#i watched enough to identify everyone's voices in groups i follow

[sonyeoshaydae]

been tapped out of the kpop scene

do they still make line distribution videos?

[meldy-writes]

Stupid Games

Summary: Takes place during S2 You’re the eldest of the Greene sisters (about 10 years older than Maggie). You’re mean, overprotective of your family, and overall just kind of a mythic bitch. Daryl can’t seem to keep his eyes from wandering over you whenever you’re around. One day you run into each other in the woods while hunting down the same deer and Daryl finds himself being toyed with. Maybe you’re not as cold and forbidding as you let on, but then again, maybe you’re just luring him into playing a stupid little game with you.

A/N: This is an excerpt from a fic I want to post to AO3 but don’t have anything substantial enough to post a full chapter yet so I wanted to post this here and see if it was good enough to keep working on. Might post another part I have written as a companion piece if people like this enough.

The first time Daryl laid eyes on you, you were just a distant figure on the roof of the Greene family farmhouse as he rode in at the head of the convoy on his bike. You were sitting on the porch overhang, looking out over your father's land with the vigilance of a grizzled soldier on the front lines. He watched you stand up as they drove up your gravel path. You put out a cigarette you'd been smoking in an ashtray resting on an open window ledge before climbing into the house. He and the rest of the members of his group that had stayed behind at the highway the night previous had made it up to the path and met up with the people who were already working on something judging by the pile of rocks they were collecting in a wheelbarrow by the time you reemerged on the porch. You surveyed him and the others with a set and piercing stare, arms crossed defensively over your chest as if daring one of them to cause trouble and give you a reason to beat their ass. You were followed out of the house by an older man in his seventies and the rest of Daryl’s group. You took stock of the new arrivals, starting with him and working your way over everyone, scanning them like you could see everything there was to know about them on their skin and didn't like it. When you were done you fixed your gaze back onto Daryl as if you'd identified him as the biggest threat. He hated the feel of your suspicious stare, though he told himself it was typical of people to see him as nothing but trouble and to treat him like dirt so he should be used to it. The way you tilted your head from your elevated position on the raised porch—like you were looking down at an ant and trying to decide whether it was worth the energy to squash it—made him fidget.

“How is he?” Dale asked after Carl when Rick and Lori came out of the house looking like they’d just been through hell and hadn't slept a wink.

“He'll pull through,” Lori responded, relief clear in her voice, “Thanks to Hershel and his daughter, (y/n),” She said motioning towards you, “and their people, and–”

“and Shane,” Rick added, “We'd have lost Carl if not for him.”

Daryl watched your already cold eyes darken and a snarl twist across your face at the statement, failing to suppress an eye roll before you yanked your head away from the group and the conversation like it disgusted you, choosing instead to stare off towards a barn at a distant end of the property. He wondered what your problem was, but he wasn't wondering long. It was revealed soon after the group arrived that someone had gone with Shane when he went to retrieve medical supplies for Carl and that that person did not return with him. Someone you and your family cared for.

If it wasn't made clear by the way Lori recognized those living at the farm house as not just your father's people but yours as well that you were the oldest child, it would have become obvious by the way your sisters looked to you for comfort at Otis's funeral. The little blonde one bawled her eyes out and clung to you like a child clings to their mother while Maggie, the woman who'd rode up to them on a horse the other day, leaned down to your height to rest her head on your shoulder. You tucked the sniffling teenager under your arm protectively, rubbing at her shoulder and pressing a kiss to her forehead and then turned to bump your head softly against Maggie’s in a comforting way. Your lips pursed like you were sucking on a lemon as you tried your best to stay strong and not start crying like your sisters, pinning Shane with a frigid and accusatory glare that he expertly ignored as he told the story of how he and Otis were ambushed by a group of walkers while retrieving the medical supplies for Carl and that Otis had valiantly stayed behind to cover his retreat, shooting into the herd with a pistol before ultimately being swallowed up by the swarm and getting torn to shreds. Daryl found it miraculous that Shane managed to recover the gun but not the man that had supposedly been firing it in his daring escape—and by miraculous he meant shady. You didn't seem to be buying Shane’s story, either.

After the service your father motioned toward you and told you to show the guests where to set up their camp, as he graciously agreed to let them stay until Carl recovered and they had located Sophia. You nodded dutifly with a muttered “Yessir,” motioning to Rick with your head, beckoning him to follow as you untangled yourself from your siblings and began marching off in a direction with purpose, not looking back to check if anyone was following you. If the group couldn't keep up with your quick gait that was just too damn bad. They did their best to match your pace, some, like Daryl, breaking off to fetch the vehicles and bring them over to where they were meant to stay. When you got to a spot under some particularly shady trees a good distance from your house you stopped, looking around as you waited for the group to congregate. When everyone was grouped up again you addressed them directly for the first time that morning. Your voice was down to business and detached as you pointed out where the boundaries of the camp would be and where the well they could use for water was. “One more thing,” You said with the same rural twang as your sisters, your tone changing to one of warning as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, jutting out your hip and resting your hand against it. Daryl followed the movement, your curves drawing his eyes in a way that made him itch and blush. “My daddy believes we should be good christians—help our fellow men and give ‘em the benefit of the doubt, but I don't share his blind faith. I don't know you people and I don't trust you. I can’t afford to, I have a baby sister to protect. Beth is sixteen, you understand? She's a child. If I catch any of your men lookin’ at her, talkin’ to her—sniffin’ around her in any way, I will rip their balls off like I'm takin’ a part off a Mr. Potato Head.” You made a popping sound with your lips that had Daryl's stare fixing on them instead of your hips, and gave a motion with your hand as if grabbing at something and yanking it down. “Clean off,” you reiterated, staring Glen down who swallowed thickly and tried to give you a friendly and disarming smile that did not change your attitude in the slightest. “Maggie can take care of herself but still, if someone upsets her, with God as my witness there will be hell to pay.”

There was a loud silence from the group after your blatant threats of bodily harm that was broken by Dale, ever the peacekeeper. “We understand where you're coming from, you have nothing to worry from us. We're good people, you'll see. Thank you for letting us stay on your beautiful property while Carl recovers and we look for Sophia.”

You scoffed, “You're only here because we shot your boy,” you reminded bluntly as you turned to leave for your house, “don't thank us.”

Daryl’s first impression of you: You were a bitch, but a bitch who loved her family. The only times he ever caught you cracking a smile or being anywhere close to kind during those first few days was when you were with them. You seemed to disagree with your dad on a lot of things, but it was clear you both respected and loved each other and that you had a bond that had been worked on and cultivated to be strong enough for you to argue and debate and still look at each other with love. After every tiff he’d catch you having in the windows of the front room, spitting and pinching the bridge of your nose and tossing your hands up while your dad calmly spoke back you would sigh, relax your gaze, and kiss his cheek or his forehead before stomping off with a storm cloud over your head. You’d grin wolfishly as you and Maggie laughed conspiratorially on the porch in the afternoon, teasing each other as you ate cherries together, trying to hit each other with the pits you spat out. Your whole face would soften when you looked at Beth, practically glowing with unconditional adoration as you played on the guitar Dale had originally found for Glen and accompanied the little blonde girl as she sang her heart out. Your voice was low, bluesy, raw, and filled with vibrato. There was an untrained authenticity to it that was almost hypnotic. It paired well with your sister who sang like a songbird, pretty and light as if she’d been taught by actual birds. You were happy to let her take the center stage, supporting her through harmony while your fingers strummed frets with a clumsy sort of charm, like you were taught to play at one point but never practiced, and were now making all sorts of mistakes that were going to become bad habits without a proper teacher. It was later revealed that Otis had taught you the basics a few years back and you’d only bothered to pick it back up now that he was gone and Beth needed someone new to perform with. You softened for Patricia, as well, helping her in the kitchen and going out of your way to assist her with her chores on the farm despite having plenty of your own responsibilities to fulfill.

Daryl’s group, however, you continued to treat like shit on your shoe. You made no effort to hide that you wanted them off your property as soon as possible, only showing a hint of compassion when it came to Lori and Carol, the mothers of the group who were distraught over the perils of their children. They were the ones you supplied the group’s meals to, giving them bushels of produce and bottles of milk and sending your sisters over to hand them baskets of eggs, even going so far as to offer Carl some of your late step-brother’s hand-me-downs to wear, but you still had a cold sneer on your face when you handed things over and you didn’t speak to them unless it was to ask how Carl was recovering or if they were making any progress finding Sophia. You were only asking to try and gauge how much longer you’d have to wait before kicking them out, and you grew more and more agitated the more the group settled in. Every time Rick or Dale or anyone tried to appeal to you or your dad about staying longer or staying permanently you’d bristle like a cat being pet the wrong way. You made a point to avoid them most of the time, which was just fine with Daryl because every interaction he did have with you pissed him off, and only fueled his own frustration when it became harder and harder to ignore you or look away.

