slowly closes and heal the wounds on his body. Megumi and Gojo looked at that with impressed. well, there are who have similar power, but nothing that really looks like a naked eye light produce.

——————————————————————

You keep pacing back and forth in front of the room... You've already healed Megumi and are now waiting for Gojo and Yuji who are in the room.

"why are you so worried?" You were awakened by Megumi's voice. "I don't know... I'm just worried about Yujl..." You saw his expression soften and he smiled. Somehow you feel that's not a face he usually shows to other people.

"As long as there is Gojo Sensei, we will be safe... After all, we haven't met yet. My name is Megumi Fushiguro, what's your name?"

You're reminded of something... "Fushiguro-san? Have we met before?"

"Hmm? I do not think so? Why do you think so?"

"The only Megumi I've ever known in my life was from the Zenin clan..."

He flinched at your words and seemed to be trying to remember something.

"Could it be you... (Y/N)(L/N)?!"

You look at him confused when he suddenly looks at you with surprise. "Um... Yeah? Do you remember anything?"

"That's right, it's me! Megumi Zenin... I left Zenin and became Fushiguro... Do you remember when the Zenin family and (L/N) had a meeting? We always played together."

You look surprised, a happy childhood memory... "You're a Gumi?!"

"Shhh... Slow down, that call is a little embarrassing..." He said while his hand covered your mouth. He let go of his gag. He looks so cute with his blushing face, you think he's so embarrassed by that nickname.

"I think we meet again, (N/N)..." Megumi said. When you heard the call you chuckled. It was a call from megumi for you first.

"Hmm? What do we have here? You guys knew each other before?" The young Gojo comes out of the room where you guys are waiting, along with Yuji of course. You with teary eyes lunged at Yuu, hugged him and kissed his cheek.

"Yuu! You don't know how worried I was!" You started crying while hugging Yuu. He hugs you back. Megumi and Gojo find the two of you a little displeased.

You two... are too close to be called friends. "I'm fine (Y/N)! Did the creature hurt you?" He kissed your cheek back making the two people watching you bend their faces even more.

"You mean Sukuna? No! He didn't hurt me. But..." You remember when Sukuna held your face. It feels weird, like deja vu.

"Megumi, did you tell Sukuna's name to (Y/N)-chan?" Gojo asked, caught your attention and Yuji. "No... I didn't tell her." After Megumi said that, Gojo who had been sullen smirk widely. "Then I think, not only Yuji who will move to high jujutsu."

After that you and Yuji visited your senpais to say goodbye. gojo-sensei already spoke with your Papa that you're moving to jujutsu high.

Your papa is worried about you because all this time he has been trying to hide you from becoming a jujutsu wizard which is a dangerous job. But yeah, maybe it's about time.

At the end of the day you and Yuji visit Yuji's grandfather's grave to ask for blessings. Next will be fun right?

Right?

To be continued

Tags : @loaves4me @carminhadaavenidabrasil

A/N : hello everyone! thank you for all your excitement for my series! i'm working on the third chapter rn and i expecting this series would be 15 chapter? im still not sure, it can be change. but since i have other things to do in my life i would post the next chapter if i finish all of it till epilog. So, while you all waiting. Since i also read manhwa, playing hoyoverse games, and watching other anime, i'm gonna post short scenarios of those (mostly yandere tho hahahaha)

[p0orbaby]

It Doesn’t Get Any Easier

summary: you’re the new physio, tasked to help leah one on one with her recovery; but lines start to blur the longer you spend with one another

warnings: none

a/n: i enjoyed this one. also trying out a slightly different style so let me know what you think

word count: 2.8k

-

Leah comes in every morning just after 7:30, always a little earlier than the rest of the team—well, what’s left of the team—who roll in around 8, give or take. You start noticing her patterns by the second week. It’s not intentional. It’s just that she’s hard not to notice. The way she slips into the room quietly, moving like a shadow, like she’s trying not to be seen even though she’s Leah Williamson and there’s something impossible about Leah Williamson going unnoticed. You’re not sure she’s aware of it, or maybe she is, maybe it’s part of the act, something people like her learn over time—how to balance being seen and unseen simultaneously. Either way, she always acknowledges you. It’s a brief nod or a soft “Morning” that comes out like a sigh. But it’s there. And you nod back because it’s professional, it’s polite.

