#he betrayed jesus of course he betrayed jesus that’s not the question of the okay

[boomerang109]

Satan: well you really think we have choice?

Judas: well don’t we?

Satan: long winded set of examples about why we don’t have choices

AND THEN THIS IS BASICALLY THE FUCKING FINALE OF THE SHOW

like on a list of things i will never recover from the last days of judas fucking iscariot is high up there

please tell me all your thoughts about the last days of judas iscariot I’m begging you

okay i need to actually read a script before i’m coherent but i saw a singular production and my interpretation of the jesus and Judas scenes were that judas’ hell is jesus just trying to be nice and he can’t accept that?? and just

hell is other people but not because they’re bad but because WE’RE bad and we know it and we can’t be around other people and and and and—

[casspurrjoybell-18]

Worthless - Chapter 29 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Kade

Asher had been acting weird. It started after Riley and Fallon confronted Murphy. At first, I had thought that he was angry at me letting them do it. When I went to him, about to explain that I had warriors surrounding the area as well as disguised as prisoners, he simply said he wasn't angry at all. With anyone else, I would have probably doubted them but with Asher, I knew he told the truth. That left me even more confused though. If it wasn't that he was angry about Murphy, then what? 

Honestly, as the weeks progressed, I was getting more and more suspicious. I couldn't prove anything but he was deliberately avoiding me for the majority of the day. It was frustrating. I even went and asked everyone but they knew nothing. They even told me I was the one acting weird. As hard as I might try not to doubt him, my mind kept going back to one thought, was he cheating on me? 

That single question kept going through my head as I sat at my desk, holding a piece of paperwork that I wasn't actually reading. I was too stressed to actually do any work. The more I thought about it, the more bitter I became.  I snapped my head up when I heard a cough. I glared at Thalia as she stood there with her hand on her hip. She arched an eyebrow, gesturing to the paper in my hand, and I realized I'd crumpled it. 

"What do you want?" it came out almost a growl.

'Was she the one, no Gunnar was her mate, then again, I was Asher's and he still might be cheating on.'

"Jesus fucking Christ, Kade. He's not cheating on you."

I stared wide eyed as she threw her hands up.

"What?"

She let out a frustrated sigh,

"I said he's not cheating on you dumbass. He's been hanging out with Rory."

I tensed, a growl rumbling in my chest.

"That doesn't mean anything."

She gave me the 'are you really that stupid' look before sitting down.

"Okay, if he was, which he would never do because he thinks the world of you, you'd feel it. Plus, Rory wouldn't ever do that. Honestly, I've never even seen him with anyone, since we were all in high school."

I thought about it, nodding my head. Frowning, I felt my cheeks heat up. Of course Asher would never do something like that. And she was right that'd I'd feel it if he did. Rory was like a brother to me and wouldn't betray me like that. I really was stupid.

"Sorry Thalia," I mumbled.

"I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"No," She wagged her finger at me.

"You shouldn't have ever doubted your mate. Jeez, Kade."

I sighed, rolling out the tension in my shoulders as I leaned back in my chair.

"So what did you come here for?"

She smiled wickedly and I suddenly regretted the question. Who knew what she was going to say? I wouldn't put it past her to say that she just slaughtered a whole group of rogues and skinned them alive. Don't get me wrong. Thalia was great and a wonderful person but she was dangerous and sometimes you wondered about her sanity. Not that I'd have her any other way.What she did say, shocked me.

"I'm pregnant."

My mouth dropped open and I almost fell out of my seat.

"Seriously? That's great."

"Yeah."

She lit up, a beautiful smile on her face.

"Only you, my sister and Alpha Eric know and you can't tell anyone. I plan on surprising Gunnar as a Christmas present."

"How far along are you?"

I was bummed I couldn't spread the word but Gunnar was going to love his Christmas present. I was happy for them.

"Oh not that far. I went to a human doctor in town and he said I was about six weeks."

"Human doctor? But what about the pack... Oh wait, you can't go to Gunnar."

We laughed.

"Yeah, that would mess up my Christmas surprise."

I thought for a second, letting out a low hmm. 

"Well, when you get farther along, we can get someone to fill in for your duties. I'd say Rory but he isn't the most, responsible?"

She snorted.

"You got that right. He's gotten better since high school but he's still pretty useless for anything but tracking. Oh and guess who's coming home?"

I could tell she was excited. I tried to think of anyone but came up blank. Shrugging, I gave up earning a frustrated sigh.

"It's Calon. Isn't the Beta supposed to find out about these things?"

"No, that's your job," I grinned, thinking back to my high school days.

Calon was two years younger than me but he was only a grade below us. We were all pretty close before he moved to Europe.It was cool that he was finally coming back. I whistled.

"Man, I haven't seen him in, what? Almost three years?"

"Yeah, I guess it would be around that long. He went and got his Associate's in business since he's been prepared to take over his family's business."

"When's he supposed to come home?"

"Today actually. Just in time for the Christmas Eve Party."

"And I'm just finding out now?"

I stood up, checking the time.

"I think I'll go to town and buy him a gift. We've still got a few hours before it starts."

She smirked, standing as well.

"You're just using it as an excuse not to help set everything up."

"You know me so well."

I winked before leading the way out. I mean, I was but I also would feel bad if Calon showed up and there wasn't a gift waiting for him. As Thalia and I walked, we reminisced about high school. I stopped when we got to the entrance.

"He still likes books right?"

She paused, tilting her head

"I would think so. I mean, he was a book worm in high school."

I nodded, turning the doorknob and stepping outside.  I quickly went to a small bookstore in town. I grabbed a few random books since I honestly had no clue what he was into anymore. I went for older ones since he might keep up with the new releases and asked for them to be wrapped. After, I stopped by a bakery to grab a few sweets for Asher. He'd developed a sweet tooth and I knew he'd love them. It was an easy drive back and I got to the pack-house an hour and a half later.

Stepping out of the car, I dropped off the goodies in my room before going to find Asher. Usually, I'd just use the mind link but he's been closed off lately. It confused and frustrated me but I wasn't going to let it eat at me anymore. Like Thalia said, Asher wouldn't cheat on me.  I easily caught his trail and followed it throughout the house. He seemed to be pretty busy which was to be expected with the party tonight. It was an annual event and almost everyone in the pack came.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 25 - The Family Dinner [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking.

Word Count: 5300

Summary: Family time can be chaotic.

Sharing secrets was difficult, but sharing secrets about one’s past was quite possibly one of the most difficult things that a person could do with who they loved. You knew how difficult it was for Spencer to talk about his past with you, but he stood by his word and told you absolutely everything, with nothing to hide. By the time you finished that conversation, it was almost dawn and yet you didn’t feel tired at all.

After that night, something changed but it wasn’t a bad change like Spencer feared.

You felt even closer to him, if such a thing was possible. In the following week, your relationship was better than ever-

Well.

Until now.

“I don’t believe this,” you shook your head, “I just… I refuse to believe this. After everything we’ve been through, I don’t even want to believe you’d put yourself in harm’s way and betray me like this. I get that you have no regard for your happiness, but doing this?” you ran a hand over your face, “This is too much, Spencer. You have no idea what you’re walking into, what kind of danger that’s going to be waiting there to ruin you!”

Spencer just raised his brows, then looked between the two ties he was holding up.

“So that’s a no to the blue one?”

“No to this whole thing!” you let out a groan, falling back to the bed, “No to this dinner with my family nonsense!”

He chuckled at your dramatics as you huffed out.

“Don’t you think maybe you’re worried about the wrong thing?” he asked, “You’re also meeting your father today.”

“But we know my father is a sadistic cruel demon sent to earth to make everyone’s life miserable,” you pointed out, keeping your eyes on the ceiling, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but my father isn’t the only dangerous person in my family.”

“It’s just a dinner.”

“No, that’s what they want you to think,” you insisted, sitting up in bed, “Before you know it, they invite you to our place by the lovely countryside, and you’ll walk in thinking it’s just like any other place, there are wolves howling outside and-“

“Why are you giving me the plot of Dracula right now?”

“Because that’s what they are!” you exclaimed, “They’re like vampires! Have you ever wondered why my sister was named Mina? Dracula’s Mina!”

“Your mother loves horror books?”

“Spencer you can’t ignore the signs!” you insisted as he started tying his tie, a small grin pulling at his lips, “They’ll- they’ll suck the life out of you! By the time the dinner is over, you will be begging to see the sunlight again, and you will never be able to. Figuratively speaking.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve already met all of them,” he said patiently and you felt your heart melt, “In case you forgot.”

“Yes, and do you remember how that went?” you asked, “Nolan threatened you, my mother treated you like she was going to hire you and questioned you about everything, and Mina… Mina is a warning by existence.”

“Kenzie was nice though.”

“Yeah, she’s the only good person in our family,” you muttered, then turned your head when you felt his glances on you. “What?”

“Nolan is a part of your family?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you scrunched up your face and grabbed your lip liner and lipstick to walk to the mirror, uncapped it and started applying it, “I’m going to have a billionaire stepfather who looks like a puppy around my mother— that’s not the point.” You put the lipstick into your purse and went to sit down on the bed again while he ran his fingers through his curls as if trying to keep them under control, “I just don’t want you to change your mind because my family doesn’t know how to act normal.”

“Change my mind about what?”

“About this,” you motioned between you and that was more than enough to make him turn his head, his brows furrowed. “I love them, but they’re going to be overly prying, overly dramatic, overly….everything and the next thing we know—“

“That’s never going to happen,” he approached you to crouch down so that he could look at you better, then reached out to entwine his fingers with yours, “That’s why you were so nervous about this?”

You pursed your lips, heaving a sigh and shrugged silently.

“Do you remember what you said to me a couple of days ago, that night?” he asked, “How trust works both ways?”

“You already know almost everything about my past.”

“That’s not it,” he shook his head, “This is about our present, and future.”

“Or lack thereof,” you commented dryly, making him chuckle.

“Do you seriously believe that?”

“They can be a little intimidating.”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured you, “And no matter what happens tonight, or on dinners to come with-“

“Social vampires.”

“With your family,” he corrected you, “It won’t change anything. I promise.”

You cupped his cheek, running your fingertips over his slight stubble and he turned his head to place a kiss into your palm, nuzzling there.

“Fine,” you murmured, “Let’s go see my sadistic demon father then. Should be enough of a practice for tonight.”

                                              ***

When you and Spencer got to the prison your father was held in, Luke was already by the hallway, waiting for you.

“Hey,” he said, “He’s going to be ready in five.”

You nodded, “Okay.”

“And don’t worry, after you guys are done here, I’m taking him to bullpen and he will leave at 7 p.m. latest. Rossi promised, even if there’s a dead body he’s gonna attend the dinner tonight.”

You looked up at Spencer, “Wait, there was a possibility of you not attending if someone ends up dead?”

“I mean if there’s a case…”

“Please don’t kill someone so that you guys can avoid this dinner,” Luke pointed out and you made a face at him, “We took you off our suspects list way too soon.”

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned and one of the guards opened the door.

“He’s ready.”

“I’ll be behind the glass if you two need anything.” Luke said and Spencer squeezed your hand as if trying to assure you everything would be alright.

“Come on,” he coaxed and you nodded, then took a deep breath and entered the interrogation room, Spencer following you. Your father looked up, then raised his brows.

“Oh look at you two, together again,” he said and you rolled your eyes, trying your hardest not to show how nervous you were. You took your seat across from him beside Spencer, and crossed your arms.

“John.”

“Dr. Reid.”

“So that’s why you haven’t had the time to come and see me lately,” your father motioned between you, “I can hardly say I approve but…”

“Oh that’s good. I’d probably kill myself if I did something you’d approve of.”

“Honey, you’re surrounded by CEOs and businessmen, and you went for an FBI agent?”

“What the fuck does that have to do with-”

“How much do you make monthly?” he asked, turning to Spencer, “I mean, I need to make sure-“

“Oh shut up, will you?” you cut him off, “He’s going to be hearing all that nonsense and more tonight, I don’t need this from you too.”

“Tonight?”

You and Spencer exchanged glances and he shrugged slightly, as if telling you to continue. A small smile pulled at your lips and you turned to your father.

“We’re having a family dinner tonight,” you said, “Naturally it doesn’t include you, so there’s one good thing about this bullshit, I guess.”

“Well, if it doesn’t include me you could hardly call it a family dinner.”

Your smile widened and you clicked your tongue,

“Nah, Nolan is going to be there so we’ll be fine. The whole family is there.”

Your father frowned, “Nolan?”

“Yeah,” you said, “Yeah, mom’s boyfriend.”

A silence fell upon the room as he stared at you for a couple of seconds,

“Your mother has a boyfriend now?”

You hissed in a breath,

“You’re right, boyfriend doesn’t exactly cut it,” you said, “He’s going to propose, so I guess we could call him mom’s future husband-“

“You’re lying,” he cut you off and you tilted your head.

“Am I though?”

“She wouldn’t get married,” he shook his head, “No way.”

A laughter escaped from your lips, “Why not?” you asked, “Because she loves you?”

“Yes she does.”

“The last time I checked, she called you a monster and was hoping you would die as soon as possible,” you stated, “Barely a love story.”

“Of course you wouldn’t understand,” he said through his teeth, “Your mother and I were in love, Petal. We still are, regardless of divorce, or this.” He motioned around the room and you blinked a couple of times, trying to wrap your mind around it.

“Jesus, you really are delusional.”

Spencer muttered your name to remind you to be careful, but you shook your head, keeping your eyes on your father.

“I’m pretty sure Nolan could buy this whole prison,” you motioned around, “I should suggest that, as a wedding gift.”

“They won’t get- hold on,” your father said, “Did you say Nolan? Nolan Yates?”

“Mm hm.”

“Nolan fucking Yates is going after my wife?”

“Ex-wife who hates your guts,” you corrected him and he gritted his teeth.

“I knew it,” he spat, “The first time I saw him at that gala, I saw the way he looked at your mother. They’re not getting married.”

“Okay then you lunatic,” you scoffed “I guess you need something to have delusions about while we’re out there moving on—“

It happened in a flash. One second you were talking, the next you were cut off as your father jumped on his feet, Spencer pushing you out of your chair to behind him almost automatically.

Then, something in Spencer’s eyes shifted.

He grabbed him by the arm, twisted it and slammed him down to the table in front of you, making you cover your mouth, your heart beating in your throat as the door opened with a bang and Luke and two guards came in.  Luke was the first to pull Spencer off of your father, telling him to let go while one of the guards grabbed you and pushed you out of the room before he made his way to your father still trying to get out of the handcuffs and lunge at them as if he was a man possessed. They dragged him out of the interrogation room to what you assumed was the hall that led to his cell while you stood still by the wall, trying your hardest to snap out of it but your mind was almost foggy.

“Excuse me,” you managed to say as you made your way to the bathroom, your hands still shaking. Thankfully no one was there, so you rested your palms on the sink, taking a deep breath before you turned on the tap, holding your hands under the ice cold water.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, “It’s fine. You’re fine. It happens, you have a fucked up family.”

You rolled your shoulders back, that crazy light in your father’s eyes flashing in your mind before you shook your head, exhaling slowly.

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice reached inside as he knocked on the door, “Can I come in?”

Your heart was still pacing in your chest but you cleared your throat.

“Yeah,” you called out and he stepped inside, his lips pulled into a thin line as he offered you a small smile.

“Hi,” he said gently, still keeping his distance, standing by the now closed door. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, crossing your arms, adrenaline still pulsing through you, “Yeah, of course.”

“I’m sorry,” he said and you pulled your brows together.

“Huh?”

“That you had to see that,” he said, “I know I shouldn’t have slammed him down like that, but when he lunged at you, I just…. I saw red. I understand that it was hard to watch and I apologize—“

“Hold on,” you cut him off, gawking at him “You’re apologizing because you stopped that psycho from lunging at me?”

Spencer frowned as if he was confused at your own confusion, and nodded.

“Yeah. Human mind is very complex, so even if you think you hate him, it could’ve been difficult for you to see him hurt, not to mention it was me who did that. Jung has a theory that states—“

“Spencer,” You interrupted him again, “Lock the door.”

His frown deepened but he did as you asked, but he didn’t get to ask why when you walked to him and pulled him into a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and standing on your tiptoes. His hand cradled your head, a sigh of content escaping him but he pulled back when you grabbed his tie to loosen it.

“Wait, here?” he asked, “Y/N, this is a bathroom.”

“Yeah, I’m aware?”

“Do you have any idea how unsanitary this place probably is?”

“Oh, very unsanitary,” you stated, “On the other hand, though…”

You shrugged your shoulders and pulled your silk blouse over your head, so that he could see you in your bra. He stared at you for a moment and he swallowed thickly, his eyes snapping up to yours when you giggled.

“You make a good point,” he muttered before he pulled you into a kiss and walked you back to the sink.

                                                ***

Unfortunately, the rest of the day wasn’t that fun, especially when it was time to get to your mother’s house for the family dinner. You had insisted on picking Spencer up from work after you were done at your work, so that you would at least try to change his mind on the road again, but when you actually arrived to your mother’s place, he still looked like he wanted to do this.

“Last warning,” you said as Spencer looked up at the house, then twirled the flower bouquet in his hand, “Not too late to change your mind professor.”

“I’ll be fine, come on,” he offered his free hand and you took it, then both of you climbed the stairs to the front door.

“I’m a little nervous, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“You hummed the Darth Vader theme for the whole road,” Spencer reminded you, “I had a feeling you were nervous, yeah.”

“Abandon hope all ye enter here,” you quoted Dante as you both reached the door and Spencer scoffed a laugh.

“Ah we went from the den of vampires into the gates of hell, then?”

“Yeah! As Dante would put it, to a place we come where nothing shines.”

“I doubt he envisioned this when he was talking about the circles of hell.” He rang the doorbell and you let out a small whine, looking up at the dark sky.

“There are worse people than me out there,” you said as the footsteps came closer, “Why am I being subjected to—“

“Spencer!” your mother greeted him as she opened the door and you frowned.

“Since when do you answer the door?” you asked and she shot you a look before smiling at Spencer.

“Hello Ms. Knight.”

“Welcome, both of you!” she gasped at the flowers, “For me?”

“Oh—yes, of course.”

“They’re lovely, thank you!” she said and took them from him, “Come in, come in!”

“No I’m serious, did something happen to Tina? You never answer the door.”

“It’s nice to see you too sweetie, I see we started our dramatics on the way.” she kissed your cheek and you smiled.

“Hi mom.”

“Let me put these in a vase.”

“Spencer!” a gleeful scream rang in the hallway as your mother went to the kitchen and Lily threw herself at Spencer who crouched down as soon as he saw her “Hi!”

“Hi there! Whoa, you’re very strong!”

“Just in time for bedtime,” Kenzie walked into the hallway with a wine glass in her hand, “Hi guys.”

“I told mommy you’re a magician! And grandma, and Nolan too!” Lily counted with her fingers, “And I told them- I told them you can make coins disappear, and that you can do magic with paper, and then—“

“Bug, breathe,” you said, “Also, where’s my hug?”

Lily hastily rushed to you to hug you, then turned to Spencer as if she wasn’t interrupted while he just watched her with a fond smile on her face, listening intently to everything she was saying, and that warm feeling spread through your stomach again.

“And then I told Bobby I know a superhero, then he told me superheroes can’t be magicians but he’s wrong! Do you use magic to catch bad guys? Because if you do, I can help you with your superhero name!”

“Alright, auntie time.” you lifted her up into your arms as Spencer straightened up, “Sorry about that.”

“No, don’t,” Spencer shook his head, still smiling, “Please, I… she’s amazing.”

“Lily,” Kenzie said, “Bed time, come on.”

“Can you show me a magic trick please and thank you?” Lily said breathlessly and Spencer let out a laugh before turning to Kenzie.

“Is that okay?”

“Sure thing.”  

Spencer took out a coin from his pocket and held it in her sight, “Alright Lily, this is just a coin, right?”

“Don’t let him trick you,” you whispered to Lily who giggled, then nodded fervently after checking the coin.

“Yes.”

“Okay, keep your eyes on it,” Spencer showed it to her one more time before he put it into his palm, closed his palm and when he opened it, the coin was nowhere to be seen. Lily gasped, her jaw dropping and you couldn’t help but smile at her expression, her eyes shining with awe. You pressed a kiss on her cheek as Kenzie took her from you, and she let out a whine.

“But you all will have fun here!” she murmured, pouting and you heaved a sigh.

“Lily I can assure you, no one will have fun here.”

“Don’t be like that,” Kenzie shot you a look and smiled at Spencer. “She didn’t intimidate you, did she?”

“She tried,” Spencer said as you wrapped your arms around his torso and he kissed the top of your head, “Didn’t exactly work though.”

“For some reason,” you grumbled and Lily waved at you.

“Night night!”

“Good night!”

“I’ll see you later bug!” you said and entwined your fingers with Spencer’s, then pulled him to the dining room where Kenzie and Nolan were talking. Before you could even greet them, the sight of the dinner table caught your eye and you gawked at all the food there, your mother was definitely out of control and this was the proof of it.

There was enough food for a small army.

“Oh God please don’t tell me we’re going to have live music too,” you muttered and Mina raised her brows.

“Yeah, you might want to lower your expectations,” she shot a fake smile at Spencer, “But then again, that seems to be the theme of tonight. Hi Dr. Reid.”

You gritted your teeth, glaring at her and of course the jab didn’t escape Spencer’s attention, but he chose not to respond with the same sarcasm.

“Hi again.”

“Welcome, Dr. Reid,” Nolan smiled, “Y/N.”

“Hi Mr. Yates.”

“Nolan.”

“So this is where you grew up?” Spencer asked you as you led him away from them towards the library, and you nodded.

“Yeah,” you said, “Right over there me and Mina got into a fight and she pushed me into a vase.”

“Ouch.”

“Spent the next ten minutes begging me not to tell mom. Over there,” you pointed at the corner, “Used to be this huge Christmas tree every year.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and we used to have another room next to this, dad’s study, but after he was arrested and we all figured out how evil he was, mom grabbed a sledgehammer and smashed the—“

“Dinner is ready!” your mother called out and you heaved a sigh.

“Just saying, we could just tell them there’s been a murder.”

“You don’t give up, do you?” he smiled at you fondly and you shook your head, Kenzie entering the living room again.

“I’ve been called stubborn before.”

“Can’t imagine why,” he joked as he kissed you on the forehead and you turned to your family who was slowly taking their seats around the table, then both of you approached the table to sit down as well.

“I’m so glad we decided to have this dinner,” your mother clasped her hands, “It was about time, wouldn’t you say?”

Spencer smiled at her after thanking the maid who was filling his glass, “Thank you for inviting me Ms Knight.”

“Y/N was trying to make him change his mind,” Kenzie sang and your mother tilted your head.

“Spencer, I promise you we’re not as bad as my daughter tries to make you believe.”

“I’m not saying you’re bad,” you defended yourself, “I’m just saying you might be a little too much.”

“Define too much.”

You gawked at her and motioned at the table, making Spencer chuckle silently beside you.

“I really appreciate the effort you put into this,” he added, making your mother smile.

“Why thank you, Spencer,” she said and turned to Nolan, “Honey, Spencer works for the BAU as you know, you should introduce him to your friend.”

“Your friend?” Kenzie asked.

“The head of FBI,” Nolan said, “That’s a great idea. He might also help you in any position you want in the bureau.”

Spencer blinked a couple of times, as if he was at loss for words, then cleared his throat.

“Thank you,” he said “I already- I already have the position that I want though.”

“Ah for the future,” Nolan waved a hand and your mother sipped her drink.

“Yeah, now that it came up,” she said, “What are your future plans?”

“Mom,” you said warningly and Mina leaned back, looking between you with a smirk on her face.

“It’s just a question, don’t be so nervous,” she commented and Kenzie arched a brow at her.

“Mina.”

“No it’s okay,” Spencer pushed his hair behind his ear, “I um… I think I’d like to focus more on teaching.”

You lowered your glass, “Hm? Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I mean I do love BAU, they’re my family but seeing murders every single day, seeing all those victims, it becomes too much sometimes. But I love teaching already, so I think I will do that. In the future, I mean.”

