#highly doubt anyone has reason to care but figured I’d mention it

[swamplatibule]

closing commissions for a bit while I attempt to figure out the new art style I’m developing 👍

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Avoidance

masterlist

part two

Summary: Reader doesn’t know what she did to make Spencer hate her so much.

A/N: This fic is just a reminder that sub!Spencer lives rent free in my head at all times. Also, if anyone would like to be on a taglist for one shots like these, let me know! I’m going to work on getting one started.

Pairing: sub!Spencer/femdom! reader

Content Warnings: honestly way too much swearing, sexual harassment, slapping, hands free orgasm, oral sex (male and female receiving), hand job, orgasm denial, edging, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, degradation, femdom 

Word Count: 8.2k

           I have absolutely no idea what I’ve done to make Spencer Reid hate me.

           Usually, when someone despises a person to the point of complete and total avoidance, there’s a reason. No one just wakes up and decides to resent another person for the hell of it – right? Wrong.

           Because Spencer Reid positively loathes me – and I have no idea why.

           It all started on my first day at the BAU. I had somehow landed the highly coveted job of media liaison after the previous one had decided to complete the training to be a profiler. For reasons unbeknownst to me, they thought a twenty-four-year-old fresh out of college with no prior job experience was the best fit for the position. I didn’t understand it, but I also wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

           To say that I had been terrified the first time I set foot into the bullpen would be the understatement of the century. After a very formal and very intimidating orientation with the unit chief, my predecessor, a beautiful blonde named Jennifer, offered herself up to be my personal tour guide. Jennifer introduced me to the other members of the team, and with every smiling face I came in contact with, my fears of being the odd man out were assuaged. I could tell that Penelope Garcia, tech analyst extraordinaire, would most likely be my biggest ally – and it was abundantly clear that Derek Morgan and I would probably get into a fair amount of mischief together. Elle Greenaway seemed like the obvious choice for a future drinking buddy, and Jason Gideon – well, he merely grunted at me in acknowledgment before retreating back to his office. I figured three out of four wasn’t so bad.

           I didn’t meet Doctor Spencer Reid until after lunch. Jennifer mentioned something about him guest lecturing at a local university, which surprised me considering she mentioned him being a year younger than me. Apparently, the kid was an actual genius, which was more than a little bit intimidating, but Jennifer assured me that Spencer was a sweetheart.

           “He’s a little quirky, but I’m sure you’ll love him. Just don’t be surprised if he tries to talk your ear off,” Jennifer laughs. “Last week I asked him about the weather and he went off on a tangent about climate change that lasted nearly an hour.”

           By the time Spencer strolled into the bullpen at exactly one in the evening, I was sitting perched atop Jennifer’s desk, thoroughly engrossed as she told me about their latest case. When she stops talking midsentence in favor of smiling at someone behind me, I half expect that Morgan is attempting to sneak up on me, when:

           “Hey, look who’s back,” Jennifer greets, prompting me to turn around excitedly. I was eager to put a face to the man I’d heard so much about.

           And when I turn, my eyes land on the prettiest man I’ve ever seen.

           Sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jawline are framed by shaggy brown hair, complete with beautiful brown eyes and soft, pillowy lips. As if his good looks weren’t enough, he’s dressed in the most adorably nerdy sweater vest and a pair of thin framed glasses. He’s absolutely precious – a fact that Jennifer had conveniently left out.

           “How was the lecture?” Jennifer asks him as he places his satchel on the desk adjacent to hers. Spencer perks up at this, smiling excitedly from across the divider.

           “I think it went really good, actually. I incorporated this really cool joke that I heard about quantum physics. Do you want to-”

           He stops abruptly when he realizes Jennifer isn’t his only spectator, and those lovely brown eyes go almost comically wide when they settle on me.

           “Spencer, this is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s the new media liaison. Y/N, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

           I give him my best smile, tacking on a small wave for good measure.

           “It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Reid. Jennifer’s told me a lot about you.”

           “Uh, y-yeah. It’s n-nice to meet you, too,” Spencer stutters. He looks positively stricken and I’m fairly sure he hasn’t blinked in over a minute. I cast a glance at Jennifer, who seems just as confused as I am.

           Well, she had mentioned that he was a tad strange.

           “I’d like to hear the joke,” I offer, only to immediately regret it when I see him tense up.

           “N-No, that’s o-okay,” he chokes out as he struggles to gather the files on his desk. “It’s n-not that good, anyways.”

           And just as quickly as he came, Spencer leaves in a flurry of crumpled papers, leaving Jennifer and I wondering what the fuck just happened.

--

           Things didn’t get better with time. In fact, they got much worse.

           In the six months that I had been working for the BAU, I could count my interactions with Spencer Reid on one hand. It wasn’t for lack of trying on my part – in my desperation to figure out what I’d done to make him avoid me, I sought out the young genius every chance I got. But every time I got within ten feet of him, it’s like an alarm would sound in his head and he’d make up some excuse to leave the room.

           The others had noticed his strange behavior, too. It seemed they all had made a sort of game out of it – calling Spencer into rooms that I was in just to see him panic, or asking me to personally deliver files to his desk. At first, I played into it, hoping that their teasing would help to diffuse some of the tension.

           After a month of being on the receiving end of Spencer’s cold shoulder, I started avoiding him, too.

           I tried to act indifferent – like it didn’t hurt me as badly as it did. I no longer sought him out, and by month two, we had a sort of understanding. I didn’t go near him, and he didn’t go near me, and that’s how it went on for four miserable months.

           Until today.

           “Reid, Y/L/N, you’re in 202.”

           I damn near drop my bag on the floor. This was bound to happen at some point or another, but I hadn’t planned on that day being today, and I was not prepared. After nine hours of running around the local police department, my body was weighed down from fatigue and I was downright grumpy. Not to mention I had picked the worst possible day to try and break in a new pair of heels, and my feet were throbbing.

           Needless to say, I was in no mood to deal with Spencer Reid’s bullshit.

           “Uh, Hotch? Could I maybe room with Elle?” I ask, sending a glare in Morgan’s direction when he snorts out a laugh. Hotch raises an eyebrow at me.

           “Why? Is there a problem?”

           Yes, sir, there certainly is. And your guess is as good as mine as to what that problem is.

           “No, but I just think that-”

           “Good. Then you should be fine to share a room with him.”

           Right.

           I spare a brief glance at Spencer, who, in the last thirty seconds, has turned the color of a tomato. I pray that he’ll speak up and voice his discomfort, but just like always, he stays silent.

           Hotch doles out the room keys and I begin the trek down the hallway, my poor aching feet groaning in protest with every step. I’m vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps behind me, and it’s not until I swipe the key into the key card that Spencer speaks.

           But not to me – no, never to me.

           “Derek, please, I’m begging you. Just switch with me this one time, and – and I’ll do your reports for a month!”

           After six months of dealing with Spencer’s aversion to me, his words should come as no surprise. And really, I’d expected as much - but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

           “Not happening, kid. This is the perfect opportunity for you to get over whatever problem you have with Y/N. I bet you’ll even end up liking her. She’s not going to be rude to you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

           “… T-That’s not what I’m worried abo-”

           I don’t wait around to hear the rest of his sentence. I push open the door to the room, not bothering to wait for Spencer before closing it. I kick off my heels as soon as the door clicks shut, letting out a half relieved, half frustrated  groan.

           After claiming the bed nearest the air conditioner as my own, I pluck my pajamas and toiletry bag out from my suitcase and shuffle over to the bathroom. The way I see it, the quicker I get a shower and can go to sleep, the faster the night will pass. Before I know it, this unfortunate situation will be a thing of the past.

           After drawing out the shower for as long as I possibly could, I exit the bathroom clad in a tank top and a pair of shorts, hair dripping wet and skin freshly scrubbed clean. Spencer’s sitting on his bed, book in hand and tie loosened. He doesn’t look up at me when I walk by - not that I’d expected him to. A thick silence hangs in the air as I pull a bottle of lotion out from my suitcase, and I debate turning on the TV just to make things slightly less awkward. In the end I decide against it, because I doubt even that could make this situation better.

           I prop a leg up on the bed and begin to lather my legs in cherry scented lotion, paying special care to my aching feet before moving on. It’s not until both of my legs have been thoroughly massaged and coated in lotion that I look up.

           Spencer’s eyes are locked on me, mouth hanging open and chest heaving up and down. His knuckles are white from how hard they’re clutching the book in his hands, but despite that I can still see the way they’re trembling. When he realizes I've caught him staring, he closes his mouth and gulps hard.

           I straighten up and raise an eyebrow in a silent question, and that’s enough for Spencer to snap his book shut and scramble off of the bed. He’s clumsy as he moves to his suitcase, dropping his bottle of travel shampoo twice before he reaches the bathroom. If I wasn’t so off put by whatever the hell had just happened, I might have thought it cute.

--

           As if the universe thought my current predicament wasn’t enough to deal with, the next morning I was dealt another shitty hand. This time, my distress came in the form of a young cop who couldn’t pick up on social cues to save his life. After an entire morning of dodging sleazy advances, I finally managed to shake him when his superior sent him out to go and actually do his fucking job.

           Or so I thought.

           I’m standing in the breakroom, pouring my fourth (or is it my fifth?) cup of coffee when I hear the sound of footsteps in the hall. I don’t know if I’ve developed a sixth sense about these things, or if I’m just particularly on edge today, but I know it’s the young officer before he can even cross the threshold.

           And when he does, and he sees that he has me cornered, a saccharine smile stretches across his lips.

           “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he drawls in an accent that could probably be attractive if he wasn’t so damn skeevy.

           “Might wanna get your eyes checked,” I mutter, refusing to look in his direction as I stir my coffee.

           “Pretty and feisty. Just how I like my women.”

           “I am not your anything,” I seethe, and instead of backing off like any respectful human being would, he just chuckles and begins to saunter towards me.

           “C’mon baby, you don’t have to be that way. You don’t have to act all professional with me.”

           “Don’t call me that.” I look at him now, and the smug, self-righteous smile on his face makes my blood boil.

           “You don’t like baby? That’s fine – I’m sure I can think of lots of other things to call you,” he murmurs. He’s closer now, so close that I can practically feel his breath against my neck.

           “I’m going to tell you to stop one more time, and it would be in your best interest to listen,” I growl.

           “Or what?” he taunts. “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I jolt forward when a hand comes down hard on my ass, squeezing me harshly through the material of my skirt.

           Oh, fuck no.

           I’m whirling around faster than I ever thought possible, and then a harsh crack sounds throughout the room as my hand comes in contact with his face.

           My hand stings from the contact, but the pain is welcome because he flies backwards, stumbling and grasping as his already reddening cheek.

           “What the fuck?” he roars, eyes flashing with unbridled fury. I take several steps towards him, and to my utmost delight he nearly trips over himself in his hurry to put distance between us. I stop when his back hits the wall and I lean in until our faces are only inches apart.

           “Listen here, you limp dick fuck,” I snarl. “I’m getting real sick and fucking tired of pathetic pieces of shit like you thinking they can put their hands on women. What’s your problem? Are you so fucking tactless that you can’t get anyone to fuck you?” I punctuate my question by jabbing my pointer finger into his chest and cocking my head to the side. “Are you so unappealing that the only way you can get your hands on a woman is to wait until she’s alone and try to corner her?

           Or is it a power thing? You’ve got the gun and the badge so you think you’re entitled to just take what you want, don’t you? You think no one can stop you because you’re in a position of power. Well, I have some news for you – I outrank you, and you just assaulted a federal agent. I will not stop until I ruin your fucking career, and if you even think of trying to lie your way out of this, I’ll do a helluva lot fucking worse. After the week I’m having, I am just looking for an excuse to kick your fucking dick into the dirt. Do you understand?”

           By the time I finish speaking, my chest is heaving up and down and my eyes are narrowed into slits. The officer is so angry that he’s shaking, hands balled up to fists at his sides. For a moment, I think he’ll try to hit me, but then his hard-exterior cracks and the anger gives way to fear.

           “You – You can’t tell anyone about this,” he says, trying his best to sound menacing. But his voice wavers, and I can tell he’s losing his grip. “It’ll r-ruin my career.”

           I raise my hand up to his cheek, placing my palm over the red imprint I had left on his skin. And then I flash him the sweetest goddamn smile that ever there was.

           “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I give him a pat on the cheek before turning around and heading for the door, only to stop halfway when I see that I have an audience of one.

           Spencer stands in the doorway, a coffee mug gripped tightly in one hand, mouth agape and eyes wide. He’s standing stock still, eyes darting in between the police officer and me. I let out an exasperated sigh because of-fucking-course it would be Spencer that would happen to walk in on whatever that just was.

           “Close your mouth, Reid. That’s how you catch flies,” I deadpan, prompting Spencer to snap his mouth shut.

           Without another word, I brush past him and leave the break room.

--

           I suppose the universe had decided to finally give me a break, because that afternoon we were able to apprehend the unsub. But my good fortune only went so far, because Hotch announced that we would be leaving first thing in the morning – which meant another night alone with Spencer Reid.

           He didn’t mention what he walked in on when the two of us arrived back at our room, and I didn’t expect him to. The two of us went about the motions of unwinding from the day in complete and utter silence, and by the time I emerge from the shower I decide that I’ve had enough.

           “I’m gonna go stay with Elle and Derek,” I murmur as I zip up my suitcase and slip on my shoes.

           “Oh. O-Okay.”

           And that was that.

           It’s about an hour later when my phone is on four percent that I realize I hadn’t remembered to bring my charger with me. I contemplate just letting it die, but the idea of sitting through a seven-hour jet ride tomorrow without it sounds excruciating. Then again, so does the idea of having to suffer through an interaction with Spencer.

           The phone wins out in the end, and with Derek and Elle still snoring softly in their respective beds, I slip out of the room and into the hallway. With any luck, Spencer will be in a similar state and I’ll be able to sneak in and out without him waking up.

           I think thank my lucky stars when I slowly crack open the door to Spencer’s room and see that the lights are off. I take special care to close the door as quietly as possible before tiptoeing across the carpeted floors, feeling my way around in the dark so that I don’t trip over anything.

I make it halfway across the room when I hear it – it’s quiet, and if the air conditioner had been on, I wouldn’t have even heard it at all. It’s faint, so faint that I wonder if I’d imagined it, but then that same sound breaks through the silence and I know it’s not a product of my imagination.

I hear the covers rustle, and then a low moan followed by the distinct sound of skin on skin. My blood runs cold as the moans grow louder and more frequent, rolling off Spencer’s lips in rapid succession. There’s heavy breathing and whimpering and holy fuck I just walked in on Spencer Reid masturbating.

Spencer cries out a particularly load moan, one that sounds so pornographic that it shoots straight to my core. It’s sexy and dirty and he sounds absolutely wrecked, and the part of my brain that is still capable of logical thinking is screaming get out! Get out, now!

I begin to slowly backtrack, moving at one tenth of the speed that I had coming in because the possibility of being caught is absolutely not an option. If Spencer hates me now, he’d really hate me if he found out I snuck into his room at night and heard… that.

I’m about five feet away from the door when:

“O-Oh my God, yes! Y/N, please - fuck!”

I think then that I certainly have to be dreaming, because there’s no way I’d just heard him correctly. There’s no way that Spencer – the same Spencer that scurried out of the room when I walked in – was moaning my name while he touched himself. Absolutely not.

But then it happens again and again and again – my name falling from his lips incessantly like some kind of debauched chant.

It feels like my skin is on fire – my mind a befuddled mess – and before my brain can tell me what a terrible idea it is, my feet are carrying me back into the room and I’m coming to a stop at the foot of Spencer’s bed.

Bathed in the glow of the moonlight shining through the window, Spencer looks ethereal. There’s a thin line of sweat beading on his forehead, and his usually meticulously slicked back hair is fanned out on the pillow like some sort of halo. His teeth are nestled into his bottom lip now, and all that can be heard are tiny whimpers as his hand slides up and down underneath the bed sheets. Spencer’s always beautiful, almost painfully so. But the way he looks now, shadows dancing across his face as he works himself to orgasm, is infinitely more breathtaking than words can express.

It doesn’t take long for Spencer to release his lip from beneath his teeth, and when he does my name is flying out of his mouth once more.

I take that as my invitation to speak.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you say my name before.”

Spencer’s entire body stills and his eyes fly open to reveal two dark pools full of sheer panic.

“I-I can explain,” he stammers, moving to clutch the comforter to his chest in an attempt to cover himself.

I let out a hum and sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Please do. I’m very interested in hearing about just what you were picturing me doing.”

Spencer sucks in a harsh breath. I can practically see the wheels in his brain turning -desperately trying to concoct some kind of reasonable explanation.

“I-I… I don’t… I’m s-sorry,” he stutters, and it’s so adorable how he’s squirming underneath my gaze that I decide to help him out.

“Was I sucking you off? Or were you fucking me?” I wonder aloud. He tries to hide it, thinking the covers will mask the way that his hips buck up, but I definitely see it.

“I-I…”

“Which was it, Spencer? Was I taking you down my throat or were you fucking my pussy? Or maybe I was coming undone on your face – was that it?”

Spencer lets out a low groan, and if my patience hadn’t been running so fucking thin, I probably would’ve left it at that. But after the hell he’d put me through for the last six months, I feel like he deserved to squirm a little.

“Fucking answer me.”

“Y-You were, um��� r-riding me. And you s-slapped m-me.”

Oh.

This just got a lot more interesting.

I raise an eyebrow at him and I can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps.

“So, you liked what you saw today, did you?”

Spencer nods so fervently that I have to bite down on my tongue to suppress a laugh.

“Words, baby. Use them.”

“I-I liked it. A lot.”

“Apparently so, seeing as you were moaning for it like a desperate little slut,” I breeze, my tone cool and indifferent. “Have you done this before, Doctor? Touched yourself to the thought of me, that is.”

“… Y-Yes. I’m s-sorry. I didn’t m-mean to. It just kind of happened one night, and once I started, I couldn’t s-stop.”

I reach out a hand and brush away the hair that had fallen into his face, tucking it back behind his ear before continuing.

“Why the cold shoulder, then? And here I thought you hated me,” I muse, before pausing and cocking my head to the side. “Do you hate me, Doctor?” I ask, and just when I thought he couldn’t look more guilty, he proves me wrong.

“No! I just… couldn’t be around you. I felt so b-bad. You were so nice, and I was using you to g-get off,” Spencer explains. “I couldn’t look you in the eye. Not after picturing you… like that.”

I let out a sigh. Knowing that Spencer didn’t actually hate me for the last six months was a relief. Knowing that Spencer was secretly rubbing one out to me was something else entirely. Whatever was I to do with this information?

“So, you want to fuck me, then?” I reiterate. “Why not tell me this sooner?”

“The probability of you responding positively to me telling you that I, uh, m-masturbate to you was very l-low. And after what I saw today, I think I was wise for keeping that from you,” Spencer says, the last part coming out in a rush. I can’t help but let out a low laugh.

“Yes, but the guy that was coming on to me today wasn’t someone I find attractive. He was pompous and crass and pushy - and you, Doctor Reid, are none of those things.”

“R-Really? You think I’m attractive?”

I hum.

“Very much so, Doctor. But I’m afraid you may have waited too long, and now I don’t feel as inclined to be nice,” I murmur, allowing my hand to trail down from his shoulder to his collar bones before lightly grazing his nipple with my thumb.

“O-Oh my… God,” Spencer whimpers, eyes fluttering shut as my fingers continue to dance across his skin.

“But then again, I don’t think you really want me to be nice to you. I think you want me to treat you like my little play thing.” I stop my hand just below his navel and I thumb across the light layer of hair that makes up his happy trail. “You want to be my dirty boy - don’t you, Doctor Reid?”

“P-Please,” Spencer chokes out, hips jerking up when I allow my thumb to graze a little lower.

“Please what?”

Spencer lets out a frustrated groan.

“Please, I-I want you to u-use me. However you want, just as l-long as you just do-don’t stop touching me,” he rambles. He’s shuddering underneath me, his breaths coming out in harsh pants as my hand wanders lower and lower until I abruptly pull away. “W-Why did you stop?”

“Because I don’t think you deserve to be touched just yet. You’ve got six months to make up to me, after all. I think I want you on your knees for me first,” I say, and from the way his eyes seem to dilate even further, I don’t think he has any objections. “Are you familiar with the color system?”

Spencer nods.

“Green for good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop now.”

“Do you have a safe word?”

“I… I’ve never really, uh. Done t-this.”

Oh. Oh.

I withdraw my hand from its place on his leg and Spencer lets out a distressed whine. “No, please! Don’t go. I’m not a complete virgin, I promise. I got a h-hand job once,” he argues. “And I think I’ve done enough, uh, research, and I really want to try to make you cum. I want to be good for you. Please let me try.”

Spencer looks like he’s about two seconds away from crying, and I can feel my argument dying before it even leaves my mouth.

“Oh, baby, I know you’d be so good,” I coo, and just like that Spencer’s leaning towards me, desperate to have the contact. I indulge him, placing my hand on his cheek, and he relaxes into the touch. “Are you sure you want to do this with me? I’m not what anyone would call vanilla, and I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”

“I trust you. I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else,” Spencer whispers, and he sounds so damn sincere that I feel my resolve crumbling.

“You’ll let me know if at any point you want to stop?”

“Yes. Absolutely!”

Enthusiastic little shit.

“Safe word?”

“Um… Tolstoy?”

I let out a snort.

“Alright, smarty pants. We’re going to start now, okay?”

“Yes, Miss,” Spencer pants out.

Fuck me running. He clearly has been doing his research.

“Get on your knees for me, baby. I wanna see just how eager to please you are,” I instruct as I stand up and shimmy out of my shorts. I discard my shirt, too, absentmindedly throwing it somewhere across the room. Spencer lets out a startled squeak when he sees that I’m now completely naked, aside from my underwear.

“Y-You’re so pretty,” Spencer breathes out. “Even better than I imagined.”

The sentiment tugs at my heart, really, it does, but I specifically requested that he get on his knees and he seems a lot more content to just sit and stare.

“On your knees,” I command, and Spencer jumps up almost comically fast.

“S-Sorry, Miss,” he apologizes as he lowers himself down. I seat myself on the edge of the bed and spread my legs for him.

“Don’t apologize, just do as I ask of you, okay baby?”

Spencer nods.

“C-Can I kiss you? Like on the lips first?” Spencer asks as he looks up at me with big doe eyes. It’s a beautiful thing, the image of Spencer Reid sitting in between my legs, cheeks flushed and chest rapidly rising and falling. I give Spencer a sweet smile and lean forward, and the excitement radiating off of him is practically palpable. He leans forward, too eager to wait for me to close the gap, and the action makes my chest swell in adoration.

Just as our lips are about to meet, I pause, and Spencer barely has the time to look confused before my palm connects with the side of his face. The moan it draws out of him is obscene and his hips jolt forward, desperate for some kind of friction. His dick rests painfully hard between his legs, flushed red with precum beading at the tip.

I waste no time in taking his chin in my hand and tilting his head upwards.

“Did I say you could kiss me?” I ask him, voice sugary sweet, contrasting starkly with my actions.

“N-No, Miss. I’m sorry,” Spencer pants out. His hand twitches at his side and I can see how desperately he wants to touch himself, but his desire to please keeps him still.  

“Then the answer is no. Maybe if you can prove to me that you aren’t completely incompetent at eating pussy, I’ll consider it,” I allow a moment for my words to sink in. “Color?”

“Green. So fucking green,” Spencer whines.

“Good boy,” I praise him, and the effects of my words are instantaneous. Spencer rests his cheek against the skin of my thigh and then he’s nuzzling his face against me in a silent plea for permission. After a moment, his pleas become a lot less silent.

“Wanna be your good boy - please let me,” Spencer begs as his nose brushes against my skin. “I want to make you feel good. S’all I ever think about, since the first time I saw you.”

His words send a jolt of pleasure to my core and I reward his brazen honesty with a tender smile and a nod.

“Go ahead, baby. Let me see what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

The words barely have time to leave my mouth before Spencer is reaching out and hooking a finger underneath the waistband of my panties. I raise up off the bed just enough for him to slide them down my legs, and before I even manage to settle back down onto the bed, Spencer literally dives in. He starts with one long lick, and by the time he reaches my clit he’s crying out lewd moans against me. The feel of the vibrations mixed with the feel of his mouth on me is maddening in the best possible way, and my eyelids threaten to flutter closed under the weight of my pleasure.

“Fuck, baby – you’re doing so good,” I sigh as I lift my hand up and card my fingers through his hair. “You look so pretty on your knees for me.”

Spencer’s movements stutter when he feels my hand tangle itself into his hair, and I let out a light chuckle. I grab hold of the roots and give an experimental tug. My actions cause his hips to jolt forward violently.

“O-Oh my…” Spencer keens, raising his glossy, lust filled eyes to mine. “H-Harder, please.”

I oblige, and Spencer lets out a particularly filthy groan before lapping at my pussy like a man possessed. His hands come to wrap around my thighs and he pulls me closer to him, causing me to let out a gasp when his nose nudges against my clit. The sound only spurs him on further – Spencer begins assaulting my clit, alternating between short, kitten licks and light sucking. The control I had so adamantly been asserting over him began to slip from my fingertips the longer he worked his mouth against me, and quiet, breathy moans started falling from my lips.

“Such a good boy, Spence,” I moan as I scratch my fingernails against his scalp. “You’re making me feel so good, baby. Love that dirty little mouth of yours.”

Spencer thrives on the praise – that much is made obvious by the way he whimpers and tightens his grip on my thighs. He’s completely submitted himself to the act of getting me off, only stopping long enough to cry out when my hands give a particularly harsh tug on his hair.

“Add a finger, baby,” I tell him, allowing my hand to drift down the side of his face, caressing the sharp angles of his cheekbones.

Spencer releases my thigh from his hold and tentatively raises a hand to my entrance, eyes raising to meet mine.

“You’ll tell me if I do something wrong?” he asks, and his concern is so endearing that I tilt his chin upwards and lean forward until my lips meet his.

Spencer gasps into the kiss, shocked, but it doesn’t take him long before his lips are moving against mine fervently. His lips are slick with my arousal, and I dart my tongue out just long enough to swipe it across his bottom lip.

           “D’you like how I taste, baby?” I murmur against his lips, pulling back slightly when Spencer tries to bring his lips down against mine.

           “S-So much,” he whispers, before letting out a frustrated groan when I tease him with the slightest brush of my lips before pulling away again. “P-Please, kiss me again.”

           I bump my nose against his before I reach down and grab his hand in mine.

           “Don’t be a greedy boy, Spencer. Greedy boys don’t get to cum,” I chastise him as I raise his hand up to my mouth. I trace my bottom lip with his pointer finger as Spencer watches on in rapt fascination, before taking the digit into my mouth and sucking. Spencer chokes out a pathetic cry and his hips hopelessly buck into the air as I swirl my tongue around the pad of his finger, taking special care to coat it with spit before releasing it from my mouth.

           I guide his hand back down to my pussy, gasping when the tip of his finger brushes across my entrance.

           “Just take it slow, baby. Start with one and move up to two once you get the hang of it.”

           Spencer nods, eyes alternating between my face and my entrance as he slowly slides his finger in me.

           “You’re so warm, oh my God,” Spencer breathes out, tentatively pulling out his finger before inserting it back in. I hum appreciatively as he begins to move faster, eyelids fluttering shut when he lowers his head and begins languidly licking my clit.

           “Feels so nice, Spence. I fucking love your fingers. Knew that they’d feel like this. I can only imagine how good your cock will feel,” I ramble, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other tugging on his honey brown hair.

           I groan as he inserts a second finger, reveling in the way he’s stretching me out.

           “Curl your fingers when you – fuck! Just like that, baby. Gonna make me cum if you keep doing t-that.”

Spencer speeds up both the onslaught of his fingers and his mouth at my admission, tongue working figure eights on my clit while his fingers brush up against my g-spot. A familiar warmth starts to spread in my lower belly, and with every swipe of Spencer’s tongue against my clit, the coil in my stomach winds tighter and tighter until, finally:

“O-Oh, fuck, Spence!”

The coil snaps, sending jolts of pleasure straight through my core. I can feel the way my walls tighten around Spencer’s fingers as my orgasm rips through me, never stopping their ministrations in an attempt to help me ride out my high. Vibrations ripple across my clit when Spencer lets out a cry of his own before his movements halt completely as shudders wrack his body.

I know he didn’t just…

           I allow myself a moment to recover before I lean forward and drag my eyes down Spencer’s slender frame – and sure enough, his tummy is covered in white ropes of cum and his now softening cock is hanging limply between his legs.

           Spencer’s eyes reluctantly open when his shudders cease, and one look at my pissy expression is enough to send him into a fit.

           “I-I didn’t mean to cum! I’m so sorry, Miss. It’s j-just that you looked so pretty when you came, and you taste so good! And you were pulling my hair, and you called me a good boy and I just couldn’t do it anymo-”

           “Shut up,” I seethe, voice cold and laced with annoyance. Spencer’s mouth snaps shut and he gulps. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember saying that you were allowed to come. Am I mistaken?”            “N-No, Miss.”

           “Mm, that’s what I thought,” I hum. “Stand up.”

           “B-But I want to make you cum again! Can I plea-”

           “Shut the fuck up and stand up, Spencer.”

           Spencer rushes to his feet, stumbling a bit when his legs begin to shake. He corrects himself, standing perfectly still in front of me with a shameful look on his face. I scoot back on the bed and fix him with a stony look.

           “I want you to lay on your stomach across my lap. Can you do that, Doctor Reid, or are you too stupid to follow simple directions?”

           Spencer adamantly shakes his head, scrambling to splay out across my bare thighs. Once he’s comfortable, I raise a palm to his bare ass cheek and smooth my hand across the skin.