You’re the new physio, brought in because someone higher up decided that ACLs are the new pandemic, and Arsenal’s hit hard by it. One by one, players dropping like flies—tears, rips, stretches that aren’t supposed to stretch. Someone needed to focus on rehab, on these slow and tedious one-on-one sessions. So, here you are. Your life has become a revolving door of knee braces, resistance bands, ultrasound machines, and cold compression therapy. A strange, repetitive kind of intimacy.

Leah is assigned to you. "Take care of her," they say. She’s a captain. She’s the face. There’s an unsaid urgency that comes with her, an invisible asterisk by her name. You feel it in every briefing, every passing mention of her progress. Everyone’s waiting for her return. Waiting for her to be fixed.

Your first session with her is awkward. Stilted. You’re overly conscious of how she sits, her knee elevated, her eyes on the ceiling, like she’s counting the tiles instead of looking at you. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and that weird plastic-y scent that medical equipment always has. You ask her the standard questions: pain level, range of motion, any stiffness. She answers with one-word responses, tight-lipped. There’s a distance between you that you can’t quite figure out if it’s professional or personal. Maybe both.

-

Weeks pass, and the routine becomes muscle memory. You know when to push and when to pull back. How to make her laugh, how to coax her into stretching just a little more without her getting defensive. You start to notice the little things about her. Like how she always wipes her hands on her shorts after you adjust the brace on her leg, or how she clicks her tongue when she’s frustrated, a soft noise that barely registers unless you’re paying attention, which you are. You’re always paying attention to Leah.

It’s in the middle of a session that things shift. You’re guiding her through a series of exercises—balance work, stuff that’s boring but essential—and she’s sweating, biting her lip as she focuses on not wobbling. You’re right there, hands out, ready to catch her if she stumbles. She doesn’t, but the proximity is there. Too close, maybe. Your fingers brush her waist as you correct her form, and she inhales sharply. You freeze, but she doesn’t move. Neither do you.

"Is this okay?" you ask, your voice lower than usual, and you’re not sure why. Maybe it’s the weight of her stare, those sharp blue eyes locking onto yours.

"Yeah," she says, but her voice sounds strained, like she’s not sure it’s the right answer. She’s not looking at you anymore, her focus now on the floor, her hands gripping the sides of the bench like she needs to anchor herself. The room feels smaller, the air thick.

You pull back, step away, putting space between you, but it doesn’t feel like enough. You can still feel the echo of her skin under your fingers, the heat of her proximity. You clear your throat, force a smile. "Let’s take five”

She nods, doesn’t say anything, just grabs her water bottle and takes a long drink, her throat working, a bead of sweat rolling down her neck. You turn away, pretend to be adjusting something on the ultrasound machine even though it’s perfectly fine, just to give yourself something to do, something that isn’t thinking about how her skin felt under your hands.

-

The next time around is more tense. There’s an unspoken tension now, like a line has been crossed, or maybe it hasn’t, but it’s close. You’re hyper-aware of every movement, every brush of skin. Leah doesn’t mention it, but there’s a change in her too. She flirts, subtly at first—offhand comments, jokes that land just a little too close to something more. You laugh, play along, because it’s harmless. It’s nothing. Except it’s not.

You catch yourself watching her more. The way her muscles ripple under her skin as she moves, the way her lips part when she’s concentrating, how her eyes flick to you when she thinks you’re not looking. You wonder if she notices you doing the same. You wonder if she feels it too—this thing simmering between you that’s becoming harder to ignore.

One day, after a session, she lingers. The rest of the team has filtered out of the gym, and it’s just the two of you, the hum of the air conditioning the only sound.

"Thanks for today," she says, her voice soft. She’s sitting on the edge of the bench, her knee still wrapped in the brace, but she looks more relaxed than she has in weeks. There’s something in her eyes, something you can’t quite read, and it makes your chest tighten.

"It’s my job," you say, but the words feel hollow. You’ve been telling yourself that for weeks now, trying to convince yourself that this is just work, that this is just another injured player, another knee to fix. But it’s not. You’re not sure when it stopped being just that, but it has.

"Is it, though?" she asks, and her voice is lighter now, teasing, but there’s an edge to it. A challenge.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. "What do you mean?"

She stands, slowly, her movements careful, deliberate. She’s close to you now, too close again, and you don’t step back this time. "I think you know what I mean," she says, her eyes locked on yours, and you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something dangerous.