“Oh how lovely. How about something other than your career though? In your future, would you say you’re planning to have chi—“

“New topic,” you cut her off quickly, “I saw dad today, and he knows you two are dating now.”

Your mother frowned but Nolan reached out to squeeze her hand, “It’s okay, he would learn eventually.”

“He actually thinks he is in love with you,” you told your mom and she scoffed.

“Please don’t say that, we’re eating,” she said, “I don’t want to feel nauseous.”

“It’s actually understandable that he’s under that disillusion.” Spencer said, making all of you turn to him, “Especially people in his situation, they feel this need to hold onto some outside world that’s waiting for them to get out of their minds. In a way, he hopes that because if he feels cut off from here, he will probably crash down. It’s very common in people who are imprisoned.”

“Well he can hope all he wants, I never want to see him again.”

“I’m sure Y/N doesn’t want to see him again either, but she’s not that lucky, thanks to FBI. What do you think about that, Spencer?” Mina asked, and Spencer looked at her.

“I think that’s a decision left to her.”

“Is it though?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Mina I need you to remember what I was like when we had dinner with Kenzie, and return the favor.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means shut the fuck up.”

“Y/N!” your mom gasped and Mina tilted her head.

“Ah well, excuse me if not all of us are in a forgiving mood unlike you.”

“None of that!” your mother said, “Both of you, honestly…”

“Spencer, you strike me as a whiskey guy,” Nolan said, attracting his attention, “I purchased a bottle of limited series in an auction in London the other day, would you like to try it after dinner?”

“Sure,” he nodded fervently and you held up your hand.

“I want to try that too. And what about that rum you were talking about the other day? Is it here too?”

“Sure thing.” Nolan snapped his fingers, “In fact, I know a great distillery, why don’t we visit there after dinner?”

You lifted your head, “That could be fun. Where?”

“Costa Rica.”

Spencer looked between you, “You—um, you want to go to Costa Rica after dinner?”

“We could take the jet. We’d be back before the dawn, obviously.”

“People,” you cleared your throat, “Has no one read the normalcy manual I e-mailed you the other day?”

“Yes but the manual said we could talk about drinks.” Nolan said and Spencer turned to you, frowning.

“Normalcy manual?”

“I just thought it’d be useful for tonight.”

“Oh it was very useful,” Mina commented, “Especially the footnote about murders, even if it was unnecessary. No one will joke about murder Y/N, we don’t want your boyfriend to arrest you again after—“ she was cut off as Kenzie kicked her leg under the table, and Spencer pursed his lips, as if he still felt guilty about that.

“I wasn’t in the city,” he said calmly, looking her dead in the eye, “I came back as soon as I heard, I was trying to get her out when you got there.”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” you said, “Mina , stop it will you?”

She didn’t even look like she heard you, “Get her out? Ah so that’s why I walked into that interrogation room when she was being hounded by your team?”

“Okay!” Kenzie said loudly, throwing the napkin on the table, “I’m so sorry, I just remembered something about Lily’s school that we missed. Babe, can you come with me to the kitchen for a moment please?”

Mina huffed out and put her glass down, then pushed her chair back and followed Kenzie to the kitchen.

“Honestly….” you downed your drink and motioned for another one but then Spencer squeezed your hand under the table, as if trying to assure you.

“I bet you miss the serial killers right now huh?” you mumbled and he tilted your head, humoring you.

“Drinks are better here,” he admitted and you tried to smile before you grabbed your cigarette pack from your purse.

“I’m gonna go to the backyard for a moment to smoke,” you said and your mother shot you a look.

“It’s dinner time, Y/N.”

“It’ll take like five minutes, tops,” you said and pushed your chair back, “I need some fresh air anyway. Spencer?”

“Sure, I’ll come with you,” he said and followed you down the hall until you reached the door to the backyard, opened it and stepped outside.

It was a silent night, as silent as it could be in the middle of the city. You looked up at the stars as you lit your cigarette, then heaved a sigh and leaned back to Spencer’s chest when he wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on top of your head.

“I apologize on her behalf,” you said and he shook his head.

“You don’t have to,” he muttered, “She has a point. I should’ve… I should’ve been there, in that interrogation room.”  

You looked up at him, then reached up to run your fingernails over his slight scruff while he lowered his head to press his nose into the crook of your neck, nuzzling there.

“Spencer, you need to stop blaming yourself,” you said slowly, “I mean it. I don’t blame you for that at all— and….you know Mina. She just turns into someone else when it comes to protecting the family. She doesn’t mean it, not really.”

He nodded silently and you combed back his hair with your fingers, making him heave a sigh.

“This is nice,” he muttered and you let out a small laugh.

“So are you ready to admit that I was right?”

“Hm?”

“I said you would regret it, do you regret it yet?”

“The dinner?”

“Yeah.”

He shook his head “No.”

“Why not?”

His arms around you tightened and he pressed a kiss to your neck, “Because you’re here.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours and you stubbed your cigarette before you turned to him. He smiled at you and you couldn’t help but stare at him under the dim lights of the backyard before you stood on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against his.

“God, I love you so much,” you said, making him smile, “Thank you for being here and… I don’t know, going through this absolute torture. I know it’s a lot.”

“Hey,” he cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your cheekbone, “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

You nodded, looking up at him.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” his voice was silent, almost hesitant, “To make you happy. You know that, right?”

You could feel the burning in your eyes and you sniffled, your heart skipping a beat before you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into his chest. The rest of the world felt like it disappeared as you swayed from side to side, inhaling his scent and you pulled back.

“I know now,” you wiped at your nose, clearing your throat and he pushed your hair behind your ear.

“Good,” he grinned, “Glad we cleared that out.”

Someone knocked on the door and you turned your head to see Mina as she opened the glass door.

“So about earlier,” she leaned sideways to the doorframe, “Apologies and remorse, etc.”

“That means she’s sorry for what happened earlier,” you said helpfully and Spencer scoffed a laugh, shaking his head.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said, “I get it. Trust me, I felt exactly the same when I saw the tape, but I was trying to get her out with minimum damage.”

Mina nibbled on her lip, eyeing him up and down.

“I guess,” she said, “But just so you both know, mom and Nolan are actually planning a weekend trip to Costa Rica. It’s like what happened with Kenzie all over again, only there’s two of them now.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered and Mina nodded at Spencer.

“Yeah so you might need to tell them you have murders to solve during the weekend Sherlock, because they’re not going to listen to us.” she said and Spencer looked down at you.

“I’ll be there in a second,” you said and he pressed a kiss into your hair before making his way inside. Mina lingered there for a moment, inspecting her fingernails in a complete nonchalant manner.

“I guess I could trust you to know what you’re doing,” she said, “Just make sure he doesn’t screw you over, okay?”

You raised your brows, then clicked your tongue.

“Kenzie said no sex unless you apologize huh?”

“She meant it too!” Mina whined as you walked past her, letting out a laugh.

“Unbelievable,” you shook your head with a smile, making your way to the dining room. “All of you.”

Chapter 26 

[cecilysass]

I think I disagree with this a little, maybe because I view Amor Fati through the lens of Last Temptation of Christ, which DD was thinking about when he wrote it. I’ve never read the book by Nikos Kazantzakis. But if you’ve seen the end of the 1988 Martin Scorsese film, you know that the dream sequence in Amor Fati is really, really inspired by it. Like, really. It’s very much the same.

In Last Temptation, Satan presents Jesus with a vision of the life he might have had: an everyday life with a family, marrying Mary Magdalene, growing old, etc. Then at the very end, everything is on fire, and Jesus is an old man dying, Judas comes in and says, “get up, get up, you weren’t supposed to die like this, in a comfortable bed, you were tricked by Satan, this isn’t how it was supposed to be.” (I am wildly paraphrasing.) Then Jesus realizes his mistake, that he can’t be a normal man, and chooses to make the sacrifice and dies on the cross. Here’s the end of the Judas scene.

I do think part of Mulder craves the domesticity and peace and intact family life he is offered in Amor Fati. One important point about this sequence is that it is not supposed to be literal in any way. But I think like for Jesus in LT, it is supposed to represent aspects of meaningful temptation to Mulder. It is a bit of a fantasy for him. Not because he loves Diana or wants to play son to CSM or live in the suburbs, but because he’s had to choose an often lonely, alienated and anxious life. And here is a dream world that represents love, respect, a secure place in a family and community, complete ease and comfort. It’s a world where the dead (Deep Throat) are not lost to him, and a world where he is absolved of guilt. Not to mention he’s achieved what some people would consider healthy and reassuring markers of adulthood. He’s loved. He’s normal. This is a big deal for a man who has had so few people in his life who care about him.

With the big exception, of course, of Scully. And her absence in the dream world does worry him, does make him think something is off. I would say that, comparing Last Temptation and Amor Fati, Mulder is more aware than Jesus that his vision is not quite right. So in this I agree with OP. There’s a current of unease in Mulder’s temptation. He seems bewildered by the speed of his dream relationship with Diana, for example. And it’s symbolically significant that the domestic bliss he’s offered in his dream is with Diana, not Scully. Diana in the dream is some exaggerated, allegorical version of real Diana. She offers Mulder complete agreeable ease, no uncomfortable challenge, a woman who makes a fire and lays a table (as she says in her dialogue), walks around in seductive lingerie and bears sons. It’s not really consistent with Diana’s real life tough, career-minded character (okay, maybe the lingerie), and it is meant to represent the promise of false flattery, false ego-building that requires very little of him. Although he is eventually lulled by the experience, he does ask questions, including ���what the hell am I doing here?” It has some superficial appeal for Mulder, who has been lonely and attention-starved, but by the end of the episode, it’s clear that’s not what he really wants. The reminder of this is what ultimately unravels the dream.

Scully plays the role that Judas plays in Last Temptation, which is fascinating. It makes sense given the role Judas plays in LT’s version of the story. He’s not the villain. Judas, in that story, is a faithful “partner” to Jesus in carrying out the fated pageant of the cross and the resurrection that will lead to saving the world. He betrays Jesus because it’s his part to play. So like Scully in Amor Fati, Judas is the one to tell Jesus he’s supposed to make the harder choice, to walk the more difficult path. To remind him that more is asked of him.

Scully comes in at the end of the vision to be the reality check, to help Mulder see where he belongs and what he has to do. To let him know what truth is— to be his touchstone. Like in Last Temptation, he has to reject the “normal life” because he’s fated to walk a more difficult path, to fight the good fight with her. He’s being asked for more because it’s right to do more.

The interesting difference between Amor Fati and Last Temptation is that LT requires Jesus to give up all worldly comfort, all personal connections, simply to die. The dream sequence culminates with his death on the cross. Whereas Amor Fati ends with a fairy tale rescue (the heroine’s tears reviving the sleeping prince) and wedding vows. Well, not exactly wedding vows, but the “touchstone” speech in the hall makes clear that the difficult path Mulder has to walk isn’t necessarily going to require utter loneliness and self-denial. And Scully’s partnership isn’t a false, misdirecting one like Diana’s in the dream: Scully tells him the truth. She expects the best of him.

Now that I have written all of this and reread what OP wrote, I am not sure I disagree very much after all. I might be essentially saying the same thing. So yes, OP, I took a long ass time to basically say I agree: sorry, and I thank you for your patience. I love this episode.

Sort of. Except that I hate the Mulder Christ imagery really. It’s complicated.

amor fati is not some fantasy of mulder's. it's a dystopia if he didn't dedicate his life to the truth and followed the path of ignorance. becoming like his father (whoever you believe it is) in terrible ways, doing what csm wanted him to (believe his lies).

and as soon as scully is near again, he can see through fog & lies his brain is telling him. because he bears north, scully is his true north who tells him the truth and fights with & for him. she would never tell him pretty lies over a hard truth, no matter how hard it is.

[a-tiny-frog-girl]

To Mars and Back ch. 4

previous // first // next (ao3)

Short fluff chapter while I chip away at chapter 5! (It's already 3.5k words and I'm nowhere close to done :,). ) Kinda filler, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Please reblog or comment, it makes writing so much more enjoyable! Special thanks for this chapter goes to all the people who want to hear random bits of canon from this universe and of course, the readers. Love you guys!

warnings: implied abuse, dehumanization, negative self-talk, more accidental fearplay, injury mention

words: 1,205

summary: Reid and Mars start to get through to each other and bond.

"What now?" Reid muttered to himself as he set down Mars on a table next to the bed in his room. Mars watched his face carefully, her mind echoing the same question.

"Do you... need anything?" Reid asked. Mars shook her head. She'd already eaten today and she felt fine, she was probably good for now. For a moment, they sat in silence, Reid in deep thought.

"Are you going to make me sleep in a drawer?" Mars broke the silence haltingly.

"What? No! Jesus. Where do you usually sleep?" Reid glanced around the room, taking inventory. Mars was just glad he managed to keep his voice down even when he was surprised.

"Cage." Mars pulled her arms tight around herself and looked away. She didn't need to see the power rush the human got when he realized that he could put her in a cage and she couldn't do anything about it. She'd seen it enough. The following hush seemed to prove her correct, or it did until the human spoke again.

"A-- They made you sleep in a cage?" He asked softly. Mars didn't answer, scuffing her feet against the table below her.

"Mars, it's okay. I won't make you do anything you don't want to, I swear." Reid said. Mars used all of her willpower to meet his gaze and found nothing but sincerity there. This was going to hurt when he betrayed her, she thought.

Reid pulled a flip phone out of his pocket and tapped a bunch of buttons, somehow keeping his eyes on her the entire time. Was he telling the others? Laughing to them about how easy it would be to break her? She felt like a spec of unimportant dust under the human's watchful eye.

The click of the flip phone shutting made Mars spook out of her thoughts.

"Sorry, sorry." Reid said sheepishly. "Just checking in on the rest of my team."

Mars nodded robotically, rubbing her hands up and down her crossed arms.

"Are you cold?" Reid suddenly asked. 

Mars shook her head no, but a shiver wracked through her, answering for her. Gods, she hoped he wouldn't get upset about her lying. She pulled her arms so close that it felt like her chest couldn't expand properly.

"Smaller creatures have a harder time keeping body heat than bigger ones." Reid said, half to himself. Mars didn't miss the word 'creature' being used and fought the urge to curl up in a ball and try to ignore everything again. Things were so much easier back at the colony.

Reid moved his hand toward Mars. She took a deep breath in, closed her eyes, and rocked back on her heels, steadying herself for being scooped up again. It wasn't as bad as how the old humans grabbed (and sometimes squeezed) but Mars' heart nearly burst out of her chest every time a human looked at her, let alone picked her up.

After a few seconds of nothing happening, she opened her eyes a tiny bit, still holding her breath, waiting to be picked up. Instead, she found the human's concerned face in front of her.

"You okay?" Reid asked in the softest voice he could manage.

Mars opened her eyes fully and nodded, blushing in embarrassment. Reid moved his hand again more slowly, keeping his eye on Mars to make sure he wasn't scaring her. When she only shivered some more, he gently placed his hand palm up just in front of her. Mars looked between the hand at her feet and the human with confusion.

"You can get on, i-if you want to. It's okay if you don't." Reid explained. Mars felt a knot in her stomach loosen at the stutter. He seemed just as nervous as she was, for some weird reason. She took a steadying breath and nodded as she stepped forward onto the hand. 

She wobbled a little on the unfamiliar surface, struggling to maintain her balance on her already injured leg. The human's thumb rose from beside her, keeping her safely standing. The warmth from the hand immediately started soaking into Mars, making her muscles involuntarily relax.

For a moment, Mars and Reid just stared at each other, Mars in anticipation of something, anything, happening and Reid in awe of Mars.

"Why are you guys being so nice to me?" Mars said quietly as she dropped her head to look at the swirls in the skin she stood on. "If you want something, just tell me." This is freaking me out, she added in her head.

"You're a victim, Mars. We just want to make sure you're okay, safe. Why would we be mean to you?" Reid countered just as softly as before.

"Isn't it easier?" Mars' voice dropped so low Reid could barely hear it.

"Well, maybe. But just because something is easier doesn't mean it's right. Our job is to stop bad guys like the ones who hurt you. We would never stoop to their level." Reid said.

"Never?" Mars asked quietly, stuck between suspicion and hope.

"Never." Reid answered, swinging his legs over to lie on the bed, keeping her carefully braced the whole time. Mars let the tension out of her body, leaning back against the fingers behind her. She wanted to trust them. She wanted to be safe, but her mind was still looking for ways they could hurt her. 

"Could you, uh, put me down?" Mars asked timidly. If he really meant what he said, he'd listen to her, right? 

Reid paused and for a moment Mars was sure he was going to take back his words, but he responded right after.

"Oh, of course. If you need a blanket or something, don't be afraid to ask." Reid set her on the open pillow to his left.

Two sides of her brain started fighting as soon as her feet hit the cushy pillow. One side wanted to try to run and escape again while the other begged her to lie down on the most comfortable surface she had ever stepped foot on. Her leg decided for her, though, as it finally decided it had had enough of her standing on it and gave way, making her fall to her knees. 

"Whoa, what happened?" Reid asked worriedly.

"It was just my leg." Mars said as she rearranged her aching body into a sitting position.

"Oh, yeah. You must be pretty tired, huh?" Reid said, and for the first time in a long while, Mars didn't feel like sleeping would be a bad thing.

She nodded and yawned. She felt something touch her head and froze, but it just messed up her hair a little and backed off. Reid smiled at her and she allowed herself to shyly smile back.

"You should go to sleep, it might make you heal faster." Reid said as he turned the bedside lamp off.

"Yeah..." Mars said, still a little nervously.

"Hey, I know it's scary, but you're safe now, okay? I'll keep the other lamp on for you." Reid reassured her.

The soft glow of the lamp and her sore body made her eyes close almost immediately. She was far too tired to fight it and fell asleep soon after.

[aggravatetheaxe]

BO SINCLAIR X TRANS MAN / MAN ALIGNED READER COMING OUT - Pt. 1 - Under Your Skin

This title is SAFE FOR WORK. Pt. 2, Over the Moon, will be NSFW. I'll link that here when it's written!

You met Bo while you were still presenting as a woman. Suffice to say things have changed, and you can't keep your secret from him any longer. You have no choice but to tell him or leave ... but what if he makes you leave anyway?

CW: descriptions of dysphoria that get very intense, deadnaming/misgendering, mentions of murder and mortal peril, it's 2005 and Bo is from the south so just be advised it's not all fluff and rainbows (but there is payoff, this isn't straight angst, it's just a journey)

Soundtrack: x

Words: 4,175

Part Two

Masterlist

***

Your shoulders were stiff. Your throat was dry. Your leg was bouncing, the only thing you could do to release the nervous energy juttering through your body.

You were going to tell him.

You'd put it off for months now, not quite sure how to say the words. Then, when you'd arranged them in your head, fear had kept you from saying them out loud. But you couldn't wait anymore. You couldn't live like this any longer.

You'd been hiding the secret for too long. Every time Bo called you by your birth name or made some quip about you being his girl, your heart shriveled just a little more. It had gotten to the point where you didn't even want compliments from him ... you didn't want to talk. You didn't even really want to sleep with him, didn't like to think about him looking at you as a woman during sex.

He didn't know, of course. But that almost made it worse. He couldn't stop hurting you and you couldn't yell at him for it. It was always the same: you lost control, you got frustrated, wouldn't tell him why, he'd get frustrated, you'd fight ... it was a mess. You knew all that was putting a strain on your relationship.

So it had to be tonight.

It had to be tonight.

You had everything planned. You'd already gone into town with Lester and picked up some stuff for a nice dinner; there was a fresh, cold six-pack of Bud in the fridge; and Rocky III was sitting in the VHS player, ready to go. Once he was relaxed, you'd talk to him.

You'd convinced yourself so fully that you'd stick to the plan that when you heard his truck pull up and your heart leapt into your throat, you nearly cried. Fuck, not again. Not another night. You were supposed to be stronger than this.

Stomping boots on the porch. You heard the door swing open from the kitchen. "I'm home."

He didn't sound like he was in a particularly good mood, but it didn't sound like a bad one, either. That was good news, at least. Things must have gone okay down at the shop. "I'm in here!" you called back.

Bo appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, tracking a little gravel into the house as always. He leaned against the doorframe with one hand on his hip, gesturing with his chin. "Hey, sugar. What you got there?"

You looked down at the meal you were plating. "I thought I'd try a pot roast? I dunno. I don't think it came out very good, but I guess we'll see."

He didn't say anything. You glanced over your tense shoulder to see him simply staring at you, like he was trying to read your thoughts. You could sense the gears in his head turning behind those clever blue eyes of his. He knew there was something wrong; you were guarded.

For a moment, you thought he might say something. That familiar little bit of irritation was beginning to creep into his face, right around his neck and jaw. But after a few seconds, he simply said, "A'right," and straightened. "M'gonna go change."

"'Kay." As he stomped up the stairs, you finished getting the food ready and brought the plates to the living room. Bo usually ate at the table—"I ain't a savage"—but you could tell he liked eating on the couch. It was like a special treat. And clearly, you were short on charm at the moment, so you'd have to use your environment to your advantage.

You pulled up two tray tables and set the food down, then fetched the beer. By the time everything was set up, Bo was coming back down the stairs.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to look at him. He was wearing jeans and a red flannel, sleeves rolled up. At this point, he didn't care about you seeing his scars. You hardly noticed them anymore.

He came closer and slowed to a stop, forehead wrinkling as he eyed your set-up. "What's all this about?"

"I was thinking dinner and a movie." You paused. "I thought Rocky might get the taste of my cooking out of your mouth."

You succeeded in making him laugh a little, crow's feet crinkling, but as he took a step closer, his smile faded. "Did you do somethin'? Is somethin' broken?" He glanced quickly, running his gaze over the clutter his parents had left behind.

"Nothing's wrong," you reassured him quickly, stepping back into his line of sight in the hopes of distracting him. "I just thought, you know, we could have a nice night. Like ... romantic?"

He stared at you for a moment. Then, his gaze lit, a toothy smile appearing. "Romantic, huh? Well hell, sweetie, why didn't ya say so?"

He clearly thought you meant sex. In fact, the way he was looking at you, you thought he'd jump you right up against the pool table if you let him. Your dysphoria made sex so unbearable that you'd been avoiding it when you could lately, and you were sure he missed it.

You were lucky he hadn't gotten mean yet. You guessed that was a testament to how much he must like you. But who knew if he'd like you after tonight?

Quickly, you shoved a beer into his hand, redirecting his attention as you slid onto the couch and clicked play. He slid into place beside you, relaxing back with his legs spread.

You both picked at your food—you because you were way too nervous to eat, and him because ... well, you assumed it was because he was waiting for you to initiate the "romance." He did eventually finish his meal, though, complimenting you with one of his "So good, baby"s and a boozy kiss.

The movie droned on, and eventually, he wrapped an arm around you. As he did, you relaxed, if only a little. You wanted to settle into him ... you wanted it more than anything in the world. You did love him. But who did he love? The woman he thought he was putting his arm around wasn't you.

"What's wrong?" His tone was firm and sudden after such a long stretch of silence.

You blinked at him. "Nothing."

He wasn't buying it, and he didn't look impressed. "There's no point in lyin'a me, darlin'. I know when somethin' ain't right." Then, with a little edge to his voice, "You know I get pissed when you brush me off."

"I'm just..." You sighed, setting your beer aside and rubbing your forehead. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"Let's go to bed, then." In one fluid motion, he stood and turned off the TV. "Hope you're not too tired," he added quietly.

It was equal parts insult, warning, and come-on, and it exhausted you as much as it panicked you. You weren't ready to tell him just yet. You'd figured you still had a few hours, but ... well, if you pissed him off now, all this nice set-dressing had been for nothing. Then you'd either have to tell him while he was in a bad mood or spend another night as someone you weren't.

Biting back a sigh, you stood, too. He was waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, and let you go up first.

"Nice view from back here," he said smoothly. "Almost wanna tell you to start runnin'."