For instance, the first one on one conversation he ever had with you was out in the woods while he was looking for Sophia. He was about to give up the search for the day and head back when he picked up the trail of a deer. He stalked it through the woods, thinking it’d be better to provide the farm with some venison than to return empty handed again. When he finally found it, he took aim and shot it at an angle that had it sprinting off with a limp in the direction of the farm. That’s when he heard a startled gasp and watched as you rushed out of the nearby foliage with a rifle, taking aim at the retreating deer before realizing you couldn’t get a clear shot on it. You then turned to where he was, gun dropping in your arms as you pinned him with a furious look. “Congratulations, Numb-Nuts, it got away.”

“The hell are you doing out here?” Daryl snapped, face red at the way you were treating him like a dullard with no idea what he was doing.

You seemed flustered by the question, looking down and kicking at the dirt with your horse-riding boot. “Came out to hunt and figured I’d look around for the missing little girl while I was at it,” you said with a casual shrug, avoiding his eyes until you seemed to remember you were pissed at him at which point your head snapped up and that signature sneer of yours was back. “Saw the deer and was gonna take it out but somebody went and scared it off.”

“I shot it in the leg on purpose,” Daryl explained defensively, getting angry and up in your face, “see that trail it left? It’s carryin’ itself back to the farm, less effort this way.” He looked you up and down and scoffed, nodding towards your gun. “What's with the rifle, Annie Oakley? You shoot that thing, every walker in a five mile radius is gonna come here to tear you and that deer apart.”

You slung your weapon over your shoulder and crossed your arms defiantly, “It takes a buck down in one clean, quick shot. The animal feels little to no pain if you know what you’re doin’ so it’s not suffering with an arrow in its ass for half a mile. Plus, I woulda been outta here with the buck slung over my shoulder long before anything came over to check out the noise.” You were confident, clearly convinced you knew better and that your methods were best. Daryl couldn’t have that. He had a good decade’s worth of experience on you and he hadn't had his hand held the whole time he was taught to track the way you probably had. He licked his lips ready to knock you down a peg.

“Yeah, but you’d be so exhausted from caryin’ it the whole way that if a walker came up on you, you’d be too tired to fight it off. Maybe you’d be able to drop the deer and fumble for your rifle, but that’s as far as you’d get. It’d be on you in a second. Would a little thing like you be able to fight it off? You even got a weapon other than that big ol’ Elmer Fudd gun?” As he was talking he saw your expression shift. You tilted your head like something had just occurred to you and you were sizing him up.

Suddenly, you brought your right leg up, bent at the knee so you could lift a jack knife from your boot, and flicked the blade out so it pointed at his chest. That shut him up for a second. He really hadn’t expected the quickness with which you had it drawn on him. “Believe me,” you let out a bored, breathy sigh, a smirk on your face like you knew you had the upper hand, “I’ve got some experience dealing with ravenous things that want to pin me down and devour me, I can handle myself just fine.” …were you still talking about walkers? You were, right? The way you poked the tip of your knife against the skin of his chest peeking out from under his open collar and gently dragged it down until it caught on the button of his shirt had him feeling goosebumps on his flesh and hearing innuendo in your words. You took a step towards him, looking up at him through long lashes with your chest puffed—either in pride or in an attempt to get him to look at your breasts. Regardless of the reason, It was working. “What about you? You sure you can catch up to that deer before somethin’ else does? You said it yourself, it’s hurt and slowing down—a biter could take it down in a matter of moments. Then what, tough guy?” Daryl had nothing to say in defense of that. Partly because your slightly seductive shift in demeanor had his mouth going dry and partly because you had a point and he knew it. He remembered the last time he’d hunted a deer like this, it’d carried itself all the way back to the quarry camp before getting caught on the fishing line of the perimeter alarms they put up and then it’s stomach was ripped apart and it’s innards devoured by a walker that followed the sound of a wounded, frightened animal and jingling cans. You must have seen in his eyes that you’d caught him because your slight smile spread into a full-on Cheshire cat grin. You retracted your knife and returned it to your boot, turning and sauntering off in the direction the deer had run off in. “guess we’d better go find it, huh?”

Daryl stalled for a second, stunned by your behavior. One second you’re spitting venom at him and making him feel like he’s two feet tall, the next you’re purring like a kitten and being the biggest fucking tease he’d ever had to endure. He mentally smacked himself when he realized he’d been so focused on the sway of your hips as you walked away that he wasn’t following you like he should be. He began jogging to catch up with you, falling into step easily as you both picked up the deer’s trail again. “You even know how to track?” He couldn't help but keep trying to pick a fight with you—he didn’t even know why, but as much as bickering with you pissed him off, he also found it fun. You didn’t treat his meanness like something you had to quell or cry about like his group did, you stood your ground and tossed your own barbs right back at him. It was like a game. A game he seemed to be losing, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop playing.

You looked over to him, a brow raised as you scanned him up and down. “Yes, I do. Do you own a shirt you haven’t ripped the sleeves off of?” You nodded to the button down he was wearing. He’d torn the sleeves off a few days ago because it was too hot to wear them and he needed the fabric to tie markers off on trees to denote what parts of the woods he’d already searched through in case the others ever decided to get off their asses and help look for Sophia. He had a few other shirts that had sleeves at some point but no longer did that he wore in a common rotation. He must have had a sour look on his face at your retaliating comment because you shook your head and chuckled under your breath, “don’t play stupid games if you don’t wanna win stupid prizes.”

You walked through the woods mostly in silence after that, not wanting to make an abundance of noise and end up accidentally spooking the deer. That became a competition as well, with you both smirking in triumph every time the other stepped on a twig or kicked up a bit of dirt in your effort to leave as little evidence of a trail as possible. Eventually, as you were coming up on a clearing near the edge of your property where the tall grass almost completely covered the view of your home in the distance, Daryl stuck his hand out to stop you and put a finger to his lips, pointing towards the buck you’d both been after peeking out through the foliage, whining softly and doing its best to lick at the wound in its back leg. You took cover behind a honeysuckle bush and Daryl nodded at you and your gun, “I got the last shot, your turn.”

You hesitated a second, scanning the woods and warily looking towards your farm. “Too close to home to use the gun now, it’d attract the dead to our property. Lemme borrow that crossbow of yours.” You held your hand out for it and Daryl clutched it away from your grasp. You looked at him first confused by his reluctance then annoyed, “please?” you said petulantly. After a beat of studying your face he eventually relented, but only after you’d started pouting a little. The second it was in your grip you hefted it up, remarking that it was heavier than you expected.

Daryl watched you handle it a bit clumsily as you got used to holding it and his fingers itched to show you how to aim it right. In the end, he couldn’t help himself. He came up behind you and put his hands on your hips, angling them the right way so you had a solid stance. He felt you stiffen under his hands and could hear your breath catching in your throat. “You wanna stand like this,” he coached, his arms coming around you to adjust your elbows and help you aim the weapon straight. You leaned back against his chest a little, maybe unconsciously, maybe on purpose. “Then just use the arrow tip like a sight and pull the trigger.” He could feel you shift as his breath brushed against the skin of your neck. The way you acted made you so big and imposing, but actually having you in his arms made you feel so small and demure; like he could envelop you entirely and keep you all to himself if he wanted. The way you’d been acting the past half hour made him feel like you might want that, too. The idea sort of excited him a little—made his pants and his chest feel tight. There was a quiet moment where he expected you to aim and fire, but it passed and the arrow still hadn’t been shot. He turned to look at you and see what the hold up was. Surley, you weren’t that unsure of your aim. He flinched back a bit when he moved his head in your direction and almost brushed noses with you, as you were not looking at the deer and had instead shifted to look back at him, a look on your face reminiscent of a cat playing with a cornered mouse.

“You really are just like any other man, aren’t you?” you crooned out in a teasing tone.

“What?” his mind went blank in his dumbfoundedness and that was all he could manage to utter.

“In my experience, I’ve found that any man who’s attracted to a woman is always willing to believe two things about her: One, that she doesn’t know anything about anything and needs him to help her, and two, that she’s just as attracted to him as he is to her.” Daryl’s mouth opened and closed like a fish at that statement, unsure what you meant or how he was supposed to respond. In that time you yanked yourself out of his grip, redid your stance, took aim with perfect form, and let loose an arrow with absolutely no hesitation. The deer let out a sad bleat as it was shot in the eye and then it crumpled into the grass, dead as a doornail. You handed his crossbow back to him with a nasty, shit-eating grin. “Do I really strike you as the type of person who’d ask to borrow somethin’ I didn’t know how to use? Honestly now, all I had to do was bat my lashes and push up my tits and you were all ‘here, let me get up close behind you and show you how to hold this big heavy tool’.” You said those last three words in an erotic and over dramatic moan, getting close to press your breasts against him as you ran your hand up his chest.