You don’t have an answer, or maybe you do but you don’t trust yourself to say it out loud. The air between you crackles with something electric, something that feels inevitable.

She leans in, just a fraction, and you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. You could close the distance. You could kiss her, right here, right now, and no one would know. It would be easy. Too easy.

But you don’t.

Instead, you step back. You force a smile. "We should stick to the plan. Don’t want to push the knee too hard too soon”

It’s a cop-out, and you both know it. The shift in her expression is almost imperceptible, but you catch it—the brief flicker of disappointment before she masks it with a shrug.

"Right. The knee," she says, her tone casual, but the tension is still there, hanging between you like a thin thread ready to snap. She doesn’t push it, though. Instead, she grabs her bag, slings it over her shoulder, and heads for the door. But just before she leaves, she glances back at you, her eyes sharp, like she’s trying to figure you out, trying to decide if this is a game or something else entirely.

You stand there for a long time after she’s gone, the gym feeling too big, too empty. You can still feel the weight of her gaze, the heat of her body close to yours. You tell yourself it’s just work, just rehab. But deep down, you know it’s not that simple.

It’s never that simple.

-

The sessions after that are different. There’s a push and pull now, a tension that neither of you acknowledges but is impossible to ignore. Flirting turns into something sharper, more pointed, like you’re both testing the limits, seeing how far you can go before something breaks. But nothing breaks, not really. Not yet.

Then one night, you cross the line. It’s late, the training ground is empty, and Leah’s the last one in the gym. You’re both exhausted, worn down by weeks of slow progress, of frustrations mounting. The conversation starts off innocuous—something about her recovery timeline, how she’s feeling. But it shifts quickly. There’s an edge to her voice, a sharpness that cuts through the usual banter.

"Why do you keep pulling back?" she asks, and there’s nothing light in her tone now. It’s serious. She’s serious.

You blink, thrown off. It’s late, the harsh fluorescent lights above cast everything in this sterile, washed-out glow that makes you feel like you’re in a hospital, or some kind of waiting room where nothing feels real, nothing matters. Leah’s standing in front of you, close but not too close, not like before, but close enough that you feel it—the weight of her presence, the space she occupies, the air between you vibrating, charged with something neither of you is willing to name but it’s there. It’s been there for weeks. Maybe longer.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, but it’s a lie and you both know it. You’re tired, too tired to come up with something convincing, and it’s the way she’s looking at you now, like she’s seeing through every excuse you’ve built up, every wall you’ve thrown up between you because you know you have to, because you’re the physio, you’re supposed to be the professional, the one who stays detached, clinical, objective. You’re supposed to care about her body, her knee, not the rest of her. Not this.

But the truth is, you do care, too much, and it’s bleeding into everything. Into the way you touch her during sessions, the way your fingers linger just a little too long on her skin when you’re adjusting the brace, or the way your pulse speeds up when she leans back on the bench, sweat glistening on her forehead, the tendrils of her hair stuck to her neck, and you wonder what it would feel like to brush them away. You know you shouldn’t, that it’s a line you can’t cross, but the line’s blurred now, so faint you can barely see it anymore.

Leah narrows her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s wearing an old Arsenal training kit, the fabric worn and soft, the logo faded from too many washes, and you notice that she tugs at the hem of her shirt when she’s frustrated, twisting it around her fingers like she’s trying to keep her hands busy, like she doesn’t know what else to do with them. “You’re not stupid,” she says, and her voice is sharp, but there’s something underneath it—something vulnerable, like she’s exposing a part of herself she doesn’t want to, but she can’t help it. “You know exactly what I mean”

She’s right. Of course she’s right. You’re not stupid. You know why you’ve been pulling back. Why you’ve been keeping your distance. It’s because this—whatever this is—is dangerous. It’s complicated. It’s wrong in a way that’s hard to define but easy to feel, like a low hum in the back of your mind that you can’t shake. And yet, the more you try to stay away, the more you find yourself drawn to her. Like gravity. Like something you can’t control, no matter how hard you try.

“It’s not that simple,” you say, and your voice sounds hollow even to your own ears. You’re aware of how this looks—two people alone in a gym, the air thick with unspoken tension, the kind of tension that feels like it’s been building for a long time and is about to spill over. You glance at the clock on the wall—it’s almost 10 a.m.—and you wonder how it got so late, how time seems to bend around her, how hours slip by when you’re with her but still, its never enough. There’s always more, always something unsaid hanging in the air between you.