           “Color?”

           “G-Green,” Spencer stutters out.

           “Wonderful. Since you’ve decided to be a greedy little slut and cum before I gave you permission, I’m going to punish you. Do you remember your safe word, baby?”

           “Tolstoy.”

           “Good boy. I’m going to give you ten, and I want you to count them out for me. One for every month you held out on me, and four because you’re an insolent little whore who can’t do as he’s told. Does that sound fair to you?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. P-Please.”

           A harsh smack sounds throughout the room, and Spencer lets out a whorish moan that’s bound to wake the people in the neighboring rooms. The pale skin of his ass transforms to red, and I rub my palm across it soothingly.

           “O-One,” Spencer says through gritted teeth as he rocks his hips against my legs.

           “You okay, baby?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. Please don’t stop. I deserve it. P-Punish me, please.”

           My palm comes down across his ass four more times, and with each strike I watch Spencer fall apart right before my eyes. Tears are gliding down his flushed cheeks, and his cock is now painfully hard against my legs.

           “Five more to go, baby. Keep counting for me, my pretty boy.”

           By the time my hand comes down against his flesh for the final time, Spencer has devolved into a mess of pathetic whimpers. His cock is smearing precum across my thighs as he rocks against me, and his ass is covered in a litany of bright red marks. Incomprehensible pleas are falling from his lips, and his hands are tightly fisted in the sheets.

           I lean forward and place a gentle kiss to each of his battered cheeks.

           “T-Thank you, Miss. Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

           “You’re welcome, baby. Can you go lay in the center of the bed for me?”

           Spencer gives a feeble nod and crawls to the center of the bed, carefully laying himself down and letting out a low hiss when his ass came in contact with the mattress.

           I let him rest against the sheets before I roll over and settle in between his legs.

           Spencer’s cock, painfully hard and leaking precum, sits against his belly. Spencer watches as I trace lithe fingers up his thigh, his chest rising and falling quickly as I get closer to where he demands my attention.

           A garbled groan rips from his throat when my hand grasps his cock, and I have to place my other hand on his hip and force him back down onto the bed when he tries to buck up.

           “Stay still, baby,” I tut as I drag my fist up and down at an agonizingly slow pace.

           “S-Sorry, M-Miss,” Spencer stutters. His brows are drawn together and his eyes are heavy lidded. “Need m-more, please.”

           “Mm, I don’t think you need more. You just want more. Dumb little greedy baby,” I tease as my thumb swipes across his head.

           “Oh… G-God, please!” Spencer mewls.

           “Is what I’m giving you not good enough?”

           “N-No, it’s just-”

           I raise an eyebrow at him and halt my movements.

           “No, it isn’t good enough?”

           Spencer lets out a frustrated groan and his fists clench the sheets.

           “P-Please, Miss! I’ll be your good boy, I promise. Just let me cum, please, I want it so bad!”

           Thoroughly pleased by his shameless begging, I start moving my hand again.

           “Let me know when you’re about to cum, baby.”

           That moment comes when, not thirty seconds later, the muscles in Spencer’s abdomen start to spasm – telltale signs of an impending orgasm. Spencer is so lost in the way my hand is moving against his cock that he makes no move to warn me, and just as I see his eyes start to flutter shut, I withdraw my hand.

           “W-Why did yo-”

           “You didn’t tell me you were about to cum. I thought you said you were going to be a good boy, Spencer? You sure aren’t acting like someone who wants to cum.”

           “S-Sorry, please, just… fuck!”

           Spencer’s whole-body folds in on itself when my mouth wraps around the head of his cock. I swirl my tongue around the tip, lapping up the precum that had gathered before I pull away.

           “You’ve got such a pretty cock, baby. Can’t believe nobody’s had you in their mouth yet,” I murmur, pausing to drag my tongue along the veiny underside of his erection. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna know how much you like when I use my mouth on you.”

           “Love it so much, oh God… Feels so warm and wet. Thank you so much, Miss. God, it feels perfect,” Spencer keens as I take him into my mouth again. Mumbled praises fall from his lips as I take him deeper, and the second my nose hits the soft skin of his belly, Spencer’s hand comes up and begins to tap incessantly on my shoulder.

           “S-Stop! I-I’m close – Jesus Christ, I’m so fucking close and I really want to cum inside you, i-if that’s okay with you,” Spencer babbles, eyes wide and pleading. I smile up at him.

           “Do you think you deserve to cum in my pussy?”

           “H-Honestly, no, but I’m hoping you’ll let me anyways,” Spencer says, shooting me an adorably shy smile that has my heart doing somersaults in my chest. I let out a light laugh and shake my head, moving to straddle his lap.

           “Are you sure you want to do this, Spence?” I murmur as I caress the side of his face with my hands. “This can stop right here, if you want it to.”

           “Please, Miss. I want this. I want you,” Spencer reiterates, eyes shining and filled to the brim with adoration.

           “Want you, too, baby. You can call me my name now, if you want,” I say as I place a gentle kiss on his lips. I move to pull away, but Spencer’s hand is quick to grasp the back of my neck and pull me back in.

           While our lips move together, frenzied and desperate, I sneak a hand in between our bodies and grab Spencer’s cock. He gasps into my mouth as I drag his head in between my folds.

           “I-I won’t last long,” Spencer chokes out, eyes trained on where I’m rubbing him against me. “I’ll try my b-best, but I’m sorry if I c-cum too fast.”

           I sink down just enough that his head is the only thing inside me, watching as his face contorts beautifully as a result.

           “Don’t worry about me, baby. Tonight’s all about you.”

           With one last, chaste kiss to his lips, I slowly begin to lower myself down onto his length. The sound of our moans fill the room as Spencer clings desperately to me, hands finally finding purchase on my hips.

           “Y/N, fuck, you feel so good,” Spencer whimpers as I begin to slowly rock against him. “I-I knew it would feel good, but oh my God. I-I can’t… I’m gonna cum, soon. M’so sorry.”

           His admission prompts me to move faster, raising my hips until he’s almost completely out of me before I’m slamming back down.

           “Spence, you feel so good. Such a good boy – my good boy.”

           “Yes, yes, I’m all yours! Only yours, please!” Spencer whines. I lean forward, and the change of angle is enough for both of us to cry out.

           “Are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me, Spence?” I murmur into his ear, biting lightly against his earlobe. “I want you to cum in me, baby. Don’t you want to be my good boy?” I punctuate my words by lightly wrapping my hand around this throat and squeezing, and that’s all it takes for Spencer to completely fall apart underneath me. 

           “Y/N - fuck!”

           Spencer’s grip on my hips tightens as he bucks up into me, painting the inside of my pussy with his cum as he yells out strangled exclamations of my name. He presses his face into my shoulder as I ride him through his orgasm, whispering quiet thank yous and pressing open mouthed kisses to my skin as the euphoria floods through his body.

             I place a kiss to his forehead before I crawl off of him, having every intention of getting up and procuring a wet washrag. But Spencer reaches out to grip my arm, and his eyes look so sad that I stop in my tracks.

           “C-Can you stay? Please?”

           The insecurity in his voice tugs at my heart.

           “Of course, I’m staying. Was just gonna get a wet washrag for us. M’not gonna leave you, Spence,” I murmur. Spencer visibly untenses, but his grip on my arm doesn’t lessen.

           “Could you just stay here a little bit longer?”

           “Sure thing, baby,” I say, prompting Spencer’s lips to pull up into a pleased smile. I crawl back into the bed and lay on my back, and Spencer instantly plasters himself to my side. He hums contentedly as he wraps his arms around me, and I let out a light laugh when I catch him stealing glances at me.

           “What is it, baby?”

           A rosy blush spreads across his cheeks.

           “Can I kiss you?”

           After everything we just did, he still feels the need to ask permission to kiss me. What a sweet boy.

           My answer comes in the form of me pressing my lips to his, and that’s how we stay until he pulls away.

           “I have another question,” he says shyly.

           “Lay it on me, baby.”

           The blush on his cheeks gets significantly more pronounced.

           “It’s just that, uh, you didn’t get to cum again. And I really want you to, because you took such good care of me,” Spencer pauses, and his fingertips lightly graze the inside of my thigh. “C-Could I please eat you out again?” Another pause, and he retracts his hand. “I-It’s okay if not. I understand if you just wanted this to be… a one-time thing. I guess I was just kind of hoping that it w-wouldn’t be. But that’s silly – you were just doing me a favor. I’m sorry I asked.”

           Spencer cringes as he finishes speaking, not even giving me a chance to reply before he’s trying to pull away. I tighten my grip on his arm, and Spencer gives me a weary look.

           “First of all, I don’t think I would ever say no to being eaten out – especially if you’re the one offering. Second, this is definitely not a one off. I have lots of plans for you, pretty boy,” I explain, and the relief that radiates off of Spencer is almost palpable.

           “Thank God,” he sighs, and then he’s scooting down the bed and settling in between my legs.

--

           And if the rest of the team notices the way Spencer starts following me around like a lost puppy - well, they’re all kind enough not to point it out.

[venomous--fics]

Anon asked: maybe a continuation of the peter b parker kid thing where they finally confront the mom and get the readers things back 😩💞💞

a/n: ask and thou shall receive! this spent so long in the drafts bc i felt so insecure about it tbh, so any feedback is appreciated! I love seeing messages about what you guys think! really keeps me motivated! also, requests are open

Warnings: mentions of past abuse

Peter was sitting at the kitchen table, constantly looking at the clock. It was almost 5pm, you were supposed to be home an hour and a half ago. Yes, he keeps track of everyone's schedules, yes he knows the exact second you should be walking through the door. He's already texted you, but maybe you had detention. Nah, you were a good student, he highly doubted you'd have to stay after school.

His phone finally rang, and he was way too quick answering it.

"You okay?"

"I need some help."

"What is it?" he was already out the door.

You sighed, knowing he was probably going to give you an earful later.

"Well, it's a really long story, right.. But my mom showed up after school-"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I think. Anyways, we got into it on the way home, which is no- Not normal." you adjusted how you were sitting, "And since she was dragging me back to the house, I figured I'd just get my crap and come home, right? Makes sense, saves us the tri-"

"She took you without permission?"

"Technically she is my m-...Parent. I guess, y'know, legally she can do whatever- But..Okay." you began to feel bubbles of anxiety and pain and even resentment form deep in your core, "She locked me out." You rubbed your neck.

"Are you," he paused, looking around at all the faces passing by him, "Still there?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately. I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for? Don't apologize, you didn't do anything."

"I keep causing problems for everyone."

"Not for me. Or Mj."

It was quiet on your end.

"You still there?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there in like ten minutes."

"You probably shouldn't."

"Nah, nah." He said, having a sudden wave of anger rush over him, "Let me take care of this."

And true to his word, Peter was there in ten minutes. You hopped up from your spot on the porch as he made his way up to the door and knocked on it as hard as he could. He gave you a reassuring pat on the back.

The door swung open, and your mother seemed awfully surprised and confused to see some random man just standing there. Peter held no emotion has he looked her dead in the eye, "Can we come in."

She opened the door wider so that way you two could step in.

"Go get your stuff." is all Peter said to you.

Wasting no time, and not wanting to be in the middle of a potential argument between the two, you skedaddled to your room. It almost felt like too much to be in there. It looked so empty and barren compared to your room at Peter and Mjs place. Seems really dull. Lifeless, almost. Dust covered every surface, which meant that nobody had ever even bothered to see if you were even still in there.

You heard their voices from the living room, but they seemed so distant, seeing as all you could focus on was every shitty thing that woman put you through.

You remember the day that you got bit. It made you deathly ill, and you just thought you were dying from some sort of allergic reaction to the spider bite. You tried to get her to take you to any doctor or anywhere that could help because all you could seem to see were stars.

Everything then was so loud. Everything was so bright. It was all too much, and you were certain that the reaper was waiting for you. What did she say?

"Suck it up and stop pretending. Everything has to be so dramatic with you."

Or that time you forgot a single item on the shopping list. You got this whole speech about how stupid you had to have been. To forget one item. It was the world's most useless item.

Everything else seemed to play all over again, all at once. Like a waterfall. It should've made you sad. It should've made you cry, or scream.

You recounted all the times you wanted to fight back, or just run away. Leave everything behind and just run until your legs gave out. But you never did. You always found some reason to linger.

The conversation was growing louder where Peter was.

"You aren't going to do this to them ever again. Sign the papers."

You nearly dropped your last belonging on the floor as you scrambled to your door. Papers? He wasn't serious. Well, obviously he was. He just said it.

"Fine. It's not like the-"

"Zip it. Sign the papers."

"Who are you anyways? The law? If so, whatever they've told you is a b-"

"Listen, lady. I didn't ask for any attitude. I told you to sign the papers." he seemed to huff in annoyance, "That doesn't require talking."

"I'm a good mother."

"And I'm the king of France."

"Really. I gave them a good home. I have fed them and kept them warm-"

"Really? You think you did all that? Or are you convincing yourself that you did all that?"

"I am-"

"Can I be honest with you?"

"Ye-"

"I've never said this about anyone, ever. I don't like speaking to or about anyone like this.. Ever, but, you? I think you're a piece of shit."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, look. You finished signing the papers. I'll take those. Thank you."

Realizing that it was your time to go, you stuffed your blanket into your duffel bag and rushed out the door and down the hall. Peter looked at you, expecting to see at least three bags. But he only saw the one.

"Where's the rest of your stuff."

"Uhm," you shuffled around, pretending as thought you dropped some, "This...This is all my stuff."

"That can't be ri-" He laughed a little, and noting the expression on his face, you saw that he was NOT happy. "That? That single duffle bag is all you have? That's it?"

"Yes..." you took a step back, "This is all.."

"I can't believe it." he said, "You're joking! One bag worth of stuff?"

He turned his attention back to your mother, who, for the first time in your life, actually looked like she got caught red handed, "You're pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."

"But they're so u-"

"No! No, you don't get to talk anymore. You've done enough."

You awkwardly shuffled behind him, in the event that you two had to make a mad dash out the door. That and you needed to not be seen as you tried to hide your almost evil grin.

"The hell is wrong with you? You have this amazing kid, and THAT'S all you've ever gotten for them? And you sit there and call yourself a mother? Absolutely, without a doubt, bullshit. I'd be ashamed of myself to call myself a father if that's all I've provided for my kid. Don't even get me started on you as a person, we made that clear."

It almost felt cursed to hear him swear, seeing as he made it a point to tell you to not swear. Every time you did, you have to give a quarter to the swear jar. Mj was always on your side, though. She'd say a swear that was much worse and have to pay a dollar. Each word had a value.

"Maybe we should just go." you suggested, tugging on the sleeve of his arm, "She's not worth it anymore."

"She was never worth it, it seems."

You finally made eye contact with her, and the look in her eye. It's like she understood, but was choosing to not do anything about the situation. She could look sorry all she wanted, but you knew she wasn't.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. You know that right."

"That means nothing to me."

"I can change."

"If you can change now, that means you could've changed then. You just chose not to."

"But I'm your mother, you should realize how I feel. You should want-"

"You're not my mom. You stopped being my mom the first time you-" You turned towards the door and started walking towards it, "Whatever. You mean nothing to me."

You practically kicked open teh door just to leave, and Peter was right behind you, shouting about how he'd make sure to egg her house everyday, just to piss her off.

"Do you really think I'm amazing?" you asked, the walk home feeling rather quiet.

"I think you're more than that. Just can't put it into words."

"Did you really mean it...That we could egg her house?"

"You want to? There's a store right on the way home."

"How about tomorrow."

"I'll have to clear up my busy schedule. See if I can work in a drive by egging. Well, swing by egging."

"You promise?"

"You kidding? I haven't egged anyone's house since college."

You had so much more you wanted to get off you chest, but you opted to just talk about it at home, with everyone present. You wanted to talk about how you felt about everything, and the papers. Whatever those were. But you were, for the moment, busy laughing about Peter's story about how he used to Egg this one reporters house. Someone named Jonah.

You wonder if Jonah ever put two and two together.

[inkandpen22]

Permanent Chaos (4/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mild swearing

Part Summary: While Y/N is out shopping with Cara, news breaks that ties her with MGK. 

Masterlist

Masterlist

Two days later...

Cara and I go out shopping and have lunch for a girl’s day. I have yet to talk about the other night with Sam. Cara hasn’t mentioned it and I have no plans to either. Cameras have followed us up and down Rodeo Drive. By this point, Cara and I are both used to it. Carrying my bags however, I doubt I look graceful for these videos their taking. Oh well, they have fifteen thousand more of me.

“CARA! EXCITED TO WALK IN THE CHANEL FASHION SHOW?”

Cara ignores the paparazzi and points out a dress in the window at Dolce and Gabbana. I request to go inside to try it on. I’m not sure where I’d wear it to, but that doesn’t really matter.

“Welcome ladies!” A woman in a black dress approaches. “Can I help you find anything in particular?”

I point over to the dress in the window, “could I see that in a size six please?”

She leaves us to go find the dress for me and we roam around a small section while she does. My phone rings and I see Nicole’s name pop up. My heart immediately begins to race. She doesn’t call me unless absolutely necessary, usually we text. I step away toward the corner to be discreet.

I answer the call hesitantly. “Nicole? What’s up?”

“I got a call from Stephanie,” she sounds agitated on the other end.

Stephanie is my publicist, she handles everything that Nicole can’t basically. They bicker a lot since they’re both so headstrong and constantly need control. It’s the classic good cop/bad cop scenario, yet I don’t know who’s who. These two cover every aspect of my career, God bless them.

“Oh no, sounds bad,” I grumble anxiously.

“Depends how you look at it,” she lightens her tone.

“What is it?” I press.

“Well…” she hesitates.

“Nicole!” I drag out her name.

“It’s all over social media, magazines and it will be on TMZ tonight,” she stammers. “I’m surprised you haven’t already heard if I’m being honest-”

“Nicole! What?” I rush her.

“An article about you and Colson Baker just dropped on some gossip sight,” she explains. “It says that you and Colson Baker are dating. Stephanie and I figured no one would believe it but it’s everywhere! They have videos and photos of you two leaving The Ivy plus talking by Sam’s car. If I didn’t know you, I would be convinced.”

My head hangs low as I rub my forehead, letting out a deep sigh. “Oh dear God.”

“We can handle it, don’t worry!” Nicole assures. “This story will be gone soon!”

“I need to go, talk to you later!” I hang up on Nicole right when the woman shows me the dress.

“I’ll take it” I attempt to hurry up the process.

Cara comes up next to me “don’t you think you should try it on first?”

“I’ll explain later but we need to go” I whisper to her and just like that, she’s hurry the woman along at the register.

I have the dress and exit the store in a rush. I must act cool, the paparazzi will take notice of my mood change.

“HOW’S COLSON, Y/N?”

“SEEING HIM TONIGHT?”

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN DATING?”

“HOW ARE GONNA HANDEL HIS FANS?”

“HAS HE MET THE FAMILY YET?”

“What’s going on?” Cara asks concerned.

“I’ll explain once we’re somewhere private,” I whisper so the cameras don’t pick up on it.

We speed walk to the car and I offer to drive since I made us cut the day short. Once we’re on the highway towards home Cara asks what the heck is going on.

“Why did they keep asking about Colson?”

I turn on the radio and Elvis Duran, along with his team, are discussing no other than me and Colson.

Danielle summarizes the article for the listeners. “The article says they’ve been dating for the past few months. They’re very happy but the relationship is still new. The pair has not yet met each other’s families but Colson is going on tour soon so maybe Y/N will join him and eventually meet the family. Throughout, there are tons of photos of the cute young couple leaving The Ivy Wednesday night. There’s even a link to a video showing them, what appears to be, having a deep conversation by Sam Merka’s car. If you watch the video, the two are clearly looking at each other very lovingly. I mean, he’s looking at her the way I look at a fresh pizza!”

The rest of the cast laughs and I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Actually, scratch that, I can believe it. I’m just pissed.

“If MGK and Y/N are officially an item, why did she leave with Sam Merka?” Elvis questions.

“I’m glad you asked! According to sources, they’ve been very close friends since the start of TSL. In fact, the duo have taken many vacations together along with their co-star Penelope Glass.”

Cara turns down the volume and looks to me with a steady expression. “Is it true?”

I narrow my gaze at her in bewilderment. “What? No! There’s no way in hell!”

“Okay, just checking,” she lets out a sigh of relief.

“Never ever!” I add and change the station.

Colson Baker is everything I despise in a person. I’ve never hated someone so fast as I’ve hated him. Us together as a couple is impossible. It’s completely irrational.

_________________________________________________________

Later in the afternoon, Stephanie sets up a meeting for us to meet with Colson and his publicist. I had to drag myself to her office. My Fridays aren’t well spent in an office building with enemies. In fact, my whole day could be tarnished by this incident. The meeting room we’re all ushered into is freezing and I’m still in my sundress from earlier. Cara and I were never able to get lunch so I’m starving on top of being cold. The photos of us play in a slideshow on the meeting room’s tv. An endless cycle of false advertisement is how I see the photos. The media is selling us as something completely far from the truth. On top of everything, I’m in a meeting with the one guy in all of Los Angeles I can’t stand. Death would be less painful than the current situation. I tune out the debate between Stephanie and Colson’s publicist. He told me his name but my brain is so numb from the temperature in here I can’t recall it.

“Y/N!” Stephanie calls my name and I search for her around the room until I find her in the doorway with Colson’s publicist.

“We’re going to go make a few phone calls. You two will stay here while we handle the press.” I nod “sounds good.”

I send her a weak smile to charm her out of an apology for zoning out. She huffs and escorts Colson’s guy to her office so they can talk on speaker privately. I stand up from my office chair and stroll over to the windows overlooking the courtyard. I watch the cars zoom by on the street and businessmen and women shuffle in and out of the Starbucks below.

“If it means anything, I’m sorry,” Colson says quietly behind me.

I nearly miss it, he speaks so quietly. I lean against the wall, crossing my arms as I face him.

“You’re sorry?” I shrug, not really seeing his blame. “Why? It’s not your doing.”

I return my gaze to the chaos below us. I watch as people with office jobs travel about. I wonder if they’ve heard of me? I wonder if they like me or think I’m a stuck up actress? I shouldn’t care what people think, but it’s easier said than done. When millions watch TSL every week, it’s hard to ignore the wondering.

“If I hadn’t walked you to the car none of this would be happening,” Colson reasons guiltily.

I shake my head, finding humor in the situation now. The paparazzi can make nothing into a months long romance. A brief conversation outside a restaurant and suddenly we’re meeting each other’s families.

“We were only walking to a car. How could either of us have predicted the amount of attention that would come of us walking?” I justify, not to ease his mind, but my own.

My flicker over to the tv, I examine the slideshow of us. Examining the photos I realize it wasn’t all in my head, the way in which Colson was gazing at me is a tad bit gawk-like. Images of us walking to the car while I’m answering the paparazzi’s questions depict Colson glancing at me with what seems to be such admiration. A picture of when Cara calls for Colson comes up and I’m stunned by how we look. Even I appear to be in awe of him in return. It’s evident Cara is speaking yet neither of us react. We were so caught up within on another.

“I have one question!” I blurt out suddenly with my arms crossed I walk back over to the table. Just one and then I wish to put all of today’s events to rest.” Colson perks up and hums for me to continue. I point over to the photos on the screen “why did you look at me the way you did?”

Turning his head, he reviews the photos blankly and I wait anxiously for some sort of reason. “I’m not looking at you in any particular way,” he disregards my accusations.

I chuckle, amused by his horrible way of lying. “Lies!”

He’s thrown off by my reaction and I storm over to the TV screen to point it out to him.

“It’s clear as day to the press, the public and now me included. You’re clearly lost in some kind of thought! You were there, so was I and our friends! Say all the lies you want but you’ll never convince anyone.”

His jaw clenches and he avoids my gaze. He leans back in his chair, staring out the windows. “Colson,” I sigh, slowly approaching the table. “Maybe the truth could help the lies disappear! If we’re honest then maybe the press will leave us alone!”

He shakes his head low, letting out a brief laugh. “I highly doubt that.”

I have a thousand questions but I’m aware none will go answered. He’s a lost cause. I’m in this alone I guess. Turning my back to him I return to my position by the window. Observing the worker bees swarming around the spaces below. The sound of Colson’s chair rolling back comes from behind me but I don’t even shift. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his figure in the reflection of the window beside me. My attention remains outside. He won’t give me the time of day so why should I treat him any better?

“You wanna know why I looked at you the way I did?” His presence hovers of me and he feels like a wall surrounding me.

“Please,” I mutter a subtle beg.

 “I... I had this imagine of you in my head, pre-judgements. You’re supposed to be America’s Sweetheart, Little Miss Perfect! You told me you had been working for this for years, had drive and trails.” He confesses. “You’re not what I expected... It caught me by surprise is all.” 

My eyebrows furrow close, “So you thought I was just some pretty face, goody-two-shoes, ditz? If it’s because my image, my past, you said so yourself it doesn’t matter!” 

“No, no, that’s not it!” he runs his hand through his hair nervously.

Narrowing my eyes, I press further. “Why then?”

The door swings open and I straighten up before forcing a warm smile to my face. I step back from Colson before the person ever appears in the doorframe. One of Stephanie employees informs us that we’re free to go. Steph doesn’t want to keep me here all day and since I’m allowed to go Colson’s publicist is releasing him. I clasp my hand together, walking over to fetch my purse.

“Thank you so much!” I gush. “Have a good day and please tell Stephanie “thank you!””

The young intern eats up my pleasant expressions. “You too Miss Voss! Will do!”

The young woman shuts the door behind her and I return to the state I was in. Expressionless, I gather my belongings and Colson does the same. Checking my phone for any missed emails or calls I can tell he’s staring me down.

“Does it ever get tiring?” His tone is light, but I can hear the ounce of mockery beneath the surface.

My attention is locked on my phone as text after text pops up from Penelope. She’s more likely than not has seen all the articles and Twitter posts. I should call her and explain.

“Y/N!” Colson shout pulls my from my thoughts.

“Huh? Does it ever get tiring?” I restate his question back to him. “What exactly are we talking about?”

I slide my purse over my shoulder while stepping over to the door, leaving Colson behind. That is until he follows me.

“Your whole act.” He forces a fake smile and tosses imaginary hair over his shoulder. “The “happy go-lucky goody goody All-American girl?””

I scoff, eyeing him up and down. “You’re ridiculous. It’s not an act.”

I swing open the meeting room door, eager to leave here. My heels clink against the white shiny tiles on my walk to the elevators. After hitting the down button, I call up Blake now that I have some time to kill. She’s my oldest friend, I’m sure she sees right through all of the tabloids and is only checking in.

“Calling your boyfriend?” Colson mutters over my shoulder and I quickly move away.

“Don’t have one,” I answer plainly, waiting for Penelope to pick up.

He smirks and props himself up against the wall beside the elevator doors. I side eye him, all he does is smile all the time and he calls me out for acting so happy all the time.

“Can’t you find anyone else to annoy?”

He grins proudly, “sure I could. None would as entertaining as you though.”

“Geez,” I mumble under my breath.

I pace outside the elevators as I wait for one to arrive and for Penelope to answer. Classic of her to text me non-stop but not to answer when I call her back. The elevator doors open and I step inside, ready to get out of here. I hit the ground floor and Colson strolls in lazily not rushed at all. He checks the button and doesn’t add any. The doors shut then silence sits flat in the small space with us. My phone buzzes continuously, I check the name at the top of the screen.

“Frickin’ frackin’!” I clench my teeth together in a growl.

Colson’s eyes widen at my sudden explosion. Closing my eyes, I exhale to calm myself then bring the phone up to my ear. Smiling helps to fake enjoyment when talking to someone on the phone. Sometimes I can fool myself into thinking I’m not miserable during discussions.

“Finn!” I greet. “What’s new?”

My southern accent surfaces. I flip the switch whenever I speak to my family or friends back in South Carolina. I can’t have them thinking I’m not the same Y/N from Charleston. Colson eyes me with his eyebrows raised, surprised by my sudden transition. He makes fun of me in a whisper for my fake enthusiastic voice. I wack him on the arm and it only encourages him more.

“Hi ya Y/N, uh so ya prolly already know butcha face is everywhere along with this MGK fella...” Finn’s voice falters at the end.

I sigh and press my forehead to the wall. Finn asks me if any of what he has read is true and I instantly deny.

My tone goes timid, “who all knows?”

“Just us, Odelle, Greyson and Myself,” he assures.

A sense of relief rushes over me. I turn back around and Colson sends me a sympathetic look, it shocks me. Going from mockery to sympathy from him has my entire mood shifting.

“What ‘bout Momma or Daddy?” I ask, keeping eye contact with Colson.

“Nah, at least I don’t think they do,” Finn guesses. “I’m not entirely sure. Greyson is sayin’ they don’t. He’s the only one that’s home at the moment.”

“Heavens to Betsy,” I exhale deeply, looking up to the heavens. “Let’s hope to the high heavens they don’t. Thank you Finn.”

I go to hang up but he says one last thing. Bringing my phone back up to my ear I reply. “Sorry, missed that.”

My brother becomes stern on the other side, “do you and this guy spend tons of time together?”

I shift uncomfortably, preparing myself for the older brother advice I already see coming. “From time to time but I promise, we’re just friends.”

There’s a pause on his end, an unbearable pause. “I trust you Y/N,” Finn finally speaks. “It’s him I don’t trust. He’s not the best sort of guy. Ya’ll aint right for one another.”

I hope Colson can’t hear any of what Finn is saying. To keep him from becoming suspicious, I keep my replies indifferent. “Sure thing. Uh, talk ya later Finn.”

“Bye, talk to you soon.”