He pushed you away, a heavy blush heating his face while you began to cackle maniacally at him. “How the hell was I supposed to know you knew how to use it when you were fumbling with it like a toddler?” he barked out angrily as you stepped out from behind the bush you’d both been hiding behind and began walking towards the farm, still laughing. “Hey! Ain’t you gonna take the deer? It’s your kill!”

You turned around with mirth dancing in your eyes and a wide happy grin on your face. The light of the setting sun bounced off your hair making it look so shiny as the light summer breeze ran through it, making it float and sway around you in such a pretty way. Daryl felt his heart pound hard in his chest as he glared over your retreating figure. You were walking backwards, tucking a few strands of hair that had flown into your face back behind your ear as you said, “Who, me? But I'm just a ‘little thing’ who’d get tired if I carried it all the way back. You’re the big strong man—use those big strong muscles to carry it back for me. Oh, and since you’re the big strong provider, you can go ahead and string it up, drain it, and skin it, too. Thanks for your help,” you sing-songed sarcastically, “I just don’t know how I ever woulda done it without you!” Daryl began to huff, storming towards you for a second, unsure of what he’d even do if he caught you, but he felt like you’d just tricked him and he didn’t like it. You held your hands up in your defense as you saw him coming. “Stupid games, stupid prizes,” you reiterated with a shrug as you giggled and turned, running back towards the farm and leaving him in the thicket with the dead buck.

Daryl got the sudden sense as he watched you slow your pace to a jog then a brisk walk once you’d gotten far enough away that this had all been a test of some kind. He couldn’t tell if he passed or failed, but you certainly seemed pleased about the results either way. He kicked at the ground, a clump of dirt launching into the air as he did so, and moved to heft the buck over his shoulder. He didn’t know if or when you’d ever come looking to play again, but if you did, he’d make sure he won.

As he strung up the deer in a tree a little ways away from the group’s makeshift camp later that afternoon, cutting at its arteries and letting the blood drain out of it, he imagined what you might look like when he got the upper hand on you. What would you look like when the sneers and the smirks were wiped away and you were pinned down, completely at his mercy—all flustered with your cheeks flushed, trying to squirm your way out from under him. He bet you’d still have bite. He bet you would still spit venom, but maybe he could get you to purr for him, too. Maybe he could get you to look at him the way you looked at your family, all sweet smiles and gentle touches. The thought made him eager to play another one of your stupid little games.

[lonelym00n]

The Red Means I Love You

Amber Freeman x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Ghostface is running around and you don't know who to trust. Amber reassures you that things will be okay.

Warnings: Typical canon violence with descriptions of blood. Please read with caution! Follows the events of Scream V. Also, Angst!

A/N: guysss... I did a thing... I'll just let you read and find out.

Title + fic inspired by Madds Buckley's song, The Red Means I Love You

If someone had told you a few days ago that you’d have to watch your close friend take a bullet to the head, you’d have slapped them across the face and added them to Mindy’s ever-growing list of potential future ghostface suspects. 

In retrospect, you suppose you were naive for thinking that you’d make it through Woodsboro High without falling victim to someone deciding to take up the infamous killer’s mantle. You should’ve suspected that it would happen eventually, especially considering that three of your best friends were related to survivors from the years prior. That fact alone painted a bright red target on your back and it was only a matter of time until an eight-inch hunting knife sunk into you because of it.

Did some higher deity sew the stars together to seal the fate of you and your friends? Were you destined to die at the hands of the ghost that haunted the little town you’d lived in all your life? Some part of you thinks that yes, this was meant to happen, because a tiny voice in your head always figured the friend group you’d become a part of was doomed from the day it began to form.

Everyone else in Woodsboro had it easy, their parents were present and the killings that plagued the town only existed for them in the form of the notorious Stab franchise. The same couldn’t be said for your friends.

Put a handful of Woodsboro High’s most traumatized students into one group and what do you get? The perfect cast for the next series of killings. Mindy tells you as much when you and the rest of your friends are clustered together in her living room, trying to identify who among you was responsible for brutally attacking the others left and right. 

As if being friends with people who are related to the survivors wasn’t bad enough, you learn from Tara’s older sister that she is connected to Billy Loomis, the original ghostface himself. More than being connected, Sam’s his daughter. You have half a mind to notify your parents to start picking out your tombstone now.

You barely listen as accusations fly around the room. How could it be possible that you were in the same room as the killer right now, when you’ve known everyone here your whole life? You were having a hard time processing the fact that one of the kids you’d played in the sandbox with in elementary school had grown up to become someone so sinister. 

Distantly, you hear Mindy conclude that Sam must be the killer, that it made the most sense because of who her father was. She storms out of the room and after a beat, you stand up on shaky legs and murmur a goodbye to the remaining occupants of the Meeks-Martin living room. Your head was reeling and you needed to get away or you’d break down and lose your last semblance of sanity. 

If there is a God that exists, they must hate you, because you break down anyways. Just outside the house, you’re hunched over, a hand clutched desperately at your rapidly rising chest. Despite your best efforts, you’re unable to chase away the dread and terror that have nestled in and made a home in your torso. 

Too wrapped up in trying to calm your irregular breathing, you don’t hear the familiar clunk of boots swiftly making their way towards you.

Though your vision is blurred, you’ve spent enough time around Amber to recognize her presence almost instantly. She’s bent over you concernedly, and you think she’s speaking to you but you can’t hear her over the accelerated pounding of your heart that has arisen from the lack of proper oxygen intake. 

Her body firmly encompasses your own and your senses are overtaken with everything Amber. If you were able to breathe, you would’ve sighed at the feeling of security that blanketed over you. 

Amber’s hands grasp yours and she presses your joined hands onto her chest, where her heart steadily thumps beneath. At the feeling of it, you will your own heart to match its rhythm. It takes a while for it to slow down but once it does, you faintly become aware of her sweet voice reminding you to breathe slowly, in and out, in and out. 

She looks relieved when you finally descend back to reality. “There you go, baby. You’re okay. I’m here.”

You throw your arms around her and sob into the embrace, struggling to ignore the burning in your chest. She rubs your back and shushes you quietly. 

“Amber, I can’t do this. I’m scared.”

She presses a chaste kiss to your forehead and pulls you in closer, resting her chin on the top of your head. “We’re gonna be okay.”

You mumble into her chest, “How can you be so sure?”

Practically smothered in her embrace, you remain completely unaware of the ominous look that has blossomed in the dark brown eyes that you love so much. 

“You trust me, don’t you?” 

You nod, albeit a bit hesitantly.

“Good. I’m going to protect you, I won’t let anything happen to us.”

It isn’t lost on you that just as there is with everyone else, there’s a slim possibility that Amber could be the killer. But out of everyone, you know her the best. Ever since she had asked you out, all shy and nervous and very un-Amber Freeman like, the two of you had been inseparable. She weaseled her way into your everyday thoughts and in turn, you became the center of warmth that thawed her previously cold heart. No one could deny that you and Amber balanced each other out perfectly. For the first time in your life, you found someone you could trust enough to fall deeply and irrevocably in love with. If you could trust Amber with such an intimate and fundamental piece of your soul, you could trust that she wouldn’t be silently plotting your death, right?

Wrong.

Just like Liv’s skull cavity, your heart shatters at the abrupt finality of Amber’s bullet. 

Chaos erupts at the spray of Liv’s blood and the crash of her still-warm body hitting the ground. Sam and Richie scatter as Tara knocks Amber’s next shot off course. 

The only thing you can think to do is run, so you do. You clamber up the stairs and dive into the hall closet. You clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the pitiful sounds desperately trying to slip past your lips. 

You feel utterly broken, like the piece of your soul that you’d given to Amber was cruelly snatched out of your body and crushed in her murderous grasp. You want nothing more than to scream and wail until you yell yourself hoarse, but you can’t give up your hiding spot. As much as you’re sure that the pain of betrayal outweighs any cut from the blood-stained knife, you don’t want to find out if there’s any truth to the comparison. 

You hear two sets of feet making their way up the stairs, one stomping heavily and the other flailing uselessly. You aren’t one-hundred percent sure, but you think the pained whimpers you’re hearing belong to Tara. Which means Amber was likely the one accompanying her.

At the thought of your girlfriend, you recoil further into the closet. You can feel your whole body shaking in fear. 

After a few more long minutes, you can hear the familiar creak of Amber’s boots on the hardwood floor. She’s calling out your name and you press your hand harder against your mouth to completely silence the sound of your breathing. 

Her search becomes more frantic and the clunking of her boots begins to pick up speed. You reach around blindly in search of anything you can use to fend her off.

Just as you tighten your grip around what you think might be an umbrella, the closet door flies open. You swing with all your might, but Amber moves quicker, grabbing the umbrella and disarming you.

She quirks an eyebrow and chuckles at your failed attempt to hit her. She motions for you to stand.

 “Come on, down to the kitchen we go.”