Leah uncrosses her arms, taking a step closer. You can see the faint scar on her knee, the way the skin’s still a little pink, a little raw, and it’s a reminder of why you’re here, what your job is, but all you can think about is the way her eyes are locked on yours, unflinching. “I’m not asking for simple,” she says quietly, and there’s an intensity in her voice that catches you off guard. “I’m asking for honest”

The word hangs in the air, heavy, and you feel something in your chest tighten. Honest. You think about what that would look like. What it would feel like to stop pretending, to stop playing this game where you act like you don’t notice the way she looks at you, the way your body reacts to hers. You think about what it would mean to cross that line, to give in to what’s been building between you. The consequences. The fallout. The way it would shift everything irreparably, and yet, the thought doesn’t scare you as much as it should.

You take a breath, slow, steady, trying to collect yourself, trying to find the right words, but they’re all tangled up in your head, a mess of things you can’t say, shouldn’t say. “Leah,” you start, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence, because there’s no good way to say what you’re thinking, no good way to explain the way your heart speeds up when she’s near, the way your skin prickles under her eyes, the way your mind drifts to her at night when you’re lying in bed, staring into the darkness, replaying moments in your head that shouldn’t matter but do.

She’s watching you, waiting, and you can feel the weight of her expectation, the way she’s daring you to say something real, something that matters. And maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re tired of pretending, tired of holding back, but something inside you cracks, just a little, just enough.

“I’ve been trying to keep this professional,” you say, and the words come out in a rush, tumbling over themselves like they’ve been waiting to escape. “Because I have to. Because I don’t know how else to do this without—” You stop, shaking your head, because it sounds ridiculous, it sounds like an excuse, and maybe it is. “It’s not just about your knee,” you say finally, and it feels like a confession, like something you’ve been holding onto for too long. “It’s about everything else”

Leah’s eyes widen, just for a moment, and you see something flicker across her face—surprise, maybe, or relief, or something else entirely. She doesn’t say anything right away, but she steps even closer, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of her sweat mixed with the scent of her shampoo, something clean and floral, and it hits you like a wave, overwhelming in its simplicity. You feel the pull again, stronger now, undeniable.

“You think I don’t know that?” she says, and her voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it, a sharpness that cuts through the haze in your mind. “You think I don’t feel it too?”

The words hang between you, suspended in the air, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the gym, the team, the world outside this room. It’s just you and her, and the weight of everything you haven’t said, everything you’ve been too scared to admit.

Leah reaches out, her fingers brushing against your arm, and the contact sends a jolt through you, a spark that ignites something deep inside, something you’ve been trying to suppress for weeks, months. You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly, the space between you disappears, and her lips are on yours, and it’s like everything snaps into focus all at once.

The kiss is rough, urgent, like it’s been building for too long and now there’s no stopping it. Her hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the heat of her body against yours, the way her breath mingles with yours in the small, stolen space between kisses. It’s messy, frantic, like neither of you can get enough, like you’ve been starving for this and now you’re finally letting yourself have it.

You don’t think about the consequences, about what happens when this moment ends. You don’t think about the power imbalance, the lines you’re crossing, the mess you’re making. All you can think about is the way she feels against you, the way her fingers dig into your skin like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go.

[girllblogging777]

𝑀𝐼𝐷𝑁𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇 𝑅𝐸𝑉𝐸𝐿𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁𝑆

↳ frenemies mattheo riddle x fem!reader (drabble)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 0,7k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : mattheo enjoys teasing the overachiever girl, until she lets him see her wild side (anon request)

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the sound of your footsteps echoed through the dark, empty hallways of hogwarts. you were making your way back from a late-night study session in the library, with your arms full of books, and eyelids heavy with exhaustion. your overachiever nature had kept you there for hours, to the point where the words on the pages started to blur. tired as you were, you didn’t notice the tall figure approaching.