We hang up and I slip my phone into my purse.

Colson leans back onto the railing next to me. “Who was that?”

“My older brother, kinda overbearing,” I laugh nervously then bite my lip. My accent begins to subside again.

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Colson remarks.

A faint smile appears across my lips thinking of my brothers. “I have two actually and an older sister. The order is Finn, Odelle, me then Greyson.”

Colson returns a kind and gentle smile. “That must’ve been nice to grow up with so many siblings.”

“It was.” I nod as memories flash across my mind. “Finn and Odelle were grouped together and so was me and Greyson since our age gaps are less.”

As we pass each level on the elevator there is a “ding.” Facing toward the doors again, I absentmindedly watch the numbers go down as we pass the levels. My mind wanders to the many memories I’ve made with my brothers and sister.

“Finn is about Sam’s age, so he likes to believe he’s almost a co-parent for me and Grey,” I describe with a pleased expression. “He’s the total opposite of Odelle.”

Colson genuinely shows interest, “how is she?”

“She’s a total wild card! We all joke that it’s every other kid. Finn and I are the rule followers. He was student body president, quarterback of the football team and still managed to graduate with honors. I’m nowhere near him on the perfect child spectrum but I’m supposed to be “America’s Sweetheart.” My parents eat that up. Then there’s Odelle, she’s the total opposite of Finn. My parents had to beg her to improve her grades so she could graduate. I remember being twelve, it was the middle of the night when I got up to get a drink. I went downstairs and saw her sneaking out of the backdoor. She made me promise not to tell our parents. I haven’t talked about it until today. There were days she’d fake being sick just to ditch school with her friends. By her senior year nothing had changed. She ended up graduating but my parents forced her to go to a college close to home so they could keep an eye on her. Her antics continued the entire time I was in high school. College for her was a playground. For some reason, I envied her. I still do. I suppose it’s because no one expects anything from her. She messes up, well, that’s Odelle for you. She causes trouble, just another day. For me, my parents have me up on a peddle stool. By the time I turned sixteen people out here started taking notice of me. When I reached seventeen the title of “America’s Sweetheart” popped up and from then on, I was longer a teenager. I had a role to play and an image to uphold. I could never make mistakes like Odelle. I have to be “perfect” constantly. Sometimes I feel like a doll, plastic. None of it is real.”

The bell rings for the floor. I comprehend the words escaping my mouth and snap back to reality. I revealed so much about myself while I was in that daze, private facts about myself that I’ve never spoken of before.

Straightening up and adjust my dress, I apologize. “I’m so sorry. I have no idea what came over me.” The doors slide open and I step out. “Good to see you Colson,” I rush out a farewell before speed walking towards the exit.

I mentally slap myself for all I confessed. If only Nicole found out, my head would be on a stick. My life, my background, every aspect of my being is supposed to be flawless. An All-American girl from South Carolina with a wholesome up brining is who I’m supposed to be. If word gets out that I’m not so perfect then… then I would be finished. My hand digs for my keys in my purse.

“Y/N! Wait up!” Colson jogs up next to me then steps in front of me, blocking my path.

“Colson, please....” I practically plead in a mutter, stepping around him.

He wraps his hand around my wrist, stopping me. “Let me buy you a drink!” 

Workers around us walk around in multiple directions like zombies. I wonder if they’re taking notice. Hesitant, I narrow my gaze at me. The reason we’re in this mess is because we were seen with one another.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I admit and release myself from his grip.

I only make it a few feet before he’s in front of me again.

“Fine, no to a drink! How about we go get some coffee? Or tea? If you prefer tea!”

His chest rises and falls rapidly, his desperation is evident. The reason behind is desperation is still unknown to me, along with the reason he looked at me the way he did last night. Who is this mysterious man who stands before me? So many questions I wish to ask but I can’t get passed his eyes. Puddles of crystal blue settle on a white canvas. Confused beyond belief, for a reason unbeknownst to me, I accept. Could be my curiosity is getting the best of me.

“Coffee it is,” I give in to his request.

He grins ear to ear and steps to the side so we can leave side by side. “Unless of course you prefer we get tea!” he suggests, sounding a tad nervous.

Honestly I like both drinks but I prefer coffee. He holds the door for me and the bright sunlight of California weather strikes me.

“Nah, I normally drink a cold brew with a shot of espresso,” I describe.

He winces and pretends to gag. “Ew! That sounds horrible!”

“It gives you a boost in the morning! Nice and strong!” I laugh.

“You’re nasty!” He waves his hands in disgust.

“Eh, you’ve called me worse,” I laugh, unfazed by his insult.

He chuckles, “you’re not wrong.”

Our laughing dies down a little as we stroll over to the Starbucks. I peer up at him with a side eye. When our eyes meet we begin laughing again uncontrollably.

___________________________________

Masterlist

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[mercy-burning]

Incredible

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Professor!Spencer sparks a connection with a spunky student. Category: FLUFF (of the spicy variety, so I’d rate it PG-13) Warnings: Adults with age gap (Reader is in her early 20s), language, flirting, making out, a brief mention of oral sex Word Count: 8.7k

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

Full Request: “...Okay so prof/student, and reader is so badass, has tattoos, flirt all the time, but like hate everybody except spencer, and he loves that she is so different, intriguing, dark and touchy? But like everyone in spencer life thinks that she’s using him, because of her grades, and also because they are “so different” but like they love each other, so she makes a big gesture and says fuck all of you, I love him and it’s the only thing that matters, and spencer is like heart eyes” —Anonymous

NOTE: My first go at Professor!Spencer! This is a favorite trope of mine, so I loved finally getting to delve into it myself. I hope I did it justice! Also, the original title for this was “Bad For You” and it was supposed to be a little different, but it went in a different direction than I was intending. I still hope it’s okay though!

***

Truthfully, the first time she showed up in his classroom he had a feeling. It was a feeling he didn't get very often, therefore he wasn't sure what to make of it. All he knew was that when she sat down in the front row, all the way on the right, keeping to herself, he just felt that there was something special about her.

The obvious reasoning behind this newfound feeling was most likely the multiple tattoos that adorned her skin, and the flashy, attention-grabbing makeup that surrounded her eyes and lips, but as the semester progressed, Spencer started to realize her academic confidence was taking hold of most of his attention. Sure, she stood out in the crowd, completely different from anyone else who'd entered his classroom, and without a doubt one of the most stunning women he'd ever seen. But rather than scrolling through her phone while waiting for class to start each morning, she brought out a book to read or notes to study or something else to keep her busy. If anything else, yes, he admired her work ethic, at least what he could see of it.

And as time progressed, he'd come to see her succeeding more in his class than almost anyone else. Under normal circumstances, it would have been all good and plenty, but as it turned out, Y/N was anything but normal.

The first... incident happened not long after the first week of the semester, and a group of other girls were sitting next to Y/N. Class would start in close to five minutes, and students were still filing in while the group was having a rather... interesting conversation.

Spencer had had a feeling about what it was pertaining to, but his suspicions were confirmed the second he heard Y/N's voice, loud and clear.

"For the love of God, if you're gonna talk about him like he's a hot piece of ass right in front of him, you might as well shout it from the rooftops."

He looked up to see she hadn't lifted her head from the book she was reading as she said it, flipping a page half-way through her tangent and looking unbothered, despite the connotations of her words.

Rather than being upset at her, like he figured most girls in their situation would, they all stayed silent the rest of the time and barely looked anyone in the eye.

The moment Y/N realized she had them, Spencer noticed a small smirk on her face.

Class ended about forty minutes later, and just as the bell rang, he called out.

"Uh, Y/N, could I speak to you for a second?"

She looked up at him for a brief second before nodding, and even though mostly everyone in the classroom laid out a chorus of Oooohs, she still managed to look unbothered. In fact, he could have sworn he noticed her roll her eyes for just a split second.

She packed up her things and waited for everyone to leave. And as she approached him finally, Spencer felt a slight twist in his stomach at the way she did it, her expression somewhat worrisome despite her show of confidence earlier.

"Hey," she greeted plainly. Her hands clutched onto the strap of her bag so tightly her tattooed hands looked almost pale.

"Y/N," he greeted back. "I, uh... I'm not sure exactly what happened before class, but—"

"Yeah, I know. I shouldn't have said anything, it was probably rude embarrass them like that, but it was rude of them to talk about you like that right in front of you."

Spencer paused, not really sure how to respond other than to nod. "Well, uh... I... Thank you, I appreciate that."

"Besides, they're only auditing anyway, it's not like they actually care about the subject. I mean, c'mon, if you're gonna verbally daydream about sucking your professor's dick while he's standing right in front of you, you should at least have the decency to give a shit about what he's taking time out of his day to teach you."

Well... That certainly hasn't been what he was expecting. With eyes wide and hands starting to sweat, Spencer tried to think of how to respond, but came up short. But he had to say something, so he said the first thing that came to his mind.

"I appreciate your honesty."

Y/N smiled at him. It was a genuine smile that he hadn't seen, and he wished he could see it a thousand times over.

"Well, then, Sir, can I tell you something in all honesty?"

"Always."

She looked him up and down for a moment, his heart involuntarily swelling at the way her eyes raked over him with somewhat of a mischievous gleam. "You are a hot piece of ass. And I give a shit about what you're taking time out of your day to teach me. Thank you for that."

Without another word, she turned away and walked off, leaving him with a dropped jaw that slowly transformed into an amused smile.

Two days later, a Friday to be exact, Y/N showed up a few minutes early as she had every Friday prior. Spencer turned to give her a kind smile, but she didn't look up. She promptly sat down in her seat and got out a book, finding her page and leaning back in her seat.

He didn't want to interrupt, but still he offered a bright, "Good morning," and took the chance that she might offer him a greeting back.

She did glance up from her book, following it with a little smirk and a wink. And just as quickly as it came and went, she started reading again, almost as if the greeting had never happened.

"What are you reading?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Y/N didn't look up this time. But she said, "The Da Vinci Code."

"Oh," he responded, happy he'd even gotten an answer at all. "I've never heard of it."

This time she did look up. And she looked highly amused. "You've never heard of The Da Vinci Code? Not even the movie?"

Since they were looking at each other now, Spencer only shook his head.

"Seriously?" Y/N pressed, tilting her head to the side.

"Seriously. What's it about?"

She simply stared at him some more, and he figured it was still shock over his cluelessness when it came to The Da Vinci Code, but something about the look on her face said it was something else. Something more... devious.

Finally, she said, "I'm not gonna tell you." And then she went back to reading.

He should have left it at that, should have just moved on, but he couldn't help himself. So he pressed further. "Why not?"

Y/N looked up again, and then she closed the book. "Because if it's seriously taken you this long to even hear the name of the book, or the movie, then maybe it's just not your thing."

"Well, Y/N, truth be told, there's a lot in modern pop culture that I don't know about, so... That might not be true."

The two of them held gazes for a few seconds, just completely... captivated by each other in ways neither of them had experienced or could explain. He was in awe of her blunt and snarky presence, and she was utterly taken with his modern naivete.

When she repeated his words from the day before, "I appreciate your honesty," and smiled wickedly at him, he smiled back and almost fell to his knees.

Then students started to come into class and Y/N looked down at her book, which she seemed to have forgotten that she closed, because she actually blushed and fumbled getting it open quickly, obviously not as smooth as she'd always been.

The sight made Spencer's heart flutter.

Once class ended, he looked up to see Y/N standing at his desk and holding out her book. "Here. You should read it."

"Oh, I—I can find my own copy, I— You're reading it, I couldn't..."

Y/N huffed a laugh. "I've read it like five times already, I practically have the entire thing memorized. Just give it back when you're done."

He took the book with a smile. "Well, I have just a bit of paperwork to get done, but after that I'm good to go, so if you come by at the end of the day, I can give it to you then."

She blinked at him, and for a few moments neither of them said anything.

"Oh, I, uh... I read fast," is all Spencer said to explain himself.

Y/N nodded and glanced up at the clock above his head. "Oh. Ha. Right, of course you do. Um, I'll, uh... I'll come back, then. Professor."

The title falling from her lips would have ruined him completely had she stayed any longer, but again, she walked away without another word or glance, and it left him breathless.

There was a point, later on in the day when she came back to get her book, where he'd left her equally as breathless.

He was flipping through pages at light speed, and he didn't even notice her come in and sit down in the chair across from his desk. She sat there for a good two minutes, just watching him flipping pages and muttering silent words to himself, completely unaware of her presence. She'd seen him concentrating before, grading papers while the class was taking quizzes and such, but she'd never been able to study him for more than a few seconds at a time, and as she'd deduced before, it was extremely captivating.

He was extremely captivating. And she told him as much.

Kind of.

"Look at you go," she mused, leaning forward on his desk and resting her chin in her hands.

Spencer jumped, sliding the book so it hit her elbows, and she laughed.

"Y/N, you scared me!" he gasped, clutching at his chest with his right hand. "Ho—how long have you been there?"

"A few minutes. I would've stopped you but you looked like you were in the zooone." Her fingers wiggled and tapped across her cheeks as her face still rested in her palms. A huge smile played at her lips, and despite almost being scared to death, Spencer found himself growing warmer at her amused self.

"Yeah, I guess I was," he stated, bringing his hands to slide the book back to him. He looked down at it for a moment before smiling. "I was actually re-reading it for a third time. After the first I went back to look at the notes I took, and after going through them pretty thoroughly I applied some..."

As he rambled on about the process in which he read, Y/N found herself in an even deeper trance than before. She wished more than anything that she could have payed attention to his words, so she could have a discussion about her favorite book with him, but his passion and commitment to something he didn't even know about until earlier in the day, much less something she of all people just threw at him, was just so...

"Doctor Reid?" she interrupted, almost slipping out of her hands when he stopped and tilted his head, suddenly invested in what she had to say. "Can I stop you for a second?"

"Oh.. Was I going too far? I'm sorry, as you know I tend to ramble quite a bit sometimes, and I know it can be a bit much..."

"No, that's not it. I've... gotta be honest with you about something."

"Hmm?"

She leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table and searching his eyes for a moment before speaking again. "I didn't hear a single word you just said. And I promise it's not because I'm not interested in having this conversation about The Da Vinci Code, it's... something else."

"What's wrong?"

He seemed genuinely concerned, and equally as clueless, and it did things to her insides that she hadn't felt with anyone in... well, ever.

"What's wrong is that I hate everybody. Well, hate is a strong word, and I only mean pretty much everybody that goes to school here, anyway, and it's been that way ever since my Freshman year. And yet... Somehow, I end up with this class, and in almost no time at all you've managed to learn more about me than anyone I've ever met in my three years here."

"Well... I—I'm an educator, I... it's my job to somewhat know my students."

"No, it's your job to teach me. Any other professor would have chewed my ass for saying what I said the other day, and instead you... well... I don't really know what that was the other day, but I didn't get in trouble for it. And then today you actively asked me about what I was reading and genuinely took interest in something you'd never even heard of before... And then you..." She threw her hands in the air. "You fucking read my favorite book three whole times in one day and took notes on it... Seriously, who... Who are you?"

Spencer wasn't sure what to say. Especially when all he wanted to do in that moment was tell her to keep talking to him. He found that he loved when she talked. Even when she was trying to figure him out, to understand why she'd been completely flipped inside and out by a man that was at least 20 years older than her.

Especially considering that on paper, the two of them didn't look like a conventional pair. He was tall, lean, and structurally beautiful in all the right ways, where as she was closed off and beautifully stand-offish. His skin was clear of anything and hers was adorned with tens of tattoos. His clothes were always formal and neat, while hers consisted of only jeans and plain tees and long sleeves.

If anyone saw them together, it wouldn't have made sense.

They both knew this, and yet...

"I am... utterly enchanted by you," Spencer said without thinking. He didn't have to. it was the truth.

Y/N's shoulders slumped, as if some sort of weight had been lifted from them. She smirked a little. "And I am... strangely not indifferent to you."

"Uh... Thanks?"

She laughed, genuinely laughed, and stood up. "That's a compliment, Doctor. A very good compliment."

That mischievous smile of hers returned, and it made his stomach turn over again, his own smile never wavering, and conveying every sense of wonderment that it could.

"I know this might be... unprofessional... And we definitely shouldn't do anything on school property, but... Would you maybe want to, uh... go get coffee or something some time this weekend?" he asked, trying his hardest not to feel small around her big personality.

"What, to discuss The Da Vinci Code, or to go on a date?"

By the look on her face, it was obvious that she knew they couldn't call it a date. As long as they were professionally involved like this, an actual date could never be on the table. But it seemed to be in her... rather playful nature to suggest it anyway.

The thought made his heart flutter again. Still, he said simply with a knowing smile, "To discuss The Da Vinci Code."

She nodded, throwing her bag over her shoulder and getting ready to leave. "Fine. But just so you're aware, there won't be anything stopping me from zoning out and staring at your beautiful face from time to time."

With all the truth in the world, he said, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

***

His middle finger tapped incessantly on the cool, wood surface of the picnic table in the park. It wasn't ideal to meet this far away from the nearest parking lot, but the little spot was far enough away that he was positive no one would see him meeting his student for lunch—a lunch she offered to bring despite his insisting on paying for food. In the end, it was clear that Y/N was more stubborn than he was.

That excited him.

Speaking of excitement, the moment he spotted her walking into sight, his heart rate picked up. And at the powerful surge of butterflies that swarmed in his stomach, he mentally berated himself for even feeling that way.

This was not a date.

And just when he thought he had things under control, she finally reached the table, set down a brown paper bag, and flashed him the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. Her hair was up in a low ponytail with small strands of hair sticking out and blowing in the light breeze. She wore jeans and a tight lavender tee shirt that ended just above her navel, and it had the word "Wednesday" printed on it in black block letters. It wasn't Wednesday, which equally confused and amused him, though because he'd already found her personality amusing enough, what she wore didn't matter.

Except... the more he took her in the more it really did matter, because he noticed more tattoos, which where usually covered with long sleeves and jackets, most likely as requested by the university. But under the soft glow of the September sun, he could clearly see a collage of tattoos running up her left side, disappearing under her shirt. Where it ended, he wasn't sure, but he couldn't dwell on it for too long, or he was afraid the mental images would turn his brain to mush.

Obviously he couldn't do that.

"Hey'a, Professor," she said with a little wink as she took a seat across from him.

"P—please. Outside the classroom, just Spencer is fine."

She gave him a knowing smirk and simply stated, "Okay," though there was nothing simple about it. Her words had an effect on him, and she knew how to play them to her advantage.

But she was apparently in the mood to be nice today, at least for now. Because she peeled back her playful tone and revealed something more friendly. Simple. She tilted the bag towards him and nodded.

"I brought us some subs, as requested. I hope I got your order right."

"I'm sure it's fine. Thank you."

Attempting to keep his cool around her, Spencer remained quiet as they ate. He also avoided looking at her for too long, because every time he did catch her eye she was staring at him, obviously amused as she finished off her sandwich.

But of course, at some point one of them needed to speak. Right?

So he took a sip of water and cleared his throat. "It's uh... It's really nice out today, yeah?"

Y/N laughed, tilting her head to the side and giving him a look that almost sent him flying backwards. "If that was you attempting to break the ice, Spencer, it was completely adorable... If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were nervous."

"I—No, I'm not nervous, wh—why would you think that?"

"Because you can barely look me in the eye, and then the first thing you say to me when we're finished eating is about the weather..."

She raised her eyebrow then, giving him ample opportunity to explain. So he sighed, a rather embarrassed laugh escaping his lips. "I'm sorry, it's just... You're kind of intimidating."

She gave another laugh, one that made his heart soar higher every time he heard it. "Oh please! You're my hot professor, if anything you should be the intimidating one here."

It was his turn to laugh. "Y/N, believe me, if you really knew me, you'd know I'm probably one of the least intimidating people on the planet."

There was a long pause before she nodded, a soft smile forming on her lips. "Well, then, maybe I should get to know you..."

Despite the tugging in the back of his mind that said it was a bad idea to form this close of a relationship with one of his students, especially one who made him feel all warm and fiery inside, he found himself smiling back in agreement.

***

The sun was setting by the time Spencer walked her back to her car. And after dropping off their garbage at one of the public trash bins, he found the walk rather calming. The breeze picked up a bit, somewhat settling the fire in the pit of his stomach as she talked to him about The Da Vinci Code. And then there was the fact that they'd actually spent hours talking, so much so that they hadn't even realized how late it had gotten. Needless to say, it was extremely rare for Spencer to find that type of connection to someone, the type that allowed him to speak back and forth so easily and without regret or embarrassment.

He was thinking about how nice that was when they finally stopped. In front of a motorcycle.

"Is... Wait, this is yours?" he asked her, obviously shocked but more disappointed that he hadn't guessed sooner, and probably a little too turned on than was appropriate.

"Yep," Y/N said proudly, tapping the glinting black metal. "It was a high school graduation present from my mom. She and I used to build motorcycles when I was growing up, and when we moved to the city it got pushed to the backburner. But I love this bike, I ride it everywhere."

"That's... Wow. That's nice." It was really all he could think to say as he looked at the bike and nowhere else. Because if he looked at her, especially standing next to the bike, it was sure to spell out disaster.

"So, where'd you park?" Y/N asked, pulling him from his trance.

"O—Oh. Um, I didn't. I took the train."

He didn't fully realize the weight of his words until a devious smile played at her lips. "Oh? Well... Do you want a ride home?"

"No! Uh... No, I can... I can take the train, it's not a big deal. Th—thank you though."

Despite his better judgement, Spencer looked up at her, and before him was a beautiful young woman with a gleam in her eyes and a pout on her lips that would have destroyed any man in a matter of seconds. Her hand was outstretched, dangling a shiny silver helmet from her fingers. It glinted in the soft orange glow of the sunset, tempting him in the most evil way possible.

"You've been so good to me, Professor. Let me take you home."

At this point, he had no idea whether or not she meant her words to sound as seductive as he'd heard them. His brain screamed, No! but... In the end he knew she was only being nice. She had to be... But it's not safe! Do you know how many motorcycle accidents there are per year?

Before he could stop himself, he sighed and took the helmet from her hands. "A—Are you sure?"

All his reservations were worth it to see the beaming, toothy smile that she gave him right then. "Of course! Besides, who wants to ride the train home for the thousandth time when you could ride a kickass motorcycle instead?"

He put the helmet on, laughing along with her though deep inside he was more than a little terrified. He'd never been on a motorcycle before— it wasn't ever something he thought about. And now he was about to get on the back of one with his student, who had tattoos and spunk and just about everything he didn't. She was incredibly pretty and smart, and now he was learning that she was a total badass in somewhat of a traditional sense as well.

Y/N climbed onto the bike and nodded at him to get on behind her. Thankfully she wasn't able to see how incredibly awkward he felt getting on, scooting up to press himself to her back and figuring out where to rest his hands.

"A couple rules," she said, taking the key from her pocket. "One: I need to know where you live."

"O—Oh, right."

He told her and then she nodded. "Good. I know where that is. Rule two: Try not to adjust yourself too much, it could throw us off. But honestly you don't have to worry about that. As long as you hang on to me, you'll be just fine."

"O—Okay. How should I, um..."

With a small laugh, Y/N reached behind her and grabbed his arms, bringing them around to her front. His stomach flipped at her touch, even long after it was gone.

"Hang on as tight as you need to, got it?" she called to him

"Okay."

"Good. Now. Final rule. Have fun. Look around. Feel the wind in your hair."

"But I'm wearing a helmet..."

Y/N started the bike then, and he jumped, bringing himself closer and squeezing her tightly. His face nestled into her neck as best as he could without distracting her, though she didn't seem phased by it in the least.

"You know what I mean," she called out to him. "You ready, Professor?"

"I think so!" he called back, squeezing his eyes shut despite her final rule.

"Alright, we're off!"

The bike lurched forward a few seconds later, and it took everything Spencer had not to yelp. He wasn't sure how tightly he clung to Y/N but as long as they were still going, he figured it was okay.

It was colder suddenly, and he knew that they were moving at a decent speed. So he took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes, seeing buildings and trees go by in a flash. But the longer they rode around town, the easier he found it to breathe. While his grip around Y/N's front was still fairly tight, he'd definitely loosened up a little, and she could tell. His head was turning from side to side, looking at just about everything he could, and she couldn't see it, but he was smiling wide the whole time.

It was exhilarating. It was fun. And he couldn't remember the last time he had this much genuine fun, all worries completely erased from the mind and replaced with silent whoops of joy.

And then they stopped outside his apartment, and once the loud rumbling of the bike silenced, leaving his ears with a low thumping beat that raced alongside his heart, Spencer finally loosened his grip on Y/N completely. He got off the bike and whipped the helmet off, blood rushing through his veins like he'd just fallen out of an airplane.

He paced on the sidewalk, waiting for Y/N to put the bike in park and get off, and truthfully she was a little nervous. It was definitely weird giving your professor a ride home on your motorcycle, not to mention the added obvious sexual tension between you that shouldn't be there at all. She wondered if maybe she crossed a line, and she chewed her lip nervously as she stepped onto the sidewalk.

"Spencer?" she called out softly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm..." He stopped pacing and ran his hands through his hair, which was already pretty wild after being under the helmet— which was currently on the sidewalk.

Great, Y/N thought, I fucked up big time...

But he laughed, a wide smile adorning his pretty features as he looked at her. "I'm fantastic! Y/N, that was.. I can't believe I've never done that before! We weren't even going that fast, but it felt like we were flying!" He laughed then, the sound bringing a relieved smile to her face. And then he took a step closer to her and the relief quickly transformed into genuine joy and contentment.

"That was... incredible," Spencer breathed, his smile never faltering. "You... You're incredible."

She was going to thank him, but before she could say anything he strode to her in two steps and brought her face to his in a searing kiss.

Searing... That's exactly what it was, too. Y/N whimpered into his mouth at his intensity, the way his hands dwarfed the sides of her head and the way his lips moved feverishly against hers. She slipped her hands into his back pockets and brought him closer, her touch jolting him forward and walking them back over to the bike. They stumbled a bit before Y/N was able to gently lean against it.

Meanwhile Spencer couldn't contain himself. By now he was consumed in this fire that she'd set within him, burning down his every defense and sense of logic. He couldn't get enough of her, the way her hands kneaded his ass through his pockets, and how her tongue perfectly collided with his in every way. Each little moan and whimper she let out into his mouth spurred him forward until his fingers were threading into her hair, loosening her ponytail and no doubt gently tugging at her scalp.

If that bothered her, she didn't let on, her hunger matching his in every way.

Eventually, though, she felt herself leaning back too much, and she brought her hands out of his pockets to gently brace herself on the bike, steadying them.

But that didn't slow them down in the least. Truthfully, they weren't sure if they'd ever stop, drinking each other up right there as a few cars went by and the sun set behind them.

It wasn't until Spencer moved one of his hands down to her hip, searching for bare skin, fingers slowly sliding their way farther up her side, when a chorus of, "Ow ow owwww"s and whistles and hollers sounded behind them. He pulled away rather quickly, Y/N's teeth pulling at his bottom lip before he saw a truck full of teenagers whizzing past. They honked their horn and continued hollering until they rounded the corner, and by then the fire in his veins had significantly simmered.

He stepped away from her completely, combing through his hair and blinking, trying to collect his thoughts. But they came out as a jumbled mess. "I'm.. We shouldn't ha... I'm sorry... Y/N, that..."

"I—I know..." is all she said, still bracing herself on the bike.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, trying hard not to look at her. She was obviously rattled, though he thought she didn't mind. In fact, he was pretty sure by the way she was looking at him right then that she was ready to continue what they started, though she didn't do anything about it.

She did say, though, "It's okay. I'll, uh... See you Monday."

"Y—Yeah. Monday... Thanks f—for the ride."

His whole body was numb, fuzzy as she finally moved, walking over to her helmet and picking it up. She put it on and sat on the bike, putting the key in ignition before turning to him one last time and saying two words that sure enough ignited the fire again.

"Anytime, Spencer."

Long after she sped off around the corner, out of sight but most certainly not out of mind, he stood there on the sidewalk, his lips burning and his heart racing.

***

He wasn't sure what to expect on Monday, save for inevitable awkwardness between them, but he certainly wasn't expecting to see Y/N walk into the classroom early that morning with a box in her hands.

"Before you say anything, I just want to disclose that I'm willing to not make things weird," she announced as she made her way over to his desk. She set the box down, revealing six chocolate-frosted donuts with sprinkles. "You said you liked these the other day, so I brought some as a gift... You know, to... apologize."

"Oh, Y/N, you... You don't hav—"

"No. Please, just... Look, I didn't realize it at the time, because for a moment you weren't my professor, you were... You were my friend. And I know now that insisting to let me take you home was less than professional, and I'm sorry. I really was just trying to be nice, but I... I shouldn't have..."

"Y/N, I... kissed you... I'm the one who should apologize for being unprofessional. Really, I don't... I don't know what happened, I just..."

"Adrenaline... You... You were exhilarated and happy, and there was obvious chemistry between us that wouldn't have gotten that far if I hadn't asked you to hop on my bike, so... I'm sorry."

They both looked around, hoping it was still too early for anyone to show up, and then Spencer sighed, looking down at the donuts. "I shouldn't have asked you to lunch in the first place. I... I do want to have a connection with my students, but that's not... That wasn't my intention. I crossed a line I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry."

Y/N sighed, taking a donut from the box. "You know, we can't keep apologizing back and forth like this... So... Can we call it even? We're both sorry, we both fucked up, and we both promise to... act like it never happened?"

"Is... that what you want?" he asked softly, not entirely bringing his head up to look at her, but looking at her through his eyelashes.