Shit. You needed an excuse to buy yourself a little time. "Can you shower first?"

You knew the question ticked him off because he didn't answer it. He followed you to your shared room, grabbed a towel, and left for the bathroom in heated silence.

The shower would make him feel better. It always did. He'd scald himself like he liked, then come out much calmer. Hopefully. You changed and took your place in bed, sitting under the blankets with your pillow propping you up. Waiting.

You were wrong about the calm. When he came back into the bedroom—red-skinned and completely naked, towel occupied in his hair—he was scowling at the floor. You waited for him to yell. It was inevitable.

When he did finally say something, his tone was quieter than you imagined, though simmering. "Why are you doin' this to me?"

You didn't respond, mostly because you had no idea which this he was talking about.

"Hurts my pride, y'know." He began toweling his body. Rather roughly, you noticed. "My girl don't wanna fuck me. You know how that feels as a man? You think I wanna have to— hurt you?"

A pause. "Bo..."

"Am I gonna have to get it somewhere else? Fuck, Deadname."

You shrank in bed. That name made you feel rotten to the core. It was like poison slowly choking your veins. You had to do this ... but you couldn't. But you had to.

Bo was unaware of the war going on inside of you as he turned, leaning against the dresser, arms back to clutch the edge. "Is it someone else?" You could tell he was murderous just thinking about that possibility, gaze aflame, jaw clenched so hard you thought he might break teeth. "Is it Vincent?"

"What? No!" Why he'd think that when you'd only ever expressed mild concern for Vincent's well-being, you had no idea. "There's no one else, Bo, I just—"

"Then what's a matter with you, huh?" He raised his voice. "Am I too rough, am I too— Jesus Christ, you gotta at least tell me what the damage is!"

Your conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm you. You yelled back, "It's not you!"

"Then what the hell is it?!"

"It's me!"

He opened his mouth to shout back, but only managed, "What in the f—" before he lost steam, searching your face helplessly. Something about the way you looked must have given him pause. You meant what you said. Desperately, desperately. It was you. You were the problem.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low, glare pointed. "You been off all night. Hell"—one of those incredulous laughs that betrayed his genuine anger—"you been off for a while. Least you can do is tell me what the fuck is goin' on."

He was right. No turning back now. You took a deep, grounding breath. "Okay."

A moment of hesitation. Did you want him close or across the room like that, just in case? Eventually, you decided you needed him close. You patted the bed beside you.

Bo grabbed a pair of boxer-briefs, stepping into them on his way over. His expression was still twisted sourly, but you could sense him relax as he sat in bed next to you. He didn't meet your eye, simply looking down at the sheets. Beneath the anger, a begrudging expectation simmered. Did he think you were going to break things off?

That thought spurred you into taking his hand, squeezing lightly. "I love you so fucking much."

He glanced to the side. At length, he mumbled, "You, too."

You took another deep breath, trying to keep your voice from shaking. "There's something I haven't told you about me. And it's really been stressing me out lately. That's why I've been acting so weird." When he didn't reply, you continued, "It's been making it ... hard to be close to you. I don't like the way lying to you makes me feel, and I've been ... scared, so fucking scared, Bo."

He glanced at you again, brows drawn, this time with confusion rather than anger. "So what is it? What the hell can be so big an' important that you can't stand bein' around me?" A pause. "I mean shit, Deadname, you know I kill people for a livin'. My fucked up twin turns 'em into wax. You know about the fuckin' dungeon—what could be bigger'n that?"

That fucking name. You couldn't take it anymore. Your voice cracked as you whispered, "You need to stop calling me Deadname."

"What? Why?" He frowned deeply. "That's your name, ain't it?"

"It's not the name I want to be called."

You could almost hear the gears in his head turning as he tried to figure out what was going on. "Okay ... so it ain't your real name. Why you goin' around using a fake name?" His gaze turned flinty and cold. "You're a cop."

"No!" You held up your hands. "No, I didn't lie about who I was, not ... not in the way you're thinking. I was born with that name; everything I've told you about my life and where I came from, all those things were true. I never lied about any of that."

"Then what is it?" He was getting angry again. "Spit it out!"

Well, since he asked... "I don't want to use that name because ... it's a woman's name. And I'm not a woman. I'm a man."

Bo stared for a few seconds, then scanned you up and down once. His shoulders slumped, just slightly. "You were ... born a man? Then how come your name—"

"No, no." You pursed your lips, taking his hand hesitantly again. "I was ... I guess for simplicity's sake you could say I was born a girl. I was born with a vagina, I developed breasts and started my period naturally. But I'm not a girl. Like, in my head. In my brain, I'm actually a man."

He didn't believe you. You could see it in his face. But you weren't planning on giving up that easily. You knew what he'd be thinking; you'd planned this whole thing out so carefully, chosen your words so precisely.

"It's not ... a delusion or anything. It's actually more common than people think. It's called being transgender. When you're born one gender but you want to be another."

He frowned, obviously completely lost. He wasn't getting it. He just didn't fucking understand. And you were growing desperate.

"Bo." Your throat was raw, tears threatening your eyes. "Every time you call me your girl, or you refer to me as a woman, or you use that name ... I fucking hate it. It hurts. It hurts so goddamn bad to know you're not seeing the real me. It makes me not see the real me. I look in the mirror and I just want to ... tear my skin off. Sometimes I just wanna take a knife and— and fix me. Cut out whatever part of me makes it hurt so bad. I just want to be seen as who I am so bad."

"Okay." You didn't like the way he was looking at you, but the anguish in your voice had at least moved him to speak. You could see in his eyes that he was working overtime to puzzle this out. "So, what? What're you gonna do? What's it mean for us?"

"Well..." You had to break eye contact, staring down at his hand. "What I'd like to do is start living as a man. You know, dressing like a man—which I already pretty much do—going by a different name, maybe cutting my hair. You could call me 'he' ... I might even get medicine later on down the line, like hormones, to make me look squarer. Maybe even surgery."

"You gonna get a dick?" The almost mocking tone of his voice made you want to shrivel up and die. He seemed to pick up on the change in your body immediately and shifted his tone. "I'm askin'."

"No, that's not a thing. But I'm gonna be a man regardless." Finally, you released his hand, though you still couldn't look at him. "What that means for us is ... up to you, I guess. It'd mean you were dating a guy. I mean, you have been this whole time—"

"I didn't fucking know," he cut in firmly.

A jolt of fear lanced your heart. "I know. That's my fault; I didn't tell you. I was ... scared."

"Scared of what?" he pressed, tone growing aggressive.

"I don't know. Of you being mad. Or not loving me anymore." You glanced up. "I love you. Seriously, I do. More than anything. I still want to be with you, just ... as a man."

There was silence. A horrible, stretching, heavy silence that made you want to hang your head and cry. After a while, Bo rose from bed, going to the dresser and pulling on jeans and a T-shirt, all in that silence.

Was he ... leaving you? No, he wouldn't leave his own house, he'd make you leave. Or kill you. But he certainly wasn't opening his arms to you. Waves of sadness crashed over your chest, so intense you thought you'd throw up.

He seemed to contemplate the dresser for an extended period. Then, he glanced over his shoulder, just barely. "I need ta' think."

And with that, he was out the door. He didn't come back to bed that night. The next morning, you found his pillow on the couch.

***

Vincent was next on your list of people to tell. It turned out he was a big help, bigger than you could have ever realized he would be. You had to explain yourself, but he took it in stride, calling you by your new chosen name and even helping you come up with a sign for it.

« Did you tell Bo? » he eventually asked you.

"I told him last night." Your eyes were still puffy and red from your night alone, and the morning following it. You still hadn't seen him, but you could hear music blaring from the garage, so you at least knew where he was.

« How did he take it? »

"He isn't speaking to me."

Vincent paused. His wax face was blank as always, but you could tell he was considering something. « Did he yell? »

"No ... he just said he would think about it."

A low grunt, and Vincent nodded. « Then let him think. »

And he did think. He thought about it every night from then on. You could see him thinking during meal times, when you brought him lunch down at the shop, when he was watching TV. You noticed him zoning out in the middle of reading sometimes: paperback crunched and folded in one hand, other hand pressed to his grim mouth, those blue eyes glassy and staring at nothing. Thinking.

He hardly ever spoke to you outside of necessary communication. Before bed, he told you goodnight, but it was ... heavy. He didn't roll over to touch you or hold you anymore. The distance was yawning and heartbreaking, especially when you were alone. The silence was so pregnant with unsaid words and all his damn thoughts.

You wanted to ask if he was mad, but you didn't dare. He didn't seem mad, and you knew a thing or two about his moods. This seemed ... different. So you simply didn't say anything.

And then, one day...

"Hey, handsome."

His voice practically made you jump out of your skin. You, Vincent, and Bo—and sometimes Lester—divided who would have to go into the houses in Ambrose to dust and clean, and today was your day. He'd snuck up on you in the middle of oiling some of the rigs like he'd taught you.

"Uh. Hey." You managed a hasty smile, uncertain you'd actually heard him call you what you thought he had. "What're you doing here?" After a week of him barely speaking to you, it seemed odd that he'd start now.

Bo took a few steps in, looking away and reaching to fiddle with a knick-knack on a nearby side table. "Just thought I'd come check up on you. You are my, uh ... boyfriend, after all."

You stopped dead in the middle of spraying WD-40, staring over your shoulder. What?

When he felt you staring, he lifted his gaze. There was an uncertainty there, discomfort, along with a challenge. "What?"

"Nothing." You turned back to your work. After a few seconds, you added, "Thank you."

He didn't respond, but he eventually sidled up to you, surveying your work. "Not half bad. Yeah, you're doin' real good." He reached up to adjust his hat, and you could feel his gaze on you. "We'll make a man outta you yet."

You couldn't help it—your face burned. "Girls can maintain machinery, too, Bo."

"Yeah, I know that, but you—" An edge of irritation entered his voice. "Now you're just confusin' me."

You set down the WD-40 and turned, searching his face. By god, he really was trying, wasn't he? It was almost cute how bad he was at it, but he was trying. Vincent had been right.

"You never asked my name," you eventually muttered.

"Vincent told me it. Y/N." He said it again, rolling it around on his tongue. "Y/N ... in'erestin' choice. I guess it suits ya." A pause, and he lowered his voice. "Gonna take me some gettin' used to."

"That's okay," you said quickly. "As long as you're trying."

"Yeah, well..." Bo paused before reaching out, brushing his fingers through your hair. "Gonna miss all this."

You leaned into his hand. "I might not cut it. I haven't decided yet."

He grunted, continuing to brush his fingers through your hair. You could see his expression drift back to that thoughtfulness you'd gotten used to seeing. Eventually, he said, "Guess this makes me gay."

He sounded so begrudging and yet so decisive that you almost laughed in his face. Thankfully, you were able to bite back your reaction. "You don't have to be. You can be whatever you want. But ... if you stayed with me, it would mean you were attracted to at least one man, yeah."

"Fine." He pursed his lips, huffing through his nose. "Bi-sexual or whatever."

"You don't have to put a label on it right now. You've got time." You hesitated before taking his large hands in yours, bringing them to cup your jaw. "This ... you know ... it isn't something that has to happen overnight. I'm not asking that. It's a process for both of us ... a lot to get used to for both of us."

"Sure the hell is." He scoffed and shoved his hat up his forehead, scratching his hairline. "Now I want you to tell me somethin'. Why were you so damn scared of tellin' me?"

You took a breath. "I mean ... Bo."

"What?"

"I'm in the south ... alone, no family ... in a town where you could kill me if I pissed you off and no one would ever know." He made a face, but you pressed: "You know where I come from. Things are dangerous there, and things around here are even—"

"You think just 'cause you're in the country folks are gonna treat you different?" He sounded offended.

"Bo," you said again. "Let's not kid ourselves. How many guys do you know who would beat my ass if they found out? If they found out I liked other men, even."

"Couple assholes. But they ain't gonna bother you with me around. B'sides, plenty a' gays around here, like any other place ... they're just drillin' and weldin' and workin' the factories." He fixed you with a look. "Country don't mean stupid."

"Did you just quote The Stand?"

"No," he said hastily, taking his hat off and shoving it in the back pocket of his Dickies. "All I'm sayin' is ... I'm not some dumb animal."

Your shoulders sank, heart softening. "I know you're not, baby. But you have been known to, y'know, murder people. You can understand why I was scared, can't you?"

His mouth twitched, but reluctantly, he mumbled, "Yeah, I guess." A pause. "I can't promise I won't never hurt you, Deadn— Y/N. I know I can be real careless with my words on occasion. But I won't kill ya. Don' know if I could reconcile that shame. And, uh ... I love you."

Your heart swelled, and you leaned forward, hugging him tightly around the middle. It wasn't long until you felt his strong, warm arms enfold you in return, one hand tangling in your hair. His heartbeat was steady and comforting beneath your head, and the heat radiating from him relaxed every muscle in your body.

The two of you stayed that way for a while, hugging tightly while the TV droned in the background. Eventually, he shifted and spoke, his voice rumbling deliciously against you.

"Now if you don't mind," Bo started casually before dropping into a purr, "I'd like a kiss from my handsome lover."

You couldn't help but grin up at him. "You sure?"

"Lay it on me, big boy."

Maybe you were evil for loving him despite it all. Maybe you were complicit. Those weren't your judgments to make. But as you craned your neck to kiss him and euphoria exploded through your chest, you knew one thing for certain:

You were you.

***

Part Two

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[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 2 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Hello besties, laptop is going haywire but for the moment we are back!! 

Read chapter 1 of this fic here!

TW: This chapter contains swearing and descriptions of domestic violence. Please read at your own discretion! 

wordcount: 2.6k

tagging: @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 DM to be added to the tag list :) 

Josh fell asleep on your ride home. You roused him gently as you pulled into your designated parking spot outside of your apartment.

“Josh,” You whispered, pushing at his shoulder gently. “Come on, we’re home. It’s late. Let’s go to bed.” 

He jerked awake. “Fuck. I was sleeping. Jesus.” He barked. 

“Sorry, baby. We’re home.” You repeated.

“Don’t know why you even bother calling it home. You’re never fucking here.” Josh grumbled, clumsily unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out the passenger seat of the car. He went on ahead as you went into your backseat to gather your go-bag and purse. When you got to the front door, he was still fumbling with his house key. 

“Here, let me.” You took the key from his hands gently, unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door. 

Before you could even turn around, you were on the floor in the doorway, your nose slamming into the carpet. You were bleeding onto the floor, your blood soaking the tan fibers. It takes you a moment to realize that he’d pushed you. 

“Josh, what the--” a well placed kick to your hip cut off your protest before you could finish it. You rolled over, looking up to see him panting, with angry eyes. 

“You think you’re real slick huh? Staying late at work with the boss? Jesus, sweetheart. I thought you were better than getting a promotion on your back.”

“We were working, Josh. There’s nothing else going on there.” You argued, scrambling backwards away from him and propping yourself up on your elbows. You know that there should be some sort of instinct kicking in, one that allows you to disarm him as if he were an unsub, but you feel helpless as you struggle to put distance between the two of you. He followed you across the room, kneeling over you and pinning you against the floor before delivering another harsh slap to your already-swollen cheek. 

“Listen to me when I’m talking to you.” He growled, and you gulped. He smirked, before grabbing you by the hair and throwing you against the closest wall. You see stars, but you will yourself to stay awake. You’re scared of what he might do if you can’t fight back. 

“Oh yeah? Just working, at 2AM when everyone else is gone? And what was that he called you? Invaluable.” He spits out, pulling you up roughly by your forearms. He leaned in close, presumably to intimidate you. You don’t give him the satisfaction, looking him in the eye and doing your best not to let your glare betray your fear. “Well, we’ll see about that.” He smirked, reaching an arm around to take your gun out of its holster, placing it against  your chin. Your face dropped. 

“Josh… Joshua, you’re drunk. Let’s just go to bed, okay? I’m sorry I was out late. I’ll make it up to you in the morning. I swear.” You’re frantic, your training leaving you once again. De-escalate, de-escalate, de-escalate. “I’m sorry, baby. It won’t happen again, I promise. I’ll request a transfer so I don’t have to travel anymore.” 

He chuckled. “Okay, dear. We can talk in the morning. I’m going up to bed. Get that blood out of the carpet, will you?” He placed your gun on a nearby end table.

He kissed you on the forehead before he went to the bedroom, but the gesture had never been less comforting. He left you there, standing against the wall, blood streaming down your face. You slid down the wall, knees curled up into your chest on the floor, regulating your breath for a few minutes before you rose again. You holster your gun before tending to the blood on the carpet, realizing belatedly that you can’t get it clean because you’re still dripping all over the stain. You chuckled a little, although none of this is really all that funny, sitting back on your heels and looking up at the ceiling, wondering how the fuck you ended up here. Realizing you had no clue what time it was, you reached out your work phone, seeing a missed text from Aaron. 

Please let me know that you’re safe.

You looked around, at your blood on the carpet, at the dent your head had made in the drywall when Josh threw you against it. You brought a gentle hand to your face, feeling how your nose was definitely not in the same place it was when the day had started, and you sighed. Things with Josh were never perfect-- but this was too far. You texted Hotch back. 

I need help. 

Hotch could have easily blamed his inability to fall asleep on the cups of coffee you both had been drinking well into the evening, but he knew that wasn’t the case. If that were so, there was no reason for him to be flicking his eyes over to his phone every three minutes. But here he was, in his study, file open in front of him, and not a word of it absorbed.     

Finally, finally, his phone buzzed. He unlocked it fervently, anxious for the assurance that you were fine. Your text provided no such assurance. 

“Are you safe right now? Do you need medical?” He texted back, trying to keep his head for your sake. 

“Not urgently. Can’t stay here.” 

“You alone?”

“He’s asleep.” 

“On my way. Pack a go bag.” 

“Don’t come in. Light sleeper. Just text.”

You were suddenly grateful for the load of laundry you’d left in the dryer that morning, tossing it all in your go bag without folding it. When you realized that you didn’t know when or if you’d be back here, you took the lockbox off the top of the fridge and pulled out all of your important documents-- your passport, birth certificate, social security card--you tuck them all into a file folder as you feel your phone buzz. 

“Outside.” Hotchner texts you plainly. You gingerly pick up your bags and slip out the door, careful not to make any noise. 

Hotch is out of the car in an instant once he sees you-- he doesn’t know what he expected, exactly, but somehow you look worse, even from a distance. 

“Hey, hey, give me that.” He said, taking your bags from you. “You said you didn’t need medical.” He said, accusatory, but not mean. 

“I said not urgently. I didn’t want you to send an ambulance.” You told him. “I feel fine. I just need advil.” You said as the two of you climbed into his SUV. 

He looked you over, incredulous. Your nose was definitely broken, and he couldn’t tell in the dark of the night, but he was pretty sure you were still bleeding. Your cheek was swollen from where he slapped you, and you were sporting a black eye, likely a complication of the nose. And that was just what he could see. He shuddered, although he tried to hide it from you. 

“We’re going to the hospital.” He said, turning his key in the ignition and taking off.

“Hotch, I just want to sleep. Please. I’ll take myself to the hospital in the morning, I promise.” You practically begged. 

He turned his head towards you. The only thing he wanted more than to give in, in that moment, was to make sure that you were safe. “Did you hit your head?” He asked, 

“What?” You asked. 

“Did you bump your head at all, when everything happened?”

“Yeah,” you told him, running a hand over your head and feeling the tender bump that was forming there. You cringed, and Aaron caught it. 

“I’m sorry, but we need to take you to the hospital. You probably have a concussion.” He apologized. 

“I really don’t want to go through the whole ‘you were clearly involved in a domestic dispute’ thing that they’re going to do,” you complained.

“You don’t have to answer any questions you don’t want to answer. I just need to make sure you’re okay. Everything else goes at your pace.” He promises you, sneaking a glance away from the road and over to your face. You’re already looking back at him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

Already looking back at the road, Hotch took one hand away from the wheel and gave your forearm a quick squeeze in response. You drove in silence for a few moments before Aaron pulled into the hospital.

“Alright, let’s get this over with so we can get you to bed.” He told you, climbing out of the car before coming over to your side to help you walk. Truth be told, you didn’t really need assistance, but your hip hurt so badly that you were limping, and it seemed better to have Aaron slowed down by helping you, rather than just by watching you. 

The emergency room was, thankfully, deserted, and you were seen relatively quickly. Aaron offered to stay in the waiting room but you asked him to come with you. 

“I, uh. I don’t really want to be left alone right now, if you don’t mind.”

“No, no, of course not.” He said, standing and following you and the nurse. 

“What brings you in, dear?” The nurse asked, moving slowly to accommodate your pace. 

“My boyfriend beat the shit out of me.” You said, figuring she might make it easier if you  just bite the bullet, and Aaron shot you a glance. You shrugged in response, and then noticed the nurse’s eyes shifting between the two of you. 

“Oh, no. Not him.” You assured her with as big of a smile as you could muster, given the amount of pain that you were in. “He’s a friend. He picked me up.” You explained as she led the two of you into an exam room, shutting the door behind you. Aaron helped you up onto the exam bed gently, choosing to stand nearby rather than sit in the chair provided.

“Okay, ma’am. Our policy for domestic disputes is not to involve police unless requested by the victim.” You cringed at her word choice. “We don’t want this to be more stressful than it already is. What we do instead, is we take a detailed account of everything that happened to cause you bodily harm, and if you decide to pursue any legal action, we can send those records along on your behalf. So can you tell me what happened tonight?” 

You glanced over at Aaron before you started, taking a deep breath. He wasn’t going to like this. You told the nurse, clinically, what had happened, leaving out the things he had said to you for Aaron’s sake. You did your best to keep your emotions in check, although regurgitating everything that had happened was making you feel sick. You glanced over at Aaron-- his jaw was set, his mouth in a straight line, nostrils flaring, even as he stared at the linoleum tile on the floor. You closed your eyes and attempted to zone out as you continued, as if you could distance yourself from the emotions by imagining that it was just a story you were telling. 

“And then he pulled my gun out of my holster---”

“Ma’am, do you have a gunshot wound?” The nurse interrupts you, voice slightly panicked.

Oh, shit. You probably didn’t need to include that part. Your eyes are open in an instant, and you look over at Hotch. He’s pissed, and not looking at the floor anymore.

“No, no. Sorry, that is um--- that’s clinically insignificant. He didn’t fire the gun or strike me with it. That’s how it ended.”

“Okay, hon. Why don’t you get changed,” she said, handing you a hospital gown, “and I’ll send the doctor in in just a second.” 

“Thank you,” you said, and Aaron echoed his thanks. 

“Clinically insignificant?” Aaron asked incredulously as the nurse shut the door. 

“Can you turn around? I need to change.” You deflected.

He turned to face the wall as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “He pulled a gun on you, (y/n).” He shook his head as you quickly changed. 

“I know. I’m sorry. You can turn back around now.” You told him.

“No, I’m sorry. How long has this been going on for? How did I not notice?” He asked as he turned to see you, practically swimming in the oversized gown.

“I think we all work really, really hard not to be profiled, Aaron.” You tried to comfort him.

He was interrupted before he could respond by the doctor knocking and then swinging the door open.

“Good evening, folks.” The smiling blonde woman said. “Let’s get you home so you can sleep some of this off, yeah?” 

It takes a couple of hours, but you’re sent home with a nose that’s set back in place, as well as a prescription for enough pain killers to put a large dog in a coma, in addition to the confirmation that you did, in fact, have a concussion. Your hip, thankfully, was just bruised. 

“She needs to be woken up every couple of hours for the rest of the night and the day tomorrow. Just to be safe.” The doctor told Hotch. 

“Not a problem.” He said resolutely. 

“Do you have any questions?” She asked, turning to you. 

“When can I go back to work?”

“Well, if you work at a computer--”

“I work for the justice department. So, I guess I’m really asking about field work.” You clarify.

“At least ten days, and that’s if you’re feeling better.” She said, giving you a stern look. You visibly deflated, knowing that if the doctor said ten days, Hotch wasn’t letting you in the field for at least twenty. 