“and what are you doing, wandering the hallways after curfew?” a familiar voice called out, a hint of amusement in it. you couldn’t see his face clearly, but the dark energy and broad shoulders told you exactly who it was. mattheo riddle. you two had been partnered in potions a few months back, and now he seemed to think it was his job to bother you whenever he pleased.

you tried to sound confident, but your exhaustion made your voice come out weaker than you intended. “none of your business, riddle,” you said, pausing for a moment before adding, “i was studying for the history of magic exam. now, can you leave me alone?” but mattheo didn’t move, instead, his eyes shamelessly scanned you from head to toe, his expression unreadable.

“studying this late at night?” he asked, though it wasn’t a question. he knew well enough how serious you were about your studies, always at the top of the class, not just in your house, but probably in all of them. “yeah,” you shrugged, trying to act like it was no big deal.

he looked you over again for a few seconds, then smirked, muttering, “good girl.” his words, paired with that devilish grin, sent a strange thrill through you, making your knees feel weak. it wasn’t just the exhaustion this time. your mind went blank, and all you could do was nod before turning and walking away. but as you did, you couldn’t ignore the warmth spreading through your cheeks and lower stomach : you liked being praised.

✩✩✩✩

that same feeling hit you again a couple of weeks later when you got an a+ on the history of magic essay you’d studied so hard for. you were sitting in potions next to your infamous curly-haired partner, still buzzing from your grade, when mattheo’s voice cut through your thoughts.

“so, what’d you get in history of magic?” he asked, his eyes genuinely interested as they met yours.

you tried to play it cool, shrugging as you whispered back, “oh, i got an A.” he nodded, like he expected that answer. of course, he did. everyone knew you always got good grades—the only person who ever doubted it was you.

“there’s a party friday night in the slytherin common room,” he said casually, “you coming? after all that studying, you deserve a reward.” the bell rang before you could answer, and as you packed up your things, you finally replied, “i’ll think about it.” with that, you turned and left the classroom, not without hearing the words “atta girl” leaving his mouth in a whisper.

✩✩✩✩

that friday night, the slytherin common room was alive with music and laughter. people were either dancing wildly or getting drunk by the bar, the atmosphere electric. you were stretched out confidently on a sofa with your friends, head back as you laughed at their jokes. at one point, one of them handed you a cigarette, and you took it, inhaling slowly and leaving a lipstick mark on the filter. what you didn’t notice was mattheo, watching you from across the room, his jaw practically on the floor. he’d expected you to show up, but he hadn’t expected to see you enjoying yourself this much. when he saw you exhale a cloud of smoke, he was practically drooling.

a couple of hours later, feeling a buzz from the alcohol, you decided to get up and dance. the stress of exam week was long gone as you began to sway your hips to the music with your friends. mattheo barely had time to react before he saw you climb onto a table, flipping your hair and grinding against one of your friends. “what. the actual. fuck,” he muttered, his words slurred from the drinks. his friends overheard and chuckled, “yeah, man, looks like your good girl is the life of the party tonight.”

the night in the slytherin common room was wild, and you were the center of it all, dancing without a care. the music and drinks had you feeling more free than you had in weeks.

you could feel mattheo’s eyes on you the whole time. his usual smirk was gone, replaced with something like fascination. after a while, you made your way over to him, heart pounding.

“what’s wrong, riddle?” you teased, leaning close. “cat got your tongue?” he stared at you, voice low when he finally spoke. “didn’t know you had this side to you.”

“there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you replied with a smile. he just watched you, clearly intrigued, as you turned and walked away, knowing this wouldn’t be the last time he’d see this side of you. “merlin, this girl is gonna be the death of me…”

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a/n : this is my first time writing based of a request, but they’re now open so send me some ideas !!! please like/comment/reblog (and i promise part 4 of “untouchable” will be here soon)

tell me if you wanna be in the tag list xx

@elsie-bells @reys-letters @tateshifts @redeemingvillains @myunperfektstorys @enyway @icantkeepmyplantsalive @shiftingwithmars @mattheosdior @deadghosy @larmesdevanille @moonlightreader649 @fbvreadingblog @iris-qt @fluffycookies22 @yikesitslush @bellatrix-lestrange5 @jolly4holly

[klausysworld]

Hi could you write some angst about a deeply insecure reader who hates her appearance and is sort of friends with Elena and everyone(pushed to the side kind of relationship)but when klaus comes around it’s clear that she has a crush but believes he’s out of her league then klaus uses it to his advantage by showing an interest in her for information and helps her with her self worth.klaus then starts to develop feelings for her but then it’s revealed that he was just manipulating her and reader is devastated and utterly humiliated and it sets her back to how she was before him.(sorry if that was a really long explanation,you can decide the ending)thanks I love your writing btw

Real

Growing up in Mystic Falls is a bizarre experience.