You make no move to get up, paralyzed at the sight of her donning the ghostface robes. 

She groans, “I can’t have you ruining the plan. Let’s go.”

Her commanding tone does nothing to move you. You’re rooted to the spot in fear, wondering what fate is waiting for you down in the kitchen. 

Amber growls and you flinch backwards as she steps into the closet, towering over your seated form. 

“You’re being such a pain in the ass.”

Her hands wrap tightly around your waist as hoists you up and tosses you over her shoulder. You struggle futility, but there’s no chance you can escape the strong arm wound snugly around your midsection. 

Amber carries you easily down the stairs and you wriggle around faster, knowing from your frequent visits to the house that you’re almost across the threshold that leads into the kitchen. 

You’re placed onto the ground and firmly shoved to the other side of the island. Before you can even think to move, the steel barrel of a gun is pressed into your forehead. It’s Richie on the other end of it, and only then do you realize that Sam is laid out on the ground, a hand pressed into her side, where blood is trickling out despite her efforts to stop it. She looks up at you with sorrow and terror and you’re sure that your expression reflects hers like a mirror. 

Amber takes the knife that Richie offers to her and makes her way to a different corner of the kitchen. She jumps gleefully, and if things weren’t so fucked up you might’ve found the sight endearing.

Though the gun blocks out most of your vision, you see two other women in the kitchen. 

Gale Weathers and Sidney Prescott. Shit, even they managed to get trapped in this nightmare. 

Richie, seemingly pissed that you aren’t giving him your full attention, grips your jaw with more than enough force to leave a bruise. Your resulting moan of pain is insignificant to him.

“Leave her alone!” Sidney yells out and Amber’s knife presses threateningly into her throat, swiftly silencing her.

Richie laughs menacingly, “Sid, when are you gonna finally realize you aren’t in control here?” 

He turns towards you and frowns angrily.

“You know if it were up to me, you’d have been dead at the start of this thing.” 

A glob of his spit lands on your cheek and the gun is pushed further into your forehead, the force practically moving you backwards.

You’re scared, the most afraid you’ve ever been in your life. Your hands are trembling and you stutter, completely unable to come up with the necessary words to plead helplessly for your life. 

“Pathetic,” Richie growls out. He looks in Amber’s direction, “I don’t know what you saw in her honey.”

“She usually has a lot more fire in her.” 

You meet her gaze for a second. Amber’s eyes are nearly black, pupils blown wide with what must be psychotic pleasure. 

You open your mouth to finally say something, but the sudden smack of the gun across your face shuts you up. You cry out and lift your hands to your face instinctually. Your head is pulsing at the unexpected pain.

While Amber’s distracted with Richie’s assault on you, Sidney makes a grab for a knife sitting on the countertop.

Her actions don’t go unnoticed. Amber reacts with the speed of a demon and plunges her knife into Sidney’s gut. Gale yells out as Sidney crumples to the ground.

With both Sidney and Gale momentarily incapacitated, Richie knocks you backwards, sending you carelessly stumbling back and straight into Amber’s arms. He turns towards Sam, while Amber pins you against the counter.

“Get rid of her Amber, we need to start staging the bodies. Fast baby, we don’t have much time.”

She hums, not bothering to verbally acknowledge him. You shiver as your eyes lock together, hers still full of straight mania. 

Her arm lifts up and she moves slowly, tracing the blade against the smooth skin of your face. You try not to gag at the coppery smell of blood that is being carelessly smeared across your face.

She smiles softly at you, creating a confusing juxtaposition with the wild expression that fills her eyes. 

Amber leans in to whisper almost lovingly in your ear, “I always knew you’d look so pretty covered in blood, baby.” 

You can’t stop the tears from leaking out of your eyes. You’re so distraught, it’s nearly impossible to think straight with how overwhelmed you are. How could this Amber be the same Amber that had admitted to being nervous the first time she told you she loved you? 

“Amber, please.” You begged brokenly, hoping the girl you loved so dearly was still somewhere inside the maniac that stands in front of you.

Her gaze softens just a hair and you nearly cheer at the glimpse of your Amber. 

“I’m sorry. You know I’d keep you around if I could.”

The relief exits your body. Your heart drops deep into your chest at the words.

“You said you’d protect me.” You feel desperate, there had to be something you could say to snap Amber out of this state.

She pouts and brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I did. Richie wanted you to be the opening kill, but I stopped that from happening.” 

The special smile that she always saved just for you spread across her face, “I even convinced him to leave you to me tonight. I’ll be the last person you see, won’t that be nice?”

Your jaw trembles with the newfound knowledge. Amber spared you, but only to prolong your life so you’d die by her hand. Your resolve finally breaks, and you are fully encased in dread. 

In a strange mirroring of the day’s earlier events, you begin weeping loudly. Amber’s arms wrap around you in an attempt to comfort you. 

She deposits a kiss onto the top of your head.

“I know you don’t understand it, but I’m doing this because I love you.”

Her arms tighten around you and you’re suddenly blindsided by excruciating pain. Amber’s knife is slowly pushed deeper and deeper into your body, your insides twist around at the intrusion. 

As you yell out in pain, she shushes and gently praises you, repeatedly whispering how much she loves you. 

She rips the knife out of your gut, just to harshly plunge it back in once, twice, and a third time. You feel sick at the squelching that sounds out each time the knife enters your stomach. 

Blood dribbles out of your mouth as you groan in pain. 

Hazily, you notice that she’s covered in your blood. Your vision is darkening and you feel yourself begin to dwindle in and out of consciousness. 

Amber takes note of this and leans closer, her lips nearly touching yours. 

“You did so good for me, love. I’ll make sure they cast someone beautiful to play you in the movie.”

With a final whispered confession of love, Amber places a gentle series of kisses to your bloodied lips. She stabs you once more, and lowers your body carefully to the ground as she pulls the knife out one last time. 

You lay there, unable to move even if you wanted to. You stare up at the ceiling, it spins around and around and around. 

Your ears are ringing. If you could think clearly, you reckon you’d wonder what you did wrong to end up in this situation. You don’t think there’s any possibility for things to have ended differently. Fate was cruel and unforgiving, but at this point you have no choice but to lie in the bed that it has made for you.

The pain is gone, replaced with the silent weight of nothingness. You feel yourself drifting away, and you welcome the feeling. Maybe your next life would be kinder to you.

Unfortunately for you, your peace never comes. 

Instead, you find yourself opening your eyes disorientedly. You let out a sharp hiss at the blinding white lights that glare back at you. 

Once you’ve adjusted to the light, you finally make out that there are a couple figures crowding around you. 

“Wha-”

It hurts to talk, as a matter of fact, everything hurts. 

“Alright, alright you’re okay. My name’s Dr. Ford. You’re gonna be in a lot of pain for a while, so let’s take it easy.”

You stare back at the man in disbelief.

Somehow, despite all the odds, you survived.

A/N: ta da!! I'm actually planning a part 2 to this that follows our dear reader through the events of scream vi, so stay tuned! Heads up, it won't actively be about an Amber x R relationship cuz... well you know :'(

Fellow Amber stans plz forgive me for not feeding y'all more regularly.

[smaptain-smerica]

Female Reader x Rooster

Time: Post-Top gun: Maverick

Y/n Blackwood - L/n, daughter of Charlotte "Charlie" Blackwood. Y/n took a strong interest in planes from a young age. Knowing her father was an esteemed pilot drew her even further into the navy. Quickly, she became one of the best solo pilots and graduating at the top of her class at Top Gun.

Her next mission? Return to Top Gun, Face certain death, romantic interests, and finally, her thought-to-be-dead, father.

This book contains strong language and sexual content that may be sensitive readers under the age of 18

This story was originally posted on Wattpad, follow me on there for faster updates. I have published a non-binary version of this story published there for those who do not identify as female or use she/her pronouns. It will follow the exact same story line. Link to Wattpad Account Link to the Non-Binary version

Master list

Dogfight

Third Person POV

"Good morning aviators." Pete Mitchell announced to the eager group of pilots before him.

"This mornings training I will be putting you into two teams. Your planes will be marked with a blue or a red sticker. Your objective, keep your entire team alive, while also eliminating the opponent."

The pilots got excited, murmuring among themselves and already forming hopeful team alliances. "Hey what's the prize if we win?" Payback asked. Some people groaned a little as apparently he had come up with the punishment last time.

Pete thought for a moment, bringing his finger to his chin and stroking it thoughtfully. "How about, losers buy everyone a round?"

The pilots cheered, loving the idea as they stood up and started arguing with one another, saying things like; "you're going down" and "I hope you brought your wallet."

Pete laughed at their excitement, but had to get stern with them after receiving a look from warlock that told him to do so.

"First up, Wolf, fanboy and payback, hangman, Team red. Rooster, Coyote, Pheonix and Bob, team blue. Let the fun begin."