His gaze sent a course of butterflies through her stomach, and she hated it. She hated that she was growing fond of her hot professor and that she couldn't stop thinking about his lips on hers and what they'd feel like roaming other places on her body— more specifically, over the tattoos on her skin that she always found him staring at from time to time. She hated that he was charming and pretty and smart, and she hated that he gave a shit about her.

That's why her throat burned like acid when she lied. "Yes. That's what I want."

And for the sake of professionalism, he was inclined to believe her, even though deep down his heart knew that she was lying to him. "Alright then. Thank you for the donuts."

She smiled, trying not to shake as she held her donut up in the air. "Anytime, Professor."

Then she took a bite and walked to her seat, the two of them eating in silence while they waited for class to start

***

The next two weeks went by seemingly slower and slower by the second. If it were a normal situation, Spencer and Y/N going back to their normal student-teacher routine would have been a good thing. And in a way, it most certainly was. However, they both felt plagued by their distance in a way that hadn't been so daunting in a long time.

Almost every day the girls behind Y/N would continue talking about their professor (quieter this time, though still loud enough that she could hear for herself). And every time they did, her thoughts inevitably dragged back to his lips on hers, soft and hard all at the same time, a feeling she knew she'd never be able to experience again. And then she'd glance up at him, seeing him concentrate as he graded papers or read a book, and her insides would burn once more, a reminder of everything she couldn't have.

Likewise, Spencer would be lecturing, glance over at Y/N by happenstance, and that low simmer returned to his veins, begging him to turn back now or re-enter the dark cloud of desire that threatened to ruin his career. He was thankfully able to recover quickly, though not without trying to quell the heat that flooded through his body at the remembrance of her kisses.

Each day was like a ticking time bomb. They waited until the semester was over— hopefully they wouldn't have to see each other and all could have been forgotten. But the days didn't want to fly. They wanted to ride on the back of a snail, just slugging along until it was almost painful to experience.

Even still, Spencer and Y/N went about their days until the semester was one week away from finishing.

It was Monday, class was just about to end, and then he called her over while everyone was chatting amongst themselves.

To say she was nervous was an understatement. Nonetheless, she made her way to his desk with as much normalcy as possible, and the closer she got to him, the warmer she got. It was exhausting, really.

"What's up?" she asked blankly.

"I just wanted to... congratulate you on your work. Truthfully, you've exceeded just about everyone else in terms of quiz and test scores, your work ethic is above average from what I've seen in most students... You're smart,, and you know the material really well. And... A colleague of mine and I are attending a seminar on profiling in New York, and I think you should come with. Present your final essay to the group."

Y/N blinked a few times. "Wait... You're serious?"

"Mhm. I've showed your work to my colleagues and they're all impressed by you. I'm... not exactly sure what your plans for your future are, but I really think you have something special here. And if... If it's not something that interests you, at least consider coming to the seminar anyway. Regardless, your work is exceptional and I think you should be proud of it. I... I know I am..."

The bell rang then, and everyone filtered out as Y/N stood there awkwardly, thinking everything over.

"I don't need an answer right away, but the seminar is on Saturday, so any time before then would be great. Think about it?"

She looked around to make sure no one was around before speaking, her throat tight. "You're not... just saying this because of... what we did? I mean, you really think I'm... I'm good enough to do this?"

Spencer's eyes softened, and against his better judgement, he reached a hand out to touch her shoulder. "I really do. I wasn't lying, you're exceptionally smart and you really could have a future in the FBI, not even as a profiler if you don't want to. But as always, it's your decision. All I'm asking is that you take some time to think about it. Is that okay?"

Y/N always knew that despite the attraction they had to each other, Spencer was a professional first, and he always did encourage her in her studies. She knew he saw something in her, something bright and worth teaching, worth growing, and in that moment, that's what his eyes conveyed. He truly believed in her, not because—or even in spite—of the forbidden moments and feelings they shared, but in addition to them. If anything their feelings were considered the addition here. Because while, yes, their bodies were buzzing at proximity to one another, their heads and their hearts were more connected in that moment than anything, with sheer understanding and care and belief for one another that extended past physical attraction.

Y/N smiled, nodding. "Okay. But I don't need to think about it. I'll go."

"Are you sure? You really don't have to say yes if you don't wa—"

"Yes. I'm sure. A—And thank you, Sp—ah, Professor. I... Thank you." She laughed a little, possibly the most flushed she'd ever been around him, and it made him smile

"Of course."

***

One thing they didn't really put into consideration was the fact that the semester was now over.

It was Saturday, the morning of the seminar, and Y/N was scheduled to fly with Spencer and his colleague, Doctor Tara Lewis, to New York City. Currently, Dr. Lewis was asleep, on the other side of the jet, and Y/N and Spencer were left awake, sitting across from each other and completely buzzing with energy.

You could see why this might have been a problem they hadn't considered.

Y/N wasn't technically his student anymore, and they'd became well aware of the fact after she showed up at the BAU, where she met the rest of Spencer's co-workers and friends. His family, from all she'd heard. And there was a conversation she couldn't help but overhear after they were soon set to leave.

"Now I know why you really brought her along." The voice belonged to Luke Alvez. She was sure of it— his voice was hard to forget. Especially when it was laced with suggestion.

"What do you mean?" Spencer asked.

As cute as his cluelessness was, Y/N couldn't help the bubbles of nerves that erupted  throughout her body like a torpedo shooting through water.

"You couldn't be more obvious if you tried, man. Sure, she's smart, and we all know it. But if what you've told us is true, she's also Mystery Motorcycle Mama."

"Wha—How do you know that?" Spencer exclaimed, obviously a little worried. Y/N couldn't say she blamed him.

"Oh, come on, a woman looking like that shows up, you expect me not to believe she's the one you made out with on the street? It wasn't hard to figure out."

The fact that he'd even told someone about that made her nerves rise. She'd wanted to talk to her mom about it for weeks but thought it might have caused trouble, too scared to even think about it.

Luke quelled some of the nervous tension though, when he said, "Don't worry about it, first of all, no one is going to say anything. Okay, and secondly, technically she's not your student anymore... What's stopping you?"

"W— She's a student, first of all, and... I don't know, we've finally gotten back to normal, I don't... I don't want to jeopardize that, especially now that we're going on this... trip together..."

This trip together... Y/N chewed the inside of her cheek, suddenly feeling a little warmer and a whole lot more anxious. It wasn't bad, though, more thoughtful. If anything she was interested to see how he'd react around her now that their professional relationship had somewhat come to a halt.

And now they were staring at each other on the jet. Y/N's fingers tapped gently against the table while Spencer's knee bounced rapidly. They were only twenty minutes out, and since they were on the jet it wouldn't be a long flight. But once again, time wouldn't fly. The only difference was, now there was nothing really standing in their path aside from the obvious taboo of it all. People always heard about teachers that got with former students, and it was always so scandalous.

And while it was obvious that they wouldn't be able to publicly say they were 'together', there was something like a barrier between them that had been shattered, or at least see-through in a way that it hadn't been before. It was a little easier to breathe, even, though they still somehow managed to take each others' breath away. It was always just a look, a little smile in the other person's direction, and all ability to function was gone.

The fact that they were still so captivated by each other, even through all the awkwardness and worry, was something that gave them hope. Hope that once this was all over and there was absolutely nothing stopping them from being together, they could still find their way back, and be just as connected to and enchanted by each other as they'd always been.

But for now, at least, they still had this seminar, something he'd only invited her to because of her academic achievements. And because of that, whatever happened between them had to be strictly professional

As if they hadn't already spent almost an entire semester repressing their feelings and only visiting each other in dreams.

***

The group spent the majority of the day getting a tour of the campus they were visiting. Their actual presentations wouldn't start until 7pm, where they'd speak in an auditorium that very much reminded Spencer of his own classroom.

After lunch, some more touring, and then dinner, the three of them found themselves back at their rooms, going over the material. Of course, Tara and Spencer were naturals since they'd both done a handful of teaching, but Y/N was nervous. She'd never given a big presentation like this before, even if it was only just reading sections of her essay that coincided with what Tara and Spencer were talking about.

"It's dumb," she said, slamming her papers on Tara's bed. "I shouldn't be this nervous about reading in front of people, especially since I'm such a goddamned delight in regular conversation."

Tara laughed. "You'll be great, I promise. You've read through it a million times, and even if you don't have it memorized, it'll be right there for you if you need it."

"I... I know." She started pacing a little, trying to even out her breathing. "But I... I've never done anything like this before and I... I don't want to mess up. I mean, Spencer believes in me, enough to have wanted me here, and I don't want... I don't want to let him down."

"You won't. Do... you know how I know?"

Y/N shook her head and sat down next to Tara, smoothing out the skirt she had on. She never wore skirts. She could have worn pants, but something pulled her to the short black fabric, and right now she didn't want to think about what that was. All she wanted to do was focus on calming her nerves.

"I know because... in the little amount of time that I've known you, I can tell how dedicated you are. How strong and smart you are. You know how to hold a room, and you know how to talk to people. And it helps that you know what you're talking about... You do know what you're talking about, right?"

Y/N laughed, genuinely laughed, and nodded.

"Then there you go. You'll be a natural."

The fact that one of Spencer's colleagues, whom he seemed to trust wholeheartedly, believed in her just as much, saw the same talent and dedication that he did, eased her troubled mind quite easily. She thought the worst was over, and to some degree it was.

She wasn't nervous anymore, worried that she'd disappoint Spencer, though when he knocked, came into her and Tara's room, and stopped, looking Y/N up and down with an enrapturement she hadn't seen on anyone's face before, her stomach dropped.

That look? It had been precisely why her mind begged her to put the skirt on instead of the pants.

The black velvet fabric was tight and ended mid-thigh, revealing half of a tattoo she had hidden— black and lavender flowers that matched the color of her blouse. It was a long-sleeve turtleneck that covered the tattoos on her arms and neck, but hugged her figure beautifully. Her hair was pinned up elegantly, loose strands framing the front of her face and big golden hoops dangling from her ears. Her face was completely void of the vivid makeup she always wore, replaced with a shiny, sheer lip gloss and simple eyeliner and mascara. The one thing that stood out, other than the tattoos visible on her thigh and her hands, was a golden eyebrow ring that glinted under the dim light of the hotel bedroom.

She was easily the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

And he had to stop himself from falling to his knees as he cleared his throat to talk. "Um, it's time to go."

The two of them were glad to have Tara as a buffer, because her "Alright, let's get going," while ushering them out the door made breathing a little easier.

So yes, Y/N certainly wasn't nervous about speaking in front of the crowd anymore. Rather, she was eager to see how focused Spencer would be during the presentation. It was hard enough for him to teach whenever she wore a particularly low-cut top in class—of course she noticed—so seeing her that closely, having her right there within his reach as they taught together, presented a jolt of excitement that gave her an extra boost of confidence.

Admittedly, though, the way she felt his eyes burn into her every cell made it extremely hard to concentrate on anything.

Nonetheless, Y/N, Spencer, and Tara eventually found themselves standing in front of maybe fifty people, students and administrators alike. Y/N swallowed hard, trying to push down any nerves that arose just then, but a soft hand at her lower back centered her.

"You're going to be great," Spencer whispered in her ear, his thumb gently stroking her back. She took a deep breath and nodded, feeling... thankful, in more ways than one.

The actual presentation itself was a breeze. With one encouraging nod from both Spencer and Tara, Y/N stood at one of the podiums and read off sections of her essay with clarity and confidence. Even though it was only a few paragraphs at a time, few and far in between when coupled with Spencer and Tara's detailed, more experienced presentations, Y/N was immensely proud of herself.

She felt like she belonged there. Not like in school, where everybody judged her because she was a loner. Here she didn't stand out, at least not in a jarring or negative way.

And Spencer could see all of it. As she stood there, speaking to the crowd, he took in her confidence, basking in it like it was the sun. Like she was the sun.

They took questions for a few minutes, and Y/N was obviously a little rattled, not expecting to get any questions of her own. But she answered each one with grace, practically beaming with pride and accomplishment.

***

Under the dim streetlights and with glittering snow behind her, she looked absolutely angelic.

Y/N and Spencer offered to wait outside while Tar talked with some of the administrators about coming back sometime in the Spring. But chances are, Y/N wouldn't be there, so Spencer wasn't even sure that he cared to come back. At least not right then, watching her pace around happily in the snow, her smile as wide and as radiant as he'd ever seen it.

"That was... I can't believe I did that!" She was in complete awe, and it reminded him of the day he hopped off her motorcycle and went on a similar tangent. The feeling of a rush, of pure, unadulterated joy... "I mean, I can because you believed in me, and I know it's probably kind of dumb to be this excited about a presentation, but like... I did it! I was..."

"You were a natural," Spencer mused, feeling his whole body warm at the sight of her smiling at him.

She stepped closer and closer, nodding. "I felt incredible."

"You are incredible..."

Once again they found themselves on the sidewalk, completely unbothered and so taken with each other it was hard to breathe.

And then she stepped forward and kissed him, much like he'd kissed her. Their lips melded like they'd never left in the first place, and that familiarity between them added fuel to an already significant flame.

Y/N threaded her fingers through his hair and reveled in his reciprocation as his tongue gently opened her mouth further. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her as tightly to him as he possibly could. And when she melted into him, giving herself over to him completely, he finally felt peace. Right then there was no worry, no awkwardness or burning tension that ate at him until he wasn't sure he could contain himself anymore... He simply just... was. He provided her with warmth and comfort, and in turn she provided him with a feeling of excitement... Of adventure and genuine fun and joy.

He never wanted to let her go.

While there wasn't a truck full of teenagers to break them out of their spell with whooping and hollering, there was a one Doctor Tara Lewis who cleared her throat.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, highly amused. Meanwhile Spencer and Y/N split apart, refusing to look at her. "You ready to go?"

"Uh huh," Y/N said, at the same time Spencer said, "Yep."

Tara laughed, patting both of them on the shoulder as she walked in front of them.

Normally, they would have stayed apart from now on, but the only person they knew who could expose them was already there, and she clearly had no intentions of saying anything to hurt them.

So, Spencer reached out for Y/N's tattooed hand, and she took it gladly, staying close to him as they walked the two blocks to their hotel.

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[wondernimbus]

no time to die — tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x female!reader

prompt: "i'd fallen for a lie, you were never on my side."

a/n: this was inspired by the song no time to die by billie eilish so i highly highly recommend listening to that while reading! the prompt/lyric itself isn’t in the actual text but it was based off of it eeee anyways enjoy

It should never have come to this.

She’d warned him, time and time again, that if he didn't stop, she would have to interfere. Whether he liked it or not.

He never listened, of course. He’d said the same thing he always did: that everything he was doing was leading to something much, much bigger than she would ever be able to imagine. Never quite specifying what it was, exactly, but [Y/N] wasn't dumb—she knew Tom wasn't up to any good.

It was during his fifth year that she first tried to confront him about it, only to no avail. Tom had told her not to worry, putting on that same facade of complete composure that he'd used to fool so many others into believing that he was nothing but the picture-perfect student he made himself out to be. [Y/N] saw right through it, as she'd done so many times before.

They’d first met when they were eleven and grew closer ever since. Tom, she supposed, knew right off the bat that he wasn't fooling her; it was clear in the way she looked at him, so full of doubt and suspicion, that she wasn't easily fooled, young as she was. It should have made him want to avoid her, but instead he only grew curious, and before he knew it they'd become something akin to friends, growing more and more intimate with the passing of time even though neither of them ever quite addressed it.

The two of them cared for each other, that much was certain. She wasn't sure how deeply Tom cared for her, but she knew that she would do anything for Tom. Or at least whatever she thought was best for him.

And maybe it was for that reason that [Y/N] found herself outside of Dumbledore’s study, hand hovering in mid-air mere centimetres from the wooden door as she took in a shaky breath, wondering if this was the right thing to do.

She knew Tom better than she knew anyone else, and she knew that he was getting worse, growing more distant with each passing day. She was losing him to.. whatever his plans were. He was beginning to spend more time with his so-called group of admirers (although [Y/N] knew that the term "followers" was more appropriate). What little glimmer of sanity in his eyes that always used to show only whenever he was around her was slowly starting to dim.

She wasn't just losing him; he was losing himself, too, bit by bit. And she knew she had to do something about it.

So she knocked on the door.

"Come in!" came Dumbledore’s voice.

[Y/N] took in another deep breath, furled and unfurled her fingers, swallowed, and then she twisted the knob and pushed open the door.

She’d only been to Dumbledore’s study once before, to ask him a question about homework. Such drastically different circumstances she found herself in now.

"Good evening, professor,” she said, meeting the old man's gaze from where he sat behind his desk. There was an open book in front of him—when was there not?—and what looked like a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans clutched in his hands.

"Ah, Miss [Y/L/N]," beamed Dumbledore as he held out his box of treats. "Would you like to have some?"

Rather used to Dumbledore’s peculiar friendliness, she forced a smile and shook her head. "No, thank you."

"I imagine you don't make it a habit to visit your professors as a means of enjoyment," said Dumbledore, wizened old eyes twinkling as he set down the box on his desk in favor of clasping his hands together and setting them over his book. "So what, might I ask, brings you here? Oh, and please—sit." He gestured to the plush chair across from him.

[Y/N]'s movements were hesitant as she made her way to the chair and took a seat; something that didn't go unnoticed by Dumbledore, judging from the sudden somberness that crossed his face. It was clear that she wasn't here to ask about homework, much less share a box of jellybeans.

"Is everything alright?" Dumbledore frowned.

[Y/N] looked down at her lap. She couldn't stop fidgeting.

Tom was going to suffer for this. She didn't know how, but she knew he would. But she had warned him, hadn't she? She’d told him that if he didn't stop whatever it was that he was up to, she would put a stop to it—and this was better for him, wasn't it?

She knew what Tom was capable of. To anyone else he may have looked like nothing but the perfect model student, but [Y/N] knew him. He had a certain kind of coldness about him. The dangerous kind; the one that suggested he was capable of doing terrible, terrible things.

That, coupled with the nights he spent somehow sneaking out of the castle, only to come back in the early morning with a disturbingly triumphant gleam in his eyes.. the countless reports of dead Muggles in the surrounding villages.. the young followers he'd already amassed, some greedy for glory, others hungry for cruelty, some weak and seeking protection.. his seemingly harmless talks of immortality..

And the constant talk of a plan that would bring about some sort of change in the wizarding world. Somehow [Y/N] knew that whatever this change was, it wasn't going to be a happy one.

"Tom," she breathed out, deciding to cut straight to the point as she looked up to meet Dumbledore’s gaze. "Tom Riddle. I’m sure you know him."

A brief look of realization flashed in the old man’s eyes. Shifting in his seat, he looked down at his book momentarily as though pondering over something, and then back up at [Y/N], gaze now completely serious. “Yes,” said Dumbledore. “Of course.”

”And I know that you have your doubts about him.”

A beat of silence. And then he nodded. “I do, Miss [Y/L/N].”

”He’s planning something,” she said, oddly breathless. “I don’t know what, but he’s.. he’s up to something.”

A ghost of a slight smile appeared on Dumbledore’s face. “That much I have figured out as well.”

[Y/N] swallowed. “I think he’s trying to make a Horcrux.”

A tense silence followed her words.

The weight of what she said hung heavy in the air as though a dark cloud had settled over the room. For a few seconds all Dumbledore did was peer at her through his half-moon spectacles, brows creased just the slightest bit, and then, after what seemed like an awfully long time, he let out a long, low breath and nodded.

"I wish I could be more surprised," sighed Dumbledore. "But I'm afraid I've long since had my suspicions about Mr. Riddle, and I don't doubt your words, even though part of me wishes they were untrue."

"He mentioned the word Horcrux to me once, in passing," began [Y/N], relieved at how easily he trusted her. She'd always known Dumbledore was wiser; while the other professors had fallen for Tom's spell, he had not. "Something about having found an answer to his problems—the answer being Horcruxes. something about a soul in exchange." [Y/N] paused, fists clenching in her lap. "I decided to look into it. It took me a while—none of the books in the library here hold too much information about it, but I looked through my family's library when I came home during the winter break. I found out what the word meant.. how to make it."

"And you believe Tom might be interested in—"

"In making a Horcrux, yes." Her tone of voice held a sense of urgency; she'd leaned forward unconsciously in her seat. "I know it sounds mad, but professor, I know Tom. I know what he's capable of. And I—" she inhaled, as though bracing herself for her next words, "I believe he'd be willing to kill for the sake of immortality. Saying it out loud sounds ridiculous, but Tom is hungry for power. I don't know what kind exactly, but I've known him for a long time and I'm sure I'm not just imagining it. He even has followers of his own—he calls them friends, of course, for the sake of normalcy, but they're more his subjects than anything else. He's up to something."

She was betraying Tom, she knew. She was the only person he truly trusted; it was clear just by the way he looked at her, the way he treated her like she was royalty. And [Y/N] felt just as deeply for him as he did for her.

[Y/N] loved Tom; it was why she was doing this. And if he loved her, he would understand.

There was a beat of silence as she recalled what Tom had told her, not so long ago. "Something big," she echoed, holding Dumbledore’s gaze. "Something much bigger than neither I nor you would ever be able to imagine."

—

The world seemed to be ridiculing her.

Two days after her conversation with Dumbledore, Tom took her to the Astronomy tower and confessed that he did, indeed, care for her. And not like a friend would care for another, nor the way a brother would care for his sister—no, he loved her like a man would love another woman.

Tom loved her.

But that wasn’t all he confessed. Finally, he told her of his plans to seek immortality, and along with it, power; how, in the future, he planned to purge the world of non-magical blood. He told her that his plan was already in motion.

This boy standing in front of her, only sixteen—had he murdered someone already?

The mysterious deaths in the Muggle villages surrounding the castle.. [Y/N] had her suspicions, but she’d hoped that it wasn’t him.

”We will rule the wizarding world together,” Tom told her, hands holding the sides of her face, pulling her close. “Bit by bit, we will gain power together. You will be at my side as I become the most powerful wizard of all time—and I will protect you with that power. I will make sure that no man will ever be able to touch you—“

”Tom.”

”I have never known love like the one you’ve taught me to feel,” he exhaled. “And I intend to keep it. To keep you.”

She closed her eyes, ignoring the tears burning behind them as she reached up, gently prying his hands away from her neck. “Tom, listen to me.”

He tried to hold her gaze even as she looked away; her hands gripped his own weakly. “What you’re talking about,” she began softly, “It’s.. I’m sorry, Tom, but it’s madness.”

He stared at her. “Madness.”

This time her grip on his hands did falter. Her arms dropped down to her sides as she turned to instead hold onto the railing, needing something to hang onto. “Tearing your soul apart? For immortality?” she shook her head, pained. “You can’t possibly expect me to stand by your side while you do.. Merlin knows what.”

Tom was silent, but the loving look in his eyes had died out. They were cold again. A little stunned.

“I love you,” she whispered, looking down at her hands, which clutched the metal railing as though it were a lifeline. “Just as much as you love me, Tom, I can assure you of that. But I can’t be with someone who—“

”Someone evil,” Tom cut her off. His tone was bitter. “Is that what you think I am?”

Isn’t that what you are? she wanted to say. Asking me to help you tear your own soul apart and stand by as you murder innocent people?

She swallowed, hung her head, eyes squeezed shut. “Please leave,” she said quietly. “I need some time to think.”

A few seconds passed by in complete silence. She could still feel his presence behind her—could feel the frustration radiating off of him.

“Please leave, Tom,” she repeated, ignoring the shakiness in her own voice. And then, louder: “Leave.”

She listened to his footsteps as he left the tower. And once they faded away, it was only then that she sank to her knees and started crying.

—

[Y/N] loved Tom, and it was for that reason that she found herself inside Dumbledore’s office that very same night, retelling each and every detail of Tom’s plans to the wizened old man, her voice oddly numb and devoid of any emotion.

No fear. No anxiety. Not even pain, as she stood before Dumbledore, betraying the boy she loved and yet could never have. Not with what he wanted to do.

”Thank you,” Dumbledore said once she was finished. Her jaw was clenched as she nodded, swallowed, and then—

What now?

She would go back to the Slytherin common room and face Tom again. What would she do? Take him into her arms and pretend as though all he’d confessed to her hours earlier was that he loved her, and not his horrible plans? Or would she ignore the ache in her chest and pretend as though all their six years of friendship were nonexistent?

Could she? Was her heart capable of that?

As though Dumbledore had read her mind, he said, “Miss [Y/L/N], I’m going to have to ask you to look for another sliver of bravery within you. You must continue to gain information from Tom.”

At this, [Y/N] looked up, the first few traces of real emotion flickering in her eyes for the first time since she arrived.

“Learn his secrets. His plans. Find out what horrid things he has already done and what he will do.”

[Y/N] opened her mouth. No words came out.

“I understand that it would be difficult,” said Dumbledore, tone gentle and yet at the same time authoritative; it wasn’t a request. “But as far as I am aware, you are the closest thing Tom has to a friend. It seems he trusts you.”

”And you want me to keep betraying him.”

There was an almost amused lilt to Dumbledore’s tone. “Were you planning on stopping after this, Miss [Y/L/N]?” he asked, brows furrowed in curiosity. “Did you honestly plan on walking out of this room and turning a blind eye to your friend’s dangerous schemes? I believe you and I reached an understanding the moment you asked for my help a mere few days ago: we will stop Tom Riddle, no matter what the cost. No matter if it risks your friendship with him.”

It risked everything she ever had with him. Everything she would ever have.

And yet.

And yet she loved him, and it was for that reason that she nodded and muttered, “I'll.. I’ll do what’s necessary.”

Meaning, she would betray him.

The first time she’d gone into Dumbledore’s office, she was determined. Nervous, yes, but she’d known what she had to do. But now, knowing that Tom loved her, that he trusted her enough to tell her of every single one of his plans—it changed a lot of things. Made her feel ten times more guilty than she already did.

But she had no choice. She had to stop him. She knew he wouldn’t even if she asked him to—the mere idea of it was unrealistic—so she had to find another way.

She had to trick him. To betray him.

If Tom truly loved her, he would understand.

[Y/N] hoped he would.

—

It took days before they spoke again.

[Y/N] had wanted to put off her task for as long as she could, but before she knew it, Tom was approaching her again.

It seemed he couldn’t last very long without her.

It was nighttime. She was alone—the rest of the students were at the Great Hall, eating dinner—so she had the Hogwarts courtyard all to herself.

Until someone yanked her by the shoulder, pulled her into them, and kissed her.

There was a brief moment of surprise in which she tried to push him away roughly, but then, wide-eyed and bewildered, she got a good look at him.

“Tom,” she gasped, but he kept his lips on hers, one hand on her waist and the other clutching the side of her face. The way he kissed her was almost feverish—desperate—as though he'd been longing to have this for a long time and wanted as much of it as possible now that he had it.

She thought of protesting, of pushing him away roughly and storming away, but instead she found herself relaxing into him; there was a part of her, she realized, that wanted—no, needed this as much as Tom did. So she kissed back, fingers pressing into his upper arm as she kissed him with just as much passion as he was offering her.

Warning signs flashed inside her head. Could she really do this? Pretend like nothing was wrong?

And then a thought came to her. A disturbing one, really—one that had what felt like guilt pricking at her chest as she molded her lips against Tom's own: this could work.

This was exactly what she needed to do. Pretend as though nothing was wrong, stay at Tom's side like this, grow closer to him, find out his secrets and his plans, like Dumbledore said—and then.

And then she would bring him down, in the end.

So she kissed him. Kissed him until she lost track of time; until the passion in her died out and was only replaced by a feeling of numbness, knowing fully well that the reason she was kissing him was no longer because of how much she wanted to, but because she had to gain his trust. When Tom pulled away, finally, lips swollen and eyes like dark pools of water, he leaned his forehead on hers and whispered, "I love you."

A chill ran down her spine. She swallowed and closed her eyes. It was easier not to look at him.

[Y/N] tightened her hold on Tom's arm and choked out four words that she meant fully well, and yet felt so horribly guilty for saying.

"I love you too," she told him, and hoped that he didn’t hear the trembling in her voice.

[shoichee]

Request is about Rakuzan manager, who is a foreigner (from Russia). She is really popular in school, because the Japanese thinks that Russian are very pretty. But she thinks that she has ordinary appearance. Besides she always does her best for the team, tries to be the best manager for them and takes care of them because of her kindness. So Rakuzan boys warm up to her slowly. And Ore-Akashi slowly started coming to his sense (he's Boku-Akashi now), because she reminds him his mother.

Hi hi hi! Even after researching to portray this accurately, I am more vague on the specificality on Russian culture, especially in a Japanese high school setting, in order to make this more relatable and applicable. Still, I took care to implement some core values/general traits you’d see in Russian society // I HOPE I DID THIS JUSTICE;; 

[Rakuzan Manager f!Reader Headcanons]

you’ve always been the center of attention ever since you transferred to Rakuzan, a private school with extremely high standards

not to mention, your aura and looks completely encompasses that perfect “high-caliber student” look that every student wants so badly… so effortlessly? a lot of the students instantly took a liking to you just because of your appearances and how easily you stood out against the rest (especially in a collective society like Japan’s, where everyone is highly pressured to blend in)

but coming fresh from Russia, a society that focuses on individualism, you didn’t really see why everyone would suddenly worshipped you just because you expressed yourself freely… even so, in trying to make friends as a rare foreigner, you made sure to be kind to everyone

you made it out of your own way to always help the student council out with menial tasks, even if you weren’t a part of it, or always reached out a helping hand to other teachers, staff, and peers

so that may have shot up your popularity even more

your altruism easily reaches within earshot of Higuchi, the current 3rd-year manager of the Rakuzan’s basketball team, and he immediately soughts after you to invite you to the position of manager alongside him

after all, he’s going to graduate this year, so he wants to ensure that the team would be in good hands for the subsequent years

still, he’s quite nervous about introducing you to his… superiors, mostly because the team leadership has become quite… scary and strict this year

Higuchi brings you along as he slowly approaches Coach Eiji and the Rakuzan captain, who were both discussing about the imminent future of the team’s starting line and debating whether or not to switch around some players

Eiji noticed you first, and after hearing Higuchi’s suggestion, he immediately recognized you from how much the teachers and his coworkers had been praising you; hence, he has no doubt about you or anything… but he turns to Akashi to hear his input

all the while, the captain has been staring silently at you… and assessing you

“What do you think?” Eiji spoke up, glancing down to the 1st year in the corner of his eye.