There were town events almost every month where you had to dress up and act better than everyone, parents basically had a competition over who had the prettiest daughters or the most handsome sons.

Not my parents.

They didn't think I was good enough to even pretend that I could compete. I was told my worth from a young age and became more aware of it with time. When your own parents don't think you're good enough it's sort of an eye-opener if you will.

It didn't help that everyone in this town seemed to be born into modelling.

Somehow I was lucky enough to wind up 'friends' with people like Elena, Caroline and Bonnie but I knew I didn't belong with them. Somehow they were gorgeous enough to get whatever they wanted.

Sometimes I wondered if everyone else at the age of 17 looked like them and I was behind or if somewhere, I was above average. I doubted it. A lot.

Occasionally I would look at a mirror and think that I wasn't even that bad to look at. There was nothing particularly ugly about me, there just wasn't anything special. I looked plain in a way, bland and forgettable.

I was very forgettable actually. My 'friends' made that abundantly clear throughout the years when they would go out without me or forget to ask if I also wanted something or liked something.

Somehow I was of no value to them. Perhaps I was simply there to amplify their beauty. Like a DUFF. I was definitely the DUFF.

Damon actually told me that I was once, after Tyler had made the joke and Damon asked what it meant. Even though I already knew it to be true, to be told it was much worse.

You could sort of tell everyone else was thinking it, especially when I was stood beside Caroline.

Stefan was the only one who was nice but I wasn't sure if it was out of pity or just because that was who he was. Then again, I'd rather just not know.

So I tried my best to keep in the background, avoid attention and stay out the way.

Even with all the vampire and werewolf drama that took course, I kept myself quiet and to the side. Strangely it was Katherine who was kind to me, whether she had an ulterior motif I'm not so sure anymore but she never hurt me in the time she was there. Neither did Elijah when he came to town, he was polite to everyone but it was obvious that my presence was irrelevant to him.

And then of course, Klaus arrived.

I didn't officially meet him until the senior prank night, he sort of just threw to the side and told me to keep my mouth closed and not to bother running because he'd just kill me. Part of me thought about running anyway so he would just end it but I didn't.

Klaus dragged me by my wrist into his car, told me to keep quiet while he drove Elena to the hospital. For whatever reason he brought me along and left me in the car as he went to drain her of blood for his hybrids. I did as told: sat silently and waited.

He came back out and spoke to Damon for a moment, I saw them glance over in my direction only for Damon to laugh and smirk. I sighed to myself and got out the car. It was clear that Klaus thought I could be a good pawn but was surly mistaken and Damon told him to do whatever he wanted to me. In response I walked home, neither noticed so it was fine.

A week or so later he came back, crashed homecoming or something? I dunno, I wasn't there but I was told about it the next day via a stroppy Caroline.

It was that same day that he came and sat beside me at the grill. I ignored him for the most part, confused by his attempt at what I could only guess was flirting? I wasn't really sure. I think he could tell.

"Not easily impressed are you love?" he questioned as he leant forward, uncomfortably close. I sort of just looked at him, still unsure to what he wanted. A smirk pulled at the end of his lips and his hand lifted, his fingers wrapping around a piece of my hair making frown and pull away abruptly. Without hesitation I stood up and spun on my heel, going to leave. His laugh followed me and a hand grabbed my waits, it was stange.

"Calm down love, It's not like I was going to rip it out, I just wondered what it felt like" he chuckled, pulling my back flush against his front making me tense and squirm.

"It feels like hair" I stated simply "Now get off" I grunted, shoving my elbow into his side to make him let go. I kept walking, keeping my eyes on the ground.

The next time I saw him he apologised for the previous encounter which again, i didn't understand but there was no point in questioning and arguing so I just accepted it and tried to leave but he asked if I'd stay for one drink, he asked so nicely and he smiled. I was stupid enough to think it was genuine and accepted.

Looking back it was pretty obvious that this was a game for him or a trap, whatever you want to label it but in the moment I ignored what was right in my face. Deep down I knew it was all a joke of sorts really.