The pilots quickly made their way to the planes. The plane directors allowed the blue team to fly into the air first, the red team would follow in five minutes. The red team watched as the blue team soared off one by one into the air.

"Red team this is Wolf, ready for take off." "Payback and Fanboy, ready for take off." "Hangman, ready to kick some ass."

The red team was then shot into the blue morning sky. Clouds laced themselves thick and dense across they sky, allowing for plenty of cover for the Red team to hide. The Red team lowered their planes to glide along the bottom of the cloud cover. The blue team was flying below in a single file line, far enough apart to make any quick and necessary decisions.

"I'll dive down to break up the group, be prepared to split off and chase. Sound good?" Wolf asked the group, checking a few switches and then gripping her joystick, readying the plane.

"Copy, lead the way." Payback answered, preparing his plane himself. Hangman rolled his eyes, checking his plane and then looking up into the sky.

"Hangman, I need a copy or another idea." Wolf urged him, not wanting to cause a wreck between the pilots from miscommunication.

"You go, I've got my own idea." Hangman pulled the plane off, disappearing back up into the clouds to be unseen again.

"Hangman! Damnit." Wolf hissed, anger flashing in her voice. She then remembered that this was what hangman did. She could only hope he came around later.

"We're behind you wolf, on your go." Fanboys voice rang into the headset, making wolf smile. "Copy, thanks Fan, I'm going in."

Lower in the skys, the blue team was formulating a plan of their own. Rooster led the pack in the front, Pheonix and Bob in the middle and Coyote in the back. "We're too close to the hard deck for them to attack from below, they've gotta be above us." Rooster advised his team, unofficially becoming the group leader.

"Bob watch that radar and yell the second you see anything. I'll break left, Pheonix and Bob break right, Coyote you go straight forward as fast as possible. We can play chase and try to get our trailers into the line of others fire."

Back at base, Maverick was eating breakfast and listening to the radio. He couldn't help but feel pride for Rooster taking the lead on this one and instructing his fellow pilots. He had grown so much as a pilot these last few years.

There was silence in the air, no wind blowing making the clouds still. Bob listened intently for a beep, watching the radar closely for any signs of company. Then finally, a small dot appeared on his radar. Bob gasped. "Bogie Bogie! Coming in hot and fast directly behind us!"

"Everybody break!" Rooster barked, steering his plane hard to the left. He was thankful when he looked behind him to see Pheonix and Bob off to the right. Coyote pushed up and forward, quickly disappearing into the cloud cover.

Wolf widened her eyes as she saw the team split off in different directions. "I'm going left, left!" She announced, turning her plane to the side hard in order to make the tight turn and successfully chase her target.

"Copy, I'm going right!" Payback confirmed and the two pilots began their chase on the targets. Wolf cursed in her mind, hoping that strangler plane would meet hangman in the clouds. As she chased the pilot she quickly realized it was Rooster. She smirked to herself speeding up to ride roosters tail. She stayed there, matching his speed and anticipating the turns. Her radar lock button circling around the area so the warning sounds would blast in roosters ears as he flew. Iceman had taught her this while she flew underneath his guidance. He called it flying ice cold, wearing someone out until they made a mistake.

Wolf was the last thing that Rooster wanted at his tail. He stood his ground, making sharp turns and executing rather difficult maneuvers but she stayed on his tail the entire time. The beeping warning of the radar lock in his ears caused pressure, he began to panic.

Fanboy and payback raced after Pheonix and Bob, falling just enough behind to not be able to get a lock on them. An alarm blared inside the cab, causing fanboy to whip around and look behind them. "Coyote's got lock on us!"

"Shit!" Payback cursed. "I got you guys." Hangman's voice sang a symphony inside the teams headsets as he dove down from the clouds, hot on Coyote's tail. A steady beep rang from inside the planes cockpits.

"Fanboy and payback, down." Coyote announced, pulling off the radar. The alarm in his cabin then blared loudly, causing him to jump. Coyote looked behind him to see Hangman's plane.

Hangman smirked, satisfied at his job well done. "Coyote Down." Two planes wizzed by Hangman's view. He saw Wolf riding Roosters tail. He smirked, pulling off his path and flying quickly towards them. He took a few short cuts through the air and finally pulled up ever so slightly underneath the duo.

"Wolf, disengage so I can take the shot." Hangman instructed, knowing he could have a clear shot without his teammate in the way.

Wolf was astonished that he was there following them. She growled in anger at his appearance. "I've got this Hangman! Go get Pheonix and Bob!"

"I have a clear shot you just need to move! All you're doing is chasing." Hangman argued with her, getting frustrated and inching closer.

"Hangman Disengage! I can handle this!" She yelled into her headset, arguing with her teammate.

"You disengage so I can take the shot!" Hangman snapped back at her.

Suddenly a long tone rang in the cockpit of Wolfs plane. She quickly looked around for the source of the radar.

Pheonix and Bob had appeared from above and managed to get a radar lock on the top plane. "Wolf is down."

"Shit!" Wolf spat, her rage boiling to her head as she veered off the path and left the last three to fight it out.

Hangman knew he needed to disengage, but the second that Wolf left he had a clear shot at rooster. His ego was too large to let him turn and run from this fight.

It was as if domino's were falling. One pilot down, a second one down; one right after the other. "Rooster is down!" Hangman yelled into his headset.

"Hangman down!" Phoenix said triumphantly. Just like that, one stupid egotistical moment caused the red team to lose.

The last of the planes landed back on solid ground. The Blue team celebrated their triumphs and promises of free drinks to be cashed later.

One pilot in particular was steaming with rage. Hangman had been on the ground and out of the plane for less than two seconds before he was greeted by an angry Wolf.

Wolf shoved Hangman's shoulders forcefully, causing the taller man to stumble around. "I had him!" She yelled, catching the attention of the other pilots who quickly made their way towards the commotion. Maverick, who had just come around the corner and seen the commotion, also started to make his way over.

"You weren't going to hit him that close, I had the better shot!" Hangman's Anger now began to simmer as he hardened his face and shoved Wolf back. Wolf stumbled back, ready to leap forward but she was caught by someone's arm wrapping around her waist. She smelled the familiar pine and amber scent.

"You and you're big fucking ego got in my way!" She spat as she jumped forward again to try and take another jab at Hangman.

Payback and Coyote had joined Hangman's side, blocking him in case he tried to go at his fellow crew mate again. "At least I was doing something instead of playing chase the chicken!"

Rooster had managed to spin them around to where his back was now facing hangman and his front facing Wolf. He let go of her, gently but sternly encouraging her in the direction of the hanger. "Walk away y/n. It's not worth it." He said sternly.

Wolf gave up, anger blinding her as she turned around and walked away from the situation. "This is exactly how it was in school with that idiot." Her voice faded as she raged on, storming past Maverick despite his efforts to try and talk to her.

Rooster turned around and put his arms out wide, then dramatically dropping them. "Really? Chase the chicken?"

Hangman shrugged, disengaging in the situation and walking off in the opposite direction.