“Thank you, doctor.” Hotchner said, placing a hand on the small of you back as she opened the door and allowed you both out. 

“Of course. Call us if anything changes.”

You trudged out to the car in an exhausted silence, sure that you’ll fall asleep as soon as the car starts moving. Once you’re buckled in, Hotch speaks. 

“I’ll tell Strauss that we aren’t coming in today,” he says offhandedly as he cranes his body back to pull out of the parking spot, his arm strewn across the back of your seat for leverage.

“We?” You questioned. 

“You need to be woken up every two hours. I can’t exactly do that from the office.” He reminds you. 

“I can just set an alarm on my phone, it’s not a big deal.” 

“Uh huh, and when the alarm doesn’t wake you up because you have a brain bleed?” He’s teasing you, but you also know him well enough to know that there is a very real twinge of anxiety behind it. 

“Hotch,” you scoffed at his joke, breaking into a smile despite yourself. “I don’t need you to take care of me.” You added more seriously. 

“I know you don’t.” He placates you. “But will you let me do it anyways? Plus, you’re not the only one who didn’t sleep last night.”   

“I guess that’s my fault.” You admitted. 

“Hey, I’m glad you called me. And I’m also glad the bureau has a generous sick leave policy. We both need it right now.” 

You can sense that this is an argument that you’re not going to win, and even if you could, you don’t have the energy to try. You close your eyes and lean back against the headrest in the car, giving him a resigned nod before you fall asleep.

[arrowflier]

can you write a fic where they talk about having kids? maybe after the finale and mickey kinda starts the conversation 👀

It started slowly, and it started with Franny.

She had been staying over more often lately, Debbie taking night jobs again to make ends meet--though at least she was tending bar at a friend's place and not at risk of losing the rest of her toes this time. Debbie would bring Franny over after school and drop her at their door with a backpack full of clothes and crayons, staying just long enough to give her daughter a kiss and threaten Ian and Mickey with the same.

Sometimes Mickey pretended it annoyed him.

"What if we had plans, man?" he'd grumble as he helped Franny off with her coat and tucked her bag into the corner by the door.

"It's Wednesday, Mick," Ian would reply patiently. "We never go out on Wednesdays. Besides," he'd add as he ruffled Franny's hair and sent her ahead into the living room, "Debs asked us like two days ago."

"Didn't say goin' out kinds of plans," Mickey would mumble so Franny couldn't hear. "And she didn't ask, she fuckin' told."

Ian would just snort a laugh at his antics. "Please," he'd drawl, "you'll fall asleep with Fran on the couch by 10, you always do."

There would be no answer to that. Mickey would pout and grumble all day about it if he could, but as soon as their niece stepped through their doorway, it was all smiles and playful teasing and chasing each other through the apartment and down the hallways (much to the displeasure of their stuffier neighbors).

Ian loved watching them. For all of Mickey's insistence that he wasn't ready, or that he'd make a terrible father, he certainly did right by the children already in his life. And when you spent all day playing with a child, feeding them, bathing and dressing them and reading them to sleep, well. It wasn't that different from having one of your own. Not that he would ever say that to Mickey, though. He knew better now than to push.

So it was a surprise when, a few weeks into this new arrangement, Mickey brought it up on his own, albeit in his own, Mickey way.

"We gotta get a bigger place," he mused one morning as they brushed against each other in the narrow kitchen.

Why?” Ian asked, curious. “It’s just us, and we've been doing fine so far. Unless…,” he paused, turning from the open refrigerator to eye Mickey cautiously. “Unless you need some space...?”

Mickey rolled his eyes, and brushed past again roughly enough to knock into Ian's shoulder with his own.

“No, Ian, I don’t need fuckin’ space, jesus,” he answered. “But we need another bedroom." To Ian's confused look, he expanded on the thought. "Franny sleeps here all the time, man, think it’s time she gets an upgrade from the sofa, that’s all."

Oh. That made sense. Ian hid a smile as he ducked his head back into the fridge, pretending to search for the eggs that were right there on the shelf.

"Sure Mick," he agreed. "The lease is up soon, we can start looking for a two bedroom."

It's quiet behind him, and he pulls back just in time to catch Mickey biting his lip nervously, though the other man doesn't see.

“And maybe we can fit a couple beds in there," Mickey said casually, betrayed only by a slight hitch in his breath and the way his eyes darted everywhere but Ian's face. "Just in case.”

Just in case. Ian's heart soared.

"Good idea," he forced himself to say in a normal voice. He didn't want to scare this idea away. He knew by the way Mickey looked at him that he hadn't quite managed the nonchalant tone he was going for, but that was okay. They could both pretend it was no big deal.

--

They didn't talk about it for a while after that. Not until Lip started bringing Fred around.

"You sure your girl is okay with this?" Mickey asked the first time, holding the kid away from him like he was a ticking bomb.

Lip just chuckled. "Are you kidding?" he asked. "This was her idea, Milkovich, you can't get out of uncle duties that easy."

Mickey looked offended at that, automatically bringing Fred closer to his chest and putting a protective hand on his back.

Ian stepped in before he could say anything too brash.

"We're just surprised, that's all," he told his brother. "Tami doesn't usually let Fred out of her sight."

Lip shrugged, then clapped Ian on the back, squeezing the back of this neck once before letting go. "She sees how good you guys are with Franny, and we need a break, man," he admitted. "Besides, she thinks Mickey here is some sort of kindred spirit."

They both raise their eyebrows at him until he explains.

"You know, willingly joining the Gallagher crazy and all," he said, only half joking. "If only she knew what an upgrade it was for this one," he added with a nod to Mickey, darting out the door before they can do anything about it.

"Diapers are in the bag," he shouted back to them, "try not to kill my kid!"

Ian and Mickey stared at each other after closing the door behind him, the stared at Fred, who had settled his head against Mickey's shoulder and was staring up at him with soft, sleepy eyes.

"Well," Mickey said slowly. "What the fuck do we do now?"

--

As it turned out, Mickey was great with babies, too. Of course he was.

They had Freddie in the bath after he had ruined his last diaper, Mickey keeping him safely propped up while Ian scrubbed him down. Neither of them mentioned the last time they had done this, but they both remembered the drill.

"Kids are fuckin' nasty," Mickey said, wrinkling his nose as Ian washed away the last of the mess.

"You're fucking nasty," Ian retorted, and then they were splashing each other with the dirty bathwater until a wave of it got Mickey in the face.

He sputtered, trying to grab for something to wipe it off without letting go of Fred, who was watching them and giggling.

"You asshole," Mickey growled, "you know where that's been, jesus Ian!"

Ian laughed at him, but stood and fetched a clean washcloth. He threw it at Mickey, then grabbed Fred out of the water and bundled him into their fluffiest towel, leaving Mickey muttering curses behind them as they move out to the bedroom.

Later that night, with Fred sleeping quietly next to them in his worn pack'n play, Mickey brought it up again.

"Don't they make, like, little kid bath things?" he questioned in the darkness. "We should get one of those, make things easier."

Ian rolled over to face him. "Yeah," he said slowly, "but Fred will be too big for that soon anyway."

He could feel the sheets shift when Mickey shrugged. "Should get one anyway," he said. "Might come in handy."

Ian didn't answer for a long moment, then answered with a simple, "okay."

He fell asleep smiling that night.

--

Things finally came to a head a few months later, when Ian got home to find a brochure on the table.

A brochure for an adoption agency.

He stared at it. Grabbed a beer out of the fridge, took a long sip. Stared at it some more.

He was still standing there when Mickey came in from the bedroom, and stopped still for just a second before continuing toward the fridge.

"Hey," Mickey said as he grabbed his own beer. "What are you thinkin'?"

Ian just looked at him.

"About that," Mickey clarified, motioning toward the pamphlet with the bottom of his bottle. "The adoption thing."

Ian swallowed hard, and took another drink before answering.

"Not thinking much yet," he admitted. "But I'm wondering where it came from."

Mickey rubbed at his eyebrow with the thumb of his free hand, not looking at Ian as he answered.

"Got it from some lady a few doors down," he revealed. "Said they're lookin' for more couples to step up."

"We wouldn't qualify," Ian managed to say past the lump in his throat. "Two ex-cons, gay, self-employed?" He forced an awkward laugh. "We're like a nightmare for those places."

He wasn't sure what he expected from that, but it wasn't for Mickey to come closer, setting down his beer to wrap and arm around Ian's back.

"Hey," he said softly, shaking Ian a little. "It don't gotta be adoption, man, just..." he hesitated, but pushed on, "been thinkin' about it, you know?"

That made Ian smile. "Yeah, I know," he admitted. "You're not as subtle as you think."

He turned in Mickey's half-embrace, leaning a hip against the table and bringing his own arm up so he could tease the hair at the back of Mickey's neck.

"You sure you're ready for this, Milkovich?" he whispered, hand moving to cup Mickey's face, thumb stroking at his cheek.

Mickey smiled back, leaning closer. "Damn straight, Gallagher," he murmured just before their lips brushed. "Damn straight."

[whythinktoomuch]

attempt #37

This was the 52nd formula that Lena had come up with, the 45th solution that she had to wait several hours to synthesize, but only the 37th time she was injecting her shoulder with the resulting concoction. 

It was bright green this time, which only made it seem all the more promising.

There’s a rush and some mild nausea that Lena had come to expect with the experiments, but everything else felt the same. For now. Setting the syringe aside, Lena called out, “Hope, think of a number between one and a million.” 

Then, for the 37th time, Lena tried. She cleared her own mind, practiced the meditative mantras, stared intently into Eve’s eyes, bright blue yet blank with Hope’s quiet disinterest, and... nothing. Not a single digit came to mind. 

No matter how hard Lena tried, the only thoughts in her head were her own. 

With an exasperated sigh, Lena rolled her sleeve back down and directed Hope to log their latest attempt as yet another failure before storming off to start her day. 

// 

Lena emerged from the laboratory with wrinkled clothes and dark circles sunken around her eyes, which was probably why the first thing she heard as she stepped out of the elevator was her personal assistant’s hushed commentary of, Oh sweet Jesus, she looks tired. 

“Oh, I’m well aware, Hector,” Lena said, lofty and without much malice. “Nothing a little coffee can’t fix though.” 

Hector stared at her blankly. “I’m sorry, Miss Luthor?” 

“Never mind,” Lena said, rolling her eyes. She took the outstretched coffee in question as she walked by the assistant’s desk. “Just hold all my calls until the afternoon, please.” 

This time, when Hector grumbled under his breath about wow, she must be grumpy too, Lena ignored it. There were better things for the CEO to tackle, after all; as for example, some fitful sleep on her couch, perhaps? 

Hours later, Lena was relatively well-rested, so she pored over her notes again, trying to pinpoint the exact variable she must have overlooked in her carelessness. Because by all accounts, the formula should have worked—Lena had been certain of it. But then again, she’d admittedly thought that of almost every attempt thus far. 

When Hector walked into her office at some point in the late afternoon with a handful of contracts to be signed, Lena felt no closer to the solution and a slight headache coming on.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” 

“Another coffee would be great,” Lena said, as she sifted through the documents. 

“Oh my God, if she takes in any more caffeine, her heart’s going to literally explode...” Hector muttered to himself. “Well, maybe she won’t notice if I get her decaf instead...?” 

Lena dropped the papers onto her desk with a scoff. “You know I can hear you, right?” 

Hector appeared startled, which seemed rather appropriate until he slowly said, “So... was that a yes on the espresso?” 

“What?” 

Hector maintained his slow cadence, carefully enunciating every syllable as if he were repeating himself, “Did you want to stick with your usual order... or maybe go with an espresso... because it’s a little stronger?” 

But in a normal cadence, also in Hector’s voice and somehow clear as a bell in Lena’s head came, “If this woman doesn’t get another nap in pronto, she is going to drop dead, and everyone’s going to think I poisoned her coffee, because she’s always in—” 

Absolutely stunned, Lena continued to stare up at Hector in silence, eyes narrowing as the assistant’s slightly panicked voice droned on and on in her head. Until a louder remark broke through the reverie. 

“Whoa, did she just fall asleep with her eyes open?” 

Lena blinked quite obviously, and her mild shock was accompanied with a loud and clear, yet unspoken Oh, thank God! from Hector. 

But the Hector standing before her hadn’t moved his lips once, only watching the bewilderment play out on Lena’s face with some polite concern. 

“The usual’s fine,” Lena interjected before her assistant could press again. “Or the espresso, or whatever. I don’t care, as long as it’s still hot and caffeinated.” 

“You got it,” Hector said. 

“Definitely getting her decaf,” Hector thought as he turned to leave, but Lena hardly minded. She was too busy restructuring the rest of her day around this most exciting realization. 

After some quick bit of arithmetic in her head, Lena set a timer on her watch for five hours, which was presumably the amount of time it would take for her body to break down the serum and render it useless. Then she logged on to her private interface and happily directed Hope to re-record attempt #37 as a success. 

//

The ability to read minds was, quite simply, quite the advantage. 

Though it wasn’t so much “mind-reading,” as mind-receiving. The serum seemed to have granted Lena access to the loud and active thought processes of everyone around her—their inner monologue, if you will, everything put into words but left unsaid. 

Lena had been hoping for more, to be able to break into other people’s minds so as to hack secrets, determine why supposed close friends would ever betray her, and the like. Maybe that would come with time and practice. 

But as it turned out, there was rather plenty to be gleaned from the forefront of someone’s mind, as people often thought about the things they weren’t supposed to say before choosing more palatable means of expression. Which made the rest of Lena’s workday somewhat informative, if not a little fun. 

For one thing, Lena found out that a lot more of her employees enjoyed working for her than she had thought. All of them respected her, several feared her, and quite a fair few entertained invasive thoughts about her décolletage before swiftly directing their attention elsewhere. 

She also found out there was one board member in particular who liked to fudge the numbers during meetings, and that his face took on a very unappealing shade of off-white when Lena could inexplicably confront him with the actual results of his findings. 

But most importantly of all, what Lena found out was that... she actually enjoyed this heretofore inaccessible sense of control this ability afforded her. She had taken on the experiments for a very specific purpose, but now, it was difficult to even imagine going back to how things were, even after the fact.  

// 

Lena walked into the DEO, and for the first time, the outpouring of distrust attached to the Luthor name was all but imagined. The disparaging thoughts followed her, even as the people who had them smiled or averted their eyes as she passed. 

Nothing she wasn’t used to though. 

Alex’s voice slid into Lena’s head in a whisper—... the hell?—one whole minute before she actually greeted her, “Lena, hey... Well, can’t say that I was expecting you.” 

“Yes, that’s what it sounds like,” Lena mused, and Alex gave her a slight frown. 

“So, did you need something?” 

“Where’s Kara? I want to talk to her.” 

Alex’s carefully composed face betrayed no emotion, but her thoughts sighed heavily, “Of course...” before ebbing away into something entirely indistinct and indecipherable.

Lena blinked. She hadn’t encountered anyone whose thoughts weren’t immediately accessible to her before. But here Alex was, giving directions to Kara’s current whereabouts, all the while muttering some underlying commentary in tones so hushed that Lena couldn’t quite make out any of it. 

“... Is there something on my face?” Alex swiped her sleeve across her forehead. “What are you looking at?” 

“What? No, nothing,” Lena said brusquely. “Thank you for telling me where Kara is. Bye.” She turned on her heel, headed for the hallway that would eventually lead to the training room. 

“Well, that was weird...” Alex’s voice drifted after her, a literal afterthought. “But I mean, I guess she has a nice ass, so—”

Lena shot a dirty look over her shoulder, but Alex was already back on her computer, mind rattling off coordinates and running through tactical drills like a well-oiled machine. 

// 

Kara was wearing short shorts and a sports bra, panting, and absolutely drenched in sweat when Lena stepped foot into the training room. She looked over at Lena, her skin glistening against the dimmed green of the kryptonite-lined walls, and smiled wide. 

“Oh, hey! What are you doing here?” Kara asked, giving the punching bag one last jab before tugging her gloves off. "Did something happen or...? I mean, not that I’m not happy to see you, of course.” She flashed Lena another bright grin before pressing a towel to her face and neck and chest. 

It was enough to stop Lena in her tracks, and almost enough to put a damper on her plans. Almost. 

“I need to talk to you,” Lena said evenly, eyes glued firmly to Kara’s forehead. 

“Yeah, sure! Jeez... I’d give you a hug, but I’m like sweating in places I didn’t even know existed. Alex says that this is the only way to learn proper form and all, but wow. I can’t believe there are humans who actually do this for fun—” 

“Kara,” Lena cut in, lips pursing in exasperation. “I’m serious. We need to talk right now.” 

Kara blinked, then slowly nodded. “Okay, yeah, let’s talk... You wanna sit down?” 

“I prefer to be standing.” 

“Okay.” Kara remained standing as well, towel now crumpled in her hands. “So, what’s going on?” 

Lena took a deep breath, quickly running through the meditative techniques meant to keep her mind clear and open, then asked, “Why did it take you so long to tell me that you’re Supergirl?” 

Kara’s shoulders slumped. “Lena, I...” 

“No, why did it take three years? Why didn’t you trust me?” Lena continued, her pace steady and firm just like she had practiced. “I trusted you. I trusted you with every part of me, which is extremely difficult for me to do, and you just... didn’t care, I guess.” 

“Of course, I care. Lena... I never meant to hurt you,” Kara said insistently. Her voice was loud, emphatic, and at the moment, the only thing Lena could hear.  

“Don’t!” Lena snapped when Kara started to approach her. “Don’t come any closer. And stop talking! Just listen.” 

Kara exhaled sharply through her nose and raised her hands in tentative surrender in absolute, utter silence. Lena even paused for a beat or two, just to see if any of Kara’s thoughts would breach the surface, but none did. 

“Why couldn’t you just trust me, Kara?” Lena asked, and regrettably her voice trembled on the last syllable. “Why did I have to hear it from Lex?” 

Kara’s eyes widened. “Lex? Lex told you before I did?” 

“Shut up. Do not talk,” Lena hissed out, waiting for Kara to snap her jaw shut before continuing with a bitter laugh, “Do you, do you even trust me now...?” Kara stared, gaze hardening. “And how do you expect me to trust anything you have to say for yourself now?” 

Lena’s questions—all of the above and beyond—were met with silence, strained only by the sound of Kara’s heavy breath and Lena’s own thoughts. 

Scoffing, Lena threw up her hands. “Do you even care that you hurt me?” 

“... Can I talk now?” Kara demanded, seething like she had any right to it. But when Lena shook her head furiously, she held her tongue and apparently everything else as well, because Lena couldn’t hear a single damn thing. 

When the alarm on her watch went off, Lena left, slamming the door on her way out. She contacted Hope through their private channel and had her re-log attempt #37 as just another failure. 

Back to the fucking drawing board. 

(next part here)

[mystic-sky]

A/N: here’s Part 2/4💘 I told y’all I’m gonna finish this and I will. this short series is NSFW. Enjoy 😭❤️

✨part 1 here✨ | ✨parts 3 & 4 on ao3 only✨

Some would say this was entirely unnecessary, perhaps even a little too casual for work. But you know when you have one of those really good friends you’d do anything for? The kind you’d spend money on without a second thought? That’s how you felt about Suguru. You could call him whenever you wanted and he’d come fix up your car for you, help you lift things, or just lend you his ear. He was an extremely good listener, and he was always there for you. It was hard to believe such a sweet guy could be friends with Satoru. It was also hard to believe how you could ever favor Satoru more.

You were incredibly excited to give Suguru all the things you had gotten him over the weekend. Then, like a raining brick shower, did you remember that he came to your work place, with Satoru, and you anonymously gave him a lap dance. And now, you have to talk to both of them like you weren’t shaking your ass in their faces the night before. Tough.

You questioned all your life decisions as you anxiously dialed Shoko. You told her it was urgent and that you needed help with the gift bags, as well as time for girl talk and morning coffee before work. 

When she arrived you graciously hugged her, whining and crying her name as you reached over the arm rest. 

“You didn’t tell anyone where I worked at, right?” You say, tear stricken and panicked as you peer at her through wet eyes. She shot you an almost betrayed look. When did you start thinking she could be that menacing? 

“No- are you crying? Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” She pushed you away, staring worriedly with baggy under eyes.

“Suguru and Satoru showed up to my other job last night.” You shrieked, leaning against the wheel of your car and burrowing your head in your arms. 

“I did have a blindfold on but I don’t know if they knew it was me.” You say, muffling your embarrassment. 

Shoko could’ve laughed a bit, picking up her iced coffee. 

“You always did talk about giving Satoru the dance of his life to put his pitiful attitude in check.” She said, unpackaging the straw and stabbing the lid.

“Shoko!” 

“What? Your words not mine.” She said smugly. 

“I mean that’s how I felt but then he actually showed up! And then he gave my co worker his number to give to me! He definitely knows it’s me!”

“Why would he give it to you again on a piece of paper if he knew it was you?” Shoko quizzed. 

“To fuck with me, obviously.” You mutter, sinking into the drivers seat. “That’s Satoru shit.”

She swished her coffee around, further mixing her creamer. “That does sound like Satoru behavior.”

“Shoko!” You whined again. “How the heck am I supposed to face him? Not to mention, I got Suguru all this stuff and I was so excited to give it to him. You think he knows too? And what if he didn’t know but Satoru told him? Ugh- my head hurts.” You say, taking up your coffee and plunging the lid with your own straw. 

“How good was your blindfold?” She raises a brow at you.

“I looked like Harley Quinn’s knock off stripper sister.” Shoko let a laugh, earning a grunt from you.

“Okay okay, so they probably don’t know. But I would just suck it up and act like you don’t know anything either. Like an ‘I know that you know that I know’ kinda situation? But you’re not gonna do anything about it- kinda thing.”

“And you could always switch jobs if you’re that mortified. Poor Suguru, and his gifts though. It seems like Satoru ruins everything for him.” She sighed. 

Shoko had a way of pretending like things weren’t as bad as they were, and though sometimes it bothered you, talking to her helped you relax.

“I forgot to mention I gave Suguru a dance.” You sink more into your chair, covering your face.

“Oh then they definitely know.” She teased.

“Shoko!!!” You whined again.

“I’m kidding! There’s no guarantee that they know or don’t know.” Shoko said, placing her coffee down. “I would fake it until you can’t.”

You wanted to crawl in a hole. Couldn’t you just live a peaceful life?

“I have to move away and change my name, it’s the only way.” You cried. 

“Let me help you get the bags,” Shoko said, stepping out the car and ignoring you entirely.

“I was only messing with you, they don’t know a thing. I overheard the two of them inside talking about how nice the place was. They didn’t mention anything in particular while I was clocking in.”

You panicked anyway. Why would they?

“Now up and out, you can’t hide in your car forever.”

You sluggishly climbed out the vehicle and opened your trunk. 

“If it makes you feel better I’ll ask them about it for you.” Shoko helped you gather Suguru’s gifts and you went inside.

Just relax, (Name). Be cool, be cool. 

You were dazed, deep in thought as you and Shoko walked through the halls. You never regretted giving anyone a lap dance during your entire dancing career. You honestly don’t know what came over you. All you wanted was to make Satoru’s mouth water. It’s not like you didn’t already have his attention with his constant flirting at work but still, why did you have to be so gutsy?

You set the gifts down on your desk, before slumping into your office chair. 

“Good morning!” You heard the white haired devil chirp through the door way, knocking ever so lightly on the already opened door. Suguru trailed in quietly behind him, greeting you and Shoko.

“Morning!” Suguru hummed, taking a delicate sip from his coffee. 

You shyly waved, before Shoko spoke. “How was your night out?” 

Breaking the ice for us all Shoko, I thank the heavens and earth for your existence.

“It was great! Wish you guys could’ve been there. Fanciest club I’ve ever been to, like ever.” Satoru spoke, shoving his hands in his pocket. 

“It was cool. I still would’ve rather went to dinner with everyone.” Suguru shrugged, setting his coffee on his desk. You watched Satoru approach your table, quickly changing the subject of conversation. 

“What’s all this?” He quizzed, looking down at your sheepish body in your chair. Did they really not know? Or were they possibly pretending not to?