“...” Akashi continues to sit with his hands clasped in front of his mouth

“It’d be an honor to become a manager for such a capable team!” you say, putting yourself into a deep bow to try to express your sincerity

“W-Wait, (y/n)-san, there’s no need to go to that extreme,” Higuchi says hurriedly, ushering you up

“S-Sorry, but I believe bows are used to express utmost deference and appeal?”

“Ahaha… only a few cases warrant a bow as deep as that.”

“Right, right! Noted…”

Akashi’s eventual sigh interrupted the both of you as he drops his hands into a more relaxed posture

“She’ll be useful. I have heard about her from other students within the student council. Shōta, you will keep her in line, correct?”

“Of course!”

“Then there is no need for this conversation to go any longer if this is settled with no further objections?” he turns to the coach for any further comments

“Yes,” he nods in agreement. “I hope you know this team expects nothing from the best from you, even if you’re only a manager.”

. . .

so here you are, on your first day as a manager alongside Higuchi, being taught the ropes of your duties: noting players’ favorite snacks and food, making sure there’s plenty of water bottles left, changing towels if needed… these honestly felt like normal chores to you, so you didn’t feel overwhelmed at all

“W-W-Whoa!! Our new manager is a girl?—Ow, Reo-nee!”

“Sheesh, show some respect to the manager! Quit looking at her like that!”

“B-But…”

“Hello!” you waved at them, popping up right in front of them, and Hayama quickly jumps to gain some distance for himself out of shock

“The foreign transfer student?!”

“I’m a new manager here, and I hope we get along!”

“Ah…” Mibuchi turns to you with a hand on his chest and a slight bow of his head in acknowledgement. “I must compliment you on your Japanese. You speak as if you’re almost native—in fact, your way of speaking is more elegant than most people here.”

“Thank you!” you beam at him. “Yes…! I’ve worked to at least become fluent for the JLPT N2, so I’m very glad you complimented me so!”

“Reo-nee, you tell me to back off, but you’re being chummy with her right now! Ei-chan, look! Don’t you agree with me?—Wha, where did he go?”

“Who knows?” Mibuchi shrugs indifferently. “But it’s no wonder that it’s been a lot quieter around… by the way (y/n)-chan, are all Russians as striking as you? It makes me a tad bit envious that such beauty is effortless to you.”

“No, no!” you deny with a laugh. “We’re quite ordinary, you see? I think everyone has their own type of beauty to admire and appreciate.”

“Oh! Beautiful words spoken by a beautiful person! Ah… I’ve been called by Higuchi-san. I must part but I hope you’ll allow me to ask you more questions later!”

as you wave off Mibuchi with a smile, Hayama only frowns at you as he crossed his arms, irritated at the fact that you don’t seem too keen on using honorifics for the upperclassmen:

“Look, you might’ve gotten Reo-nee to approve of you, but don’t think the rest of us will be just as accommodating. We’re serious about basketball, so don’t slack off and bring us down.”

but you only turn to him with a smile before giving a slight bow before replying: “I will put 100% of my time and effort, so everyone can do their best on the courts with peace of mind!”

Hayama immediately gets flustered, not expecting such a warm response to his words and he scratches head and replies loudly, “U-Uh… yeah, just, just don’t screw it up for us.”

the first week of being manager was just like what Hayama spoke about: most of the players were wary of you because you were extremely different in how you carried yourself, or curious about you for that same reason… perhaps you were recruited out of pity?

there were a handful of teammates who were brave enough to ask you questions about your culture or personal background

Eikichi, on one hand, asked about your cuisine and whether there were “big guys” like himself that can be a challenge to his strength (you only laugh at him as you easily answer all of his questions)

“I heard the Russian men are unbelievably strong! *flexes his own biceps* Their muscle masses are rumored to be insane!”

“W-Well… it’s different for everyone, but I agree that we’re very strong-natured and have dignity for ourselves.”

“Ohh, (y/n)-chan… that must be why you stand out so much yourself!”

“Mibuchi-kun, you’re very striking yourself, you know…”

and here is Hayama petulantly huffing all the while, doubting you all the while still

“Here you go again, forgetting to add senpai after Ei-chan and Reo-nee!”

“Why should I?” You tilt your head in confusion. “Whether I add such honorifics or not doesn’t change how much I respect them, Hayama-kun.”

“It’s Hayama-senpai to you!”

“If you’re spending this much time fixated on this, then you can spend that much time practicing and showing me the skills to earn the respect you want! Come on! Chop, chop, chop!”

. . .

“Ei-chan! Don’t you get mad when (y/n) doesn’t address you properly?! Reo-nee, what about you?!”

“Huh? I’d never be mad at someone who doesn’t seem to mind me burping at all, and she never scolds me about this stuff like Reo does—”

“Who wouldn’t?! It’s gross, seriously! While I do not understand her tolerance of your vulgar manners, her eloquence and natural aura is equal to those of Sei-chan’s… so in my eyes, I see no need for her to use such honorifics.”

“HUH?! Reo-nee, but why?!”

his opinion of you only gradually changes when you never seem to snap at him back even though he’s being a little shit when you’re around… you remind him of a motherly figure… but a kind, level-headed one, which is slightly different from the naggy mother-hen (but good-intentioned) vibe Mibuchi gives off

besides, anyone with eyes can see how much you scurry around holding handfuls of towels and bottles for all the players, even for the bench players

people think it’s really odd that you’re so physically close to the teammates, especially when you link arm in arm with them or give little distance when you talk with them; as a result, a lot of speculation of “dating” and “relationships” pop up when your name is brought up

the Uncrowned Kings easily squash those rumors… Akashi’s presence alone is also enough to silence them LOL

Mibuchi is the main guy who always likes to link arms as a symbol of your shared friendship

. . .

it’s an odd relationship between you and Mayuzumi… no matter how much you call out to him, he ignores you, and no matter how much he ignores you, you still treat him the same as ever

“Stop pestering me,” Mayuzumi clicks his tongue, blatantly making the effort not to face you properly, and you finally smile, seeing that he finally acknowledged your presence

“Ah, you’re quite the blunt one, aren’t you, Mayuzumi-san?”

“If you get that, then go away.”

“Well, I can’t! You’re part of the lineup, so I am especially not going to neglect you.”

“Are you this mindless to help people like a saint and then expect everyone to adore you? As far as I’m aware, most see you as some ‘exotic’ curiosity and nothing more. And I frankly love myself too much to be associated with such people. If you’re only here out of pity, beat it. Now.”

“Well, it seems like you care enough to tell me that,” you muse, but your face hardens with a serious glint in your eye. “But heed my words when I say this Mayuzumi-san. I am not doing this to be a people-pleaser. I am doing this for myself and only myself. I want to be a good person because it is a decision I make for myself. When there is a choice of being a good person versus bad, I’ll choose to be the best version of myself at any moment. That is my own definition of self-respect. No way in hell I’m doing this because I feel sorry for you… I will complete my duty with my pride as Rakuzan’s manager on the line.”

he’s stunned at your words, and he instantly relaxes his posture before he turns to continue reading his novel on hand… “I see.”

he actually likes the fact that your culture allows people to be more outspoken about their opinions, since he’s all too aware how the majority of his own peers are constantly worried about collective reputation and doing things for the sake of others

Mayuzumi becomes a lot more… cooperative with you from that point on

he relates to your words of having high self-respect and pride, and he’s pleasantly surprised that you actually know how to hold your own ground despite being very kind // even if he finds it weird that being a manager makes you happy… but since it’s something you do for your own sake, he can learn to respect it; after all, he reads light novels for his own happiness

imagine his unadulterated surprise when you not only brought him bottles, snacks, and a towel (that’s the part he expected from you), you slipped in new issues of the latest light novels within the towel bundle (this is what caught him off guard)

you’re suddenly seen in a good light in his eyes

. . .

it’s been almost a month since you’ve been recruited, and most of the teammates have now accepted you as one of their own, more or less, but something bothered you that you couldn’t help but ask Rakuzan’s senior manager

“Higuchi-san, don’t managers need to do some analytic work for the team statistics? It seems that all we do is mundane tasks.”

“Ah, most of the analytic work is done by Akashi.”

“But why? Does he not trust the managers with this work? Does he see us as not capable?”

“Not exactly… he’s very… particular about ensuring the best possible strategies for victory. So far, whatever he’s been doing has earned him complete trust from the entire team and even our coach.”

“Wow… that’s… a really impressive feat for a 1st year…”

“No one’s really surprised though. (y/n)-san you may have just transferred here so you might not know, but he was Teiko’s previous captain and the main public face of the Generation of Miracles…”

after he finished giving a crash-course on their prodigal status in the basketball world, you’re more fired up to work harder for Rakuzan as the manager

“Besides, (y/n)-san, our main duty of being a manager is to maintain the well-being of our team. All these little things add up, and surely, the team knows to appreciate these gestures from us.”

you actually later approach the Uncrowned Kings to playfully complain about why they didn’t tell you how prestigious they truly were on the courts (after learning about their status from Higuchi)

“Huh? (y/n)-nee, now you wanna show respect to your senpais, huh?”

you don’t miss the playfulness in his complaint as he tries to ruffle your hair… and also the way Hayama has recently addressed you differently

“This is different, Hayama! You have such titles under your belts because of your skills and accomplishments on the court… that is extremely admirable!”

“D’awww, it’s nothing, really.”

of course, they all have pride in their titles, but they all immediately turn the direction of the conversation to Akashi, saying they were nothing compared to him

that only made you more curious about the captain

you actually never made conversation with him throughout the month because you were so busy with your duties and helping out everyone… but you finally decided to try to help the captain in any way

Akashi has been observing you for the entirety of your time in the team… that much is to be expected, considering that he needed to evaluate your performance and compatibility with the rest of the teammates to make sure that there is still unity even with the addition of a new person (after all… as much as he doesn’t want to admit, he is still fearful of the possibility of his team crumbling from the inside again)

the fact that you even got Mayuzumi to approve of you in his own way actually impressed him; even he himself had to be authoritative to get Mayuzumi to be cooperative on the team

it’s the little things you do that reminds him of the tickles of nostalgia, when he first played basketball with his late mother, within his mind: the way you were the only one giving positive encouragement to the players in a club filled with cutthroat competition and perfection; the way you made sure that everyone was calm and collected before they walk into the courts; the way you diligently remember and cater every care package and preference to every unique player, in addition to your minimum duties.

he unconsciously mellows out whenever you approach to him to speak, and he only realizes that fact every time you leave the conversation to continue your next to-do on your schedule

“Akashi-san!”

he turns to look at you impassively, but he stands to wait to hear what you have to say

“Can I help you with anything in any way?”

“Are your assigned duties of manager not enough?” he asks, but he continues to give little away from his blank expression

“No, no, that’s not it,” you reply. “I was wondering how I can extend my hand to also help out the captain of the team as well. After all, it’s important for the managers to care for the well-being of every team member… you’re no exception!”

“Do what you think is best to ensure victory,” was all he said before he left

you’re now confused… did he mean for you to keep up your work as normal? did he trust you enough to let you decide what to do on your own? his vague words certainly threw you in for a loop

still, the Rakuzan teammates were able to breathe easier whenever you were in the same room as Akashi, because there’s always a gentler aura around him when you’re near the vicinity

sometimes his Orekashi side slips out, whether he gives an open compliment to a good play (albeit, delivered in a calm, spartan way) or when he gives an occasional perfect-rhythmed pass that leaves his teammates in a stupor

Akashi’s mannerisms towards you as the manager is as subtle as a speck of dust, but he’s grown a quiet sense of respect for you and the atmosphere you’ve brought to the team

however, it will only be at the final game where his Orekashi side will fully reawaken again

if any student dares to approach you with insensitive questions and comments about your race and culture with stereotypes, they should be expecting all hell breaking loose from the basketball team in 3… 2… 1…

[hajimes-erect-ahoge]

Diagnosis: Love Sickness!- Chapter 1

In the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles, 16 students have been imprisoned as part of a nonsensical dating game in which their objective is to find themselves in a budding romance with another student! Although reluctant to admit so, Shuichi Saihara has had his eyes on another student for quite some time now... Will Monokuma's new motive, the Despair Disease, be the driving force that pushes Saihara to finally confess his love? Or will he stay forever single in this twisted dating game?

Stay tuned to find out!

~~~~~~~~~~

Monokuma introduces the new motive, the despair disease!

ao3

The Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles was a rather interesting place, though its facilities were currently being used for a particularly strange purpose. Sixteen students, eight boys and eight girls, were confined within the walls of the academy for some sort of dating game, supposedly for the entertainment of the outside world. The cherry on top of this strange situation was that their captor was a small, animatronic black and white bear who walked and talked as if he were human. Monokuma, as the bear dubbed itself, would appear every now and then to inform the students of the structure and layout of the academy or to introduce some strange motive to encourage the blossoming of romance amongst them, but otherwise left them to their own devices. Having no choice but to mingle and make friends with one another, the students explored the academy and made use of their surroundings.

Speaking of which, the students imprisoned in this academy were not necessarily normal, either. Each and every one of them had an Ultimate Talent, making them special and distinct from one another. Their talents varied greatly from one another, even including something as far-fetched and sci-fi sounding as the Ultimate Robot, but they all managed to get along with one another and cultivate rather interesting friendships.

One exception to this, however, was Shuichi Saihara, the Ultimate Detective. Being naturally introverted and reclusive, he had a difficult time forming friendships with the other students, at least initially. Seeking to help the young detective out of his shell, two other students named Akamatsu and Momota attempted to befriend him, slowly introducing him to their small social circle and eventually the rest of the students. The two of them were social butterflies, flitting gracefully between the social groups that had formed, providing a nice complement to Saihara’s more reserved nature. Their positive and radiant energies bounced off of each other and onto Saihara, causing him to feel more empowered and confident than ever before. 

It was a gradual process that allowed Saihara to become more sure of himself, transpiring over the course of their first few weeks at the academy. The culmination of said process was when, at Momota and Akamatsu’s behest, Saihara removed the black cap that he desperately clung to in order to avoid eye contact with others. His lifestyle had undergone a complete transformation since entering this academy, changing for the better as a result of the efforts of his new friends. Although his tendencies to doubt himself still persevered at times, Saihara was grateful for the progress he had made to better himself and make new friends.

But there was something missing.

As he spent more and more time trapped in the academy, Saihara noticed an increasing number of students crossing the boundary from friends to lovers. At first it was only Chabashira and Yumeno, followed by Iruma and Kiibo, but when both Momota and Akamatsu entered relationships Saihara couldn’t help but feel as if he were missing something. Although he was happy that his two closest friends were in happy, fulfilling relationships, Saihara longed for the intimacy and closeness that came with having a partner. It had been over a year since his last relationship, leaving him finally ready for a fresh start with someone new.

In all honesty, Saihara would be lying if he said he didn’t have his eyes on anyone in particular. But despite the fact that he had grown leaps and bounds in terms of becoming more secure and sure of himself, Saihara knew that he didn’t have it in him to confess his feelings for another person. In the past, it had always been various girls and boys confessing their feelings for him, not the other way around. On the lucky occasion that Saihara had actually returned the other person’s feelings, it would lead to a new relationship for the both of them. But that had only happened once throughout his whole life, and Saihara wasn’t sure if he was ready to enter another relationship and have his heart eventually be broken again. For now, all he could do was admire from afar and pray that the embarrassment when his feelings came to light wasn’t too much to endure. 

~~~~~

Three weeks had passed since the imprisonment of the students had begun, meaning that it was time for a new motive to be announced. In accordance with their schedule, Monokuma had made an announcement instructing everyone to report to the gymnasium bright and early. Having no strong reasons to disobey, the students all gathered in the gymnasium awaiting Monokuma’s appearance. 

Suddenly, Monokuma sprung up on top of the stage at the head of the gymnasium, drawing everyone’s attention. Although it was practically routine by now, there was no getting used to an animatronic bear appearing out of thin air. The murmurs and idle chatter in the room came to a stop, all eyes focusing on the small bear in front of them.

“Gooood morning, everyone!” Monokuma’s familiar voice rang out, chipper as ever. “I hope you all slept well, cuz I certainly did!”

“Huh? Do robots like you even need sleep?” Shirogane curiously asked, a twinge of doubt lacing her words. “I mean… You are a robot, right?”

“Why don’t we just ask the Ultimate Robot himself?” Ouma butt in excitedly, balling his hands into small fists as his eyes sparkled brightly. “Hey, Kiiboy! Is it true that robots don’t need to sleep at night like humans do?”

“I will not tolerate your robophobic remarks, Ouma-kun!” Kiibo fumed, crossing his arms angrily. “While it is true that I do not require sleep, there is a function on my body that allows me to-”

Kiibo was cut off by Ouma audibly yawning, signaling his disinterest in their conversation.

“Boooring! I don’t care about your stupid sci-fi robo functions!” Ouma complained.

“Quit lyin’ you shitty shota!” Iruma scowled, jumping to Kiibo’s defense. “Just the other day you were buggin’ Kiibo about exactly that, so don’t even try pulling that shit!”

“Hmm, was I? I don’t remember…” Ouma lied once more, irritating Iruma even further. “Either way, an ignorant slut like you shouldn’t be-”

“Aaargh, that’s enough!” Monokuma thrashed about, waving his paws in the air angrily. “I didn’t call this meeting for you guys to bicker like little kids! You’re ruining the moment!”

A silence befell them, allowing Monokuma to continue.

“I’m introducing the new motive and that’s final!” He announced, composing himself. “Now, since you idiots were too busy arguing, I bet you didn’t even notice that you’re one student short!”

On cue, everyone began looking around in order to confirm Monokuma’s words.

“Atua says that Shuichi is the one missing!” Yonaga declared proudly, clasping her hands together.

“Oh, yeah! About that...” Momota began, “He wasn’t feeling good when I went to check on him this morning, so I figured it would be fine for him to sit this one out… He looked pretty bad.”

“Did you provide him with any medical attention, at the very least?” Tojo asked, voice laced with concern.

“Err…” Momota glanced to the side, a guilty expression adorning his face. “I might’ve forgotten about that when the announcement was made…”

“So you just left my beloved Saihara-chan to die?! How cruel, Momota-chan! And here I thought the two of you were all buddy-buddy or something!” Ouma cried, crocodile tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“T-That’s not true! We were going to check on him as soon as this was over! Right, Maki Roll?” Momota sputtered, struggling to defend himself.

“...That’s right.” Harukawa agreed, fiddling with her pigtails in response to Momota’s pet name for her.

“Upupu!” Monokuma laughed, lifting his paws to cover his smiling face. “Looks like everything is going just as planned!” 

“...Just as I thought.” Amami concluded, bringing a hand to his chin as he spoke his thoughts aloud. “Saihara-kun’s illness must have something to do with Monokuma’s new motive.”

Akamatsu gasped in surprise, frowning as she processed the implications of Amami’s statement. “Is that true, Monokuma? Did you do something to Saihara-kun?”

“Upupupu! I call it…” He paused dramatically for effect, “the despair disease!”

A wave of silence washed over them, the students carefully pondering over Monokuma’s words.

“Diss-pear duh-seeze…” Gokuhara sounded out, attempting to understand the information he had been given. “Gonta not sure he understand…”

“Nyeh…” Yumeno groaned, voicing her confusion. “Am I the only one who’s lost?”

“Tell us, Monokuma…” Shinguji spoke cautiously, “What is this ‘despair disease’ you speak of?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely I might as well tell you all!” Monokuma grinned, preparing to explain himself. “The despair disease is a highly contagious illness that affects each and every student differently, depending on the strain that they contract! The symptoms can range from physical ailments to complete personality changes, so I’d be careful if I were you!”

“Personality changes…?” Harukawa repeated to herself, turning to address Momota. “Did you notice anything unusual when you checked on Saihara earlier?”

“Now that you mention it, he was acting kind of weird…” Momota admitted, putting the pieces of the puzzle together in his mind. “Alright, I’ve decided! Me and Maki Roll will watch over Shuichi until he gets better!” He declared boldly.

“What about the two of you, then?” Hoshi questioned, raising an eyebrow. “If this disease is as contagious as Monokuma just said doesn’t that put the two of you at risk?”

“Don’t worry about that! I, Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars, am naturally immune to all types of sickness! I could never let something as silly as being sick bring me down!” Momota boasted.

“You’re such an idiot…” Harukawa twirled a loose strand of hair between her fingers, a faint smile visible on her face. “But don’t worry about us. After we make sure Saihara is feeling alright, we’ll leave so that we don’t contract the illness.”

“Good luck, you two!” Akamatsu encouraged, flashing them a bright smile.

Momota gave her a thumbs up, heading out of the gymnasium with Harukawa in tow. One by one, the rest of the students exited as well, leaving only Monokuma.