But no boy, let alone a man had shown me this sort of attention and the soft fluttering it made me feel had me staying for far too long. I listened to his little stories and asked a range of questions as the drinks kept coming. He asked a couple about me but i gave relatively vague answers. There wasn't much I had to give him on me, I wasn't up for a pity party about friends and I didn't really fancy talking about my shitty parents either. I think Klaus picked up on the fact that I didn't really want to talk about me and eventually gave up with it.

It was late when I realised I needed to get home and he offered to take me which I admit made me wary. I didn't want him to kidnap me and think I'd be any good as leverage again, though I guess Damon made that pretty clear already. I decided to just walk home which he eventually accepted and got into his car.

Walking by myself probably wasn't my best option after drinking so much in one go but I made it home with minimal stumbling. My mother shook her head when she saw me and asked what was wrong with me. When she realised I had been drinking her mind jumped to two very different conclusions. The first being that I was being a slut which was ironic as in the past she'd made it clear that no guy would want to sleep with me, and the second being that I had taken pills to kill myself.

Listening to her drastic thinking made me wonder what kind of pills she was on but I didn't question it and waited for my father to come and take her to bed, telling her to just ignore me. Then I proceeded to make my way to the bathroom, getting changed and washing my face before going to my bed.

My phone dinged making me sigh, thinking it was Elena asking me to help her with something dumb and life threatening however much to my surprise it was Klaus. A smile involuntarily spread across my face and we messaged back and forth before he told me to rest.

The following few days he would just check in. Not too much but he also made it clear that he hadn't forgotten me which was all I had ever truly wanted from someone. To be acknowledged at the very least.

Of course I didn't tell the others that he had been talking to me, besides they didn't ask so I didn't see why I should. I guess I just wanted something for myself.

I wasn't completely stupid. I always had the feeling that he was using me, especially towards the start...but he was just so wonderful with his words and his ways.

When he began to make and buy sweet gifts and claim they were tokens of his affection, I couldn't help the blush on my face. When he would find a way to have his skin against mine, or how he would pick up my hand and gently tug my along. Somehow we always seemed to end up somewhere for food, and he would always refuse to let me pay.

Something about him was so enticing, addictive if you will.

He began to make me feel a certain way. He made me warm and happy. His touch was so soft, it made me feel like I was buzzing. i was stupid for thinking he could feel the same way about me.

I had been so scared to admit my feelings.

He had assured me that he would never push me to.

He told me that he liked me, that he didn't want me to be frightened of him or nervous around him. "Not unless it's the sort of nervous that puts butterflies in your stomach sweetheart" he had teased and my cheeks had glowed red.

Over the space of months his presence never lessoned. He always made time to see me, and speak with me. I found myself longing for his voice, his touch.

On days where he was too busy at home, he would urge me to come over. I would spend as long as I possibly could with him, a few times I even stayed over but he had slept on top of the duvet so that I would feel comfortable.

This had gone on for a small while until he actually said the words 'I love you'.

Perhaps I was just so happy to actually hear those words. Maybe I believed them to be true, real. Or I just saw what I wanted to see, heard what I wanted to hear and ignored the rest.

The time I gave myself to him used to make my smile and blush. Now it just makes me feel dirty, humiliated and embarrassed.

Knowing that he could and has had his hands all over my body, his lips and eyes. In the moment I felt like a goddess, probably because that’s what he told me I was. The memory of him inside me haunts me. I had thought it to be such a beautiful experience, romantic and personal.

I wish I could say that I had slept with him only once but as the months went by we would share intimacy often.

I had even told him that I loved him, so many times and I meant it for all of them.

So you should understand why it was so hard to accidentally hear him tell his sister that he had been compelling me for any information on the others.

It had felt as though my heart had stopped when the words hit my ears and tears already made my eyes burn. I heard a weak laugh and turned my head to see Damon, strung up by chains whilst bleeding all over, looking straight back at me.

“Y/n…” I heard Klaus’s voice, his tone one of panic or maybe it was just surprise. He probably didn’t want me to know of his routine. Damon only rolled his eyes and gave me look,

“You didn’t…think it was real, right?” He coughed, a cruel smile on his face.

His words just made me quieter. They made me think. Why did I think it was real?

My eyes slowly lifted to meet Klaus’s. I could see and feel Rebekah looking at me, everyone was silent. Even Damon shut up for a second. I think maybe he was expecting me to say something but I didn’t really have anything to tell him.