“T-These are gifts, for Suguru,” you stand, feeling a bit more confident. The dark haired male perked up at you, before walking towards your desk.

“I told you not to get me anything,” he sighed. You could see the soft smile edging on his lips as he looked down at you. “And then you spoil me like this? People are gonna think we’re dating, you know?” 

You swore you heard Satoru scoff.

“Hush, I told you it’s not a big deal. Besides, you’re always helping me out without asking. You deserve to be spoiled!” You say firmly, hands on your hips. He blushed a bit, realizing he wouldn’t be able to argue with you if he tried.

“You never spoil me this much on my birthday,” Satoru pouted, quickly inserting himself between the two of you, both verbally and physically.

“You’ve got to make your mark on people Satoru,” Shoko said, taking a seat behind her desk.

“I spoil all my friends as needed.” You say, crossing your arms proudly. “If you were a little nicer, maybe I wouldn’t think twice about buying you a bunch of nice things. Besides, your mistresses spoil you plenty.” 

“Mistresses? What mistresses? (Name) it hurts my feelings when you talk like that.” Satoru put a hand on his chest, pretending to be offended.

“You have feelings?” Everyone but Satoru said this in unison, resulting the room to fill with heavy laughter. 

“Oooo so funny.” He said sarcastically, keeping the straightest face.

“If you’re good to me for the rest of the year I’ll get you something nice.” You say, soothing the wound you all gave him.

“But it’s not your birthday right now, is it?” You say, flipping your hair and shifting behind Suguru. You gave him a little push.

“Go head, open them!” You say excitedly. Suguru lets out a soft laugh, before digging into his bounty.

After watching him open his gifts while Satoru graciously recorded the entire moment for his Instagram, the white haired fiend sparked up an idea.

“So, since Suguru kept saying he wanted to do something with everyone I thought we could take a getaway trip this weekend to my folk’s place in the country side.”

“Just us 4?” Shoko asked. “And are you sure we won’t be bothering your parents?” 

“Oh no, this is their vacation house. They only go on the holidays. Also, Nanami is definitely coming!” Satoru cooed.

“That sounds like so much fun!” Shoko swooned.

“I haven’t seen Nanami in so long. This should be exciting.” You clasp your hands together delightedly.

“Why do I get the feeling you didn’t actually ask Nanami if he wanted to come yet...” Geto squinted at Satoru, who smiled childishly.

“Nanami loves me. He is coming by default.” He says proudly. “Speaking of, I have to go meet with him tomorrow to take care of some business. So unfortunately, I won’t be able to train with Megumi. (Name) do you think you could pick him up from school for me tomorrow?”

“The middle schooler you’ve been teaching? Why do I have to do it?” You ask, swaying your hips as you look at him.

“Because~” he sung.

“Because...?”

“He’s been talking about meeting you!” He gleamed.

“Has he really? Are you talking about me behind my back or something? How does the kid even know who I am?” 

“Of course! I’ve told him plenty stories about the all powerful (Name)! The mightiest jujutsu sorceress to date.” He was clearly just trying to flatter you.

“Fine, I’ll pick up the kid.” You roll your eyes.

“Yay~” He says, casually hugging you. He always did that, not that you actually minded. And you knew he knew it got to you every time, hearing him smirk as you push him off. You force back a blush as Suguru speaks.

“That didn’t take much convincing,” he smirks with him a bit.

“I just wanted him to stop talking.” You say, grabbing your purse. You could hear Shoko attempting to stifle a laugh behind you. 

“Anyways, I’ll see you guys later. I have a class to teach.”  You waved goodbye, on your way to cater to the class of second years you were currently responsible for.

You were finally able to relax, feeling like your dancer identity was safe. Now, all you have to do is forget the lap dance and pray to whatever God there is that neither of them would come back. You proceeded to take out your phone and text your club manager, asking for the weekend off. You were lucky she was so lenient. 

The work day lasted longer than you’d liked to, and you hadn’t stayed behind to chat with anyone. Shoko knew you were always keen on going home to shower and relax a bit before your shift at the club.

You were in the club locker room, just barely after 10pm. You wanted to ask Tasty for juicy details on Suguru. You were eager to know if he had texted her or had talked of coming back. Fortunately for you at the same time, she was off today. To you, this decreased the likelihood of seeing the dark haired male and his devilish best friend. That is, if he truly liked her enough to come back.

You were wearing a more revealing set this evening- a suede, pink two piece. You made sure your heel straps were tight enough around your ankles before walking out onto the floor to do your first 10 minute set of the evening. You spun on the pole, climbing gracefully. The higher you went, the more dollars being thrown. You slid down the pole, connecting your body to the floor with a split. You crawled lionlike towards the edge the stage, greeting some of your regulars who sat towards the front. Flipping your body, you get up smoothly ending the routine and collecting your bounty.

As you walked down the stage and made your way towards the bar, you could see the silhouette of a tall, white haired male, speaking to the bartender. His body was turned away from you, and he was ordering a drink as if he just got there. 

You knew it was him. You could recognize his cocky stance just about anywhere. You dropped to the floor, crawling away and earning stares from plenty of your coworkers and customers alike. Oh I’m definitely quitting, you thought.

You managed to crawl back towards the locker room. 

“This cannot become a routine,” you clutched your chest. It felt like you were having another mini heart attack like the night before. Did he just decide this was his new favorite spot? You could’ve sworn you were in the clear. And two days in a row?

He knows, he has to. Should you confront him? Twice was too many times. You almost can picture his smug face out there right now. You’re a bit angry that he had the nerve to come back again, but a portion of you, the little devil inside you- wanted him to watch you dance again.

Then you remembered Shoko’s words. Fake it until you can’t anymore. 

If he wanted to play, then you’d give him exactly what he wanted. You opened your locker, fiddling around through your costumes and head coverings. You took hold of the a pink masquerade mask you had left over from a theme night at the club a few weeks ago. 

“This should do.” You say, sliding on the seductive looking mask and fixing your hair in the the mirror.  You struck a pose, before flipping your hair in satisfaction and strutting out of the room. You walked past a few regulars, and made yourself comfortable by the bar area. You decided you’d dance around everyone but him. 

Satoru took note of your scent first, realizing your feminine force was behind him. He sipped his drink before spinning in his barstool to look at you dancing amongst the other customers. He adjusted his sunglasses, taking in the sight of you.

The set you wore was more revealing than the one from yesterday. He felt like he truly missed out the night before as he watched you drag your hand down the chest of a stranger, feeling a bit envious. His length felt tight in his jeans yet again. But he was a smooth guy, he knew exactly how to make you come to him. 

You noticed him get up from the bar, walking away from where you danced. You couldn’t help but get distracted and anxious. You didn’t want Satoru anywhere you couldn’t see him. You almost jumped when your club’s bouncer, Ravi, approached you in the middle of your mini lap dance. 

“Candy, the tall guy,” he tried not to point, “the white haired one with dark glasses wants a private dance.” Satoru approached the bouncer earlier when he first came in, pre-requesting a dance from you and tipping him a hefty amount for it. Though he’d explained he’d be fine if you declined it, he truly just wanted to see just how far he could get.

You stared at the thick wad of cash that stuck out of the pocket of Ravi’s dress shirt. You knew Satoru had the guts to ask you directly, but it was more so that he was that much of an asshole, who simply wanted you to approach him on your own.

Ravi then pointed loosely with his chin at Satoru, who had been sitting on the sofa on the other side of the club now.

You nodded, assuring Ravi you weren’t going to keep him waiting. You walked slowly towards him, he barely made eye contact with you. 

Fake it until you can’t.

“Hey handsome,” you lean over the railing, displaying your breasts right beside him. He perked up a bit, though he briefly watched you walk towards him beforehand. He sparks a grin, and you can see blue orbs peering ever so slightly over the edges of his glasses. 

“Hey,” he confidently sits back, not even shy about looking at your breasts.

“Have you been here before?” A classic conversation starter, but were you were  attempting to poke fun at the awkward situation. 

“Ahh, yes! Ms. Number One, from the private dancer line up. I was here yesterday with my friend.” He took a sip from his glass. “But I don’t expect you to remember. You’re a very busy, and talented woman.” 

You bite back a blush, “Thank you.” 

“A little birdie told me you wanted a private dance,” you maneuvered around the railing but still leaned against it. 

“Oh yeah,” he preferred not to waste time. He pulled a thick and wrapped stack of cash from his shirt and placed it on the table in front of you. You tried your best to keep your eyes from widening. The currency strap read $5000. 

“A private dance in the private booth costs a hundred.” You felt inclined to remind him as the both the stack and him stared back at you. “And if you wanted the highest package it’s $500 with champagne and refreshments included for the hour, typically for a group.”

“It says that on your website,” he nods, clearly already knowing the information. You almost squint at him before he speaks again.

“Also, I figured I’d pay you enough to go home for the night if you felt like it.” He shrugged. The Gojo family clearly had it well for him to just toss five thousand dollars at a stranger. You shivered when you remembered counting your earnings from the night before, two thirds of the pile being from Satoru. 

A part of you felt like ripping your mask off and asking him to go home. Your awkward silence made him stifle a laugh.

“Candy, baby girl, is somethin’ wrong?”

You knew he knew you were blushing, even with your mask. But you promised yourself one thing after leaving the locker room- you would bring him to his knees. And if  he wanted to play, you’d be sure to win.

“Alright hot stuff, come with me.” You used a finger to slide the stack towards you before picking it up. 

He grinned at you before you brought him to one of the private rooms. Everything was preset up considering Ravi saw you warming him up prior.

Satoru made himself comfortable in the soft velvet cushions and red lighting. You sat beside him, taking hold of one of the champagne bottles from the ice bucket. You popped it open, causing some of the foam to splatter onto your breasts and stomach.

“Whoops,” you said playfully. You always liked to tease with the exclusive dances. He bites his lip while he watches you fill both of your glasses, taking up one soon after.

“Do you guys have candy here?”

“Only mints by the bar. Did you want something sweet?” That’s so like him, you thought.

“Nah, mints don’t count.” He shook his head. “Chocolate anything?”

“We have chocolate-covered strawberries,” you suggest.

“That’ll do,” he clutches one of the heart shaped pillows, flashing smile.

You rung the bell on the wall, speaking into the microphone beside it to make the request before plopping beside him.

“You’ve got me for the hour,” you leant towards him, crossing your legs. “So let’s make it count.”

“I was hoping we could talk for a bit first,” he said, swishing the liquid in his glass. You almost panicked, but quickly spoke up.

“Sure, whatever you want.” You lean your arm on edge of the couch. It wasn’t uncommon for guys to request dances from you just for you to listen to their qualms for the hour. Although, you never pictured Satoru as the type to do so. Actually scratch that— you settled into the sofa, preparing to hear him ramble on about himself. You made sure to keep eye contact with him, making it known you were indeed listening.

“I got a thing for this girl— she’s amazing. She hates me though. Granted, I’ve been an asshole since high school. I think she’s into my best friend, although he promises me it’s nothing like that.”

“Have you tried flirting with her?” Satoru was infamous for being a casual, serial dater. You wondered who she could be. Just because you were in his inner circle didn’t necessarily mean this girl was you or anyone you might’ve known. But you couldn’t help but put yourself into perspective anyway. 

“Yeah, but she’s pretty mean though.” He grinned, “To me.”

“And that makes you happy?” You questioned.

“I mean, obviously it doesn’t.” He clarified, realizing just how crazy he looked in that moment. “Oddly enough, I’d like to think she likes me back a bit.”

“Sounds kiddish right?” He chuckles. “Like is she a middle schooler or something? She’s been playing hard to get for a while now.” 

You twitch your eye a bit, was he really that full of himself? 

“She probably doesn’t like you. You shouldn’t try to read between the lines. Have you ever asked her directly if she does?” You reason, trying to humble him a bit.

“Nah, I guess I’m just afraid to ask her the right way.” He cocked his head back, earning a confused look from you. You never knew Satoru could be afraid of anything. He was seemingly a fearless person and he was the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer to date.

“Could you elaborate?” You poked.

“She’s the only woman whose ever rejected me. Can you believe that?”

You’re partially amused, these truly were the thoughts in his head— you were sure of it.

“What I mean mostly is that I think she’s an idiot,” he chuckled. You almost broke into laughter.

“For rejecting you?” 

“No, no, no— well, maybe. I think she’s incredibly dense. I’ve known her for like 10 years. That or she just tunes out my advances.” He scoffs. 

“Everyone else knows it’s obvious I still like her. I think the reason why I’m never direct with my feelings, or the reason I boil it down to casual flirting is because I’m scared of her rejecting me again.” 

“The first time was when we were both seniors in high school. She told me to try again after I learned some ‘compassion’. It feels like she’s somewhat interested in me. And I hardly think I need to learn anything— but it’s been years since she said that.” He adds.

He hadn’t looked at you the entire time, sort of ogling at his drink before setting it down. 

He was unraveling in front of you, as a complete stranger.

“You get this a lot— the sappy talks, right?”

You nodded, “It’s no big deal.”

“I promise I’m not like this all the time.”

A clearer look inside Satoru’s mind was interesting, to say the least. You don’t think he acted this way on purpose. Perhaps, nothing has pushed him into such a corner for him to begin actively taking people’s feelings into account the way the average person might.

He huffed. “What would you do?”

You pondered for a bit, what would you do? You weren’t sure who the mystery woman he described was but you felt a little jealous, trying to wrap your head around the idea of him being this smitten over someone. He had given you a taste of himself, something he dared not to show you when you weren’t wearing the mask.

“Be direct next time you approach her. Stop playing around so much and tell her how you really feel. Nothing too grand, and try your best to understand her if she rejects you again. You’re a handsome guy, so it won’t be the end of the world if she does.” You explain.

“I don’t mean to sound insensitive by saying that last part either.” You added. Though his head was cocked back, his gaze shifted towards you. He hardly looked worried or sad at all. He shot you a toothy smirk, making you squirm in your seat a bit.

“I know that,” he finally says. There he was again, being his typical arrogant self. “If it doesn’t work out, you’ll see me back here again.”

Dear God, Satoru becoming one of your regulars? You didn’t know if you could handle that. You could just work in a different club. Lord, let this mystery woman scoop him up, and make your life easier. 

The thought of him coming regularly just to see you made you happy sort of, but you found yourself getting jealous for the days you wouldn’t work. Suddenly, you didn’t want anyone else dancing for him. It had to be you.

“Woah, you okay?” He tilted his head towards you. You held your cheeks in your hand. If you were a kettle, you’d physically be steaming.

“You’ve got a cute side, Ms. Candy. That’s precious.” He leant forward, glasses sliding down his nose a bit. No matter how long you’ve known him, he would still give you butterflies just like when you were younger.

The server entered the room, placing the strawberries that he ordered onto the table. You watched him take off his shades and hang them on his shirt.

“Fuck yes,” he grinned, picking up one of the chocolate covered fruits. You watched him take a bite, tugging on your own bottom lip. He slid his tongue between two fingers, blue orbs just barely glinting at you. He hummed in delight as you awed at him. Really, everything about him was perfect aside from his flawed personality. You would’ve been dating him already if you felt he’d be a good boyfriend. He was obviously and unfairly attractive. You were positive the sex would be good too, considering you heard more than satisfactory things. He was tall, and wealthy, and strong and talented. He was just a shitty person sometimes. 

Somehow you liked him all this time, he’s been the only man whose kept your interest. That’s partially because he was persistent, in the most attractive and appealing way. But you’re adults now, maybe you should stop playing around so much. 

Did you even have time to change your mind with this mystery girl in the way?

“I think I’m ready for my dance now,” he said smugly, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

“Of course baby. Just sit back and relax.” You had to remind yourself, you’re Candy right now, and not (Name). 

He sunk back into the sofa, spreading his legs as you got up and positioned yourself in front of him. He spreads his long arms on the head of the sofa, slight smile leaking at the corners of his lips. 

You swayed your body, giving him a show. It was finally happening. You were giving him the very thing you fantasized about since you started dancing. You climbed onto his lap, grinding against him as the music played in tandem with your hips. He seemed elated, and not even remotely ashamed of the growing bulge in his jeans. You were feeling antsy, watching him with his arms sprawled out like that.

“I don’t normally let people touch me during my dances, but you can if you want.” You weren’t supposed to sound so shy when you said it. 

“You’re being extremely generous, I’ll tip you again, for sure baby.”

You felt his large, hot hands connect with your back, running down the smooth skin. You smiled smugly, looking down at him. You grinded against him some more, feeling his bulge confidently poke against your sex.

All you ever wanted was for him to touch you like this. You were mad at yourself for holding out this long— why did his hands feel so good against your bare skin?

Possibly just because you liked him, and that amplified the experience. 

Lost in the moment, you felt your hands run through the smooth fade of his undercut while you humped his lap. The amount of stimulation this gave the both of you was astounding. You heard a soft groan leave his lips, rising color out of your cheeks. 

You brought a finger to the string of your outfits top, pulling it undone and gracing him with the sight of your breasts as you tossed the fabric on the sofa. He was sort of surprised, but his facial expression was nothing short of cocky. It wasn’t the first time a stranger stripped top-less for him, and coincidentally, making panties drop was his hobby.

“Oh~?” 

His voice was terrifically deep, you never knew he could drop an octave this low. You’d usually be talking up a storm, doting on your customers with compliments and saying appropriately reassuring things. The entire experience was weird, having your childhood crush grope you and nuzzle his face into your breasts hadn’t been on your to do list for the evening.

He hummed against the skin in the center of your chest, sending vibrations up your spine.

“I know I’m pushing it, considering this is nothing but a service agreement, but I’d be happy to make you feel good— if you want me to, that is.” 

You looked down at him, knowing the mask you wore couldn’t save you from him noticing the blushing look on your face. 

“Just what do you take me for?” You’re being playful about it, wrapping your arms around his neck so he knows you’re not offended. 

“A hard working woman. I envy the man who gets to spoil you.” 

You couldn’t think of a response, and you assumed he caught on due to the way your lips parted and no sound emerged. 

“Ohh-hoh??? There isn’t one, is there?”

He stole the show from you, and now you’re sitting in his lap like some sort of blushing sheep. 

“That makes me feel sort of special,” he purred, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. You let out a dainty moan, grinding harder against him. You were no longer grinding along with the music, just finding a rhythm that would satisfy the both of you. He grunted at your sudden change in pace, his searing hot breath against your skin.

“Is that a yes?” He asked, nipple between his teeth.

“What about the girl you like?” You found yourself regretting even saying that, considering you were supposed to be a neutral party.

“You jealous?” 

You suck in your bottom lip, barely forming a pout. He truly was an asshole to everyone. It didn’t even matter if someone was on top of him. Before you’re able to say anything, he speaks again.

“Don’t be.” He pressed a sweet kiss to the center of your chest, heightening the crimson hues on your cheeks. His soft lips unfortunately tore from your body when his phone rang. He slipped the thing from his jacket pocket, answering the call. 

“Alright, I’ll be there in 30.” He said finally after following subsequent huffs. He ended the call, looking back up at you with apologetic eyes.

“I’ve gotta cut this short,” he was pained to say it. He was having too much fun. 

“That’s alright.” You say, sliding your leg off him and finding your top.

He stood, straightening his clothes whilst muttering what you barely made out as ‘fuckin’ Nanami’ through his teeth. You almost laughed, as you tied your top back on.

“Candy, baby, I’m sorry. Guess I’ll have to come back again.” He looked too happy to say it.

“Before your confession?” You say smugly. “Or after?”

“No no, I’m a man of my word. I’ll come back only under those conditions I mentioned.” He says.

“I wish you the best of luck.” You say, crossing your legs.

“You’re rooting for me? You really don’t wanna see me again.” He chuckled as he towered over you, his blue gaze now covered by his glasses again.

“I’m always rooting for my customers.” You smile slyly.

His grin softened, and you wish you knew why he was looking at you like that.

“See you around, Ms. Candy.”

He waved goodbye as he exited the room, finally allowing you a some relief. Hopefully this chick doesn’t reject him, you thought.

Even though he probably wouldn’t come back, you thought about quitting and working elsewhere anyway. You tore off your mask, pushing your hair back out of your face.

You really didn’t want to have to wear one of these again.

[bisexualwannabewriter]

“This is killing me” Part Twelve - Spencer Reid x female reader

Summary : You’re working for the BAU, and Dr Spencer Reid is your best friend on the  team. Actually, he’s your best friend, pErIoD. The thing is, you’re not supposed to feel that way about your  best friend. He makes you feel some type of way, everyone in the  team   can see it, except you and him.

In the previous chapter, you put all of your focus on a new case involving a disorganized unsub, with an obsession with conspiracy theories and the existence of “lizard people” within our society. Spencer tried to tell you something about his date with officer Maggie Rowe, and Derek even tried to encourage you to listen to what he had to say. In addition to everything, you overheard a conversation between Spence and Maggie, that left you dubious : the both of them kissed, but it didn’t seem like things were going well between them...

You can find all the previous chapters here.

Chapter Summary : Your hard work has paid off. On the trip back to Quantico though, you and Spencer finally have the most honest conversation you’ve had so far. Your relationship takes a new turn, but things can never go too smoothly between the two of you. Still, after some clarification from Derek, hope starts to creep in...

TW : Violence, death, mental illness, drug use, conspiracy theories, exhaustion, anxiety. It’s fluffy, it’s angsty, it’s romantic, it’s clumsy, the tension is crazy. We’re getting there, people. Slowly but surely.

(Not my GIF)

You caught the unsub in a stupid way, really. He just killed at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Sometimes it happened. You could work as hard as you wanted, know the killer better than yourself... they would just leave one body, in a way that was even more sloppy than the others, and you could catch your man. One mistake, and that was it. It was a good thing, of course, but in situations like this, you never knew what the unsub's next move was going to be. They didn't even know it, until they did it. Your unsub fit in every category of an unorganized killer : below average intelligence, check. Socially inadequate, check. Worked an ungrateful job near the crime scenes, check. Living alone, check. Check, check, check. Your profile, your whole theory on his obsession with lizard people : check. You knew you would have caught him one way or another, as Spencer had managed to narrow down the places where the unsub could have been living, given the places of the last murders. But you caught him thanks to dumb luck. Gabriel Calahan was just a paranoid schizophrenic, whose mental illness had been exacerbated with severe drug use as a teenager. He believed some higher power was ordering him to uncover the truth about those controlling reptilians, who were going to lead us into chaos.

///

On the jet back to Quantico, you sat alone. You needed some peace and quiet. You were exhausted. You really worked your ass off on this case. Derek seemed a bit worried about you, while Hotch and Prentiss were pretty happy with your efforts. Spencer seemed restless, and the bags under his eyes were even darker than usual. His mind was a wonder that worked in mysterious ways, but you could tell he was just really agitated these days. Not telling you what he wanted to tell you, probably took more efforts and energy from him than an average person could possibly understand. You wanted him to go into a peaceful sleep, to forget about what was troubling him. Even in times like this, you just wanted him to be okay. Things were probably complicated for him right now. You somehow managed to get over the fact that he kissed Maggie, and tried to focus on the rest of the chat. It was wrong to listen to people's private conversations, and you lacked context. What they were talking about could mean a hundred different things, and you would know soon enough anyway. The rest of the team was slowly drifting off to sleep, and you were trying to as well, but you could feel Spencer nervously glance at you pretty regularly. At some point, you just gave up, let out a deep sigh, opened your eyes, and motioned him to come join you on the couch.

He sat heavily next to you. You just stayed together in silence for a moment. You didn't want him to start to talk. Because that would be it. You would be having the conversation you had been dreading for a while. Eventually, he had to start talking, and you felt your heart beating like crazy in your chest. "Go ahead Spence, break my heart." was all you could think about. Instead...