Maverick's eyebrows were raised in wonder at the situation before. He wondered what even happened. "Remind me not to put those two on a team again." He spoke to the group, who all silently nodded in an agreement That might be for the best in this situation.

~~~

I laid in my bed in a pair of comfortable leggings and a Large T-shirt. I skipped lunch and opted for eating dinner in my room. I was embarrassed for losing my temper in front of everybody. I also was angry at Hangman for what he did. It was stupid and proved that he hadn't changed one bit. I was reading one of my favorite books to help take my mind off things when I felt my phone buzz. I got a message from an unknown number.

I sighed, finally deciding to roll myself out of my comfortable solitude. I found some jeans, throwing them on and then tucking my shirt into my pants. There, a little more presentable.

I began to brush my hair, putting on some perfume, and checking my teeth and breath to make sure they smelled decent. I popped in a piece of gum just in case.

I put on some shoes I didn't care about. Knowing people at the bars there was a likely chance they would get stepped on or a drink dropped on them. Its better to not care about them.

I made my way outside of the compound, my sunglasses on my head and a piece of gum in my mouth. I squinted at the bright sun and quickly went to the parking lot. I noticed Bradley there, leaning against his car. He looked up when I got closer, giving me a small smile.

"You know how to drive a standard?" He asked.

"Yes?" I responded in confusion. He then tossed me the keys to his vehicle. I quickly caught them in my hands, a wide smile quickly spread across my face which Bradley had returned to me.

I drove us to The Hard Deck while Bradley played every classic 80's rock song you can think of. We were singing, air guitaring, air drumming, an entire heavy metal band made out of imaginary instruments.

We got to the bar and I put the car in park, admiring the interior of the vehicle for a moment. "She's beautiful. Thank you for trusting my driving abilities." We shared in a chuckle, Bradley moving his arm to be behind the headrest of my seat and he rotated to get a better look at me.

"You're welcome. I expect the favor to be returned though." He warned me with a waving of his finger.

I hummed in thought, putting on a face of pretend thinking. "We'll see if you're worthy."

"If I'm worthy? What does that mean!" He was fake flabbergasted, looking astonished. Before our conversation could continue any farther, a loud crash came from inside the bar, followed by the sounds of multiple people yelling.

Bradley and I looked at each other quickly and then at the entrance of the bar, jumping into action and running inside to see what had happened.

Next Chapter

[chaotic-nick]

You're still pretty

Plot: Seven years after graduation you see him on the screen playing as himself, what you didn't expect was seeing him outside of the screen on the same day.

Note: The alternate title for this fic is 'Still the same'. Yaya! I finally posted something after doing a lot of uni-related stuff [there's still lots to do, but I'll honestly go mad if I don't sit down and allot time to write.] + the text for the actual fic was gone (?) in dark mode, so this is my second time posting this, hopefully it works 🥲

WC: 750 - no warnings, unedited

The Itadori twins were always loud. It was their identifier throughout high school. One was disqualified in games for swearing at his own teammates too much— Sukuna. And there was one who blurted out the most unrelated topic in class, pulling a laugh out of everyone and earning him the title of ‘class clown’��� that was Yuuji.

It was either word for another word, “(Y/n), what’s that thing when you jump?” “A trampoline?” “Nah.” “AH! Diving board. That one.” or the weirdest compliments no one’s ever thought of, “Sensei you can bury rice seedlings with your footsteps.” almost coming off as a sugar-coated insults.

Now that she was watching him do the same thing on TV, (Y/n) wished that she should’ve bought a cheap notebook for all his words to have a place. “Suits him,” she laughed, briefly joining her brother and his friends in the living room.

She followed with, “He was like that in high school, too.” when they turned to her to ask if she knew what they were watching.

“So, he’s old?” Of course, her youngest brother would ask that just as she sat down at the doorway to slip her shoes on.

Sighing, she slipped her shoes on and leaned back enough for them to hear, “Twenty-four is a baby in corporate years. It’s impressive.” No. It’s not impressive to a group of ten-year-olds who already turned to the TV in time for Yuuji’s Nanami-sensei to help him attack the curse.

“Did you watch it, (Y/n)-san?” the morning started with her brother watching Yuuji and since that, she’s noticed his face plastered everywhere. Trains. Billboards with airing dates and bookstores with his twin smirking at the camera.

And now her coworkers reading the show’s chapters in the weekly magazine.

“No, not yet. Re-watching Barakamon.” She stood on her toes to see what the hype was about. “Is it any good?”

“Heck yeah! You should come to our watch party,” the signboard of a new restaurant stopped them in their search for a new place to eat during a work break.

She pointed at the door, “This one? Let’s go in here?” happy that no one has discovered it yet.

“You go ahead,” walking backwards they explained, “Pumpkin spice is back so we’ll go there

first.”

“Right . . .”

“You should take pictures of the menu, (Y/n)!”

“If you say so.” She didn’t think about anything else, only happy about finding a place she can enjoy the silence during a long workday.

Even across the street, they managed a yell loud enough to make her flinch, “Want any? Pumpkin spice, I mean. Not my future children.”

“No, thank you.”

Entering the cross between a restaurant and a cafe she was made aware of a person standing in the corner, reading the menu and their head bent too low. “Welcome to Glaiza’s resto-cafe!”

“Menu, ma’am?” Her eyes remained on him, “Ma’am?” Wondering why she was staring at a stranger.

“Miss would you like a menu?”

“Sorry—” picking up on the slight tension, her stranger looked up.

He’s everywhere.

. . .

And he’s still the same.

Shoving spoonfuls of his meal too quickly, closing his eyes when the perfect spoonful just ��happened’. Though it didn’t happen yet when she put the complimentary pork slice on the edge of his plate. Followed by the egg. “I don’t see you in seven years and I’m still the trash can. Cool-cool-cool.”

“Hey, think of it as me giving it to your for free.”

Whipping his head up, Yuuji announced after a swallow,“I can order the whole stock!” Slowly his shoulders slumped in embarrassment when his voice echoed.“I-if I wanted to, that’s all.”

Fork digging in the thick slice she put, he smiled,“It’s yummier when you give them to me though, so—”

“Really?”

“Yeah, just like always in high school you gave me all your siu bao’s insides. This is the same thing!”

[siu bao: Barbecue pork-filled bun]

“Dude, no. How do you still remember that?!” She laughed back into the chair’s cross rail. “And you’re still the same, pink hair. But yeah, just in your twenties.”

“The same goes for you, (Y/n)!” This time he chewed slower, watching her with a fond look in his eyes. “And you’re still pretty.”

In high school, it quickly became known that Yuuji’s mouth was faster than his brain was thinking. His mouth always exposing something that shouldn’t be said, and her ears always caught it.

Word by word.

“I’m . . . I am? What?” Today, even seven years after graduation, his words were clear.

[justalonelybitch]

Luxurious Love, Lust & Lies

Chapter One ~ Perfect Shot

~ Series Masterlist ~

A twisted tale of the young and rich attending an elite private academy for academic scholars, the finest athletes and aristocrats. Follow these upperclassmen on a journey to uncovering the dark secrets their academy has fought tooth and nail to conceal from the public. No one will make it out unscathed, for everyone is at risk of falling for the deceiving facades of those around them.

Multiple K-pop Love Interests x F!Reader

Your lungs burned as you kicked your legs in a desperate attempt to rise to the surface. ‘Just a bit further,’ you thought, pushing your aching muscles to their limit. Your eyes fluttered shut in relief as your head rose above the disturbed body of water. Tiredly reaching out to the tiled floor, you heaved yourself out of the pool, planting yourself on the edge as you caught your breath. Your shoulders slumped in exhaustion as an obnoxiously loud whistle left you wincing, while reluctantly rising to follow the source of the sound.

“Y/n!” A voice called from behind you, followed closely by an arm draping loosely over your shoulder. Looking up to the girl who towered over you, a brief smile flickered across your face. She reflected it with a brighter one of her own, tinted red lips parting to reveal her perfectly straight pearly whites. “You’re getting faster every day, you’ll be winning gold before you know it.” Sooyoung praised you, effectively pulling you from your daze. “We both know I’ll never be as good as you,” you dismissed her claim.

“Alright, enough chit chat!” Your swim coach shouted now that everyone had gathered before her. “As I’m sure you all know, next week we’ll be selecting the participants for the relay race.” Hyoyeon paused, gaze flickering over the group, ensuring that she had everyone’s attention. “The top four individuals with the fastest time for the one-hundred metre races will be selected. You should all be training more than usual given the circumstances, I expect the best from each and every one of you.”

With that, she turned on her heel, dismissing the team with a lazy flick of her finger. The tension among the group left idly standing there was so thick that one could slice it with a knife. It became abundantly clear it was every person for themselves by the darkened gazes of the swimmers. ‘So much for being a team,’ you thought, rolling your eyes as you resisted scoffing. “I’ll leave the pool unlocked tonight for those of you who would prefer to get some practice in after classes.” Bang Chan, you swim team captain said, ushering everyone into the changing rooms.

You followed the girls into the changing rooms, keeping quiet as they chucked about god knows what. Brushing past them, you made a beeline for the showers, the chill of the droplets that lingered on your damp skin leaving you shivering. You breathed a sigh of relief as the steaming hot water cascaded down your body, rinsing the chlorine from your hair. Blocking out the muffled chatter from Sooyoung and Yves, you shut your eyes, momentarily succumbing to the darkness your body longed for.

The faint ringing in your ear alerted you of the start of class, huffing, you begrudgingly turned off the steam of flowing water. You swiftly pat your body down with a white towel, rushing to pull on the fitted uniform. Stumbling out of the changing room as you fiddled with the last few buttons of your shirt. You were so busy fiddling with your tie that you almost failed to notice the discarded duffle bag atop one of the benches. Glancing over your shoulder, you searched for any lingering teammates. The sight of an eerily still pool greeted you, no one in sight.