“Upupupu…” He laughed to himself, grinning knowingly. “Let’s see how they deal with this...”

~~~~~

After arriving at Saihara’s dorm, Momota knocked on the door while Harukawa waited.

“Yo, Shuichi! You holdin’ up in there?” Momota asked, speaking loud enough for practically every dorm to hear him. “Me and Maki Roll came to check up on ya!”

Saihara faintly called out to them, informing them that the door should be open. Momota and Harukawa entered, immediately noticing a sick-looking Saihara sitting up in bed.

“Damn, you still look pretty bad…” Momota observed aloud, stepping closer to him. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m so tired, Momota-kun…” Saihara drawled, flashing him a coy expression. “I was up all night thinking about you…” He smiled innocently, fingers grazing his lips as he watched Momota’s concerned expression morph into one of bewilderment.

“Huh?” Momota recoiled, taken aback by Saihara’s sudden advances. “Shuichi, what are you talking about?”

Before Saihara could answer, Harukawa approached, placing the back of her hand on his forehead in order to check his temperature.

“He has a crazy high fever…” Harukawa stated, moving to pull her hand away.

But before she could retract it completely, Saihara took her hand in his, interlacing their fingers.

“Your hands are beautiful, Harukawa-san…” He gave her hand a squeeze, looking up to make eye contact with her. “Just like the rest of you.” Saihara smirked, a beguiling expression dressing his face.

Harukawa was quick to pull her hand away, wiping it on her sleeve. “And your hands are sweaty.” She stated flatly, shooting Momota a quick look. With a sigh, she continued. “So, let me guess. You have a strain of the despair disease that makes you flirt with everyone you come in contact with. Correct?”

“Despair disease…?” Saihara repeated, “You’ve got it all wrong, Harukawa-san…” Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, the heat of his fever adding to the already prominent flush on his face. “The only disease I have is love sickness.”

“Do you want to die?” She threatened, expecting to wipe the smirk right off of Saihara’s face. But he continued to smile as he averted his eyes, another witty remark hanging off the tip of his tongue.

“Uhh… Can I talk to you for a minute, Maki Roll?” Momota spoke in a hushed voice, pulling her aside while Saihara simply observed. “Shuichi is acting kind of… weird, right?”

Harukawa rolled her eyes, another sigh escaping her lips. It was just like Momota to be this dense, especially when it came to flirting. Nevertheless, she responded, speaking in a low voice.

“Yeah…” She agreed. “Definitely weird.”

“So, what should we do?” Momota glanced at Saihara, who was simply staring down at the bedsheets. “I mean, someone has to take care of him… Right?”

“I don’t think we should leave him alone in this state…” Harukawa admitted. Despite Saihara’s odd behavior, it just wouldn’t be right to leave a sick person all by themselves. “I guess… We can keep an eye on him until nighttime.”

“Hmm… Alright! I trust you!” Momota gave her a small pat on the arm before turning back to Saihara, who seemed to be in a daze. “Listen up, Shuichi! Maki Roll and I are gonna be taking care of you until you feel better, so you better snap out of it!”

“Aha… Snap out of what?” Saihara responded, laughing a bit to himself.

Momota and Harukawa shared a suspect glance, before resigning themselves to their fate.

It was going to be a long day.

[sarahjtv]

BNHA Chapter 312 Spoiler Analysis: Hero Turned Assassin

It’s Friday, my dudes!  That means the leaks for the new chapter is out!  This time, we’re focusing on our new lady assassin villain who we ended with last week.  Ngl, I love her design and concept.  I actually wouldn’t mind if she stepped on me 😳  All that aside, this was a damn good chapter, but I really hope Deku’s going to be ok taking her on by himself:

Alright, the chapter starts off with a little flashback of Hawks talking to Deku as Deku is suiting up to leave Central hospital.  Hawks reassures Deku that he should be ok from AFO and Shigaraki for now since they aren’t at full power yet.  Their best option would be to take Deku in alive rather than dead.  Hawks can only think of one person who might be capable of capturing Deku: the assassin woman.  Turns out, that woman was his senpai back at the Hero Safety Commision and she’s dangerous.

So, as far as we know, Deku’s most likely going to live several more days even if he does get captured.  However, he’s being hunted down by a highly skilled assassin who was also Hawk’s senpai back in the day.  The fact that Hawks of all people is warning Deku to run away from her if he can say something about her skills.  I can only guess how good her skills are, but I’d say they’re probably somewhere in the S-tier range if Hawks is afraid of her.

The next couple of pages help properly introduce our new villain: Lady Nagant!  A few points here: 1. The bullet is made from her hair which is colored dark blue and pink.  I personally love those two colors, so I’m glad to see that color scheme used on her.  Also hair bullets is such a great concept, 2. That rifle is definitely coming from her elbow which she can bring out and retract at will, which is badass as hell, 3. I looked up the word “Nagant” and it’s actually type of (Russian?) gun that ranges from a 7-shot revolver to a sniper rifle, so that’s a good Villain name for her, 4. She was a former hero under the Safety Commision who decided to go to the dark side for some reason.  Like, did she see the bad side of Hero Society and that caused her to change?  Did she see something in Villainy that caused her to change her POV?  I want to know what?, 5. Again, love her design like hoo boy, Horikoshi snapped with her. 

So, Deku’s on the run from her and he is completely on his own now that his phone is broken.  He doesn’t even know what happened to All Might 😭!  He’s also afraid that All Might and Hawks will be targeted by her.  Deku’s debating wheaher he should run or face Nagant face on.  With someone like Muscular, I wasn’t worried about Deku because he’s not only improved a lot since last time, but he’s taken on Muscular before so he knew what he was fighting.  But, this is a brand-new villain.  Not much is known about her and Deku has never fought her before.  I’d say run, but someone has to take her out.  Maybe Hawks will swoop in and have a reunion with his senpai.  Though, he doesn’t have wings now, so I’m not sure what he can really do against her besides have a chat…

And Deku is shot!  Not fatally thank god, but he did get hit.  Turns out Lady Nagant can actually curve her shots.  Even Deku’s Danger Sense couldn’t detect it in time good lord.  So she can just straight up made bullets that can curve too that is absolutely insane.  Any marksman would be jealous of her.  

Fun Fact of the Day: Based on Horikoshi-sensei’s comment of the week, Lady Nagant and her curve bullet are actually based off the 2008 film Wanted staring James McAvoy and Angelina Jolie (he even thanked Ms. Jolie!)!  I decided to IMDB the film to see if I remembered it and it turns out that I have actually seen a little of it before.  You know that gif of McAvoy smacking Chris Pratt’s face with a keyboard and the loose keys spell out “Fuck You”?  Yeah, that’s from Wanted.  Also, the curved bullet Horikoshi is talking about is when Jolie manages to “curve” a bullet enough to kill a group of assassins who were standing in a circle.  Look, I don’t know if physics can actually make that work in real life, but I’ll be damned if that doesn’t sound badass.

Back to the story, we have a bit of flashback to an old TV special that interviewed 100 active Noteworthy Heroes.  The 25th Pro Hero being interview is none other than Snipe, one of UA’s teachers!  It’s been a hot couple of years since we’ve seen him around.  Actually, we don’t even know if he’s alive…  Let’s assume he is and continue with the story.

Anyway, Snipe was having some good friendly competition in the Long-Range sniping with Lady Nagant back in the day.  He explains while his Quirk, “Homing” allows him to lock-on to anyone within a 600 Meter range, he can’t choose where his attack hits and the hit isn’t that powerful (Shigaraki could’ve actually gotten killed back in the USJ if Snipe wasn’t careful enough damn).  Lady Nagant, on the other hand, has a range of 3 Kilometers with insane accuracy.  I did some quick calculations and it turns out that 3KM = 3,000M!  That’s 5 times farther than what Snipe can do.  That is absolutely nuts!

Lady Nagant’s Quirk is called “Rifle”!  Turns out that the secret lies in her bullets made out of hair.  When she mixes her duel colored hair, it works like epoxy putty.  Epoxy putty is a substance that hardens over time.  It’s normally used as a seal for cracks and holes, and it’s both highly-resistant and unshrinkable when hardened.  So, when Lady Nagant pulls strands out of her hair to mix and mould them, she can harden that hair into a bullet which explains the dark blue and pink fibers in the speaker bullet she fired at Deku’s phone.  Apparently, she can make any kind of bullet she wants ranging from hollow bullets to curved bullets.  She can then load and fire those bullets from her rifle into her right arm.  God, there’s so much potential for a Quirk like this.  The only limit I can think of for this Quirk is if she runs out of hair for bullets similar to how if Ibara Shiozaki from Class 1-B (or 2-B now I guess) would run out of hair to use her Vines.  I wonder if Lady Nagant using her hair so much is the reason why it’s shorter now than when she was a hero.

I gotta say, I think this is one of the coolest and unique Quirks Horikoshi has come up with in a while.  It’s just so unique and imaginative!  I don’t think I could ever come up with an idea like this.  I like that her Quirk is almost like a 2-in-1 thing: the putty hair and the rifle in her arm.  They’re both different functions that work in tandem together.  I also love Nagant hero outfit!  She was rocking the long ponytail work, had a visor and antenna on her right eye for accuracy, and a belt holding her hair bullets.  She’s also freakin’ stacked as hell, but I’ll let this one slide because her design is so freaking great.  

Back to the present, Deku managed to catch the bullet, but his left gauntlet has been damaged.  So, it looks like Deku won’t be punching with his left arm unless All Might has some backup Mid-Gauntlets.  Thankfully he’s found out where Lady Nagant is based on where she shot from just twice.  She’s only about 1KM away and Deku wants to get in closer.  God, Deku is so freaking smart.  I want to know his IQ because it must be insanely high for him to figure out where a trained sniper would be after just 2 bullets.  Nagant also says that Deku’s the first one to deflect 2 of her bullets, so yeah, goddamn Deku!

Now we’re finally getting a look at Overhaul (I’m cool with calling him by his villain name instead of his real name for now btw).  Dude’s broken.  Just completely mentally broken.  I don’t think he even notices Deku.  All he can think about is how he wants to go back to his adoptive father, Eri’s grandfather, the man Overhaul put in a coma.  I thought that Overhaul would be confronting Deku himself, but it looks like he can’t.  Maybe him not being able to get his father out of his coma traumatized him real bad with a lot of guilt.  He probably wants to go back to try to heal his dad.  If he can do that, again, I wonder how now that his Quirk probably functions somewhere else besides his hands.

Anyway, Lady Nagant is kind of protecting Overhaul for now.  She most likely has a plan for him later since she mentions helping Overhaul as soon as she’s done with Deku.  Overhaul would be a useful ally since his Quirk can literally destroy and restore matter both living and non-living.  There’s also that glowing effect on her arm again.  If it’s not a taser like I thought before, then maybe it’s some kind of strength enhancer her Quirk gives her.  That arm gun has to be heavy.  IDK it’s not really explained.  

Flashing back to the Tartarus Prision Break, AFO and his ugly mug are talking to Nagant, calling her the “Traitor Hero” and how it’s an honor to meet her.  Again, Lady Nagant’s skills must be incredibly high enough to be recognize by AFO.  Also, her turning her back on Hero Society must’ve been a big story at the time.

AFO tells Lady Nagant of his plan to capture Deku as he predicted this earlier.  So, either AFO is stupidly good at predicting things or he has a future-sight Quirk like Nighteye had.  I want to say it’s the latter since AFO probably did pick up a Quirk like that sometime in the past.

Lady Nagant originally refused to listen to AFO in a very sassy way LOL!  But, AFO seems to have made a deal with her.  He even mentions that Nagant killed many of her fellow heroes to cause the fall of Pro-Hero Society.  Yeah, killing your fellow colleagues will definitely get you sent straight to Tartarus…  I REALLY need to know what made her turn to the Dark Side Anakin Skywalker style.

Also, personal theory that I highly doubt is true, but I wonder if Lady Nagant is the real “UA Traitor” not any of the students.  If she can make bullets that she can remotely talk through, then she could probably make bullets that can eavesdrop on people.  Maybe she listened in on UA and told the LoV about the training camp.  Or she was locked in Tartarus before then and I’m just projecting my hopes/fears onto her.  That could be it too.

Actually, I just realized that she could probably wrap objects around her bullets and fire them.  So, she probably wrapped a speaker around her hair and that’s how she remotely spoke to Deku.  Eh, she could still wrap some listening device around her hair and eavesdrop that way.  I’m just Pepe Silvia’ing the possibilities of Rifle at this point.

AFO uses Overhaul as an example of someone who became a victim of Pro-Heroes.  This give him enough leverage to make a deal with Lady Nagant.  So, as part of the contract, AFO granted her his Air Walk Quirk!  On paper, a passive Quirk like Air Walk doesn’t seem very useful.  But, this series has proved to us time and time again that passive/support Quirks can be just as/if not more amazing than raw-powered Quirks.  So, a Quirk like Air Walk can get Lady Nagant to so many places for her to fire her bullets.  It’s an incredibly useful Quirk for a sniper.  I do wonder what the limits of it are (because all Quirks have some sort of limitation), but I guess we’ll find that out later.  I really do wonder how Deku’s going to handle Lady Nagant and Overhaul though.  That’s going to be interesting.

Oh boy, that the chapter!  Solid chapter per usual.  Gah, my fingers hurt after typing so much.  I’m glad we got to know more about Lady Nagant!  She was a mystery for weeks, but we finally got some backstory on her.  So, some answers, but a lot of questions are left behind.  I’m actually glad we’re still sticking with Deku so far.  I still want to see Bakugo and Shoto, but we also haven’t gotten a purely Deku-centric arc for a while, so this is good.  Horikoshi truly doesn’t miss!  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be screaming about the next anime episode and Shoto Todoroki sakuga for the next week I will not apologize.         

Me @ Horikoshi every chapter:

Also, this is the Wanted scene I was talking about before:

[frogtanii]

It’s wind anon. I know I should react to the Kenma part, but I just went through the update, saw Meiko’s portion and I have feelings that I need to get out because I’m so far gone right now—

I swear, I can break down every single text what the flip is this BS. Meiko, dear, do you,,,have a concussion. Are you thinking. What,,, this is like the time you were underdressed at the restaurant and you ended up getting drunk as heck.

Okay, let’s do the breakdown.

Coming in hot, we see Meiko with “tooru!!!!!!” (Yes, I did count the number of exclamation marks) firstly, the usage of his first name after ‘exiled’ where she raged at him and used Oikawa instead... mood swing much because I cannot believe the audacity of this... and really. First name basis. Trying to be close and to get rid of animosity, but not offering up anything like “hey, I’d appreciate talking to you for a sec if you’re free?” Or an apology for blowing up at him because he did indeed have your back, it’s just that you were the one problem. But yes, the exclamation marks too. A bit childish, obvious excitement...mmmm, I’ll move on to the next section.

Oikawa’s “oh. hey meiko” shows that he really ain’t up for this. First is the obvious low energy. I don’t want to go into depth about that but the “oh” shows that he paused. He saw her message. He answered. And he didn’t expect her to talk to him. Especially with that sort of energy. Mixed feelings towards her. And his “hey meiko”. I would say he is one of the more energetic of the House. He probably would’ve done something like “meiko!!! <3” in response before or something like that. He’s a bit flashy in that regard. But no punctuation. Just a downtrodden “hey” in response.

“don’t sound so enthused” she says. I mean, at the very least it seems she understands and can grasp tone from messages? But I am like “it would be more surprising for him to be enthused? I’m in awe of how you were able to become so enthused after you got yourself crushed into pieces by YN...” Besides that, even if Meiko wasn’t physically hurt, a confrontation of this sort would not lead to anyone having a happy mood? Me glancing between Meiko and all the therapists that were mentioned before because I really hope that we can figure something out because she gives off so many different vibes I am like... “what even goes on inside her brain...”

“can you blame me? you yelled at me the last time i talked to you” and this is the truth. He shouldn’t be enthused. You yelled at him, you disregarded his concern and you showed that you didn’t care for him as a person. Even if there was a circumstance where she didn’t yell at Oikawa, he would reach out first and be concerned about her health. Meiko has no grounds to try and blame him for anything right now. Frankly, I don’t think Oikawa should have even bothered answering her because I don’t think he is in the best place emotionally to deal with her.

“im so sorry sweetheart!!!! i didn’t mean it :(” lemme just day, wind anon cannot believe the BS that this message is. First, she says she is sorry. But really? Really. I can’t even look at her. Look, I don’t know what it is but “I’m so sorry.” Has the weakest apology energy. “I’m sorry.” Fine, decent, the classic and simplest. “I’m really sorry.” Also good! Shows regret. “I’m so sorry.” Sounds like you when you just learn that a person’s family member has passed away. There is something about “I’m so sorry” that doesn’t sound sincere to me and it’s infuriating. Next, the “sweetheart” I might’ve gagged a bit internally. Does she,,, talk like that? Normally? Is that a thing? She’s younger than him...and I don’t know but sweetheart sounds so condescending I literally can’t even— and finally, the “I didn’t mean it” yeah, well, you don’t mean anything because everything you say is BS that’s what you mean. Stop excusing your behavior. There is no merit behind it.

“you know i was just beat up and i couldn’t control what i was saying”. Okay, let’s break this down too. First, trying to incur sympathy by the “I was just beat up.” I cannot believe this gal. And the “you know” for a reference to a person’s knowledge of the matter, it lets them be more susceptible to beliefs. But the “I couldn’t control what I was saying” is complete utter hogwash. I mean, Meiko can’t control any bit of her because she is just impulse. But she excused her inability to control herself by saying it was because she was just beat up.

I don’t know what to say for the next portion. Alone, it’s cute, but put into perspective it’s just manipulation and she doesn’t love him. I’ll just move on.

“what do you need that you can’t ask iwa-chan?” Okay, so he didn’t reciprocate with an “I love you too” so that just shows what type of mood and how effective her words were. It also shows that she always messaged Oikawa when she needed something, because he caught on super quick to that. The “Iwa-chan” is interesting though. I wanna know if Oikawa talks to Iwaizumi after this conversation with Meiko because she is clearly going behind his back right now.

“oh well hajime is being very rude rn. he won’t let me leave my room!!!!” Okay, he had best interests at heart and Meiko...I know every single one of your rooms has a bathroom too. They’re bringing you food. They are letting people go into your room. Meiko, you wouldn’t have lasted quarantine if you’re this petulant now. It’s literally going to be like, 3 days max if you work to get an actual solution. I don’t want to break this down, I feel this is self explanatory. She feels entitled still.

“i know, it’s for your own good” he replies, and that is true but I am also of the belief that it is (hopefully) better for the rest of the house to not be in contact with her so I guess that’s that. Anyway, this shows Oikawa placating her, next

Meiko...being...not pretty. “ugh!!! but i wanna go out!!!!!!” Yeah, she would not have been able to be safe throughout the pandemic. Please,,, you’ll have fresh air if you open up a window,,, I know for certain you don’t exercise,,, please Meiko, shut up already you are making yourself look like more of a pile of garbage than you depict yourself as please I cannot handle the idea that the guys fell for this act—

“you have a black eye babe” okay, the black eye is actually Tooru trying to refer to knowledge that she has. As in, she should be trying to rest and get better right now. (Just curious, who treated her? For the injuries? She raged at Iwaizumi and Oikawa so maybe Daichi?) the babe gives off the placating vibe to me, still low energy, not very affectionate, but it’s there so I’m like “hm”.

“so??? omg are you calling me ugly tooru???????” Well...he didn’t call you ugly. But I might? Because you have the ugliest personality of everyone here. But also, shifting blame onto him. Gosh, I give Oikawa some water. He’ll get a migraine from this.

“of course not. i would never”. Low energy, not elaborating, I think he sees that she is trying to manipulate him, or at the very least he isn’t going to play that particular game. But actually, he runs a fashion channel on YouTube. We know Bokuto runs a fitness one and his header message was something along the lines of everyone’s bodies are beautiful, so chances are Oikawa has the same sort of idea for his channel too. He may criticize fashion, but he would never criticize the people wearing it or the people who made it in a mean way. He would be respectful, and he lets people do what they wish because it’s their choice. I mean, there has to be a reason why Meiko’s fashion is how it is—he doesn’t intrude on matters that aren’t his to intrude upon.

Okay, Meiko. I’m gonna stop trying to format the messages exactly how they are, autocorrect is making my time with them a bit too much, but she says she wants him to take her with him. Okay, starting off, you are really under the belief that he will take you on to a trip he has planned when he didn’t invite you in the first place? Pushy... but yes, her petulance again... me flicking water at her, “you got super drunk because you were underdressed at a fancy restaurant and now you have a face that looks like roadkill, how much do you want to embarrass yourself before you get turned into a pariah?”

Oikawa not knowing how she knows that is clear concern. Someone knowing your schedule when it’s none of their business and not public knowledge is major red flag. The “uh” shows that he is clearly taken aback. The ellipses shows that he doesn’t know what to think.

Okay, Meiko—she is actually able to notice something??? Good golly gee, I am baffled by how she did that when everything else she does is on fire. But the consistency probably gave it in. She may have been looking for him at one point, noticed he was out, and saw the pattern then. But actually, wouldn’t she be good at noticing the patterns of the guys so that she always knows which one to go to and use? Thoughts.... but I’m curious about the fact she said the “same group of absolute losers”. I highly doubt they always go and meet up directly in eye view of the house? Chances are they meet up at a bar or something? This potentially could be a thing where Meiko was stalking them? It would be interesting if she saw them while she was out as well—and if yahaba and kyoutani noticed her around before too. Also, her saying “you ain’t slick” like,,, Meiko, have you looked into a mirror. Can you see.

Oikawa defending his friends, we stan. Let’s move on though: “they’re so much younger than you?? and yahaba is def not cute lmao” me, doing like the... monkey meme where they look away because I am just like??? Meiko, you’re younger than Oikawa. I bet Yahaba and Kyoutani are your age. And anyone younger than you is a loser huh? That’s why you look at Bokuto and YN like they are dirt beneath your feet. (And Yes, I do remember that you put Bokuto and YN as the babies of the house, this reoccurrence is very well done). And she went and insulted Yahaba directly like...you’re talking to his friend? What are you doing? Excuse me? I beg your pardon?

And the ellipses strike again— and Oikawa is fishing for information because we have seen him—he listens to logic. And Meiko... her emojis... wind anon be flicking more water at her, she is too much. Also. Kyoutani. She is calling Kyoutani cute. This was the message that made wind anon start this long analysis. Kyoutani, cute? Listen. Kyoutani would take one look at this parasite hanging off his arm with her swollen black eye that was slathered with makeup and her lacking clothing sense, before looking at Oikawa who would be so haggard by then, and then Kyoutani would force her off his arm before grabbing Oikawa and running off with Yahaba following them. There is no way at all Kyoutani would involve himself with Meiko. I refuse to believe he would go for her.

Okay, the two messages after about wingmanning—I don’t want to do a large scale analysis of it. Oikawa really is shown to have good sense for Meiko’s intentions. His intuition is good. And we know that he cares and respects his friends and he focuses on their capabilities. He knows them. Meiko is just...childish in the worst of ways.

“You don’t see the issue with this”. Oikawa really digging in his feet. First, he wished to be in a relationship with Meiko. And here she is, asking for him to wingman to get her together with one of his friends, who may not even like her—and I bet that if it doesn’t go well, she would blame Oikawa for it like really—but I give Oikawa more water for the migraines Meiko induces.

“What?? It’s not like we’re actually together lol”. The laugh out loud at the end really shows how much of a joke she sees this as. She sees him as a joke. And she just crushed all his efforts and actions to try and get into a relationship. And actually...will Meiko ever get into a relationship with another? She has no loyalty. She definitely wouldn’t have ever got into a dedicated relationship with one of the guys. And she would be the type to get upset if they slept around, wouldn’t she? A hypocrite.

“Ugh don’t be like that!!! I’m sure you sleep around too!!” Okay, she is trying to defend herself while also potentially blaming him if he does. It’s just manipulation...I’m gonna move on...

Oikawa’s just done and his “I don’t” holds a lot of emotion. But Meiko’s response back I don’t believe at all. “Oh well that’s your fault, I don’t really give a sh*t if you sleep around hehe!!!” First, blaming him for his choice of only choosing you??? And I highly doubt the second part because she is shown to throw blame and ditch people for negligible reasons—I have no trust towards her words. I do not believe her. I believe she would care. I believe she would blow up at the guy before leaving him.

“Of course you don’t” And there is the utter doneness. He has given up on Meiko in this message. He doesn’t care anymore. He was already not in the mood for her when she first messaged him, he doesn’t want to see her at all anymore. He’s given up.

“So you get it!! Perfect!!!!” Please, wind anon has written so much already, her eyes are sweating everytime she has to look at Meiko being like this hhhhh. “I’ll be ready at like 9pm? Come by my room!! Actually no I’ll come by yours” and her usage of emoji. Get her away from me and everyone in PF. She’s toxic. Send her off with hazardous waste. Also, she deliberately changed from her room to coming by his. She is cutting off him so he has to go with her, he can’t just sneak out and not wait at her room (though she did offer a time so he could just go out now and ditch her presence completely). But it would be amusing if he did something like lock his door, (either after he’d go out or if he wold leave through window) and she would just be there waiting all decked out in her clothes and makeup pounding on his door. He wouldn’t answer and the others would see her out of her room (a misdemeanor). And then she would have to make an excuse. But it would be hard...because Oikawa has text evidence of Meiko going against Iwaizumi to just play like this.

“And if I say no?” Says Oikawa, who is testing the waters—very smart. We approve. “You won’t.” She replies, because she is terrible and we hate her controlling, manipulative, abusive self and we would all fight her. And she ends it off with a “great!! see you then!” Because she has to have her way and the last say.

Okay, wind anon is done

Completely. Utterly done with the analysis and reaction for that. Might not get to Kenma and YN analysis because I went off in this one but just know I appreciate it and I’ll try to get to it—just,,,not today.

I hope Oikawa sends these screenshots to like, Iwaizumi at the very least but it would be even better if he just drops it in a group chat with Daichi and Osamu instead and asks them to keep an eye on her for “her own safety” and ask her to stay in her room. She’s too daring and if she blows up on him after, he will receive more evidence of her being terrible. And of course, he’s smart. He’ll definitely block her number when he doesn’t want to bother with her anymore. Okay, wind anon is ending here. The ask is too long. I think it’s the longest ask I’ve ever sent. I wish you well fr0ggy. I hope your sleep is pleasant and you wake up very rested and refreshed!

WOO LONG POST!!!! i cannot nearly respond to all this!!!! but!!!! i am in Awe??? text by text???? i love this????? ur so amazing i <3 u

[dessarious]

Guilt and Consequences Pt8

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Lila had no idea how long she sat there, trying to remember anything about her father, or supposed sister, but she came up completely blank. Considering how young she had to have been in that dream it made sense, but it was still frustrating. Her mother never mentioned her father, let alone any other family. Lila remembered asking once, after she’d been put in a school for the first time because the other kids asked her about it. She’d lied to them of course, but it had made her curious. That question had gotten her grounded for a month so she never brought up the subject again.

Maybe that was why her mother disliked her. If she’d been the cause of her father’s death it would make sense. Well, assuming her mother actually loved the man. Given that there was nothing in her life to indicate he even existed except Lila herself she highly doubted it. None of this made sense. And that was before she added in the possible sister that most likely wasn’t her mother’s daughter. If her dream was at all accurate, she looked nothing like them and spoke with an American accent. So a half sister most likely. The next question was obviously what had happened to her? Lila felt fairly confident that they’d both made it out of that building, even if she didn’t know why, so the most likely scenario is that she went to live with her mother or other family. It was probably for the best. Given the way the woman treated her, Lila didn’t even want to think about how she’d be with someone else’s kid she got stuck with.

“Are you alright?” Lila started and looked up to find Ladybug’s concerned look. When had she gotten back? When did it get dark for that matter? She stood up before answering.

“Fine.” That actually wasn’t a lie. She was always fine.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lila just shook her head. She preferred to work things out on her own for one. Even if she didn’t she wouldn’t make someone whose life she’d made more difficult listen to her issues. Ladybug sighed. “Thanks for the tip on Alya’s powers. Granted, once I told Chat the fight took five times as long because I had to keep him from purposely getting hit, but that was my error in judgement.” Lila looked over to see a grimace on the hero’s face and frowned at her.

“Why in the world would he try to get hit?” That was possibly the stupidest thing she’d heard of. Ladybug just shrugged.

“To find out my identity. He figured he could get hit and have someone ask him. Again, it’s my fault for not realizing he’d try that. He’s always been extremely unhappy that we have to keep our identities secret from each other. I think he’s just lonely to be honest.” She looked so tired and Lila felt her temper spike the way it did when she found out what the class had done to Marinette. Why did everyone seem to think this type of thing was normal or okay?

“I don’t care if he’s completely isolated from the world, there’s no reason he should be putting you and all of Paris, or worse, at risk just because he wants to infringe on your boundaries. You shouldn’t have to put up with that period, especially when it makes your job harder.” The girl just blinked at her in confusion and Lila had to wonder what the hell was going on in this city. No, she didn’t have the greatest home life or example but she read a lot. She’d been through enough psychological books and journals to know that none of this was right. Why didn’t anyone seem to see that?

“I should probably get you home.” Ladybug wouldn’t even look her in the eye. Great, she’d screwed up, again. She wanted to apologize but she didn’t know where to even start. With her track record it probably wouldn’t come off as sincere anyway.

“If you just want to get me down to the street I can walk. There’s no reason for you to waste your time on it.” She winced when she realized how harsh that sounded. She really was terrible at social interactions.

“Making sure you get home safe isn’t a waste of time, especially after dark. Your mom’s probably worried.” Lila couldn’t help the derisive snort that left her. Even if she was in the city it was doubtful she’d care unless Lila’s absence became a problem for her. “I’m sure your mother cares about you.”

“I’m sure my mother regularly wishes I’d never been born.” It was moments like these that Lila wished her mouth would consult her brain before opening, but she was certain that wouldn’t ever happen. Ladybug was looking at her with a horrified expression. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk?” Lila nodded. Talking didn’t do anything so there really was no point.

“I just want to sleep.” It wouldn’t be a good sleep, but it was better than nothing. Especially since she had to go back to school tomorrow. She didn’t even want to think about that trainwreck.

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

The next morning started off as badly as she expected it to. Over half the class cornered her in the courtyard demanding to know why she was pretending she’d been lying. By the time they’d given up she’d was hoping for an aneurysm just to be able to stop listening to this nonsense. Then Adrien had shown up to lecture her about getting Alya Akumatized. She’d honestly never wanted to hit someone so much in her life, but she did manage to refrain. She couldn’t refrain from calling him a spineless coward, but that at least got him to walk off in a huff.

“Lila!” She started cursing internally until she realized that had been Marinette’s voice. When she looked over the girl was running towards her waving some papers with a huge grin on her face. That was… weird. As she got closer Marinette tripped on a crack in the pavement and Lila had to move to catch her.

“Are you trying to kill yourself? The idiot squad is going to think you were trying to fall on me on purpose, and I really don’t want to have to deal with one more problem today.” Marinette just gave her a sheepish look. She really had no clue how bad things were.

“I found the perfect school for you!” For some reason her brain refused to understand that sentence.

“I… you… what?” Marinette shoved the papers she was holding in Lila’s face, far to close for her to be able to read anything.

“Look! The classes are by skill level not age so you won’t be bored like you are here. They do small class sizes and even have options for individual study so you can basically make your own curriculum. They’ve got one of the top computer programs in the country and they have a photography club too. Isn’t it great?” Lila finally managed to get the paper out of Marinette’s hands so she could actually read it and realized it was a brochure for a private academy.