"Listen y/n, I know this isn't ideal. But... you have been avoiding me for a while now and... I don't even know if you want me in your life or not anymore. I just... we texted over the holidays and everything, and we hugged like nothing happened when we got back to work but... Things aren't... Things have been weird for a while now, and... I hate it. I hate to see us drift apart like this." You were listening to every single word that was coming out of his mouth as carefully as you could, like someone waiting for their verdict at court. You felt like you were going to get the death penalty somehow. He paused, before starting to talk again. "I don't know what to think anymore. I've been trying to understand, but it seems like my brain... can't function properly when it comes to you." You were going to die from a heart attack, right here and there. On the outside, you tried to put on your best poker face, but hearing Spencer utter those words made your eyes betray you, you were sure of it. You felt exactly like this when it came to him too. How could two people feel things so similarly, and still not understand one another ? He looked so nervous, as he was looking for the right words to say exactly what his heart had been meaning to tell you. " I guess I'm just... I think... Jesus, why is this so complicated ? Just... say something, y/n. Anything."

You honestly didn't know what to say. He said so much and so little at the same time. What was there for you to say ?

"I... I don't know what you want from me Spence... I know things have been weird, and I'm... I'm sorry, okay ? I've been acting strange for the past couple of months, I know it. I just... Of course I want you in my life. And I hate that we don't even know how to talk to each other anymore... You said you wanted to talk about your date ? What does it have to do with anything ?" You tried the innocent card, but Spencer wasn't biting. "Come on y/n... no more mind games. I was trying to get there slowly but... You're not giving me much of an alternative, are you ?" He stared at you, more directly than he had in a while. You hadn't noticed, but he got closer too. You had to fight the urge to drag his face to yours to kiss him feverishly. He was so right, your minds just wouldn't work properly around each other. Something about the way you were looking at him might have given him some newly found determination, because he carried on without letting you out of his sight at any moment, shifting his gaze between your tired eyes and your slightly parted lips. The nervousness was still there, but he was going to say whatever it was he wanted to say, no matter the consequences now.

"As you know, I went on a date with Maggie. It was great. I wanted to have a good time with her. I really did. Everything worked out just fine. It was almost too cliche, how smoothly the evening went." You felt your heart sink in your chest. Yup, there it was, you thought. The end of all hope. "She was wearing this really pretty red dress, and at first, all I could think about was how you have a really pretty red dress too, that you don't put on nearly as often as you should. But then I thought, hey, you're on a date with her, with Maggie. Y/n even seemed happy for you, even though you thought she kind of hated her. So focus on her, focus on Maggie. And I did. I tried." He paused, looking for something in your eyes. Were you supposed to understand where he was getting at with this story ? "I... we kissed. Okay ? I kissed her, after I walked her back home. It was really romantic. The sky was filled with stars, and there was a nice little breeze... I- It was perfect." You couldn't help it, but you wanted to cry. You felt like you couldn't breathe anymore. Why was he telling you this ? It took eveything you had in you to keep listening to him as calmly as possible. "And then... I don't know why, I just... I couldn't... You're not supposed to think so much, when you're kissing someone, are you ? It just makes sense, and you go with the flow. And so... I thought I could kiss her, touch her, and hold her. I wanted to try to take my mind off of... things. But it felt... wrong ? It just felt weird, like something wasn't... what it was supposed to be ?" And then, the hope subtly came back.

You saw how hard it was for him to express himself. What was the point of all of this ? What was he really saying ? You wanted to scream that question, to just demand an answer from him. Your emotions were all over the place. He had a date with Maggie. It was perfect. She was wearing a little red dress, that looked like the one you put on, when you went out of your way to impress him when you went out sometimes. But he had a hard time focusing on the present moment, even as he kissed her, because... ? "What are you saying Spence ?" you murmured as softly as you could, contrasting with the inner turmoil you were facing. He tilted his head to the side, looking almost desperate, silently asking with his eyes why you couldn't understand the true meaning of what he was trying to say.

Behind you, you felt Hotch and JJ move in their seat. The jet was almost back at Quantico. Spencer saw them, and you saw him slouch a little. He looked more exhausted than ever. The determination in his eyes seemed to have abandoned him. "Nothing, y/n. Forget it. I had a date with Maggie, we kissed, but it didn't work out in the end. It's okay. It doesn't matter now." It mattered. You saw how much the whole conversation meant to him. You thought you could understand now. You felt like it was starting to make sense. But you had to hear him say it, otherwise you would never truly believe it. "Spence..." you tried to call, as he stood up. "We're nearly home, and we need some rest. I'm gonna get my things now."

When the jet landed, Spencer barely acknowledged your presence. He went back home as quietly as possible, without letting anyone know he was leaving. Derek helped you with your luggage "You look like you've seen a ghost. I don't understand, didn't he tell you about his date with Maggie ?" You hesitated : "He tried... I don't really know what he was trying to say." He gave you a soft smile and answered "Yes you do y/n. Come on, let me drive you home."

The ride home was pretty quiet. You were both tired. When you got there, Morgan and you sat in silence for a moment, before he told you : "Listen, I know me and Garcia have done enough already when it comes to the two of you. I don't want to overstep on your boundaries. But I feel like you guys just need a little extra push, otherwise it'll take ages." You laughed a little "I thought you said we were going to find our way back to each other at one point or another, no matter how much time it would take ?" He chuckled "Yeah yeah, I know what I said, but listen... what I understood from this entire situation, is that kissing that woman made him realise just how much he wanted you. The only problem with her, no matter how perfect the whole date was, was that she wasn't you. He thought he could be with someone else, he thought he could give her a chance. After all, you showed him you supported his decision, thumbs up and all that bullshit, right ? He kissed her, felt like shit, tried to kiss her some more to get over that weird feeling, started to think about you, got into it, but then she said something, and that threw him off." You were raising your eyebrows at him, questioning what he was reporting. "Hey, me and pretty boy talk a lot, alright ? And what he doesn't tell me, I understand. I see right through him. The rest is just me being good at my job. The only way the kiss kind of worked, was if he was thinking about you. Trust me, I know that. I've been there. You can try and pretend for a little while, until it doesn't work anymore, and you end up feeling like shit because the poor girl doesn't deserve that." You just stayed there, numb with fatigue and the overwhelming nature of what Derek was telling you. You told him about the conversation you overheard between the two of them "I think she was calling him to try and understand why it didn't work out between them, even after that perfect date. Knowing Spencer, he didn't want to hurt her feelings, and he didn't tell her what was really going on." It wasn't like you did either. What WAS really going on ? Morgan answered "Yeah, he vaguely told me about it. My guess ? She knows it's about you. She just needed to hear him say it. Just like you do. But deep down, you know what this all means. You know what's going on." After a little moment, you admitted "You're right. And I knew what he was trying to say, but I just... froze. I can't really... fully comprehend any of it right now. I think I just need some sleep." You paused, before breathing out with a soft smile :  "He tried... he really did..." Morgan answered "Now it's your time to try, pretty lady." You smiled at him, not entirely sure whether that whole conversation was a dream or not, and headed back home to get some restorative sleep.

Chapter Thirteen is here !

[egcdeath]

campers’ quarrel

pairing: steve rogers x reader (ft. mentions of other avengers)

summary: who would’ve guessed that a camping trip with your team and a man who you couldn’t stand would go south so quickly? (that’s a rheotical question.)

warnings: mentions of a broken bone, kind of enemies to lovers, swearing

word count: 2.4k

author’s note: i’ve honestly never gone camping before. hopefully that’s not to obvious. enjoy! 

You and Steve never really clicked. From the start of your work as an Avenger, he’d clearly been wary of you, and being new, you didn’t want to make his disdain any worse than it already was.

This didn’t go unnoticed by your teammates. The more adjusted you became to the team, the more the teasing from them grew. And unfortunately for you, it mainly revolved around your tense relationship with Steve.

Tony constantly paired the two of you up on missions, specifically ones where you’d have to pretend to be in a relationship. Sam and Nat would tease you relentlessly at parties, sitting the team down, looking at both you and Steve, then declaring that playing spin the bottle was a necessity.

With no thanks to your teammates behavior, Steve’s wariness towards you quickly turned into animosity. At least once a week, you’d both butt heads over something as small as leaving cupboards open, or as severe as not carrying your weight during a mission.

When this tension came to a head, Tony suggested that the team go on a ‘bonding’ trip to the woods. You were not completely thrilled at this, but you were a team player, and you knew for a fact that if you refused, you’d be accused of not wanting to be around Steve for an extended period of time.

That’s how you ended up in the back of a Subaru, looking at the window aimlessly while attempting to drown out the intense conversation between Natasha and Bucky over the efficiency of some gun you’d never heard of with the music in your headphones.

“Hey,” you felt a little tap on your shoulder, and you lifted one of the earbuds out of your ear. Steve gave you a right smile, “Can you turn it down some? I can hear your music from over here.”

You sighed softly. It was always something with the super soldier. “Sorry, Steve. Not all of us have super hearing.” You turned your music down regardless, but sent a bitchy text about Steve to Wanda after doing so.

“It doesn’t take a super serum to hear all of that,” Steve muttered quietly to himself. Fortunately, for the peace of everyone in the car, you didn’t hear the comment. However, you did notice Sam looking back and forth between you and Steve, and it did make you ask yourself what exactly you’d missed.

You really were not looking forward to this trip.

——

Soon after your car arrived, the camper containing the rest of your teammates made it to the campsite as well.

“All right guys,” Tony announced while rounding everyone up in a circle, “We need to experience the full camping experience. That means no powers to create whole campsites, looking at you Wanda. It also means now crushing small game with metal arms to feed the rest of us.”

“Wonder who that’s directed at,” Bucky muttered.

“Now, everyone has a part to play in setting up shop. Take it away, Pep.”

You couldn’t help but to giggle at the fact that Tony and Pepper were treating this like some sort of Keynote presentation.

“Thanks, Tony,” Pepper looked down at the clipboard she was holding. “Okay, Bucky and Sam, you’re on tent duty. Nat, Wanda, find us something to eat. Y/N, Steve, grab some firewood for us. Banner, Rhodey, once the firewood is here, you’re responsible for starting the actual fire. Good luck everyone!” Pepper said cheerily, before waving a dismissive hand to send you all off.

To say you were pissed about being paired with Steve was an understatement. But you refused to make a scene. You silently began walking behind Steve, who seemed to not want to interact with you either.

That’s how the majority of your trek for wood went. Silent and tense. You really just wanted to find any piece of wood, but it was just your luck that the ground was extremely damp, and all the wood that you came across was similarly damp and unusable.

It was strange, because time seemed to be going by very slowly, yet extremely fast at the same time. You swore that in a matter of moments, the sun was already making her way down, indicating that night was near.

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” you broke what felt like the century long silence between the two of you. “Can we just give up already? I mean, we’re clearly not gonna find any good wood, and we keep getting further from camp, and we’re about to be in complete darkness.” “It’s fine, Y/N. I brought a flashlight and I’m sure that we’ll find something somewhere. Stop being such a downer.” You swore you could hear Steve roll his eyes as he went about crouching in the dirt in his search for fallen tree branches.

“I’m not being a downer, I’m being realistic. We need to go soon. We can just explain to the team that all the wood was bad,” you stood up straight, pacing around the area Steve was searching in.

“You really wanna let everyone down?”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“You’re not being dramatic enough. Look, I just found some dry wood. Come’ere and help me find some more.” He beckoned you over with his hand.

On your way over, you failed to notice a rather large log, and tripped rather forcefully over it, twisting your ankle dramatically in the process.

A sharp, searing pain traveled up your entire leg, and you yelped out in pain before falling onto Steve’s back, which hurt almost equally.

“OW! What the fuck!” You yelped before rolling onto the damp forrest floor.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Steve quickly turned around, and leaned over your sprawled body.

“I swear to God I just broke my ankle. And then your back decided to cripple me some more. Did you even feel it?”

“Of course I felt it. Hey, get up. Let’s see if you can walk. It’s probably not even broken,” He stepped back then stood up, extending a hand down to you to help you up. You hesitantly took his hand, somewhat nervous of what holding this man’s hand could awake in you, then attempted to stand up.

The moment you felt the weight shift to your left foot, you collapsed back onto the floor with a groan. The pain made tears well in your eyes, and you quickly became embarrassed with the emotions you were displaying in front of Steve.

“I can’t Steve. Can you call 911 or like, Tony or something?” You turned your face away from Steve’s eyeline so that he wouldn’t see you cry, but you knew the waver in your voice was betraying you.

He slipped his phone out of his pocket, then shook his head, “No reception. I’m sorry, Y/N.” The apology felt genuine, and it was kind of throwing you off. The air of annoyance that had seemed to always be between the two of you felt like it had faded away, for just a moment of seriousness.

“Can you, uh,” you awkwardly rubbed your warm cheeks at the thought of what you were about to ask. “Can you carry me back to camp?”

“I guess we don’t really have any other option.”

“Let’s just… not mention it. If anyone ever asks, this never happened. And you need to forget about it ever happening too,” as Steve began to scoop you up, you  added one more thing. “I’m not even joking, Steven. I swear to God I’ll make Bruce make an amnesia serum so you forget this ever happened.”

You could feel the laugh vibrate from Steve’s chest as he carried you bridal style. You just hoped he couldn’t feel the butterflies fly throughout your stomach.

----

A few hours into being carried, the situation began to lose its novelty, and you were beginning to become more annoyed as you realized that Steve was very lost.

“Steve, do you have any idea of where you’re going?” You questioned.

“Of course I do. Just have a little patience, okay?” He glanced down at you with furrowed brows.

“Mhm.” You said sarcastically. “I swear I’ve seen this exact tree like, three times already.”

“I’m sure you have.” He responded drily.

“What’s up with you and that attitude, Steve? You’ve always had a problem with me, and I never did anything to you.”

Steve scoffed, “what attitude?”

“That attitude!” You gestured wildly with your hands.

“Well, you’re no better. It’s not like you ever tried to be my friend or anything like that.”

“That’s not true at all. I remember during one of our first team bonding nights, I kept trying to talk to you, and you kept shrugging me off.” You pushed a finger into his chest.

“That’s because you kept asking me stupid shit, like if I’d heard of Beyoncé before or if I knew what garlic powder was. Put that finger away.”

You obliged and shrugged, “maybe I don’t remember that night as well as you do. But asking you questions like that can’t be the only reason why you dislike me so much.”

“I don’t dislike you,” Steve began while walking up a new path.

“So why do you act like that to me? How was I supposed to know that?” You looked up at Steve, and in the dark, you were still impressed by his sharp facial features.

“Can we talk about something else?” Steve glanced down at you.

“Yeah, let’s talk about how this is all your fault. If you weren’t so stubborn and just gave up on finding this damn wood, I wouldn’t be here with a broken ankle and spine. And I wouldn’t be feeling your heart racing like a hummingbird’s against my back.”

Steve blushed at this, he hadn’t considered that you could feel his heart racing. If your eyes weren’t deceiving you, you could almost make out a light red tint on his face.

“Shut up, Y/N,” Okay, Steve was definitely blushing. “If my heartbeat is annoying you so much, would you rather me leave you out on the ground for the bears to find you, and for you to become worm food?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.” He stopped in his tracks, then began to lower you down, excruciatingly slowly.

“Steve! Okay, okay. I’m sorry for pointing out your heartbeat. I just wouldn’t want your geriatric ass having a heart attack on me. Now hold me.”

The both of you erupted in laughter. You honestly wondered if you and Steve stopped being such sucks to each other, if you could actually form some kind of relationship. You could see yourself being good friends with the man.

Once you both stopped laughing, a comfortable silence flooded the air. It was late, and exhaustion was clearly beginning to plague both of you. “I’m so tired,” you whined, breaking the silence.

“Me too. Should we sit down somewhere and call it a night?” Steve’s pace began to dwindle.

“I guess. It’ll probably be easier to find our way back to home base in the sun.” Steve nodded at this comment.

“I’m gonna set you on this log while I roll out the tarp. Give me a sec,” Steve followed through with his statement, then looked through his backpack to find the blue tarp for you two to lay on.

You waited patiently for Steve to roll it out, then when he did, you slid onto it, wincing in the process at your throbbing ankle.

“You okay?” Steve asked, a genuine concern in his voice as he sat down next to you on the tarp.

“‘m fine.” You mumbled, throwing your arm over your face and sighing.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you to the campsite.” Steve said softly beside you. “Really.” He closed his eyes and turned his head away from you as you turned your head to look at him.

“It’s okay Steve. I’ll probably be fine. Nothing a night in medbay can’t fix, right?” You smiled a bit, even though you knew he couldn’t see it.

Even in your uncomfortable position, sleep was quickly overtaking your body. Your brain was barely functioning at this point.

You reached a hand over onto Steve’s chest, and you once again felt his heartbeat pick up. “I’m sorry that I act like this,” you mumbled, your words slurring together. “I think you’re really great.”

Steve’s hand landed on top of yours. “You’re not so bad either,” he slurred sleepily. “You know, the reason why I act like I don’t like you is ‘cause I like you a lot. You’re pretty… cool. You’re pretty and cool.”

“Aw Stevie,” you sighed happily. Steve turned his head to you and gave you a smile that you could only faintly see in the dark. “Are you cold?” you asked abruptly, interrupting the moment you two were having.

“Yes! I thought it was just me. It’s like negative 500 degrees out here-“

“Spoon me. Let’s conserve our warmth,” you hummed out, and Steve quickly and happily obliged. With that, the both of you were out like lights.

——

“Fucking finally!” Bucky cheered, making your eyes open abruptly.

“And to think we thought we’d lose our lovebirds forever.” Rhodey laughed.

You had to blink a few times before your vision (and brain) finally cleared enough to acknowledge what was happening in front of you.

The sun was up, and your whole team had showed up in front of you and Steve, watching you two spoon affectionately in your sleep.

“Ew, what?” You scooted away from Steve, then groaned at the persistent throbbing of your ankle. At this point, Steve shot up as well.

“What is going o-“ his eyes practically bulged out of his skull when he saw his teammates. “Oh shit.”

“You two have lots of explaining to do,” Sam laughed at the situation.

“Let’s start with this: I think I broke my ankle yesterday. So who wants to help me get back to camp?”

——

You sat at the kitchen table of the camper on your way back to the compound, a mug of lukewarm coffee sitting in your hands while you contemplated the weird ass night you’d just had.

While deep in your thoughts, a seat was pulled out, and none other than Steve Rogers sat right down in it.

“So, are we gonna talk about what happened yesterday?” He asked you with a bit of a smirk.

“No. I don’t think we will.”

[heyyyharry]

She Likes Girls

(a blurb from the Flatmate series)

…in which Harry's favourite cousin, who’s a lesbian, comes visit and spends a lot of time with Y/N.

Word count: 3.2k

Someone requested ANOTHER jealous flatmate Harry blurb so I decided to write it a bit different this time ;)

.

.

.

“Hi, um, does Harry live here?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, holding the door open just wide enough to show her face. The purple-haired girl she’d never met before broke into a smile and politely extended her hand. “I’m here to see him. You must be his flatmate. I’m Millie.”

“I’m Y/N.” Y/N smiled back, giving the girl’s hand a hesitant shake. She’d never seen Harry with this girl before, but the girl looked nice enough to not be a serial killer. “He’s at the library,” she told Millie. “He’ll probably be back soon. Would you like to wait inside?”

“Sure. That’d be great,” Millie said, smiling again.

Y/N pulled the door open and stepped aside for the girl to enter. Personally, Y/N would hate it when someone she’d just met would eye her up and down, but that was exactly what she was doing to Millie. She wasn’t trying to be rude. Millie was really pretty. She just didn’t look like the girls Harry would hook up with. Y/N couldn’t imagine Harry with a goth girl.

Millie placed her bag by the couch as she sat there and looked around the living room. Y/N thought of making tea for her but then she remembered that they were out of tea. She couldn't just leave Millie here and retreat to her room. So she thought she should start a conversation. She wasn’t good at conversations, but she could try.

“So how did you meet Harry?” she asked and sat down beside Millie.

“I’ve known him my whole life,” Millie said.

Y/N hadn’t expected that. “Oh...so your families are close?”

“Very.”

“Oh.”

Harry had never mentioned having a beautiful childhood best friend before. Y/N knew he didn’t have to tell her everything about himself, but why did she feel so betrayed?

Before she could come up with something else to talk about that wasn’t Harry-related, the door swung open and Harry froze in the doorway, his eyes lit up as he saw Millie.

“Mil!”

“Hazza!”

Millie launched herself out of the couch and threw her arms around Harry’s neck. Harry caught her and lifted her feet off her ground. Meanwhile, Y/N was just standing there and rubbing her hands against her jeans.

Well, this is awkward.

“I told you I’d pick you up at the airport!” Harry said, putting the girl down and cupping her face.

Millie brushed his hands off as she snorted. “Well, I got here early to surprise you.”

Watching Harry laugh and ruffle Millie’s hair, Y/N had never felt more like a third-wheel. She would go if her anxiety hadn’t glued her feet to the floor.

“How long are you staying?” Harry asked.

“A week,” Millie said.

“Yessss!” Harry punched the air, then finally noticed Y/N standing awkwardly behind Millie. He smiled and wrapped an arm around Millie’s neck, gesturing to Y/N. “Oh, I see that you’ve met Y/N.”

“Yes, she was very nice to me,” Millie said. “And you never told me that your flatmate was so pretty.”

Y/N let out a nervous laugh. “Thank y—”

“Stop,” Harry cut her off, his smile vanished as he shot Millie a glare.

“What?” Millie looked just as confused, but something about her wide-eyed expression told Y/N that she was faking it.

Harry turned back to Y/N. “Was this one flirting with you?”

“What?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Millie always does that. She cannot help herself.”

“I learned from the best,” Millie said, smirking.

It took Y/N a second to understand. She pointed to Millie, her eyes round and her mouth wide open. “So Millie is...”

“My cousin,” Harry said.

“And a lesbian,” Mille added as she pat Harry on the shoulder. “Even if I were into boys and not his cousin, I still wouldn’t want him. I’ve got standards.”

“Hey!” cried Harry yet Millie ignored him.

“He’s jealous because I get more girls,” she said.

“Lies!” Harry hissed and told Y/N, “Don’t believe anything she tells you about me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Y/N uttered. “I thought—”

“It’s okay,” Millie cut her off, giving her a gentle smile. “I know my cousin. He’s got quite a reputation around here. I could hear a girl crying and cursing his name the second I landed in London.”

Y/N giggled as Harry rolled his eyes. “Just don’t flirt with my flatmate while you’re here.”

“Oh, she wasn’t...flirting with me,” Y/N said.

Millie tilted her head, her green eyes narrowed as her black lips stretched to its favoured side. “You didn’t know I was flirting? Man, I must try harder next time.”

Y/N stiffened. She could feel the colour heightened in her cheeks.

“Stop teasing her. Damn it,” Harry told Millie. To Y/N, he said, “She was joking.”

“I’m sorry! Gosh, you’re blushing!” Millie cupped Y/N’s face as she burst out laughing. “You’re so cute. How can someone like you live with him?”

“I ask myself that question every day,” Y/N mumbled, feeling quite proud when Millie laughed even harder. She liked making people laugh, especially people who seemed much cooler than she was; it made her feel validated somehow.

“So where do I sleep?” Millie asked Harry, putting an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. Harry immediately plucked that arm off and pushed Millie aside to stand between them. “On the couch,” he said. “Or on the floor in my room.”

“You're such a dick,” Millie scoffed.

“You could sleep with me. We could share my bed,” Y/N said.

Both Millie and Harry whipped their heads to her but only Millie’s face brightened with a smile. “Oh, thank you, I–”

“You know what?” Harry blocked Millie with his outstretched arm before she could pull Y/N into a hug. “Take my bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Millie raised an eyebrow at him, a corner of her mouth quirked and she tiptoed to stroke the top of his head. “Now that’s my good baby cousin.” Then she picked up her bag, flipped her black hair over her shoulder and sauntered to Harry’s room.

Harry turned to Y/N and gave a tight smile. “You don’t mind her staying, right?”

“Of course not,” Y/N giggled. “I like her.”

Harry arched both eyebrows, looking genuinely concerned. “But not too much.”