Upon closer inspection, you instantly recognised the bag, now able to identify its owner. A shining metal in its side pocket catches your eye, shimmering in the luminescent lights. Groaning, you gazed at your watch, ‘I’m gonna be so late,’ you accepted defeat. Giving the area another once over, you decided to make your way to class, leaving the duffle bag in its place. Enjoying the peaceful silence of the academy without any students in sight, you took your time strolling to class.

Arriving in front of the door of your class, you knocked softly on the large oak door. It swung open not a minute later, the eyes of your peers burning holes into the side of your head. “Mr Kim,” you greeted with a nod, arms hanging loosely by your side. “Is there a reason for your tardiness, Miss Kim?” He questioned, raising an unimpressed brow. Peering over his shoulder, you caught sight of your teammate Sooyoung, who’d managed to make it to class perfectly on time despite practice running late.

Sighing, you simply shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’ll let Headmistress Kim have the pleasure of dealing with you,” he said, handing you a slip of paper before slamming the door in your face. You narrowed your eyes, glaring at the place he once stood. Your eyes skimmed over the scribbled handwritten note on the paper, addressed directly to your Headmistress. ‘Inability to be punctual and breaking the school dress code,’ you scoffed at the words, scowling as you shuffled down the hall.

Upon reaching the Headmistress’s office, you made your way over to her secretary. “Name and note,” she said monotonously, not even sparing you a glance as she continued to tap at the keys of her computer. “Kim Y/n,” you stated, sliding the slip of paper across her desk. “Have a seat, Headmistress Kim will be with you shortly.” Following her instructions, you dropped your bag by your feet, plopping yourself down on one of the several empty chairs. Scanning the room, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the sight where dozens of pretentious awards hung on the walls.

You strained your ears at the sound of muffled shouts, unable to fight off your curiosity. Much to your disappointment, no distinct words could be made out through the school's thick walls. Just as your interest began to fade, the double doors dramatically slammed open, revealing an extremely displeased Jennie Kim. As if sensing your gaze, she snapped her head in your direction, glaring daggers at you. “What are you looking at?” She growled, seething with anger as she stormed off without another word. The Headmistress then peaked her head out, eyes finding you in a matter of seconds.

“Miss Kim, to what do I owe the pleasure?” the Headmistress spoke politely, leading you through the same doors a certain brunette has just charged through. “My apologies for keeping you waiting,” she sent you a smile, closing the doors behind you for some privacy. Pearching herself on the edge of her desk, she motioned for you to sit down. “What’s got her all riled up?” You questioned, refusing her offer to be seated. “I’m afraid I can’t disclose that information,” Taeyeon said sternly, a frown forming on her face.

Glancing at the slip of paper her secretary handed her, the Headmistress looked at you with furrowed brows. “It says your disobedience caused a scene, interrupting Mr Kim Heechul’s class.” She read the note aloud, crumpling it up before carelessly tossing it in a nearby bin. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time, just make sure it doesn’t happen again.” She ordered, leaning over to tug on your tie, adjusting it to sit neatly around your neck. Her actions urged a flurry of repressed memories of the past to swarm your mind.

“Please stay out of trouble, Y/n,” she begged, chocolate eyes swirling with concern. “Whatever you say Headmistress Kim,” you recovered, the light stutter going unnoticed by the older women. “Don’t call me that,” she frowned, hurt reflecting on her features. “What else am I supposed to call you,” you began retreating, ignoring her hopeful stare. “You used to call me Taeyeon unnie,” she reminisced, suddenly blinking back tears that threatened to fall. “That was a long time ago, Headmistress Kim,” you muttered emotionlessly, slipping out of the office wordlessly.

~~

You lay aimlessly on your back, arms floating by your side. Gazing up at the night sky, you couldn't help but admire the shining stars. The moon illuminated the swimming centre, its dull glow glimmered against each ripple of water. Letting your head fall back, the water began to engulf your body as you sank to the pool floor. It was always peaceful down here, granting your mind a rare moment of peace from the world. The silence gave you an escape, allowing you to let your guard down.

Feeling your throat begin to constrict from the lack of oxygen, you blow out a puff of air, bubbles rapidly rising above you. Kicking yourself off the tiled floor, you follow the bubbles to a source of life, gasping a breath of air upon reaching the surface. Paddling to the edge, you clung onto it for dear life, your heavy breathing echoing throughout the empty swimming centre. Finishing up evening practice, you swam over to the ladder, the cold air of the night sending a chill down your spine.

Far too exhausted to complete your usual routine, you skipped the shower, knowing you’d regret it when you would awake with tangled hair the next morning. For now, your mind was set on diving into nothing but your bed as you tugged a hoodie over your head. Your damp hair tickled your neck, a puff of air passing through your lips as you pushed the glass door open. The breeze left you shivering, stuffing your hands into your pockets in search of warmth. To make matters worse, the dorms were on the opposite side of campus.

Increasing your pace as the temperature began to drop, you followed the dimly lit path across campus. The trees waved in the wind, leaves rustling as they shook on their feeble branches. The sound of hushed whispers and faint giggles drew your attention away from nature, straining your ears to better make out the voices. Stepping off path, you followed the murmurs, coming to a stop near the languages building. Peaking around the corner, you caught a glimpse of two people, before quickly retreating, eyes wide in shock.

Mr Kim Heechul had a young female pressed against the building's wall, their lips locked in a passionate kiss. Fighting the urge to gasp at the scandalous sight, you covered your agape mouth. What caught you off guard wasn’t your teacher partaking in such acts on school grounds, but the person he was with. Although you couldn't make out her face, the familiar plaid skirt paired with the academy's signature blazer was a dead giveaway. Mr Kim was having an affair with a student.

Giving the area a once over, you quickly found that there were in fact no security cameras behind this particular building. Unfortunately, they weren’t smart enough to keep quiet and hadn’t accounted for curious students much like yourself. If you were anyone else, this would’ve been captured on camera and spread through the school like wildfire. ‘Knowledge is power,’ you thought to yourself, a sinister smile spreading across your face. Oh the things you could do with this newfound information, the only problem being that you had no proof.

Inconveniently, you’d opted not to bring your phone with you this morning, leaving you deviceless for the day. ‘Lucky them,’ you thought, they’d be glad to know their little secret was going nowhere. You chuckled at the thought, whistling cheerily as you strolled away from the scene with a pep in your step. A new found interest in Mr Kim sparked within you, he’d always irritated you, but you had a feeling that would soon come to a halt.

“Do you hear that?” Mr Kim’s mistress whispered, pulling away from his embrace with a look of panic reflecting in her eyes. He quickly shook his head, too caught up in the moment, rushing back to press his lips to her once more, addicted to her taste. But she pushed him back, sinking her lips into her bottom lip in concern, glancing around the area. The faint whistled tune in the distance alarming her, eyes widening as she shooed him, forcing him to take a look.

His mistress squeezed her eyes shut in fear, heart beating a mile a minute as she anxiously awaited the results of his inspection. Heechul sauntered back to her, laid back a smile on his lips as he affectionately pecked her cheek. “Nothing to worry about, darling.” He grinned, his mistress breathing out a relieved sigh. “Now, where were we?” He questioned, connecting their lips once more, but she just couldn't seem to shake off the lingering feeling of unease.

~~

The buzz of your blaring alarm jolted you from your deep slumber, heart racing in your chest. Huffing, you snoozed it, rolling onto your side and tugging the covers over your head. “Come on. You’re going to be late again,” all warmth was suddenly ripped away rather harshly, your blankets lay strewn on the floor. “That’s not fair!” You whined, rubbing the sleep from your eye before turning to glare at your roommate. “Don’t give me that look, I’m only saving you from another scolding from the Headmistress.” She held her hands up in defence, going back to making her own bed.

“Why do they have to make class so early at private academies?” You groaned, reluctantly rising from your comfortable mattress. “You better get ready, or I’ll leave without you again,” Sooyoung threatened, tossing a clean uniform at you. Catching it with your face, you scowled at the tall girl before scurrying off to the bathroom. Quick to finish your morning routine, you stepped out of the bathroom, checking your watch with a triumphant smile. “I think this is the earliest I’ve ever been!” You cheered, a chuckle escaping Sooyoung’s lips as your antics.

“No time for chit chat, you know how Professor Jung is about punctuality.” She stepped out the door swiftly, leaving you to stumble behind her like a lost puppy, scrambling to lock the door and keep up with her. “How are you so fast?” You complained, jogging to catch up to her. “It’s the long legs,” she grinned, smoothly wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Shall I start referring to you as a giraffe?” You joked, yelping as she pinched your shoulder. “Call me babe instead,” Sooyoung leaned down to whisper in your ear, her breath leaving goosebumps on your skin.

“You’re such a flirt!” You groaned, pushing her away, hoping that the heat rising to your cheeks wasn’t visible to her. The pleased look paired with the smirk that rested on her lips, told you she knew the effect of her words. Laughing at your miserable attempt to act unfazed, she linked her arm with yours pulling you along to Professor Jung’s class. She managed to get you there a full ten minutes early, excusing herself to greet some of her friends. You lingered in the hallway outside the class, two figures in the distance catching your attention.