“Even if I wanted to, my mother wouldn’t pay to send me to a place like this. Half the reason she keeps sending me to school is to not have to pay for tutors. Besides I’m not going to go off and leave you alone in this asylum. Especially given that the staff are just as bad as the inmates for the most part.” Marinette just gave her a confused frown.

“They’ll calm down in a few days, you’ll see. The school has scholarships you can apply for and look.” She pointed to a section at the bottom of the brochure. “They even have on site housing so the next time your mom has to move for her job you could stay there so your studies don’t get interrupted again.” Lila would admit it was tempting. Truthfully, her mother might pay for it if it meant she didn’t have to see her at all. She scanned the paper and an idea formed.

“I’ll go if you go.” Marinette just blinked at her so she pointed out the possible educational tracks. “There’s an art and design program that would give you a much better education for the future you want than anything you’ll get here. You need to start thinking about your future as well.”

“But I can’t just leave all my friends.” Lila wanted to slam her head into a wall. It would probably hurt less. She’d have to talk to Marinette’s parents. They at least would think about their daughter’s wellbeing and have a much better chance of getting her to do what was best for her.

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Ko-Fi

Tag List

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[sceptilemasterr]

Defenders of the Flame (TE Rewrite) Act 3, Scene 2 - Back in Session

Title: Defenders of the Flame (A CIU Screenplay)

Main Pairings: Shreya x F!MC, Beckett x F!Atlas

Other Pairings: N/A

Genre: Full Rewrite (The Elementalists, Book 1)

Rating: PG-13 for violence, blood, swearing, alcohol, and sexuality

Summary: Classes resume for Fiora's second semester at Penderghast.

Previous Scene: Identity Crisis

Masterlist: Link

INT. PENDERGHAST CAMPUS - VARIOUS LOCATIONS

MONTAGE

In Tubigan Hall’s Auditorium 3, the students file in for their first class of the new semester; Fiora and Shreya are holding hands. A middle-aged man with long dark hair stands at the front of the room. This is DR. VARTOKIS, another Penderghast professor.

SHREYA (to Fiora): You know? I almost missed attending classes.

Fiora giggles.

FIORA: Emphasis on the “almost,” right?

ZEPH: I just realized... Fiora, you are gonna breeze through this class!

The group takes their seats, with Shreya and Fiora sitting together. Shreya smiles and wraps an arm around Fiora as they sit.

FIORA (quizzically): Why’s that?

ZEPH: ...Do you even know what class this is?

FIORA (embarrassed): Uh... no. I’ve been kinda distracted lately.

Zeph smiles and winks suggestively at Shreya, who laughs.

ZEPH: Oh, I bet! Anyway, this is--

Dr. Vartokis chooses that moment to address the class, his voice amplified. He speaks with a very cheerful, casual tone.

DR. VARTOKIS: Hello there, everyone! Welcome to your first class of this semester: Attuneless History, Society, and Culture! ...Or you can just call it “AHSC” for short if you want. I won’t judge ya!

A few students laugh as Fiora mouths a silent “oh” of understanding at Zeph. Zeph nods, and starts to say something, but Beckett shushes them.

DR. VARTOKIS: Okay, okay, I know many of you are probably wondering what the point of this class is. After all, if you’re gonna spend your career here in the Stoicheal Realm, why bother with my class? The truth is, whether your future leads you to a life among Tuneless or not, our two societies are inextricably linked.

BECKETT (muttering): Fascinating point. I had not considered this...

Beckett hurriedly writes something down in his notebook.

DR. VARTOKIS: Not to mention, there’s a lot we can learn from the Tuneless! We must never forget that we came from their realm, not the other way around. After all, it wasn’t so many centuries ago that our societies lived and worked side-by-side! In fact...

Dr. Vartokis continues talking as Shreya gives Fiora a knowing smile and leans her head on her shoulder. Zeph, meanwhile, is (for once) paying attention to the professor, nearly as attentively as Beckett.

DR. VARTOKIS: --as such. I’ll ask a few simple questions to get us started. First: who can tell me the name of Penderghast’s Archikeal reflection?

Several students--including Fiora and Shreya--raise their hands. Dr. Vartokis points to a student near the front of the hall, a Metal-Att named HECTOR RILENN.

HECTOR: It’s “Hart”-something, isn’t it? “Hartschild?” ...Maybe?

Dr. Vartokis shakes his head.

DR. VARTOKIS: Close, but not quite. You there!

He points to Shreya, who answers eagerly:

SHREYA: Hartfeld University!

DR. VARTOKIS: Correct! Now, who can tell me...

As he moves on to the next question, Shreya smiles at Fiora.

SHREYA (whispering): I’d never have known that one without you!

Shreya gives Fiora’s hand a quick squeeze. Fiora blushes and turns her attention back to the professor...

* * *

Fiora and her classmates file into one of the greenhouses for Natural Studies. Several of the other students are speaking to each other with confusion evident in their voices. Dracarys and Rys flutter above their owners’ heads with excitement, while Beckett’s (still) unnamed Grogue lets out a lazy croak from its position in his lap. Zeph laughs.

ZEPH: Looks like you’ve got some extra time, Beckett! Gonna name him yet?

BECKETT (irritated): Why on Earth do you think my answer would be any different than before?

Zeph leans in closer and smiles conspiratorially.

ZEPH (slyly): You know... Atlas told me what she’d name her Companion, if she ever got one. I asked her if she ever considered just not naming it at all, and she laughed in my face--

BECKETT (shocked): What?! You never mentioned this to me before!

ZEPH (shrugs): You never asked. So, what’s the verdict?

Beckett sighs, clearly considering Zeph’s words.

BECKETT (to himself): ...Hmm. It will have to be a name that is tasteful and refined...

Zeph gives Shreya and Fiora a side glance and a thumbs-up. Shreya giggles as Dr. Kontos enters the greenhouse.

DR. KONTOS: Greetings, and welcome back to Natural Studies! I am pleased to report that all of you passed the class, and did wonderfully on your finals!

A few cheers go up from the room, but most of the students just continue staring quizzically at Dr. Kontos.

DR. KONTOS: Yes, yes, let us address the dryxmar in the room first. According to standard Penderghast curriculum, my course ordinarily would be replaced with “Sourcism and Philosophy” for this semester. However, due to unforeseen circumstances, Dr. Swan is otherwise occupied and unable to teach her usual class. Thus, Dean Goeffe has granted me permission to continue Natural Studies into your next semester!

As the students start muttering amongst themselves, Fiora leans in toward Shreya.

FIORA (whispering): Dr. Swan’s still gone? That... doesn’t seem good.

SHREYA (whispering): Perhaps Atlas is starting to rub off on you. We know why Dr. Swan is absent! She’s off on a mission for the Defenders, remember?

FIORA (whispering): Maybe, but still... it’s been weeks...

SHREYA (whispering): You just need to relax a little and focus on other things for a change. Like the Amorelia Day Gala! It may be a bit far off yet, but there’s no time like the present!

FIORA (whispering): “No time” for what?

SHREYA (whispering): Why, for asking whomever you intend to ask to the dance, of course! Surely you plan to ask, right?

FIORA (whispering): I dunno. I’ve got so much else going on right--

DR. KONTOS: Ahem. Miss Luxen, Miss Mistry, care to rejoin the class?

Fiora and Shreya blush heavily when they notice Dr. Kontos and the other students all staring at them. Fiora bows her head in apology and focuses on Dr. Kontos as Shreya looks at Fiora, frustration clearly evident on her face...

* * *

Inside the Defenders of the Flame meeting chamber, Lucia and Arvan lead Fiora, Shreya, and the third-year inductees in practicing their Stoicheal Gathers. Although Shreya manages to perform a Gather after only two tries, Fiora still struggles with her own. Lucia approaches her while the others are practicing.

LUCIA: Hey. Looks like you’re having some trouble.

Fiora stops and looks at Lucia, then nods.

FIORA: It’s the whole “foundation point” thing. I suck at it.

LUCIA: Having trouble figuring it out, then?

FIORA: Yeah.

LUCIA: There’s not a lot I can help you with on that front. The foundation is something that comes from within. Who is Fiora? What makes you... well, you?

FIORA: I don’t know. I’m not as talented or confident as Shreya...

Lucia follows her gaze to where Shreya is performing yet another perfect Stoicheal Gather, to the delight and cheers of the third-year inductees. Fiora sighs.

FIORA (to herself): I doubt I’ll ever be.

* * *

Fiora and Shreya walk hand-in-hand down a street in Pennelia, the bright sunlight reflecting off of the snow all around them. Shreya is regaling Fiora with a story.

SHREYA (speaking rapidly): --but it wasn’t as though I meant to Evaporate the entire hot tub! I was just getting so angry, and the water was plenty hot to begin with. It’s an honest mistake to make, you know. At any rate, I still ended up winning “Best Dressed” for the evening, so it wasn’t for nothing.

FIORA: Wow. That’s-- (laughs) Attuned parties really are something.

SHREYA: Oh, they really are! That’s one reason why I’m so looking forward to the Gala. Let me tell you, I’ve already got the perfect dress picked out! Now all that’s left is... well... you know, if someone were to ask me...

FIORA (curiously): Ask you what?

Shreya sighs in frustration and shakes her head.

SHREYA (annoyed): Seriously? It’s--ugh, never mind.

She immediately brightens and points to a shop in the distance.

SHREYA: Oh! Montraire Bakery! We simply must stop in for a bite!

She drags Fiora toward the bakery, but as she does so, Shreya’s face displays a brief flash of disappointment...

* * *

In her usual lecture hall, Dr. Religast is in the midst of a lecture on Stoicheal Awakenings. Beckett, as usual, is taking detailed notes on the professor’s every word, while Zeph is busying himself by attempting a Roped Current with his hands beneath his desk. All that he manages is a weak trickle of water, which Shreya neatly Evaporates before anyone can notice.

DR. RELIGAST: --of triggering an Awakening. The first, and by far the most common: children growing up in Attuned households will often Awaken on their own, simply by exposure to adult Attuned...

Fiora leans over Shreya’s shoulder to see that Shreya is flipping through a small pamphlet decorated with moving pictures of models showing off various dresses.

FIORA (whispering): What’s that?

SHREYA (whispering): Just the latest Mistry Inc. catalogue. It’s mostly dresses during this season, of course. For the many upcoming dances and, ahem... galas!

FIORA (whispering): Oh. Wow! Are you gonna buy anything?

SHREYA (whispering): No, no... I told you, I’ve already bought my dress. It’s just fun looking through these sorts of things!

FIORA (whispering): Right. Sounds like it!

SHREYA (whispering): Now all I need is a date.

FIORA (whispering): Yeah...

Fiora shrugs, turning back to focus on what Dr. Religast is saying.

DR. RELIGAST: --is exposed to a highly concentrated source of stoicheal energy to become Awakened on their own, without any Attuned being present. Although such occurrences are rare, they almost always cause significant upheavals in Tuneless culture when...

Dr. Religast’s voice fades into the background as Shreya lets out a growl of frustration.

* * *

Fiora sits on the couch in their room’s common area as Shreya fiddles with something near the entrance. Apparently satisfied, she steps back to admire her handiwork and does a brief twirl.

SHREYA: And... that should do it! One entryway, freely open for the next six hours!

Fiora laughs.

FIORA: Nice job, Shreya! I didn’t even know we could do that.

SHREYA (winks): Just a little something my sister taught me.

The door to Fiora’s room swings open, and Atlas enters.

FIORA: Speaking of sisters... hey, Atlas.

ATLAS: You’re sure opening the door’s a good idea? What if Raife decides to send something after us while we’re wide open?

SHREYA: He already managed that even with the door closed. I doubt it would make much difference.

Atlas huffs and crosses her arms, glaring at the newly-unlocked doorway.

ATLAS: Okay, but if the next thing to come through that door looks at all suspicious, I’m hitting it with--

She is interrupted by Griffin stepping through the doorway. Griffin quickly raises his arms in surrender as he enters.

GRIFFIN: Whoa, Atlas, it’s me! Please don’t hit me with anything.

Atlas relaxes a fraction.

SHREYA: Griffin! So glad you could make it! (to Fiora) Looks like the entry really is open, you see?

GRIFFIN: Wait, you didn’t check to make sure?

SHREYA (laughs): Relax! Clearly it all worked out, non?

Zeph steps through a moment later, with Beckett close behind.

ZEPH: Alright! The Pend Pals are all here. Let’s get this study session started!

They all gather around the center table, pulling out their various study materials and setting them out. Beckett raises an eyebrow at Zeph.

BECKETT: Not that I am complaining, mind you, but... it’s unusual to see you so enthused about studying.

ZEPH: What? I’m allowed to be excited about it if I want!

FIORA: So, uh... what should we start on first?

BECKETT: Shall we begin with Dr. Vartokis’s “Equivalencies” assignment? It seems by far the most difficult--

SHREYA: Oh, we finished that one ages ago. Fiora’s been making those types of comparisons to absolutely everything in the Stoicheal Realm for months now, so it was easy.

FIORA: I’ll help you guys if you want!

Zeph eagerly pushes his worksheet in Fiora’s direction, while Beckett looks from Zeph to Fiora to Shreya and back in shocked confusion.

BECKETT (muttering): ...Have I fallen into some strange alternate universe?

ATLAS: Wow. Looks like Fiora and Shreya are doing better than you in a class for once. Gotta say, your reactions are hilarious to watch.

BECKETT: Oh? Why don’t you attempt the assignment, then?

ATLAS: Why should I? I don’t even go to class. Besides, watching you struggle with schoolwork for a change is way more entertaining.

BECKETT (sighs): You are impossibly vexing...

* * *

Icicles hang from the trees overhead as Zeph stands in a forested part of the quad, clad only in shorts and a t-shirt. He holds a hand out in front of his face, palm outward and glowing with water stoichi, as he struggles to concentrate on something.

ZEPH: Urgh... come on!

A few small spurts of water emerge from his palm and fall to the ground. He grunts in frustration and takes a step backward before preparing to try again.

ATLAS (O.S.): Zeph? That you?

Zeph lets his arm fall to his side and turns to see Atlas, similarly underdressed for the weather in a short-sleeved shirt and thin pants, approaching through the snow. She frowns at him.

ATLAS: I know training when I see it. What are you working on?

ZEPH: Oh! Atlas! ...Actually, you might be able to help. I’m trying to do your Roped Current, but...

He attempts the technique once again, demonstrating a similar result to the first time. Atlas frowns.

ATLAS: You’re really worried about the Wave’s Crest, huh?

ZEPH: Yeah. With Fiora, Shreya, and Beckett all being inducted already, I’m worried I won’t get in at all. My family would kill me if I didn’t get in!

ATLAS (completely serious): Wait, really?! Sources, Zeph, you should get out of--

Zeph breaks down into laughter.

ZEPH: Atlas, I didn’t mean literally! You take things so seriously it’s hilarious. But still, they’d be pretty upset. I’d be the first Hernandez child in eight generations not to be inducted.

Atlas thinks for a moment, then nods.

ATLAS: Alright. I’ll help you out.

ZEPH: Wait, you will? Really?

ATLAS: Sure. For one thing, you’re never gonna accomplish much tryin’ to run before you can walk. Roped Current is damn near impossible to pull off without training up to Energy-Att level first. Or... (shrugs) ...being a natural-born Energy-Att like me, I guess.

ZEPH (dejectedly): Oh.

ATLAS: Don’t worry about it. If this Wave’s Crest thing is so important to you... why don’t we work to get in together? There’s plenty of other techniques I can teach you in the meantime. Stuff that only requires Water Attunement to pull off.

ZEPH: Wow, that’d be perfect! You’re awesome, Atlas, thanks!

In his excitement, he turns and moves to give Atlas a hug, but she goes for a handshake at the same time. They end up awkwardly pressing their palms together and shaking them up and down.

ZEPH (laughs): Alright, not sure what that was... but when do you wanna start training?

ATLAS: Now is fine.

ZEPH: Oh. Uh... wow. You really don’t mess around!

ATLAS: Are we gonna train or what?

As Atlas steps forward and gets into a combat stance, readying herself, Zeph catches her eye and smirks.

ZEPH: ...Alright, I think I get what Beckett sees in you now. You and him would be--blrgrlblubrlgrlgb!

Midway through his sentence, Atlas snaps her fingers, which are glowing with water stoichi. His voice abruptly shifts until it sounds like he’s trying to talk underwater.

ATLAS: Lesson 1. “Water Muffle.” Useful in many situations, and its effect... you can see for yourself.

ZEPH: Gluburgl blurrgrg ubulrgl...

Atlas waves her hand lazily, and the technique ends.

ATLAS: Any more talk about Beckett, and I use it again. Is that clear?

ZEPH: Uh... yeah.

ATLAS: Good. Now then. The first step to Water Muffle is...

_______________________

Notes: Dr. Vartokis was mentioned earlier, but here's his first actual appearance! Yes, he's yet another OC professor. The class he teaches seems to be one Zeph's particularly excited about! (His class is essentially the Penderghast equivalent of Muggle Studies, for the Harry Potter fans in my audience.)

Timeline: We're well into Endless Winter (ES book 2) by now!

_______________________

Next: "That Distance Between Us"

CIU Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlesshero1122 @bbaba-yagaa @acidsugar0 @shaylan211 @griselda1121 @acanthisorbis @marmolady @choicesbabie

DotF/Elementalists Tag List:

[aspenflower17]

Finding You (Part 17 of ??)

Hello everyone! Thank you all for being so patient! I had pretty bad writers block and couldn’t figure out where I wanted the story to go from the last chapter. I was also dealing with some irl problems as well. It seems like a lot of creators were having the same problems though January and February though. Hopefully March will make everything smooth out! I think I figured out where to go from here (I have the end all planned out, but getting there without ruining the pacing is what’s been giving me problems). I appreciate everyone’s patience while I figured things out, and hopefully I can get back on a normalized schedule!

Anywho, if you’re new to this story and would like to start at the beginning, here’s the link to part 1. Every chapter should have a link to the next part at the end, so hopefully you decide to read it all :D

Tags <3 : @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan @theuglypugling @oofthelazyweeb @mammonismyfirstman (I’m not great about putting this on every chapter, but if you want to be added to the tags list, just comment below asking to be added (I don’t want to assume everyone commenting wants a tag so just make sure to mention tag in the comment) or you can send me a DM :) Also, I just went through all the chapters so far and I think I have everyone. If I missed you just remind me and I’ll put you in!)

Word Count: 2566

TW: some angst relating to last chapter but that’s about it

Satan sat in his room, contemplating whether telling Mc about Michael was a good idea or not. It’d been a couple days since she’d come over and he hadn’t heard anything from her. It was worrying him more than he wanted to admit, but he knew from spending a lot of time with her as a human, it would be a better idea for him to leave her alone until she was ready to talk to him. From the way she speaks about him, it’s pretty clear their relationship is a bit strained. Actually, it reminds me a bit of me and Lucifer, though with obvious differences. 

While the Avatar of Wrath would never admit it aloud, he did have a kind of respect for Lucifer. It took a different form than anyone else’s mostly because he knew him. All of him. Flaws, strengths, weaknesses, secrets. Well, at least up until his birth. He’d had no idea about Lilith and what Lucifer had done. Lucifer had definitely changed a lot since the Fall, but Satan could generally figure out what he was thinking or how he was going to respond to a situation. So, what was going on with Mc and Michael?

Obviously he didn’t want her talking with him at least. There was probably some fear she’d fall, taking the path of her ancestor but for a being in the Devildom. He couldn’t see any war resulting from her Falling. It would be from her own choice, with no forbidden fruit or humans involved. He was pretty sure Michael didn’t feel anything romantic for her, so it probably wasn’t anything involved in wanting her to stay for him. So why?

He was pulled from his thoughts by his DDD ringing. Hoping it was Mc, he answered by the second ring, “Hello?”

“Congratulations! You’ve won an-” Satan growled and hung up. Stupid solicitor.

There was a knock at his door, “Yo Satan. I got somethin’ for ya’,” Satan sighed, but got up to answer the door. Pulling it open, he saw Mammon and Mc on the other side, “Said she wanted ta talk ta ya. It sounded urgent so…” Mammon smiled a bit apologetically.

“That’s quite alright. Mc, hello. How lovely to see you. Do you want to come in?”

“I’d appreciate that. Thank you,” Mc entered his room as Satan shot daggers through his eyes at Mammon.

“A little warning next time would be nice.”

“Oi! If ya hadn’t been so… gloomy lately maybe I wouldn’t have been so worried- No, ya should just be grateful to the Great Mammon. I’m not an errand boy ya know,” and with that, Mammon stalked off down the hallway.

Satan rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything back. He understood Mammon was just trying to help him, “Well, it’s nice to see you Mc. How… Are you okay?” Mc was turning slowly, looking at his room in awe. He would’ve just figured she was simply impressed by his room like she had been the other first time she’d seen it, but she looked rattled.

“Oh! I was just… Umm… Your collection is really impressive,” she deflected his question, smiling. The unease remained in her eyes though.

“Yes. This is my personal collection,” Satan answered, leaving his question unanswered.

“It’s quite… impressive,” as she turned, Satan caught her frown again. Does she not like how messy it is?

“Though they’re not all on shelves, I make sure they’re all kept in good shape. I honestly just don’t have enough wall space or bookshelves for them all.”

“Oh… I understand. I tend to get book piles too,” Mc answered, a bit caught off guard. 

So it’s not the mess. What could it be?

“So, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you. I just haven’t heard from you for a couple days.”

“I’m sorry about that and just showing up out of the blue like this. I had a lot to think about after… last time, and some things to research. Then inspiration randomly struck for my next art show. Not to mention, Michael’s been keeping a close eye on me ever since he blew up. I wanted to see you, and I didn’t even think to message you first. I’m sorry about that.”

Satan was at a loss for words. She wanted to come see me. She wanted to see me so much, she just showed up. I should really say something to her right now, but I’m not sure what to say.

“You’re not angry with me, are you?” Mc turned back to him, looking worried.

“Of course not. I was afraid you were possibly upset with me, and Lucifer I suppose, for what we told you. I know hearing something like that must be hard.”

Mc smiled, “Well, that’s good to know. As to what you told me… I do trust you guys. More so than I trust most of the other angels in fact… But you are demons and what you told me was… Anyway, I was researching what you told me to see if I could corroborate your story and I did find a couple different mentions of Lilith, one of which told of a connection between her and the fruit. I couldn’t prove or disprove the claims that he… That he was the one that shot her, but with how defensive he immediately got after I mentioned seven angels falling instead of six… I… I can’t bring myself to believe he’d do something that terrible yet, but I do believe you guys on everything else, and… it’s not beyond the realm of possibility. In any case, the Celestial Realm definitely covered up much of the war, including its causes. I had a suspicion when I originally learned about it, but figured it was all just in my head,” Mc looked Satan straight in the eyes, “I want to thank you for being honest with me.”

“How are you so sure we didn’t lie to you? Like you said, we are demons.”

“Call it a hunch,” Mc smiled, “Anyway, I really appreciate it, and I wanted you to have this,” she handed him a very lifelike drawing, “I thought you might like cats, so I frew my favorite one from the Celestial Realm.”

Satan couldn’t believe his eyes, “Leo?”

“Huh?”

“That’s Leo. I… half adopted him a while ago.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well, he’s got hearts all over him right? The one on his forehead and chest are the most prominent, but there’s a couple more on his back and stomach right? Hold on. I have a couple photos here,” and Satan went rustling through a drawer. It was hard to find a photo of him without Mc, but he knew there were some. Leo was a cat that he and Mc had adopted together. She’d used all her charm and reasoning skills to get Lucifer to agree to allowing a cat in the house. She had promised him it would only be the one cat, though they secretly were planning on getting another once Leo passed. They unfortunately didn’t get the chance to see that happen, as Mc passed away before Leo did. Lucifer had allowed Satan to keep the cat as a way to cope with Mc’s death. He listened to me! I told him to go find his Mom once he left me, and he did! I’m so happy!

He finally found a good picture to show Mc, “See? Same cat.”

“Oh my! You’re right! That’s incredible!”

“So, you said he was your favorite?”

“Yeah. Because of how transient most cats are, they don’t spend long in the Celestial Realm. He may not spend a lot of time with me, but I do see him around a lot, and he has comforted me before. A lot of the other angels think he was a pet of mine from my human life, and that's why he sticks around.”

“Well, who wouldn’t want to stay with you?”

Mc looked up at Satan, “You really think that?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“You didn’t even know me then. What if I was boring or really dumb in the human realm?”

Satan slapped himself internally for not being more careful, “I highly doubt you were either of those two things. I know when people come down here, they don’t lose any of their personality.”

“Really?”

“Yup. It makes the whole process of breaking them so much more entertaining,” seeing Mc’s worried expression, he cleared his throat and moved on, “With that line of thinking, angels would be the same way. Your placement was just decided by how good you were in life.”

“What if I was a Wanderer though?”

Satan sucked in a breath at that. She had been a Wanderer? There was a chance she could have ended up here with him?

“There’s a lot of theories on why someone might Wander. None of them are conclusive though. I wouldn’t worry too much about it if I were you.”

“Satan?”

“Yes?”

“When the time comes, will you answer my questions?” Mc didn’t look at Satan, but he had the feeling this was an extremely important question.

“Of course I will.”

Satan watched some tension leave Mc’s body, as she turned to him and smiled sincerely, “Thank you.”

“Well, of course. That’s assuming I can answer them.”

“I have a feeling you’ll be able to,” she answered cryptically.

“Very well then. Since you’re here, would you like to stay and read? Or we can go somewhere if you’d like,” she turned to him, and he couldn’t help the words that fell from his lips, “I just want to spend some time with you.”

Mc looked a bit shocked, but then she smiled softly, “I’d really like that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They decided on reading, but not before they went downstairs to grab some snacks. As predicted, Beel was there as well.

“Hey Mc,” Beel grinned, his feast not yet begun.

“Hi Beelze… Actually, is it alright if I call you Beel?”

“Huh? Why wouldn’t it be okay?” Beel cocked his head to the side in confusion.

“It’s just… I don’t know you very well, so I didn’t know if it was alright. Plus, they always refer to you as Beelzebub in the Celestial Realm.”

“Wait… Do they talk about us up in the Celestial Realm?”

“Not a lot, but when speaking about our history they do talk about you all, especially Lucifer.”

“What do they say about me?” Beel had grabbed his wrist.

“Yeah, what do they say about us? I wanna know,” Belphie’s head popped out from underneath the table, making Mc yelp a little and grabbed onto Satan’s arm. His hand automatically covered hers, a reflex from when she had been a human.

“Oh yeah. Belphie’s here too,” Beel added happily, watching the angel and his brother.

Belphie smirked, eyes on their arms, “So, what do they say about us?”

“You give me a near heart attack and then carry on like nothing happened?” Mc asked, a bit embarrassed.

“Your fault for not looking,” Belphie grunted, looking at Satan who was nearly frozen in place, his eyes focused on the point of contact, “You woke me up so maybe you should be apologizing to me.”

“Belphie, don’t be mean. You were hiding weren’t you?” Beel asked.

“Well, yeah, but that’s not the point. And how long are you going to keep clinging to my brother like that? I know he’s stronger than me, but I’m not going to hurt you.”

Mc looked to see she was still grabbing Satan’s arm, “Eep! S-Sorry! I didn’t realize,” she removed herself and took a step away, face burning.

“That’s quite alright Mc,” Satan managed to get out.

“So, what’d you guys come down here for?” Beel asked, frowning a bit at Belphie.

“Ah, right. Snacks. We came down for snacks,” Mc said quickly, face still flushed.

“I can help with that,” Beel said, “Come over here Mc and I’ll help you pick food out.” By the time their snacks were decided, both Mc and Satan had to carry them up to his room.

“We have way too many snacks,” Satan observed, “I’ll still have some in my room a month from now.”

“Awww, come on you guys! I went down to resupply early to avoid Beel taking everything, but it was really you two I needed to watch out for?”

“He was already there when we went down. He sent us back with all this,” Satan answered, not really wanting to deal with Levi at the moment. The twins had already taken up enough valuable reading time as it was.

“Of course he would. He never thinks about me when he cleans out the fridge. It’s not like it’s easy for me to just leave the house to go get something, but no one ever thinks about me. It’s probably because I’m a-”

“Oh, do you want these then?” Mc cut him off, extending her full arms.

“Wha…? You’re giving these to me?”

“Sure. Why not?” Mc smiled at him.

Levi’s eyes went wide and his lower lip quivered a bit, “You’re so kind. You’re truly an angel now.”

“Because I wasn’t before?” Mc chuckled.

Levi’s eyes got even wider and he looked down, “W-Well, I-I… Just… Thank you for the food. I think I need to go back to my room now!”

“Oh, sure. Here you go,” the snacks were handed off, Levi only dropping 3 in his haste, and then he was walking as quickly as he could down the hallway towards his room.

“That was weird,” Mc commented, watching him hurry down the hallway.

“He’s weird,” Satan sighed, extremely grumpy that Levi not only interrupted them but then said something so thoughtless, “Don’t worry about him.”

“Sure,” Mc replied, though he was sure she was still wondering about it.

“Let’s just get to my room before we’re interrupted by anyone else.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Satan closed his book and stretched, enjoying the increase in blood flow throughout his body, “How are you enjoying- Oh,” Mc, who he had given the bed to, the place she had read before they would read cuddled together, was asleep. She was breathing deeply, book still clutched in her hand.

Chuckling, Satan padded over to the bed, and pulled a blanket over her. Coincidentally, it was one she had given him. She had been convinced it was the best blanket for reading ever. He had put a perseverance spell on it so it never got worn past where it was comfortable. Now that he had it for a long time, he found himself agreeing with her.

He allowed himself a moment to admire her sleeping form, the muntins in his window throwing a line across her face. She adjusted in her sleep, pulling the blanket closer. She smiled sleepily, murmuring something that almost sounded like his name. She truly is just as beautiful as before she left that last time. The last time I ever saw her alive…

His hand caressed her jaw line before he knew what he was doing, “I’ll never lose you again. For as long as you’ll allow me in your life, I’ll be here. I promise you that,” he whispered, leaning down and lightly pressing his lips to her forehead.

She stirred at the contact, eyes opening sleepily and focusing on him, “Mnh, Satan?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As always, likes, comments and reblogs are always welcome! Until next time!

[kuriboo]

Hugsaku 2021

Crossover | Skipping Dimensions

This year I figured I’d take part in the hugsaku week. In the past with events like these, I’ve seen people take the prompts and turn them into one continuous story, and I ended up wanting to give that a try. I used a combination of prompts from the 2021 list and the 2019 list to write this out, so I hope you enjoy it!

This isn’t any of the day 1 prompts, I know... I ended up taking this prompt and using it to sort of set up the story, so this ended up being slightly out of order. The rest of the prompts should be in order, though. I do have an actual day 1 that will post later today, so there’s that to look forward to.

I’ll be posting this up on ao3 where the whole fic will be titled Dimension Gate. I’ll link the ao3 in the notes of this post. I hope you enjoy!

--

"Where am I? What is this?” 

There was not an area like this anywhere in Link Vrains. Den City definitely looked nothing like this. Yusaku glanced down at himself briefly; okay, he was in the real world. So where was he? 

He had another question: how did he get here? The last thing he could remember was...actually, he couldn't remember the last thing that happened. It wasn't a complete amnesia, he had most of his memories intact, but there was a definite blank before he got to wherever this was. Which left him with no ideas of how to get home. Great. 

While he'd been checking his outfit to check if he was in the real world or Vrains, Yusaku noticed a card on the ground. It wasn't terribly uncommon for someone to accidentally drop a card in Den City. This was a completely blank card, however. Cards usually weren’t completely blank, and people didn’t tend to carry around blank cards, let alone lose them. Curious, he bent down to get a close look. 

“Ai, do you know of any cards that are completely blank being used in Vrains, or why anyone would have one?”

He waited a few moments for Ai to respond, but the next few seconds were filled with nothing but silence.

That meant something was wrong. Ai loved to talk, especially when he knew something Yusaku didn't.

"Ai?” Yusaku tapped the top of his duel disk, but got no reaction. Either something was wrong with Ai, or Ai wasn't here. That worried Yusaku more than he'd like to admit.

His attention was drawn back to the blank card. Maybe his brain was just trying to distract itself from bigger, more terrifying problems with something smaller and more manageable. What was this thing? Maybe if he picked it up and got a closer look... 

“Hey, buddy! you really shouldn't pick up that card!" Whatever the complete stranger who Yusaku couldn't even see was yelling about, it was too late for that. The card was already in Yusaku’s hand. He heard footsteps running behind him and assumed they probably belonged to the person that was yelling. 

Yusaku turned around and, sure enough, someone was running directly at him. He glared at them." I am not your buddy, We are not friends.”

“Okay I get it, we don't know each other. But you shouldn’t keep that card . It's dangerous.”

Yusaku snorted. “Why should I give up this card, especially to a little kid?." He looked down at the card, and saw it was no longer blank. It was an actual card now, and XYZ Monster, and now it was his. There was a dull ache in the back of his head, but he ignored it. "This is exactly what I need to get my revenge, and I’ll never let anyone take that from me." He hadn't been thinking about truly putting it in his deck until he picked it up, but now he felt the strong urge to use it, like the card wanted to be with him. 

“Well, if you're going to be like that, I’m gonna have to duel you for it!" The stranger held a duel disk in front of him and put some sort of eyepiece on his face.