As awful as it all made me feel, and even with the amount of emotions swallowing me, I felt more disappointed in myself than I did him.

My right hand went to my left arm, pinching my skin through my jumper in some sort of hope that I’d wake up from some stupid nightmare but it didn’t work.

The first tear fell from my eye and I sniffed to keep the other ones from coming.

Klaus just looked at me, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, I didn’t want to know either. I could just guess anyway.

So without a word I just turned around and left, walking quickly back out the door before breaking into a sprint in the direction of my house. I could feel the mascara running down my face, ruining the foundation I had only recently started wearing, for Klaus’s benefit.

My hands wiped at the tears as I pushed my from door shut behind me and went upstairs, blocking out the annoyed voices of my parents and locking myself in my room.

It was only once I was in the shower that I was flooded with memories. That I remembered all the things I had done with him. By the time I stepped out of the bathroom my skin was scrubbed raw in an attempt to wash his touch away. Even the slightest touch made me feel as though my body was burning, stinging with pain but I would have rather felt that every day than have to realise Klaus had been using me for over a year now.

I was curled in my bed, hidden under the blankets and surrounded by the dark as I let every comment not matter how small or petty play back through my mind.

I wasn’t even sure who to be upset with. I chose myself.

Klaus must’ve known I was an easy target. Desperate. I wonder how much he’s had me tell him. To be fair I knew more than you’d expect about what was going on. I had gotten good at observing and overhearing so I still knew what was going on, even when spending so much time with Klaus himself.

I also wondered what else he had compelled me to do. I hoped he wouldn’t do anything other than ask questions but I couldn’t help that fear creep inside me. It made me sick to my stomach, and then I wondered if he would just wait to compel me again so that I could continue to be his information feeder.

The idea made my fingers dig into my arm, bruising the skin purple but I wouldn’t stop. I only did so that I could go get some vervain that I kept downstairs in one of the cupboards at the back. I was reaching for the little glass bottle when I heard a door close. I spun around quickly to see Klaus in the doorway of my kitchen. My hand clutched onto the vervain tightly and I noticed his eyes glance at it briefly. His hands went up as if to show no harm but there was no way I would believe that meant a thing.

“Sweetheart- listen to me..” he began and I let out a breathless laugh

“Get out” I whispered making him sigh and frown as though he had the audacity to be upset or annoyed.

“Y/n..”

“No Klaus. I’m fucking serious, get out.” I told him, my eyes watering again. I let out an involuntary whimper when he stepped forward making him stop and stand still.

“I never meant for you to know that” he whispered and I frowned, swiping a tear away.

“Sorry I ruined your plan” I mumble, exhausted.

“No- no I didn’t mean it like that- I meant that-“

“Klaus it’s fine” I murmur, avoiding his eye, “It’s fine, I get it. You needed to know what was happening, you got to be two steps ahead. I’d appreciate if you just found someone else now please”

I could feel his stare on me, it make my skin itch and I just needed him to go. I could feel my hand getting clammy as I held onto the bottle.

“I haven’t compelled you in such a long time” he muttered, as though maybe that made it better. “I used to, but I truly have fallen for you Y/n. I love-“

“Please get out” I cut him off, my spare hand resting on my forehead to cover my eyes.

“I love you”

“No you don’t” I cry, “you wouldn’t do this to someone you love. I know you don’t love me. You never have and you never could. You’re just pretending again so I’ll let you control me, I don’t like it” I whimper, tears streaming again. I could hear him getting closer but I was already against the counter and I couldn’t out run him. There was no point in trying.

“Sweetheart, I’ll never use you again-“ he tried to argue but I couldn’t listen to it.

“I really, really need you to leave. Please Klaus just get out, I can’t stand you” I tell him honestly and for a second as I look up at him, he looks almost sad but I have to assume it’s still apart of his act.

“You- you’re not going to do anything…anything harmful are you? To yourself, I mean.” He asked and I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me. I should never have told him that I’d had those thoughts or feelings once. I shouldn’t have ever said a word to him.

“No…now go away” I whisper, my hands trembling as I stared at the ground, listening to his footsteps eventually get further away.

I knew there was no way I could sleep, he was probably still outside my house. Waiting.

I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for but I could him there.

I had no idea what I was going to do.