“No, no, not like that!” Y/N shook her head fast. “She’s just really cool. And...um...cool people don’t usually like me. So…”

Harry pressed his lips into a small smile. For a second, Y/N thought he looked rather relieved. “If she annoys you with all the flirting and her bad jokes,” he said, “just tell her to stop. Don’t be nice about it.”

Y/N squinted her eyes. “So she’s the female version of you.”

“Yes. Only better,” Harry chuckled. “That’s why she’s my favourite cousin.”

.

.

.

“Remember when I said Millie was my favourite cousin?”

“Yeah, why?” Niall shouted over the music. Harry leaned against the wall. With a constipated look on his face, he watched Millie dance with Y/N from across the room.

“She’s not anymore,” he mumbled spitefully.

Niall stopped dancing and raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Who’s your favourite cousin then?”

“Jared.”

“Didn’t you say Jared helped Mason drown you?”

Harry threw his arms in the air. “So I don’t have a favourite cousin! Jesus, Niall, that’s not the point. The point is–”

Niall stared as he waited for Harry to finish the sentence. “The point is what?”

Harry’s mouth was open, but he saw Millie put an arm around Y/N’s neck and kiss her cheek as they took a selfie, and he suddenly forgot what the point was.

Niall gave his shoulder a gentle push so he snapped out of it, heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Never mind. I’ve been having a bad week since she arrived.”

“But you were so excited to see her. You told me you’d had plans for both of you to spend time together.”

Harry lifted his shoulder and forced his attention to stay on Niall and not Millie and Y/N. “I did, but she doesn’t want to hang out with me.” Y/N didn’t either. “She’s spent every second in our flat doing girls stuff with Y/N. They’re attached at the hips now. Last night they stayed up until 3 AM to gossip. The walls are thin, you know? They’re messing up my sleep schedule.”

Niall was quiet for a moment before he said, “Do you think…”

“What?” Harry snapped.

Niall pursed his lips and shrugged. “I don’t know...Maybe...Y/N likes girls?”

“No, Niall. Y/N doesn’t like girls,” Harry said bitterly even though he’d been worried about that as well. The problem wasn’t that Y/N might be into girls. Harry didn’t care about that. It was the fact that Millie had never failed to get the girls she wanted. The only thing that Harry had that she didn’t was commitment issues. Millie’s last relationship had lasted a year.

It was bad enough that Harry had to fight off the other guys who wanted Y/N and might actually deserve her. He didn’t want to have to do that with his girl cousin!

“Y/N doesn’t like Millie like that, okay?” he repeated to Niall, frowning as he saw Millie and Y/N laughing again.

“Harry!” Layla’s voice brought him back to reality. He shot his head up to see her shouldering her way toward him and Niall. “You didn’t tell me your crush was gay! Niall, did you film him crying in the bathroom?”

Harry facepalmed himself as Niall said, “Told ya.” and gave him a shrug.

Later that night, as they walked home together from the party, Harry purposely stayed silent so that the girls would know he was mad at them. He had no right to be mad at either of them, but he felt like he should be mad if that was the only way to get their attention. Y/N was his flatmate, and Millie was his cousin. But now they were walking ahead, arms around each other and completely not noticing how upset he was. He told himself it was only because they were a bit tipsy. But he hated being left out.

“I’m going to sleep early,” he announced the second they entered the flat.

“Okay,” Y/N said.

“I’m really tired,” he added to drop a hint so she’d know he was upset.

“So am I,” she said, yawning and stretching her arms.

He was trying to think of something else to say that’d get her attention when Millie interjected, “Wanna sheet mask before bed?”

“Yes!” Y/N exclaimed. Then they hurried into Y/N’s room, leaving Harry standing there like a scarecrow in his own flat.

“I’ve got my own masks. Thanks for asking,” he muttered bitterly to himself, rolling his eyes and trudging to his room.

And so Harry decided to go to sleep early. He spent the first thirty minutes on the mattress by his bed, rolling from side to side, trying not to think about the two of them until he nodded off. When he woke up, it was three in the morning. The flat was so quiet and his bed was still empty.

Where was Millie?

He tried to listen through the wall to see if the girls were still awake, but there was no sound.

Annoyed, sleepy, and sad, he forced himself to get up and go to Y/N’s room to tell Millie that she must let Y/N sleep. When he got there, he found that the door was left open. The girls were fast asleep on the bed. And Millie was spooning Y/N.

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.

.

“You look like shit. Didn't you sleep at all?” was the first thing Millie said to Harry as he entered the kitchen the next morning.

He pretended like he hadn’t heard it and angrily marched toward the table, when all he wanted to say was, “And you look overly happy after sleeping in the same bed with my girl.” It sounded way too petty, but he was exhausted and not in the mood to feel guilty about it.

As he buried his head in his hands, Millie placed a cup of black coffee down in front of him. He looked up and caught her grinning.

“One cup of black coffee every Monday morning,” she said.

He blinked, confused and a bit surprised. “I don’t remember telling you that.”

“You didn’t. Y/N did.” To his astonishment, she added, “I’ve learned more about you in the last couple of days from her than I have by knowing you my whole life.”

This caught Harry off guard. He found himself sitting rigid in his seat. He was probably gaping at his cousin, because she tossed her head back and laughed and pulled up a chair to sit down beside him. “That’s all she does,” Millie said.

Harry scrunched up his face. “What?”

“Y/N. She always talks about you,” Millie giggled.

Harry tried not to react, but when he spoke, his voice wavered as if he couldn’t breathe properly. “S-She talks about me? What has she told you?”

“Surprisingly, only good things,” Millie said. “Like, we would do something like listen to music and she’d randomly say, ‘Harry likes this song.” Or we would be wandering around the mall and she’d see a shirt and tell me, ‘Harry would love that shirt but he hates it when people buy him clothes so I can’t buy it for him.” And just yesterday’s morning, she saw me making coffee and told me you’d always drink black coffee on Monday morning and only on Monday morning.” Millie chuckled as she rolled her eyes. “I thought hearing so much about you would annoy me. But I actually find it super cute that she cares so much about you to notice every one of those annoying little details.”

Harry felt his cheeks growing hot. His silence was the confession Millie had been waiting for. She smacked him on the arm as laughter crackled out of her. “You’re blushing! Oh my God, you have a crush on her!”

“I do not!” he retorted.

“You do!” She slammed her fist on the table, smiling with her mouth open. “And you thought I had a thing for her, didn’t you?! You were cranky last night because you were jealous!”

“Not true!” Harry gasped and quickly got up. Millie jumped in his way, not letting him off the hook so easily. “Admit it!”

“There’s nothing to admit.”

He attempted to sidestep her yet she was quicker. She folded her arms and leaned a shoulder against the kitchen doorway. “I know that face, Hazza. You made the same face when we were kids and found a lost puppy in the park and the puppy grew more attached to me.”

Harry pointed to himself. “I found the puppy okay? The puppy was mine first.”

"You petty little shit!" Millie’s jaw dropped, then she poked at the left side of his chest. “I didn’t know this thing worked. Wow, a miracle named Y/N!”

Harry smirked and brushed her finger off. “Very funny, Mil.”

“It sure the fuck is. I can’t believe you thought I was into her. One look at Y/N and I knew she wasn’t gay. My gaydar is never wrong.”

“Good to know,” Harry said flatly. “Now can I please get out of this kitchen?”

Millie ignored his question as she eyed him up and down and chewed the inside of her cheek to suppress a smirk. “You two are in love with each other.”

“No, we’re not. We’re friends,” Harry said, raising an eyebrow. “And I was only mad because you came here to see me but spent all your time with her.”

“Oh, please. Do not make this about me. You’re so in love with her it’s embarrassing.”

“In love with who?”

Harry almost screamed when Y/N appeared in the doorway. Somehow he managed to keep his calm and force a laugh. “Jennifer Aniston! Beautiful, beautiful woman!"

Y/N looked at him funny, probably assuming he was high on caffeine. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Millie fighting the urge to expose him.

“I’m going out now,” she said to his relief. “Gonna meet up with some old friends today. You kids have a great day.” Backing out of the door, she did the finger-guns and winked at him. “We’ll talk more about Jennifer Aniston when I get back.”

“No, we won’t!” he shouted after her.

Once his cousin was gone, Harry felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. Y/N didn’t seem to suspect a thing. She tiptoed to get a cereal box from the cabinet while humming a song she’d been listening to on repeat for the last few days.

Yes, she wasn’t the only one paying attention.

He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and padded to her side. “Hey, Y/N.” When she turned around and smiled at him, he almost forgot what to say. “I-I um...I was thinking of buying a new shirt, and um...I was wondering if you could go with me, to help me pick one.”

Y/N suddenly broke into a huge grin. “Yes! I know this shop–” she blurted but then her mouth snapped shut and she lowered her voice. “I mean, yeah, sure, I know a shop...I think...But didn’t you say you preferred going shopping alone?”

Harry gave a half-shrug. “It’s getting boring. Doing things alone, I mean...”

Her lips curved into a cute little smile. “Let’s go this afternoon,” she said. “I feel like we haven’t hung out in days. You were always busy.”

Harry was taken aback. He pointed to his face. “Me? Busy?”

“Yeah, well, you seemed...not yourself. I thought you were stressed out about an exam.”

“No, not at all,” he mumbled, turning his face to hide his blushing.

She giggled softly. “Okay. So...it’s a date?”

“Yeah. A date.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, yeah, cool.”

“Cool,” she echoed.

Harry nodded once then grabbed his coffee and sauntered out of the kitchen before he could embarrass himself again. Suddenly, his phone chimed with a new text and he pulled it out of his pocket to see that it was from Louis.

Hey, Niall told me. I found this article that might be helpful. Stay strong!

Then a link to: “How to deal with depression when your crush turns out to be gay.”

Harry threw his head back and exhaled.

He was going to murder Niall.

[serenadeonacanoe]

Honestly, I'd piss him off on purpose. (Namjoon x OFC)

Pairing: Namjoon x Original Female Character

Genre/Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff, too tired to beta

Tags: Artist!Namjoon, Yoongi and Tae are the best flatmates, Enemies to Lovers I guess... more like brats to making out in the storage unit, OFC is an idiot.

Summary:

"Wow. Is that that grumpy artist behind you? Jesus. He really looks like a bit of a dick. And you are right. He really is hot..." Oh no. Speakerphone. Namjoon was standing behind me and was staring at me. Then at my phone. He let out a little laugh, then raised his hand to wave at Tae and Yoongi outside who were now also staring at him as if frozen, before turning around in unison. As if that would help. As if he couldn't see them. Or better even... couldn't hear them.

[...]

Mister Darcy has nothing on Kim Namjoon - that new and upcoming artist you probably already heard of (You haven't? How dare you? At least have the decency to pretend you have!). He is cold, serious, and rather good at making other people believe he is a prick. Especially Elizabeth Bennet - uh... Charlotte - is about to lose it because of him. Maybe in a good way. Man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

More chapters on AO3

CHAPTER 1

Even the sound of my own nails rhythmically tapping on the top of the counter was annoying me. To be fair, it didn't need much today to blow my fuze that had never been particularly long in the first place. But after a week consisting of being belittled by old white men and endless hours of unpaid overtime I about had it. Welcome to the art world. You know well before you enter that the hours are horrible and the job market is more than frustrating, but you love art and you have good organisational skills, you are resilient, charming when it counts and tend to romanticize things even when you know you shouldn't. It's too late to turn around now.

"That is why I don't use an agenda or notebook. If something is important enough for me to attend I simply won't forget. I know you youngsters are all about the bullet journaling and expressing yourself by mapping out your life but it really is just another way to procrastinate instead of getting to actual work." For a second I considered throwing my damn notebook in the buyer's face, but that probably wouldn't have helped my CV and the new job I would have to look for starting tomorrow. At least I should have screamed at him a little. Mainly, that I didn't care, that I was on my period and my shitty shower in the shitty flat i shared had broken and no dry shampoo in the world had fixed my hair this morning and that god damn it, how the hell was I supposed to remember every phone number, every call my boss had to take, every art handling transport I had organized if I couldn't write it down somewhere. Instead, I smiled. Died a little on the inside and complimented him on the gift of his exceptional memory and asked whether he would like another cup of coffee.

"What a dick." Samantha murmured, more to herself than me, after the guy had finally left, which made me snort under my breath. She usually didn't say much but when she did it was usually pure gold. In the end, it didn't matter that he was. Didn't matter that everyone at the gallery thought the art he had bought from us over the last couple of months had neither been smart nor impressive purchases. Mainly expensive. And flashy.

"Doesn't matter now." I said in a sigh after a quick glance at the clock. It was Friday night and we were about to close. Since it was my birthday on Monday I had taken two days off, about the longest break I had had this year and I was looking forward to being the lazy slob for a few days I was maybe always meant to be. In silence we answered a few last emails, tidied up the desks and counters so that potential buyers that would come in over the weekend wouldn't have to suspect anyone was actually working here. - A white desk. A huge Imac on it. That was all they needed to see, folders and pens and apparently especially agendas to be hidden away in drawers.

At five to eight I threw on my coat and Samantha just gave me a tired smile. Probably happy for me, just exhausted. "Have fun then? Don't get too wasted?" "Oh..." I said with a huge smug grin on my lips. "You have no idea... gonna take a bottle of Moët with me from the bar and drink it in my bathtub after eating a huge pepperoni pizza by myself and dancing to only the finest of 90s Euro Trash." I couldn't help it, apparently, I felt it necessary to give Sam a little demonstration, waving my arms up and down while swaying my hips in a way that I'd probably would not have if it hadn't been for a bit with an audience of a single person. Or maybe two?

A quiet scoff behind me and I quickly turned around, slowly lowering my arms, Sam biting her lower lip at the sight of me standing there like an idiot in front of HIM of all people.

Men didn't have to be old to annoy me. Or white. Yes, those were the ones that pissed me off most usually, but no one had managed to do so as much as Kim Namjoon recently. And now he was standing there, looking me up and down and stopping at my hair. The crazy too-much-dry-shampoo-because-the-shower-broke-hair. "Nice." He just commented and then looked over at Sam. "I'd like to take a last look before Sunday's opening if that is okay?" I stood there, my shoulders dropping, completely ignored.

"Uhm, actually, my babysitter has to leave in about an hour and I will have to be home before that." Samantha replied and I was impressed by how calm she stayed. "Of course." Namjoon said and gave her a slight smile. "Anyone else still around? Chris maybe?" Of course Chris hadn't been in today. It was Friday and unless important guests had announced themselves the owner of the gallery wasn't around on Fridays... "I am afraid not. But maybe Charlotte has a few minutes?" Well. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I felt a little betrayed. "Wouldn't want to keep anyone from their important Moët-Pizza-Dance Party plans." Namjoon replied before I could say a word. His voice once more dropping to a hushed, deep disapproval and his hands buried in the pockets of his rather expensive looking coat. Silence for a few moments and then he just walked off towards the room his exhibition had been set up all week. Showing without a further word that I would have to stay anyways if he wanted it that way.

"Well thank you for pushing me under the bus like that. Really appreciate it." "I am so sorry. But I was serious, I can't lose this babysitter. She got Jamie to eat vegetables. VEGETABLES!" Samantha suddenly seemed in a rush, grabbing her jacket and purse and showering me in promises she would make it up to me. Even though we both knew that wouldn't happen and wasn't necessary. Suddenly having to stay longer was normal. I just hated that it had to be today. And because of him.

I heard the door close behind Sam and I stood there for a second before putting my bag down again. Usually, I would have followed the artist, asking if I could somehow help, but nahhh... my ego was bruised up enough now, especially remembering the little dance. I closed my eyes. Fucking hated the guy. Always had. Well, not quite. I had thought he was cool for about five minutes when he had come in the first time. We had heard about him for quite a few months before, I think I had even seen pictures of him at some point, but those were nothing compared to him in real life. He came in all cheekbones and sharp chin and an all grey outfit, quick pace, observant gaze. Incredibly hot. He had also completely ignored me.

That's how it had started - a bruised ego. He couldn't know that it was my weak spot. Having studied art and its management and now feeling like a better secretary at times, when my colleagues and I were doing all the behind the scenes work while Chris worked very little hours and ended up with all the money and recognition. I was aware this wasn't the only field of work where this was the case, but it still frustrated me... I had imagined my life in the last years of my 20s to be a bit more glamorous than living in a tiny apartment on the outskirts of the city... spending my Friday night waiting for some rude artist dude to leave so I could lock up.

But what I perhaps hated most about him... was that I admired him. - Purely for his art. Really. Even the fact that he kept acting as if I wasn't around every time he came in didn't mean I couldn't admit that. At least to myself. The stories behind his huge colleagues were clever and thought through, but even without context, the pure aesthetics were mesmerizing. It was the kind of art that touched something deep inside of you and standing in front of it I always had a hundred questions. Whenever he brought in a new piece I was the first one to sneak a peek in the back rooms before it was hung.

"I don't get why you have such a problem with him. He is just... quiet. I think he might even be shy... stop being so sensitive and just ask him out already." I had almost strangled Sam for that comment a couple of weeks back. Stop being so sensitive. What did that even mean? Comments like that made me want to cry and scream at the same time, which probably would have been perceived as even more sensitive, but when had insensitivity become something to strive for? I had only kept quiet because I liked Sam and I knew what she had tried to say. At least I thought so. That I might have given less of a shit if I hadn't been rather attracted to Namjoon. Even though I had never mentioned it, she just knew. She knew if I didn't care about something I didn't waste my time on it. But if something made me angry or upset there was usually more to it. I hated that she could read me that easily. But he was still a dick and I still wanted to go home.

He took his sweet time. After an hour I walked up to him, a little speech prepared in my head about how he could come back first thing tomorrow. But when he turned around he just raised a hand between us to keep me from interrupting and turned away again. I hadn't seen that he was on the phone. "No, it's nothing, just one of the gallery employees." I heard him say and okay... if I wasn't about to explode before I was now. I stood there for a minute, fuming, and then simply walked back to the office area, my hand shaking when I started turning off the gallery lights one by one. It wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped but still felt good. Two minutes later the only lights still on were the one above my head and the one in front of the door. I would at least give him a clear direction where to head, he seemed to need it.

When Namjoon appeared out of one of the dark corners he looked even more annoyed than usual. Looking my direction through squinting eyes and his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek. "Seriously?" he yelled my way and almost walked into one of the little flyer shelves. Wasn't the first time I had seen that happen to him though so maybe that had nothing to do with the light.

I felt oddly triumphant. By the time I had put on my coat and turned off the remaining lights, ready to finally lock up, Namjoon had almost found his way, standing in the open door, still on his phone. A little groan from my side when he didn't even notice that I was standing behind me went by unnoticed. Or simply ignored. But instead of the appropriate clearing of the throat or the maybe less polite squeezing past him, I just put my hands on his back and gently pushed him forward a bit, until his feet hit the pavement and he turned around. Dropping his hand with the phone in it, for a second he looked like he wanted to push back. Or trample me.

"Okay, what the hell is your problem, Charlotte?" His voice was hoarse. His eyes dark. God, he was hot. I hated him so much. "You." I simply replied and stared at him for a second, then turned around and locked the two locks on the door before stepping over to the alarm system. I couldn't help feeling smug because apparently, he knew my name. I imagined him staring at the back of my head because he was flustered, but couldn't be sure. All I knew was that when I turned around again a minute later he was still standing there, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his lips pressed together forming a straight line and watching me.

"Do you always act like that at work around people who could get you into trouble?" He was right, he could get me into trouble. But I was too fired up now, my heart racing. "Is that a threat?" "An observation." "Only around the ones I don't like." "Cool." "Great." "Enjoy the dance party. Sounds shit."

And with those words he had turned around, coat flying open in the wind, unfortunately making him look really cool as he walked away and I ABSOLUTELY HATED HIM. I kept my mouth shut and just walked off in the other direction, realizing minutes later that my car was parked the other way, but I kept walking for a while before I finally turned around. It took a while to calm down and only cuddling up to my cat on the couch to trash tv finally did the job. But by then I had realized something I wasn't sure I liked too much. Yeah, I thought he was a prick. And yeah I should have just played it cool. Would have been much smarted in many regards. But I also had somewhat enjoyed myself in the most fucked up way.

Seeing that stern look, that intense posture as he was towering over me... man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

More chapters on AO3

[jade-it-queen]

Jade. The fate of female character in Mortal Kombat

It’s been a while since I posted anything on my blog cause I’ve been busy with my life and rapid changes in it. During this time, I’ve watched the new 2021 Mortal Kombat movie as well as the new animation Battle of the realms and also rewatched the Story Mode of MK11 a few times. As you probably can tell, I have a lot to say.

JADE. MILEENA. KITANA. SONYA.

Skip this if you don’t want to read my very important (and long as sh*t) rant about female characters in MK.

DISCLAIMER. This thing is going to sound extremely feminist and women-supremacist or whatever. By saying things that I’m going to say, I by no means think that male characters should be weak or lacking. If anything, it would be nice to have some godforsaken EQUALITY. I’ll explain further later.

Part One: Mortal Kombat (2021)

There’s no Jade in this movie. 

The end. That should be the sole reason I dislike it.

However, it might be better this way since the Nitara and Mileena portrayals in this movie are... questionable to say the least. Okay, y’all been robbed. If MY JADE would be brought into this movie to BE THERE for like 4 minutes of screen time only to get absolutely brutal FATALITY I. would. be. pissed.

More than I already am and that means something.

Sure, there’s a possibility that she’s going to be present in some of the upcoming movies because this one is definitely not the only one they’re going to make. But do I want that? Yes. And no.

Mortal Kombat movies (and Mortal Kombat in general) have a problem with women portrayal in general. The target audience for them are MEN, potentially heterosexual men, who want nothing more than bloody gorey fighting scenes with occasional sex scene here and there. To achieve that, they need a female lead, an attractive, kinda kick-assish but not too much, to not overshadow the absolutely badass men characters. Girls tend to be “independent” (because God forbid they’d want to express interest in the male leads before the time is right), sarcastic, laid back and sometimes even bitchy. Because, you see, they are fighters. And they are Sonya Blade. They need NO MAN. They just need plot armor, bigger than America itself. And if they’re not Sonya Blade, they are... non existent. They are there, but they are never really there. Here, let me walk on screen for a couple seconds. Let me sit beside Very Important Male Character (aka Shang Tsung) for a couple of seconds, looking absolutely gorgeous. Let me have a fight scene in which I make choices so f*cking stupid there’s no potential explanation to it. I exist in this movie to make people that love me (this character) to come into theatres in hopes to see some good action and interesting plot.

Now, I wasn’t born yesterday, I know how the world works. It’S bEeN LiKe ThAt FoReVeR, gEt OvEr here iT. Yeah, it’s been like that forever and the result is a mediocre movie that pleases neither the casual viewer, nor the actual Mortal Kombat fan. I don’t know, there might be guys who just saw Kung Lao’s fatality on Nitara, thought to themselves “Neat” and went on with their lives. But I exited the cinema with a sour taste in my mouth, feeling like I’ve watched one of the “fighting genre” films based on video games that had nothing worth remembering. Well, besides Kano. He was my favourite part of this movie and I  normally can’t stand the guy :’D

Would it really help if they changed the way the women were portrayed? I mean - is that the ACTUAL problem of the movie? No, women being the eye candy and barely something else (if they’re not Sonya Blade) are not the only problem it suffers from. It’s that MK has been going the same route, retelling the same goddamn story for the millionth time. It’s always THE SAME. The only thing changing is who’s gonna get brutally killed. But - of course - out of the “disposable” character pool. It’s never Sonya (because you need our female lead or else there would be no female characters in the story), who ya know could be killed by Mileena but magically WASN’T. Because Mileena FOR SOME REASON was like: Ya know what? Naaah. Even though Sonya’s from Earthrealm and is actively trying to stop you. If anything, kill her because she annoys you. BUT NAH. It’s never Liu Kang because he’s the Chosen One. But killing Kung Lao is fine, he can die so Liu can awaken or smth. It’s not the main character because how else can you portray THE MAGIC OF LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP? Ya, that’s what I thought, don’t even think about it.