Yusaku heard the word ‘duel’, stared at the eyepiece, and felt something between fear and confusion fill him. What was he doing ? He glanced at the XYZ card. It was like the second be picked it up, he'd been filled with this anger. The same kind of anger that drove his revenge, like the card was Ai and this stranger was a Knight of Hanoi. He hadn’t realized the anger was there until it was gone. Could a card do that outside of Vrains? 

He looked at the stranger. "No duel. I changed my mind, I don't want it." 

That caught the strange off guard." Are you sure?" 

He looked the stranger over this time. This was clearly a kid still in middle school. Was it safe to give them this card if they said it was dangerous? Well this middle schooler knew more about this card than Yusaku did, clearly. He held it out to the kid. “Take it.”

("Yuma, why are you hesitating? Take the card before he charges his mind.”) 

The stranger stared at Yusaku as he slowly took it, as if waiting for Yusaku to change his mind, but he took the card easily. 

The stranger blinked up at Yusaku. “How did you resist the Number's control?"

"Control?" Now that the card was out of Yusaku’s possession, it felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but he still didn't understand what that meant. 

"These Numbers belong to my friend Astral. He lost them and they're all over the place, and when most people pick them up, they take control of them. People

start doing bad stuff. I'm trying to get them back for Astral, but I usually have to duel whoever has them to get them back. But I challenged you to a duel, and you just gave it to me?"

Yusaku shrugged." I don't know about this cards controlling people business. I don’t know why I wanted to keep the card at all. You wanted to duel, I don't like dueling. 

The stranger pointed at Yogaki's arm, " You have a duel disk?" 

Yusaku shifted his weight. "Appearances can be deceiving. You don't know anything about me. 

"That's true. I've never seen you before. I don't even know your name. Oops! I'm Yuma.” 

“Yusaku." 

(“Fascinating. Yusaku doesn't seem to know how he did it, but he resisted. I would like to observe him and try to figure out how.”)

"Come on, Astral, don't be creepy," Yuma whispered to the empty air beside him, loud enough for Yusaku to be able to hear easily.

"Uh…”

“Oh. Astral, the friend I mentioned before, he's here, too. But for some reason I'm the only person that can see him. Weird, huh?" 

“So you have an imaginary friend.” If it was really Yuma who owned and lost these cards and Astral was made up to blame someone else for it, Yusaku wouldn't be surprised. Middle schoolers were young enough for imaginary friends, right? He couldn't remember. 

("Yuma, ask him if I can learn more about him.”

“He's not imaginary, I swear -- Astral, stop being weird!" Yuma protested. "Besides, I'm sure Yusaku wants to go home, it's getting dark out!”

Yusaku looked up to the sky. Yuma was right, twilight was hitting the city and he was no closer to figuring out his own predicament. As a night owl, the time and darkness usually didn't bother Yusaku, but in an unfamiliar area like this he was only going to get more lost. "I suppose I should.” The two of them stood in silence, Yuma staring at Yusaku while Yusaku stood in place.

“So, are you going home, then? Or…” Yuma spoke eventually. 

“Oh right,” Yusaku blinked. "I don't know where I am or how I got here. So I have no idea how to do that." 

"I can at least tell you where you are! This is Heartland City!" 

Yusaku shook his head. "Never heard of it." Knowing that didn’t help him at all. He’d have to figure it out from there, somehow.

“I can try to help you figure out how to get back," Yuma offered. "But - oh, my sister's going to be so mad at me if I'm not home soon. You know, there's no school tomorrow, I could help you then. You want to spend the night at my place?" 

Everything about following some kid he barely knew to his house set off extremely loud danger signals in Yusaku’s head. He tried to remind himself he was older now, definitely older than Yuma was, and was more able to take care of himself. 

"It'll be a lot easier for us in the morning," Yuma offered when Yusaku gave no response.

“...I get bad nightmares. I wake up screaming.” 

"That's okay.” Yuma did not waver in his determination to help. 

“Fine." Yusaku definitely had no friends around here, so he didn't have much of a better choice.

"Awesome, it’ll be a sleepover! I can't wait!”

Yuma pulled Yusaku into a surprisingly strong hug for someone shorter than him. Yusaku froze, felt every muscle in his body freeze up. This was about the most uncomfortable thing that could’ve happened.

Once Yuma realized, he released Yusaku and apologized, but his spirits did not seem dampened at all.

"So,Yusaku, do you go to the same school as me?"

(“Yuma, if he's never heard of this city, I highly doubt he goes to school here.”)

“Astral, I didn't ask you."

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “To learn.”

My brain wanted to write something in first person present tense today. I have no idea why, but I let it go wild. I hope you all like it :) A little bit different than my usual style :)

I just needed some time.

You ever tried putting yourself back together after war, it isn’t easy, or at least I don’t find it to be. I don’t know, call me a sissy, but I don’t actually like war., I don’t take pleasure from killing, but it is part of my job, a big part of it and if the universe continues the way it is, I am going to see war a lot more often.

I wish it didn’t affect me so much.

I wish I had a better way of handling it.

People think I’m a strong person, but they’re wrong. There are plenty of people who could take up my mantle and do a more badass job. They wouldn’t grow sick as the sight of carnage, and they wouldn’t hesitate to put the armor back on.

I’m not like that ….

I’m a coward.

If my friends knew…. Well I have no idea what they would think of me.

But that’s why I had to take some time. Since my first injury, I have never been totally alone. There was always someone there to check on me, there was always someone there to help me deal with my issues. I don’t think I ever figured out how to take care of myself, which is why I decided to take this trip, alone.

The others didn’t understand it…. well , one of them did but he still didn’t like it, but If I am being honest it will be good for them….. Especially her…. The last thing I want to do is make it so we can’t function alone.

I think its called…. Codependency or something.

I don’t know sounds like the sort of thing I’d get caught up in.

I suppose it's for all those reasons that I ended up here. 

Looking out the window, I can see Anum suspended against the sky glassy in shades of blue purple and green like a lucky marble. It almost feels as if I can reach out and touch it.

The last time I saw this place, it was receding into the distance,.

I lost a lot here, my leg, and my mind for a short time.

Now it kind of makes me laugh to think that a piece of me was left behind to fertilize some of the plant matter. Of course, it looks a bit different now that the dark season has abated. I had only ever seen the place when it was covered in ash, but it's actually quite beautiful. 

The pilot of the shuttle is pretty average, and I only feel like tightening my hands on the seatbelts just a little as we enter the atmosphere.

Fire rolls up around us as friction begins to heat up the outer hull.

Around me men and aliens alike rock in their seats.

Most of them are miners, come here to work on extracting the precious metals from below Anum’s surface.

Personally, I prefer asteroid mining, but statistics say that is more dangerous and expensive so of course corporations like it a lot less, and besides, all of this was sort of just a massive pissing contest with the GA forcing the Drev to pay for the damages caused during war. I don’t think they should, but who am I to give my opinion.

I’m just a soldier.

It doesn't take us long to leave the atmosphere, and it isn’t long before we are looking down at a massive open mining operation. The face of Anum has been scoured with a massive terraced hole overrun by machines and workers cutting into the stone. Volcanoes pipe smoke in the distance.

The scars of industry really are ugly sometimes.

I’ve seen pictures of anum during the bright season, without the machinery.

It's honestly very beautiful, but maybe I'm a bit biased. It’s the one part of home that Sunny misses, and I’ve always wanted to see it for myself. With all the times we’ve gone to earth, you think we'd have visited her home planet too, but I guess the cosmos have ust never taken us this way.

Red lights blink above the doors, and I unbuckle my harness pulling on my bag and gear with the rest of the miners, though I’m not here for the same reason they are. Boots clatter loudly on the ramp below our feet, and I head outside.

It smells clean and cool, though for a distant tang of sulfur.

You barely notice it though, less bad than visiting the hot springs at yellowstone, so your nose adjusts quickly.

The sky overhead is blue, just like on earth, though the ground beyond the launch pad is an amalgamation of rainbow color. I have to blink a few times to adjust my vision, pulling up the eyepatch to take a look from my mechanical eye and its UV filter.

“Holy shit.”

It's beautiful, the sheer amount of color is astonishing like the Lucky Charms leprechaun had some sort of horrific accident. T

he miners ignore me and continue on their way towards the docking pad. 

I don’t plan on following.

I am not here for them. I drop the patch back over my eye, and adjust the bag over my shoulder striking it out into the bush, barely looking back. No one notices, or cares, and it isn’t long before the launch field and the mining operation disappears over the horizon. Anum’s circumference is just a little smaller than that of earth with the horizon eating up anything beyond that around three miles.

Gravity is somewhat lessened too, which makes it easier as I walk.

My boots are silent against the multicolored moss at my feet, this stuff teal in color. Little white flowers spring up from the surface like clover back home. A light gust of wind rolls past me causing the flowers to ripple. I lift my head closing my eyes and allowing the wind to carry with it distant smells.

This is the same wind that Sunny would have known growing up, the same feeling under her feet.

I decide to stop a couple miles out under the meager shade of a coiltree. I have never actually seen one before now, and I can see why it’s called a coiltree. Honestly it looks like something straight out of a Dr. Seus book striped up the trunk and with branches that curl into spirals. More little whit blossoms erupt from the trunk, and between those are little white berries. 

I seem to recall those being edible.

Reaching up, I pluck one or two down from the branches and pop them into my mouth. Though the skin is white, the berries juice stains my hands purple. One of them is horrifically sour, but the other is pleasantly sweet, probably more ripe than the other, though I can’t yet tell the difference between them. 

I sit there under the tree for a little while looking out across the lonely landscape. Something is moving on the distant horizon, though I can't exactly tell what they are, a herd of some sort of animal or another. They are very tall as far as I can tell, just a little shorter than the coiltree.

As a last moment decision, I kick off my boots, and strip my socks tying them to my bag before standing.

The moss is very soft under my feet erupting upwards between my toes like a shag carpet, but you know much less hideous.

My footsteps are even softer now, though the prosthetic clatters sometimes when metal hits stone.

Sweat runs down my back,sides, and front.

I have no idea where I am going, but I know they will see me soon enough.

They have patroll parties out here, and if they aren’t watching me already, then they will be soon enough.

I keep walking heading parallel to the volcanic chain.

For the most part, my hike is uneventful, except for that time that I stepped on something slimy and wriggly. I hate to admit it but I squealed like an idiot and nearly fell over, only made worse when I looked down and saw the giant pale maggot burrowing into the moss and underground.

I nearly gagged, and my skin crawled.

Sunny had mentioned those, though I forgot their names.

THey lived primarily off of decomposing plant and animal material, very common in areas where war had continued.

I didn’t like it, but it was probably one of those nasty suckers that ate my leg.

Ew…

Gross.

I contemplated putting my boots back on, but kept walking instead. 

A group of unknown flying critters appear overhead. They have two sets of membranous wings, kind of like those of a bat, no tail though, just a long rail of fur like the streamer of a kite.

These ones are bright colors like pink and yellow.

Pretty cool.

Its nice to walk in the silence, though after a while my brain devolves into humming the star wars theme, and then singing stupid songs dancing around and hopping about from one foot to another as I badly sing the choruses to all the songs I know.

My eye of the tiger rendition probably left something to be desired, though I doubt anyone out here would know the difference.

Then comes the stupid dialogs with myself as I try to imagine what Krill Conn and Sunny would say about all this.

“Commander, I will have you know that you behavior is highly disquieting, I insist we get an MRI on your brain to make sure you have not developed a severe case of bilateral goop disease.”

“What kind of dumbass just goes wandering around with no idea where he’s going. The dumbass kind of dumbass.”

“Adam, I need you to understand that Anum is a dangerous place. I know you grew up on earth, but there are still things that can go wrong on Anum. Do you know how common surprise hot springs are. What if you fell in and died.”

Speaking of which, “Thanks imaginary Sunny, I totally forgot about that.”

Other than that, what can go wrong, it is a bright shiny day, the temperature is perfect, nothing someone like me can’t handle. Oh and is that a crunchy pink orb I see. I fucking love those, they taste so good.

I hop over the rocks, my feet warm on the moss, and reach down to pluck one of the spheres from it’s short stumpy stem.

And that's when the spear appears at my throat.

Shit.

I drop my hand back and look up to see a drev that is at least three feet taller than me, holding his massive spear orange eyes narrowed. Holy shit, I didn’t even hear her/him coming. Honestly I should have seen them coming long before anything else bright fuschia as they were.

“Lod tsa ee nin tsa daeen darish.”  They jab the spear at my neck, and the obsidian lined head cuts through my sin like butter. 

Oh shit, uh, my translator is not picking up shit. Guess these guys have a different accent than we’re used to. I rack my brains trying to remember how to speak what little I know, but it seems that it has all fled me when I needed it the most.

“Lod tsa ee nin tsa daeen darish!” I stumble backwards onto my butt and hands. Shit shit.

I hold up a hand.

“Cheeyat neahasan!” Shit I forgot to conjugate the verb. Damn I must look like an idiot yelling ‘to speak slow!’ at the top of my lungs 

However, my botched attempt at speaking seems to work, and they pull back. “Tsa dzhal Cheeyish.” 

Oh I understood that one, “Yid zhe cheeyi dzhal.” yes, yes I speak Drev, “neahasan.” Slolwy anyway. 

They pull back. I don't know why, but I’m getting a female vibe off this one. I can't tell though, Drev voices all tend to be rather deep.

“Lod tsa ee nin tsa daeen darish” She says it slower this time, and all around her I watch as a small group of other Drev move to flank me from the sides. They are listening very intently.

I think I understand this time, the rough translation being who are you and what are you doing.

I want to speak with your leader, “Zhe zhegingi s tsak eeda cheeyat.” My voice is halting and I am butchering the pronunciation, but they seem to get my request.

She trusts the spear at me, “Tsaee!”

I hold up my hands, “Woah woah, easy easy…. I uh.” Shit what was the word to learn, “zhe….zhengingi hak tsa…. “ Damn it… I can’t remember,  “um….. Rekazat nin dzhal….. Rekazazh.”

Oh wow, that sounds really intelligent. I wanted to learn from them but instead apparently I ‘want to know what they know.’ riveting conversationalist that I am.

She stares at me confused.

In frustration I point at her spear, “Zhe zhengingi…..zheengat?” 

Uh this was going poorly. I clearly did not know as much of their language as I thought I did.

I want to know to fight.

Wow excellent work their commander that will convince them.

They look back and forth at each other, and fire off some quick shot dialogue that leaves my head spinning.

She turns to me and lowers her spear, “s jya Hajish.”

Come with us.

Great a sentence I understood.

It was in the next few hours that I was either going to live, or I was going to die horribly. 

A pretty exciting time in my life.

And I followed.

Not like I had a choice at this point. 

[emachinescat]

Murdoc + Ithika + Mac

A MacGyver Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 14 - “I didn’t mean it”

Summary: As an artist, Murdoc prides himself in taking his time with his work - he never loses control.  Except one time, with his favorite boy genius.  He always imagined that when he finally made MacGyver cry, it would be his finest moment.  Now, he’s not so sure.

Characters: Murdoc, Mac, Jack

Words: 3,454

TW: torture, broken bones, Murdoc being his creepy little self

Note: Happy Valentine's Day – the store was all out of chocolate, so I got you Mac whump! ;) The allusions to Ithika are from Homer's epic by the same name, but even more so from the incredible poem by C.P. Cavafy. The muse mentioned, Melpomene, is the Muse of Tragedy.

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this!

Ithika gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn't have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

- From “Ithika” by C. P. Cavafy

Murdoc enjoyed taking his time.

He was an artist, after all, and artists didn’t slap together a masterpiece in an afternoon – not the ones worth anything, at least.  Most spent days studying their subjects, becoming intimately familiar with every line and curve and element – the shading, the lighting, the vibrancy of the colors.  The very best didn’t even consider touching brush to canvas until they had developed a personal relationship with their subject – for how can a true artist paint that which he does not know deeply?  Why bother recreating that landscape or tea kettle or sad-eyed little girl or bowl of fruit if it could be any landscape, tea kettle, little girl, or bowl of fruit?  Why would someone paint something that wasn’t theirs?

Murdoc knew his subject very well.  He, like a true artist, had studied it in a variety of settings.  He’d watched and learned, dug deep into the core of its being, drawn out every secret and motivation and loss and love.  He understood what made his subject tick.  He’d even done some brief sketches, practicing each brushstroke with care, waiting patiently for the day he could at last, intricately, evoke that muse sought by the Romantics, that evasive Melpomene, and breathe his masterpiece to life.  Or, more accurately, to death.

And now, after years of watching, interacting, teasing, sketching, his time had finally come.  Months of planning had been sunk into this particular endeavor.  And now, unlike the first time he’d been introduced to his subject, he hadn’t been commissioned by anyone.  This portrait was personal, deeply personal.  He finally had his subject right where he wanted it.  The canvas was bare and waiting for the artist’s touch.  Murdoc had chosen his palette, mixed the colors – it might be cliche, but he was a sucker for red, black, and blue.

Now that his moment had finally arrived, however, it didn’t mean that he could rush through the actual creation process.  The act of studying one’s subject matter was slow and deliberate.  So must be the painting.  

***

Murdoc studied his canvas slowly, methodically, unsurprised that it wasn’t exactly blank.  MacGyver stood, hands chained above his head, attached to a grate above.  His bare toes just reached the cold concrete below.  His jacket and Henley had been removed – he shivered slightly from the chill of the basement.  Murdoc liked to think it was from fear.  

“Oooh, this one’s fun, MacGyver!” Murdoc crooned as the blonde boy wonder eyed him scornfully.  It was quite entertaining how expressive his prey’s pretty blue eyes could be.  Murdoc briefly brushed the tip of his little finger against the scar of a bullet wound on MacGyver’s chest.  MacGyver jerked back from the touch, though his expression remained stoic.

“Jealous that you weren’t the one who did it, Murdoc?”  He sounded confident enough, but Murdoc knew his subject quite well by now.  MacGyver was shaken.  For once, he had no control, nothing to work with, no way to escape.  He was at his captor’s mercy – Murdoc could do whatever he wanted, and MacGyver knew that.

“Oh, it’s nothing compared with what I’ve got planned for you, Angus,” Murdoc simpered sweetly, circling his catch of the day, dark eyes darting across more scars and recent cuts and bruises.  He pressed directly into the dark center of a boot-tip bruise on MacGyver’s side, relishing the sharp intake of breath it elicited.  “Someone on your last mission in Volgograd left their mark, I see.”

He circled back around to face his victim, who did a subpar job of hiding his surprise at the observation.  “That was highly classified.  How did you–”

“I’ve been watching you for a very long time, MacGyver.  But you had to have known I would.  After all, you’re my closest friend, and I know where you live.  It’s kind of silly that you never moved, but maybe you just figured I’d find you even if you did.  I wonder – have you always tossed and turned in your sleep or is that a more recent development?”

True horror flashed momentarily in blue eyes, tugging Murdoc’s lips up into a satisfied smile.  “Oh, yes, your nightmares are very entertaining.  I do hope the majority of them are about me.  Oh, oh, oh!  And I especially love it when they’re so bad you have to call your watch dog to calm you down.  I wonder how Dalton’s taking your disappearance, by the way?  I’m sure he’s in for some nightmares of his own.”

“He’ll find me, if I don’t escape first.”  MacGyver’s bravado was both highly endearing and incredibly tiresome.  Same old, same old.

“Doubtful,” Murdoc purred.  “I mean, I know you well enough not to make stupid mistakes, my friend.”

“I escaped from the sewers, and you’d drugged me.”

“I intended for you to escape that day.  I needed to draw your friends in, to focus their attention on finding you while I attended to other business.  But this time – you’re mine.”  At the fervor in his words, a shudder entirely unrelated to cold clinked the chains restraining his victim.  Murdoc smiled, then continued.

“But now, there is no ulterior motive.  I grabbed you for no other reason than because I wanted to.  You are hidden away quite well, even more securely than last time, I’m afraid.  And you will not be left alone, not even for a second.  There may be things in this room you could use to escape, but they’re useless to you in your position.  And I am not going to take my eyes off of you.  You won’t have a chance to wriggle your way out of this one, MacGyver.  Ooooh, is that fear I see on your face?  No?  We really must change that.”  He tutted.  “Defiance and bravado really are your bread and butter, aren’t they, Angus?  What are you, an action hero from a cheesy 1980s TV show?”  Silence, though the fiery glare spoke more loudly than words.  

Murdoc clapped his hands together.  “Well, there’s no time like the present.  What do you say, MacGyver?  Let’s get started.”

***

Three hours later, Murdoc admired his work.  It was a slow process.  He painted with precision and care, layering the colors just so, balancing the strokes, the lights and darks and brights.  His brushes were many – laid out on the table before him were knives and pliers and blow torches and hammers and whips and cattle prods and other more specialized tools that he liked to work up to.  He also had an oversized meat tenderizer, made of steel.  He rarely used it – too garish for his refined tastes – but it did look nice and scary looming over the other instruments.

So far, he’d only used his knives and the cattle prod.  The masterpiece was starting to come together, but it was hardly complete.  He prowled around his artwork.  MacGyver’s trembling had increased.  He gasped for breath as Murdoc appraised his work – burns and cuts, some deeper than others – made a nice foundation.  The drip of blood across bare flesh outshone any Pollock painting.  He’d practiced his blending techniques, jabbing the cattle prod directly into the center of the lovely bruise he’d noticed earlier.  MacGyver hadn’t been able to hold in his yell of pain.  

Music.

“Are you enjoying our time together?” Murdoc asked.

MacGyver uttered a creative string of curse words that made Murdoc proud.  He whistled appreciatively.  “Who knew the boy scout had that in him?  I’m almost impressed.”

“Yeah, well,” MacGyver said, hissing as he shifted and pulled at his many wounds.  “Almost is about all you’ll ever be, Murdoc.”

Murdoc had been reaching for his trusty pair of pliers (those toenails could sure use a trim!).  He paused, his back partially to his captive, fingers hovering over the tool.  He was used to MacGyver’s sass, but what he’d just said hit a sour note that the hit man couldn’t shake.  He didn’t know if it was the tone or the words themselves.  “Excuse me?”  He tried to sound amused, but his voice was tight, as if it had been squeezed out of him.

A clink of the chains, a grunt of pain that didn’t lighten Murdoc’s mood as it should have.  Then, MacGyver elaborated.  His voice was clipped in pain, breathless, but conviction lined every syllable.  “You are doomed to live a life of almost, Murdoc.  Nothing is ever going to be enough for you.  Why do you think you take so long to get anything done?  Why do you spend so much time talking and taunting and watching and waiting?”

Murdoc didn’t move, his hand still inches away from his delicate instrument that caused pain but did no lasting damage.  “I’m an artist.”

“You’re afraid.” 

“I fear nothing.”

“You fear winning.”

Murdoc laughed, a forced, uncomfortable sound that he’d never heard come from his own mouth.  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, Angus.  Are you sure the pain isn’t getting to your head?”

MacGyver pressed on relentlessly.  “You crave attention.  You need a challenge.  That’s why you picked me.  And you’re afraid of what happens if you beat me.  If I die, there’s always that possibility that you won’t find another playmate.”

Still, Murdoc didn’t move.  His words, despite their teasing jaunt, had a forced quality to them.  “Awfully full of ourselves, aren’t we, MacGyver?”

He could hear the triumphant smile in his adversary’s voice.  “I’m just stating the truth, Murdoc.  You might torture me, you might have your fun.  But at the end of the day, you’re going to slip up somehow.  It’s your way of making sure the game goes on.  Without that challenge, what are you?  Just an angry voice screaming at the sky, no purpose, no point.  You say you’ve studied me, Murdoc.  You’ve watched me and know me.  Well, in doing so, you’ve shown me yourself, too.  You’re not going to kill me today.  You’re never going to kill me.  

“I don’t know what exactly I’ve done to deserve this… honor,” he continued, placing particular derision on the last word, “but you’ve become obsessed with me, Murdoc.  Believe me, I don’t like saying this any more than you like hearing it.  But it’s how I know I’m going to walk away from this.  If I’m gone, so is your fun.”

Murdoc prided himself on maintaining control over his emotions.  An artist, though he might express the inner workings of his soul on canvas, could not let his feelings control the brush, control him.  Look what had happened to Van Gogh – sure, beautiful work, but his emotions controlled him, destroyed him in the end.  Murdoc didn’t make mistakes like that.  He waited.  He didn’t lash out in anger.  It wasn’t because he wanted MacGyver to live, oh no.  His fondest dream was to see the blonde boy cry, to watch him squirm and beg for mercy, and then, finally, only when he’d really begged for it, to send him to his death.  MacGyver had no idea what he was talking about.  

It wasn’t even MacGyver’s words, his cocky belief that he was important enough to his torturer to keep alive, that sent Murdoc over the edge.  It was the tiny little voice, way back in the darkest, most depraved corner of his already dark and depraved mind, the one that spoke not in the voice of Murdoc, but one that sounded more like Dennis, the first casualty of Murdoc’s career – himself.  The voice said, plainly, without emotion, You know he’s right.

And that was the catalyst for the tsunami of rage that crashed into Murdoc, pummeling his well-practiced and unshakable resolve to take his time.  That was what spurred his frozen body into movement, curled his fingers around the handle of the meat tenderizer, that brash, archaic tool, rather than the pliers.  That was what spit his next words out of his mouth as if they were poison, words that finally – beautifully – caused Angus MacGyver’s eyes to widen in real fear: “You are going to walk out of here?”  A sadistic, mad giggle.  “My dear Angus, it will be a miracle if you ever walk again.”  

He hefted the heavy steel implement in his hand, pulled back, and lunged.  MacGyver tried to back away, the chains around his wrists cackling and clicking against one another in his desperation.  They held firm, and the meat tenderizer slammed full force into MacGyver’s left kneecap.  Murdoc felt the crunch of bones.  He heard the bestial howl, the scream of anguish, the body-jerking, breath stealing cry of a man in so much pain he lost himself.  He watched MacGyver’s face drain of color, recognized the moment when the pain became too much, and saw the tear-streaked face go slack, the chin thud against the battered chest and stay there. 

For a moment, Murdoc experienced the euphoria one could only find in hurting that special someone in such a catastrophic way.  He relished in that moment the scream, the agony, the writhing and loss of control.

Then the moment ended – and far too soon.

Immediately after, the weapon dropped out of Murdoc’s limp fingers.  It smashed into the floor below, with the jarring clang that only metal on concrete can produce.  He looked at the limp, hanging form before him, and something twisted inside of him – a feeling he’d never known.  It wasn’t guilt, nor revulsion.

It was, however, regret.

He didn’t understand it.  He should be overjoyed.  MacGyver was completely at his mercy.  Murdoc could kill him now.  Carve that bleeding heart out like a villain in a fairy tale would.  But then, he realized, MacGyver would be gone.  Forever.  Even now, his kneecap had been crushed, shattered into tiny fragments of bone and cartilage, and unless he got treatment of the highest quality, and soon, he’d almost certainly be crippled.  Even if he had extensive reconstructive surgery, his career as a Phoenix agent could still be over.

Wasn’t that what Murdoc had wanted?  To end MacGyver’s pesky existence, to win at this game of cat and mouse?  To create his most spectacular masterpiece with his greatest enemy?  That’s what he had dreamed of for years now, what he’d studied and practiced and yearned for.  And yet – 

What was it that hoity toity Greek poet had written?  Murdoc had read “Ithika” long ago, a random page in a poetry book of a man he’d killed.  For some reason, the poem had attached itself to his mind and never let go.  He could remember it even now:  

Keep Ithika always in your mind. Arriving there is what you’re destined for.  But don’t hurry the journey at all.  Better if it lasts for years, so you’re old by the time you reach the island, wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way, not expecting Ithika to make you rich.  Ithika gave you the marvelous journey.  Without her you wouldn’t have set out.  She has nothing to give you now.

And he understood.  The poem was supposed to be inspirational, for fools so focused on their goals that they missed the journey of life along the way – a mundane, silly sentiment.  But now Murdoc could see – MacGyver’s destruction was his Ithika.  Perhaps Cavafy had a point – maybe he had been a bit of an artist himself.  And MacGyver had been right about some things, wrong about others.

He was right in that Murdoc wasn’t ready to end the game just yet.  But it wasn't fear that held him back, that urged him to take his time.  It was joy.  Joy of the journey.  The little pleasures of life that are so often passed by in the grand scheme of things – the poet had been speaking of knowledge, of friendship, of love, of experiences.  Murdoc’s little pleasures were things like fear, drawn-out suffering, playing with his food and watching it squirm.  He relished that joy.  He wanted more of it, and if MacGyver died, or was out of commission as a spy, that joy would diminish.  Even if MacGyver lived, it wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t fight back, couldn’t play along.

Murdoc made his decision.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a burner phone.  He dialed a number he’d memorized long ago, put the phone to his ear.

A fierce Texas twang answered before the first ring had run its course.  “Murdoc, you son of a bitch–”

“Temper, Jack,” Murdoc drawled.  He shivered in excitement at the mental picture of the inferno in Dalton’s eyes.  “You just assumed it was me – imagine if it were your mother on the other line.”

“I can scent the devil from a mile away.”  Murdoc heard muffled voices in the background, knew the call was being traced.  

“Don’t waste your time running a trace, you grumpy old hound dog.”  His words were light, yet he allowed the slightest hint of urgency to infect them.  “I’ve had my fun for today.  I’ll text you the address.”  He paused.  “Oh, and bring one of those fancy whirly-birds you like to use for medical emergencies.  I might have been a little… over zealous this time.”

He closed his eyes, gorging on the incalculable levels of hatred in Jack Dalton’s next words.  “If you hurt him–”

Appreciation turned to irritation.  Murdoc rolled his coal eyes to the ceiling.  “Weren’t you listening, you brute?  Obviously, I hurt him.  Quite a bit actually.  You should have heard him scream.”

A short silence.  Then – “You didn’t let me finish, you overgrown sewer rat.  If you hurt him, I am going to tear you limb from limb.  I don’t need any of your fancy tools.”

“Hmm, that was almost intimidating,” Murdoc teased in his most good-natured tone.  “But you’ll have to find me first.”  He let the words linger for just a moment, then continued: “Anyway, ta-ta for now.  I’ll text you the address.  I’ll be long gone by the time you get here, but feel free to bring all your little friends for a game of hide and seek.  Though I have a feeling that you’re going to be more focused on sweet Angus.”

He hung up, texted the address, then turned to a feebly stirring MacGyver.  Pity he was waking up right as Murdoc had to leave.  Whimpers that would have torn the very soul out of Jack Dalton erupted unbidden from MacGyver’s lips.  Glazed blue eyes cracked open, regarding Murdoc with a mixture of terror and acceptance.  Though he had regained consciousness, MacGyver still hung limply from the chains, too weak and in pain to move.

Murdoc stepped forward, eliciting the tiniest of flinches  Even that motion made MacGyver cry out.  But Murdoc didn’t hurt him again.  Instead, he said, “Your friends are on their way.”

MacGyver’s voice rasped in the aftermath of his screams.  “You’re letting … me go… Why?”  

“Got bored, I suppose.”  No way was Murdoc going to let MacGyver know he’d been right, even if only a little bit.

MacGyver didn’t respond – maybe he didn’t know how to respond; more likely, he could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words, amidst the torrent of pain.

Murdoc started to step away, then turned back, studying his latest draft of the elusive masterpiece that he would continue to dream about and that would fuel his passion and creativity for years to come.  He pulled off one black glove, placed his hand on a pale, cold cheek.  MacGyver jerked back feebly from the touch, grunting at the pain it produced.  Slowly, Murdoc wiped one of the fresher tears away with his thumb.  It might have been a power play.  It might have been a show of comfort.  Even the hit man didn’t know.  He glanced down at the shattered knee, swollen and misshapen, a grotesque monster straining to break free from the unrelenting fabric of the khakis.

“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, moving his gaze up from the deformed knee to lock his black eyes with fearful, anguished blue ones, “I didn’t mean it.”

He walked away, casting one final look over his shoulder before he left his art behind for the coming Phoenix agents to admire.  “Until next time, MacGyver.”

And despite the extensive search conducted by Phoenix once MacGyver had been loaded onto the chopper, on his way to the best orthopaedic surgeons in the country, Murdoc had once more disappeared, like a ghost.

That night he dreamed about his Ithika, and this time, it was enough.