You have an amazing universe, filled to the brim with SO. MUCH. POTENTIAL. Let go of the same boring plot line and show us Kombat from another perspective. Change something. F*ck, go all feminist route and make a story center around Mileena dominating the world. Try with different versions of the same story, making it center around different character each time. 

SURE, YOU’LL PROBABLY LOSE SOME VIEWERS BUT TIMES ARE CHANGING, AND MOST OF US ARE TIRED TO PAY FOR THE SAME STORY OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

Part Two: Mortal Kombat Legends: Battle of the Realms

Jesus f*cking Christ.

To say this film was rushed is an understatement. While I was watching it, I was like: TF? Everything happens all at once, we have Kuai Liang-Scorpion story line, we have Outworld’s attack, the tournament, not to mention the final fight that should be whole another movie. I felt like no story line was properly laid out, some of the characters died before I got to even know them and the battles were... disappointing. I believe they needed to push this movie out so they squished in everything they had and just went with it. 

But, again, this movie just repeats the same things as its live action version. Let me lay it down for you:

Kung Lao dies (because yes)

Sonya Blade lives (because yes)

Jade is just there (more of it later)

disposable characters are disposed of

Liu Kang is badass and always wins

You watch it and feel like you’ve already seen it before. Sure, gore is fine, human Raiden is precious and need to be protected at all costs and adrenaline is pumping (I guess).

BUT NOW.

You know what’s coming.

JADE.

JADE.

My f*cking piece of sunshine, the gorgeous goddess of beauty and kombat, the woman who owns my heart.

She’s there for like not even a minute.

Words can’t describe how f*cking PISSED I am by this portrayal. These motherfrickers put her in EVERY SINGLE POSSIBLE SNIPPET OF THIS MOVIE. HER BATTLE WAS IN THE TRAILER, ONE OF THE SNEAK PEEKS WAS A SCENE OF HER AND KITANA.

TURNS OUT EVERYTHING I SAW BEFORE THE MOVIE WAS RELEASED... WAS EVERYTHING I WAS ABOUT TO SEE OF HER!!!!

THEY MADE ME HYPED UP FOR NOTHING!!!!!!

I know I’m not the only one riding this trolley. Li Mei was there just to be killed. Kung Lao had a f*cking single dialogue line and then BAM, fatality, buh-bye. But I was watching everything of this movie, being so enormously happy that I will finally see Jade in the movies, FINALLY! Only for her to be present in a single scene, get her ass kicked by Liu Kang (what’s new) and then she’s never seen again, even when the whole f*cking world is breaking apart.

Again. She’s just there. Ladies and gentlemen, one of the best Shao Kahn’s assassins, gets her ass kicked in fourty seconds. They NEVER let her speak ffs. She just spews some general villanous sh*t and proceeds to step on Johnny. Then, she just goes Observer mode as Kitana “betrays” Shao Kahn, gets tied to the column and then the world is ending. 

WHERE THE F*CK IS SHE?!

If you hype me up for her every chance you get, at least GIVE ME what you’re advertising. This is a scam. This is criminal offense. And homophobic. She is more than a revealing outfit and Liu Kang’s punching bag. I’m SO. F*CKING. TIRED. OF THIS. SH*T.

Kitana. The rebellious princess of Outworld... turned damsel in distress in this movie. Her role is so effing bad it hurts me to my core. You see her as a general being so badass and independent... oh right, we need Liu Kang to save her because he needs to maintain his hero look. And we need two kissing scenes. How do we get there? Oh, right, let him save her, because you know - that’s what makes wahmen kiss you. 

ARE YOU NUTS?!

The movie started just fine, with Kitana being in charge with her right hand, Jade. Then, obviously, they water her down and soon she is a princess in a tower (in this case, princess on a column) that needs her buffy sexy man to save her. Oh, and she can’t resist him - you know, every normal girl’s reaction to getting untied is to kiss a guy you’ve known for like a few hours but seen before and you’ve talked like three dialogue lines in total. Sure.

Kitana just gets the unfortunate role of a female main character. She’s Liu’s love interest and that makes her take the role of a strong (but surface level, only) woman who still needs her hero to free her. Classic damsel in distress story, with Kitana being the princess, Liu being the Prince charming and Shao Kahn as the dragon (lul). Of course, they try to cover this up by making Kitana a general, letting her win a few fights but it won’t matter in the end. Some say that women want to believe in fairy tales but the more I see fighting games’ lore, the more I say it’s the men who want to believe them. 

Is it necessarily bad? No. But it’s boring as fuk.

I would like to ask the directors to stop being so afraid of upsetting the target audience. Target audience can change and sometimes it comes out better than originally planned. My Little Pony was designed as a child’s cartoon but it was the creepy men who made it reach the top. Morally? Questionable at best. But business is booming, right? And that’s what they care for, right?

All I’m trying to say is these days women and gays are the future.

Thank you for today, more to come. I’m going to rant about the Story Mode.

[maybankiara]

YOU’RE IN MY HEAD

pairing: Footballer!Rafe Cameron x Reader

summary: When he keeps putting you off your position during matches, you decide to take it up with him -- unbeknownst to you, there’s more to Rafe than just wanting to prevent you from being a good football player (and it’s called unresolved sexual tension.)

w/c: 4k

a/n: happy valentine’s day!! @drewstarkey and i have a whole football!obx au (soccer, for you americans) planned that i keep putting off, so here’s a little something loosely inspired by the idea, until that finally arrives. also, in this universe, football is a unisex sport. i’m not a football expert so there may be some inaccuracies. i hope you enjoy both the day and the fic! (and do let me know if this football!fic is what people are interested in.)

masterlist

It’s the half-time of one of the better matches the team has played this season and, of course, Rafe Cameron ruins it by uttering a single sentence: ‘Y/N, you’re swapping positions with Kiara.’

 The captain’s orders don’t end here, and he decides to implement some more strategies the team has practiced before, adapting the approach to the heavy-defence strategy that North Carolina is playing tonight. Sarah gives you a sympathetic look and a tap on your hand, but all you can do is shake your head.

 This is the third time in a row Rafe has put you on the sidelines, basically. Always swapping with Kiara, whom everybody knows to be a lot fiercer right back than you, or anyone else on the team. Just like you’re better at being in the front, charging for the goal.

 When the changes are in place and there’s about five minutes left, Rafe asks if anyone has got questions. Peterkin stays quiet and lets Captain Cameron take over, just like she always does.

 You raise your hand, and Rafe calls on you. ‘What the fuck, Rafe? Why are you putting me in the back again?’

 His jaw clenches. ‘We need someone firmer on the front.’

 ‘But you also need a firm defence,’ you argue. ‘You’re not making any sense.’

 He stares at you and you hold his gaze, unwavering, feeling his sister stir next to you. On the other end of the locker room, Kiara pulls her jersey down, biting her lip. ‘Y/N’s right—’

 ‘I know what I’m doing,’ Rafe cuts her off. ‘Now let’s get back on the field.’

 You listen to what he says, but not without letting your disagreement with his choice be written all over your face. When you’re headed out, he’s waiting to be the last, and you bump into him as you’re walking out, shoulder to shoulder, torso to torso.

 He glares, and you clench your teeth, trailing behind Pope.

 Back on the field, time flies. You warm up quickly and it’s back in the game again, only on a different position than where you started. Kiara offers you a sympathetic glance, much like the one Sarah gave you, because everyone is starting to notice that Rafe is treating you differently.

 As you run, a little out of the grounds he told you you’d be covering, saving the ball more than a handful of times, you feel his watchful eyes on you. You’re not meant to be playing the right back but you’d rather do your best, even if it means overexerting yourself, just to make sure you don’t lose.

 You foul an opposing player and drop to the ground, feeling your ankle get sore; Rafe’s the first to get to your side, helping you up. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’

 It’s a free kick, but not a yellow, so you say, ‘Whatever it takes.’

 ‘Don’t go breaking your legs, Y/N.’

 You pull your arm out of his hold, sending a glare his way as you go back to your position. You should keep paying attention to the ball, because it’s about to be kicked, but you can’t help but shout, ‘If you let me play what I’m supposed to play, maybe I’ll listen!’

 The game picks up. You dive a few more times, Kiara gets a nasty foul that has her off the pitch for about half a minute, Topper gets a cramp, JJ fouls in the front and gets a yellow, John B and Rafe nearly start a scrap when someone gets Sarah to the ground – but you win.

 That should be what’s important, you think as the entire team is hugging and celebrating, but your heart isn’t in the right place.

 Playing football is far from fun when you keep being treated like a lesser player than someone else.

 Time wears on, the team gets changed, and it’s time for a proper celebration, down at the Wreck. Sarah tries getting your spirits up, even Kiara tries telling you that at least you evaded getting fouled like that, Kelce tells you that you saved his ass, but none of it matters – not when Rafe celebrates as if what he’s doing is right.

 Seriously. Three matches. It’s fucking ridiculous at this point.

 You approach Rafe without hesitation, but still keep your voice hushed, because you’re not exactly trying to ruin everybody’s happiness with your tension. ‘Can we talk?’

 He glances at you as he pulls his jersey over his head – your eyes drop to his lean torso, despite the fact you see it on an almost weekly basis.

 ‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ he says, and takes his shorts off. ‘You were good today, as a right back.’

 ‘That’s not my— Jesus, do you need to be half naked right now?’

 ‘What?’ he asks, almost innocently, but the grin betrays him. ‘I’m getting changed. Why are you getting so worked up?’

 ‘I’m not—’ You pinch the bridge of your nose, letting out an exasperated huff as he takes off his socks, too, and is now wearing literally just boxers. ‘You’re ridiculous.’

 He chuckles, dropping down on the bench. You half-wonder what Topper, sitting next to him, must be thinking – and realise that most of the team is taking selfies and chatting in the other end of the locker room. It’s just you and Rafe.

 Good.

 He looks up at you from the bench, manspreading with his back leaning on the wall. ‘What do you want?’

 ‘I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m kind of trying to have a serious conversation with you right now.’

 ‘Yeah, I got that.’

 He’s hot. Okay, he’s hot and the reason why you’re so bothered about him being almost naked is because it’s taking your mind off of what you’re wanting to talk about, and giving a different meaning to you being “worked up”.

 So you gather all your courage and bring your eyes up to meet his, trying to exude as much fierceness as you can muster. ‘I need you to let me play on my position. I’ve had enough, you can’t keep doing that if you’re not training me to play Kiara’s.’

 ‘Easy,’ he says, shrugging. ‘Then we’ll train you.’

 Your jaw drops. ‘Are you being fucking serious right now?’

 Before he gets to answer, JJ calls from the other end that they need to hurry up, if the team wants to make it to the Wreck at a normal time. It breaks whatever moment you and Rafe were sharing and, telling him the conversation isn’t over, you retreat back to your locker. It takes all you’ve got to not let this affect the celebratory mood, because winning 2 - 0 is pretty damn good, and you should take some credit for that. Even if it wasn’t on your position, for half of the match.

 It ends up not being so difficult, actually, to not think about what happened. Once you’re back in Kildare and at the Wreck, food and drinks are flowing, and as long as Rafe is out of your earshot and sight, it’s good. He tends to stay away from you most times, anyway.

 (Which, okay, you can admit now sometimes bothers you, you’ve had a few drinks.)

 It’s not so difficult, until JJ lounges in the chair next to you, beer can in one hand and a donut in another, asks, ‘What’s up with you and Cap’n?’

 ‘Don’t even get me started,’ you sigh. ‘I don’t know what crawled up his ass.’

 ‘Language, Y/N.’

 ‘Fuck off, Maybank.’

 The blond just grins, probably happy to see you slightly irritated – but not at him.

 He pushes the chair back from swinging into its normal position, resting his elbows on the table. He leans towards you as if he’s about to tell you a secret – even his eyebrows furrow, the ever-present smile shaping into a frown. ‘Seriously, he keeps pushing you in the back. He’s gotta have a reason for that.’

 ‘Not that I’d know of,’ you admit. You shrug, lightly, despite the actual weight of the subject. ‘I thought we made a good team in the front. He assisted me, I assisted him… It’s been working well.’

 JJ nods, pondering. ‘It was the game against New Jersey, right?’

 ‘The last time I played without the change?’ You play until JJ nods, then sigh, playing with a broken piece hanging off the wooden table. ‘I didn’t even get to play, since that bitch nearly sprained my ankle.’

 ‘It’s always your ankle,’ JJ says, chuckling.

 His thoughts take him to stories of all the injuries you and the rest of team have gotten so far, drawing a couple of your teammates into the conversation. Rafe slips off your mind for the most part, as you laugh along to the ridiculous number of times Kelce has faceplanted while tackled, or to Pope is retelling how he defended the goal by getting the ball in his nuts, which made him fear for his offspring (it was all fun, and makes for a hilarious story).

 It’s only when you glance around the table and catch him in conversation with Topper, or James, or Sarah, and his eyes are trained on you for just a moment before they’re gone – as if he wants you to see him, but wants you to question whether it was an accident. You feel yourself growing stiff; when it happens too many times, your mind flashes back to the locker room – you, trying to talk to him; Rafe, half naked, grinning at you like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

 He’s conceited. He’s selfish. He’s attractive, with that prep-boy look around him that falls apart when he’s leading the charge on the pitch – when the wisps of blond frame the sharp lines of his face, and he embodies the look of the leader he’s become.

 It just sucks that you don’t quite agree with his leadership, and he doesn’t quite agree with you speaking up about it.

 Night wears on, and your teammates flock to their beds, one by one. You’re only staying at the Wreck, the local hotel, for a night – tomorrow’s a new day, a new tournament. It would be smart to go to sleep early. Get the energy you need for tomorrow, because tomorrow’s filled with press conferences, which you don’t tend to enjoy.

 It would also be smarter to deal with the captain tomorrow morning, when you’re both sober, instead of the buzz running through your veins right now.

 By the time it hits midnight, it’s only you, JJ, Pope, Kiara, Rafe, and Topper. Instead of taking the big table at the wreck, the few of you retreated to a secluded one in the corner of the hotel’s dining room. Topper’s beating everyone at cards, but Kiara’s at his neck, and everyone has downed enough drinks for the night to be called quits soon enough; you are starting to sober up, and can already feel the headache looming.

 Inadvertently, you glance at Rafe. He’s holding his cards in one hand, spread evenly, long fingers adorned with rings keeping them in place. Across from you, his eyes don’t meet yours, as they look around the table, through everybody’s poker faces – you notice the angle of his cheekbones, the sharpness of his jawline, the unstyled hair having the slightest bit of a messy wave to it. You hate how much attention you pay to the parting of his lips, and the line of his nose, the curve of his eyes; his Adam’s apple bobbing as he taunts Pope across the table, trying to get him to break the cards.

 When he turns as if scalded and his eyes meet yours, you don’t avert your gaze.

 It might be the alcohol, but the room is starting to feel a little stuffy, a little warm; you’ve never realised how intense his gaze can be. It’s almost as if it’s unguarded, spiked with the few drinks everyone’s had.

 You clear your throat, looking at your cards – you’re definitely not going to be the one winning anytime soon. ‘I think I’ll head to bed, soon.’

 If anybody notices the fluttering of your voice, they don’t comment on it. Kiara nods, JJ boos you, and Rafe says: ‘We should all probably head to bed if we want to be ready for tomorrow.’

 ‘Okay, Cap’n,’ says Topper, resting an arm around the blond’s shoulders. ‘You go get your beauty sleep, me and the boys are going to let you know how it went when you wake up in the morning, princess.’

 Kiara clears her throat, drawing the attention to herself before quirking an eyebrow at Topper. ‘What’s making you think you’re getting rid of me?’

 There’s a collective of ooh’s, and you think about staying, but it wouldn’t be smart. Rafe’s right, you all would be better getting some sleep, but there’s also the fact that you’re pissed at him and you’re drunk enough for that to be making you seem in a bit of a different light.

 (You’re still struggling to breathe, a little bit. Hopefully no one has noticed.)

 In the end, you bid everyone goodnight, pay your bill, and head for your room. You’re still not feeling well and there’s a water dispenser in the ground hallway, opposite end of where the stairs to the upper floor are. You think about making a cup of tea, but settle for water – water is good.

 Cold water should unhaze your mind.

 You stay in the hallway, for a little pit – it’s peaceful here. Hallways have meant something to you ever since your team’s career started to take off two years ago. Wherever you go, rooms and places are different, but hallways are nearly always the same. They’re always just transit spaces, connecting point A with point B; it’s not quite a liminal space, but it’s where you feel like nothing can hurt you.

 That is, until you’re about to set your foot on the stairs, and you see Rafe walking out of the toilets.

 His eyes settle on you at the same moment and both of you freeze; the hallway is quiet, save for the music reaching it from the dining hall. You can almost hear your heart beating.

 ‘Thought you were going to bed.’

 You raise your glass, which you refilled just before embarking for your room. ‘Had to stop for a bit.’

 He nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Outside of the locker room, outside of the dining hall, he doesn’t seem like the overconfident Rafe you’ve got so much against. He still is the same – it just doesn’t show that much.

 ‘I meant what I said earlier,’ he says, slowly, as if the words are hard to push out. ‘I think your should train to be right back.’

 If you had half a shot more, you would’ve thrown the water into his face. Now, all you do, is say – ‘You’re an asshole, Cameron.’ – and go up the stairs. For a moment there’s nothing, but then there’s rushed footsteps coming up the stairs, and you feel a hand on your wrist, and his voice calling your name.

 You don’t turn around instantly. You’re too angry for that – you close your eyes instead, and breathe, before collecting yourself enough to not explode.

 He’s still holding your wrist when you turn around, and he’s close enough that you can almost feel the heat radiating off his body; the cologne mixed with the scent of fresh clothes.

 ‘Please don’t be angry with me.’

 You scoff, pulling your hand out of his grip. ‘You’re ruining my life. You know how important this is to me, and you keep— you keep putting me where I don’t belong!’

 ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, and he sounds earnest; he sounds the way his face looks – a small frown on his face, lips quivering breathlessly, the wrinkles around his eyes almost pleading with her. ‘I’m just doing what’s best for everybody, Y/N.’

 ‘I don’t play defence. That’s Kiara’s job, but apparently that’s not good enough for you. You know where I’m good at.’

 ‘You’re good playing any position.’ He says it quick, as if the words escape from him. He swallows loudly enough that she hears him and takes a step back, shaking his head. ‘Look, you’re one of the best players on the team. That’s why—’

 ‘Then why don’t you put me where I can be the best?’

 ‘Y/N, just trust me, okay?’

 ‘No,’ you say, crossing the distance he created between the two of you until his back’s pressed against the wall, and you’re right in front of him, a finger jabbed into his chest. ‘I want to know why you’re doing this.’

 He hesitates; you feel his heart beating faster than you thought possible. ‘We were playing against rough teams. I couldn’t let you get hurt.’

 You scoff again, half-laughing as you rub your forehead with the back of your hand. ‘That’s bullshit. Jesus, Rafe, you’re spewing shit.’

 ‘Look, it’s the truth. I couldn’t take that risk.’

 ‘But you could take that risk with Kiara.’

 ‘Yes.’

 No hesitation; no wavering. It’s something he must’ve thought through, over and over again, for the answer to be so certain. You’re a little taken aback, and your finger falls from his chest, but the distance is still almost nonexistent.

 It’s because I’m good, you tell yourself, that’s why he’s keeping you safe, but it doesn’t ring true. Not when you can smell his cologne and not when his eyes drop to your lips, cheeks flushed.

 So you decide to ask why.

 He hesitates again, and you feel his shoulder slump as thoughts run through his head. Whatever he settles on, he’s certain, and you can see it. His voice is almost sad when he admits, ‘After the game against New Jersey, I couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt. I couldn’t lose you on the pitch, because when you weren’t around, it was like I couldn’t get my head straight.’ He pauses, and then: ‘I’m sorry.’

 Rafe breathes slowly, carefully, but your heart is racing around your ribcage, threatening to break through. His words echo around your head as you try to make sense of them – make sense of the way he felt like it was more than just a admission of being a good team – make sense of the way he’s looking at you like he’s expecting more than a reaction to the recognition of your worth as a teammate.

 There’s a feeling in your chest that you can’t describe. It’s in your throat, in the back of your head, burning through your ears – a thought almost too scary to form, but then it does, and it refuses to leave.

 So you swallow the gulp in your throat and ask, ‘Is my being good on the pitch the only reason?’

 A beat. ‘No.’

 You nod, slowly, as if in a trance. His eyes are gazing into yours with intensity you’ve never felt before – it’s as if he’s asking you to say something, to do something, to show that you understand what he’s saying without saying it.

 And you do.

 You do.

 You nod, and your lips are on his before you get the chance to think this through. His hands are quick to grab your waist as your fingers get tangled in the soft waves of his hair, bodies pressing against one another in a heated rush.

 ‘We shouldn’t be doing this,’ he mutters, a moment before his lips find your neck, fingers slipping underneath your top, dipping into the skin on your back. You moan, a little too loud, and he laughs against your neck. ‘We really shouldn’t.’

 ‘Yeah, we shouldn’t,’ you agree, watching him as he pulls his head back to look at you, a dazed smile on his face. ‘My room or yours?’

 Rafe’s grin is enough to set your body on fire. ‘Yours is closer.’

 He kisses you again, a firm kiss planted on your lips, before taking your hand and letting you lead to your room. The moment the door is locked, your lips are on his neck, clothes are clumsily coming off on your way to the bed, and you only have a second to wonder how long this has been inevitable until his lips hit the right spot, and every thought is as good as gone.

 When you wake in the morning, you’re half-surprised to find him curled into your side, head resting on your shoulder and an arm draped over your stomach. He’s still asleep, and you take a moment to think about how calming—how right—it feels to be here, with him. The hotel room is nice, a quiet rose gold, and the light coming through the windows is making it almost ethereal.

 It doesn’t feel like a mistake. You’re still a bit angry about being pushed back, but things seem a little different now that you know he wasn’t trying to hinder you, but protect you.

 (You still need to tell him that you don’t need protecting; you know what you got yourself into when you decided to play the sport.)

 With a smile on your face, you start playing with your head. He wakes within five seconds, with the same dazed look on his face from last night. His eyes find yours and he pauses for a moment, as if he were taking it all in, before his lips find home in yours. Neither of you think about morning breath, or about the fact that you should both probably go for a shower before leaving the hotel, because Rafe snuggles into your shoulder, pressing butterfly kisses to your collarbone, as his hand traces circles around your stomach.

 You take it upon yourself to ask, ‘No regrets?’

 ‘None.’

 ‘You should have one,’ you tease, and only let him be frightened for a moment. ‘Pushing me into the back.’

 He sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck. ‘Are we still arguing about that?’

 ‘We will be, until you let me play offense again.’

 ‘If it was you instead of Kiara yesterday, it could’ve messed with your leg,’ he says. Before you get to respond, he pushes himself off the bed so he can look at you. ‘I know your ankle is still hurting from New Jersey even if you’re not saying anything.’

 You can’t deny the truth.

 Rafe kisses your forehead. ‘Just promise me you’ll be careful.’

 ‘I always am.’

 ‘More,’ he says, breaking into a smile. ‘I need my partner back.’

 ‘If you promise to never make decisions for me without consulting me first.’

 He squints, as if thinking about it, but you can tell he isn’t. ‘I promise.’

 ‘Okay, then.’ You wrap your arms around him and pull him down, kissing him softly. ‘I promise to be more careful.’

 In the end, it’s like he promised – you go back to playing offense, in the front of every attack, and you and Rafe are back to being the dynamic scoring duo you’ve always been. Except this time this dynamic extends to beyond the field, and you support each other when the football isn’t around. Nobody is surprised by the turn of the events – you’re not entirely sure, but JJ passes Kiara a few bills when you and Rafe break the news to the team, and you think there was bets going around.

 Things get back to fine. Things get better. You end up winning the tournament, and Rafe kisses you with the cup in his hand, and the next morning, the headlines are full of your and Rafe’s names more so than your team’s, but that’s fine. You’ve made it.

 You’ve got everything you need – you just never thought it’d be no one other than Rafe Cameron, the Captain himself.