Mr Kim was alone with a student, it only brought you right back to the night before, you squinted your eyes to see if she shared any similarities to his mysterious mistress. Upon closer inspection, you realised just who it was, Yoo Jimin. Although she shared similarities to his mistress, her hair was considerably longer, shinier even. Besides, she looked uncomfortable just speaking with Mr Kim, you noted. “Jimin!” You called her name without a second thought, seeing a look of relief wash over her face. Smiling, she waved you over, ignoring the look of irritation on Mr Kim’s face.

“Come on, class is about to start!” You reminded, pulling her away from Mr Kim without another word. ‘He sure does have a type,’ you thought, shaking your head in disbelief. Jimin uttered a small ‘thank you’ before entering the class, ashamed to be saved from such a situation. You merely sent her an assuring smile, waiting for her to leave before glancing over your shoulder. Your eyes met Mr Kim’s from across the hall, his eyes narrowed as he openly glared at you, a look of disgust plastered on your face. Rolling your eyes, you turned on your heel, entering the classroom just mere moments before Professor Jung arrived.

~~

The day breezed by in the blink of an eye, before you knew it you were taking the familiar path back to your dorm room after yet another late night swim practice. The faint hum of music from your headphones was briefly interrupted by a buzz of your phone, alerting you of an upcoming schedule. Slowing to a stop, you took a seat on a stray bench below a cherry blossom tree, your favourite. Withdrawing your phone from where it resided in your jersey pocket, you glanced at the screen lit up with notifications.

Huffing, you silenced your phone, ignoring the rapidly flowing messages regarding grades, test dates and more. Instead you focused on the untouched natural beauty of the academy, your seat giving you a perfect view of the campus gardens. A smile graced your lips at the sight, it was so captivating, allowing you to forget about your troubles for a fleeting moment of peace. You could’ve sworn it was hypnotising, finding yourself unable to look away. Adding to the picture perfect scene before you, the stars twinkled brightly in the cloudless sky, moon lighting up the gardens with its dim glow.

A sudden blinding flash of light pulled your attention from outer worldly sight, blinking in confusion as you turned your head in search of its source. Kim Yerim stood awkwardly, camera in hand and blushing profusely. Tilting your head, you raised an inquisitive brow, watching with an amused grin as she realised what she’d done. “I’m sorry, it’s just.. You’re really pretty and the cherry blossom petals are falling around you..” She rambled, your body shaking with a mirthful chuckle.

Yerim’s cheeks reddened further at your melodious laughter, ducking her head in embarrassment, eyes glued to the stone path, insistent on avoiding your gaze. Calming down from your fit of giggles, you rose to your feet, taking a step closer to the abashed photographer. “What brings you here at this hour?” You changed the topic, feeling remorseful. Taking a moment to compose herself, the flustered girl before you finally looked up to meet your gaze, a pink tint lingering on her cheeks.

“It’s the best time to take photos since there’s usually no one about this late,” she answered, anxiously fiddling with the straps of her camera. “My apologies for interrupting,” you teased, Yerim immediately shaking her head. “No! You didn’t interrupt at all, if anything I should be glad I saw you, this is by far one of my best shots this week.” She began to ramble once more, only pausing once she noticed the smirk that tugged at the corner of your lips. She sent you a sheepish grin, running a hand through her hair at the thought of embarrassing herself further.

“So you’re always out here taking photos this late?” You questioned, looking at the photographer with curiosity dancing in your eyes. “Yup, same time every night,” she nodded enthusiastically, passionate about pursuing photography. “So, do I get to see this ‘best shot of the week’?” You questioned, leaning tauntingly closer to her. “I have to develop the photos in the photography club's darkroom, which isn’t unlocked this late. If you don't mind waiting, you’re welcome to stop by anytime..” Yerim offered, a shy smile adorning her features.

“That sounds good, I’ll stop by after class. Are you heading back to the dorms now?” You asked, lifting your finger to point to the nearby building. Nodding in affirmation, Yerim gave you a questioning look as you began walking off. “Are you coming?” You inquired, looking over your shoulder to witness her scrambling to catch up with you. Slowing your pace, you waited for her to fall into step with you, stuffing your hands into your pockets. Entering the building side by side, you took the elevator, discovering that you shared the same floor.

“Well, this is me,” Yerim mumbled rather begrudgingly, stopping before one of the numerous identical doors. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Yerim.” You said, amused by the way her face lit up at the mention of it. “Goodnight, Y/n,” she waved at you, a giddy smile stuck on her lips. “Goodnight,” you replied, beginning to walk towards your own room. “Yerim!” You called suddenly, catching her just before she closed the door. “One more thing..” You started as she gazed at you, curiously awaiting your continuation.

“You’re also really pretty.”

~ Series Masterlist | Next ~

Important: Joy will be referred to as Sooyoung, while Yves will be referred to by her stage name Yves, as they both share the same real name and it will be easier to tell the two apart this way. There is also another reason behind this, which will be revealed later in the story.

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

It's Going To Be You

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Spencer Reid Taglist - @asherhunterx, @ilovespencerreidmarryme, @canadailluminate, @nomajdetective,@reidsbookclub, @filmsbyblair, @ready-4-spencie, @mrs-scottmccall, @roseslovedreams, @j-cat, @cinderellacauseshebroke, @black-rose-29,

Prompt - I knew I did from that first moment we met. It was…not love at first sight exactly, but - familiarity. Like: oh, hello, it’s you. It’s going to be you.

—————————————————–

Spencer Reid knew from the moment he laid eyes on you that you were something else, he could tell from one glance that you would change his life. No words needed to be exchanged for the man to be completely and utterly taken by you. He watched as you walked through the door, though your head was held high, shoulders pushed back giving the impression of complete confidence, he saw the way you fiddled with the strap of your bag with one hand. When he looked at your other hand he could see your forefinger picking at your thumb, clearly a nervous habit. He watched as you looked around the room, watched as Rossi made his way over to you, guiding you over to Hotch’s office with a smile.

“Down, pretty boy.” Derek grinned as Spencer startled, his head snapping around to face Derek just as you entered Hotch’s office. “I’ve never seen that look on your face and you don’t even know her name.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Spencer replied, cringing at how unconvincing he sounded.

He turned away from Derek and tried to focus on his paperwork but he could stop his eyes from straying over to the closed office door every few minutes much to Derek and Rossi’s amusement.

“Who is she anyway?” Derek asked.

“She’s lucky number ten,” Rossi told them, smothering a smile as Spencer looked over, “who knew finding another agent would be so difficult.”

“Wait,” another voice interrupted, “there’s a new person here? Is she nice? Why is that always my first question?” The group laughed as Penelope quizzed Rossi.

“Listen, I know as much as you people.” He said and before anyone else could speak Penelope was being handed a folder causing them all to groan.

-

“Agent Hotchner?” You asked as you were granted access to the office.

Hotch stood as you walked in, moving around his desk to hold a hand out to you.

“Yes and you’re Y/F/N Y/L/N, I presume?” He asked, smiling slightly at you as you nodded, still fiddling with your bag. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, please have a seat.”

“Thank you sir.” You smiled, taking a seat in the offered chair watching as he made his way back behind his desk.

“Your supervisor spoke very highly of you when I spoke with him, your success rate is impressive.” Hotch praised, glancing down at the file in front of him. “Your latest case seemed rather difficult, are you sure you’re ready to be back in the field again?”

“I passed all my psychiatric exams, I was cleared to return.” You told him stiffly.

“I’m aware of your results, I just want to be sure you’re ready. Infiltrating yourself into the life of Douglas Miller couldn’t have been an easy feat.” Hotch watched as a look of satisfaction took over your face.

“I’m ready, sir.” You told him, relaxing slightly. “It was a tough case, I’ll be the first to admit that seeing what I saw had an impact but I can do this.”

Hotch smiled at you before closing the folder.

“I believe you,” he said, “I think you’ll be a valuable addition to this team.”

The words were what you were hoping to hear, you’d wanted a job with the BAU for longer than you could remember but you paused. Surely it wasn’t that easy, right?

“Wait? That’s it?” You asked.

“That’s it.” Hotch confirmed, fighting back a smile at your expression.

“But- but I’ve been here less than five minutes.” You countered back, there were so many emotions going on within you that you felt slightly overwhelmed.

“Y/N, ever since your name was put forward I looked into your work and I was impressed. Your skills at undercover work are far above what I’ve seen in a long time, that alone would be an incredibly useful assest to the team but on top of that your ability to connect and empathise with unsubs, fast thinking and your profiling skills- trust me, you deserve this job and I have complete faith in you.” Hotch’s words had left you speechless, you had no clue how to respond but thankfully you didn’t have to as the door was pushed open and both you and Hotch turned to look at the brightly dressed woman in the doorway.

“I’m sorry to interrupt sir but we have a case.” The woman said and Hotch stood gesturing for you to follow.

“You have a to go bag?” He asked as you both walked out the door.

“Yes sir.” You nodded, still baffled by how well things had gone.

“Good, welcome to the team Y/L/N.”

-

“Everyone, this is SSA Y/F/N Y/L/N. I’m sure proper introductions can be made later.” Hotch said as the two of you entered the room before gesturing to Garcia that she could begin.

“Ok, yes, so, we have five bodies so far found in Wyoming. The first two bodies were hidden amongst some trees close to firehole bay. The ME presumes that the time of death was mostly likely a week ago but we should have full confirmation when you arrive. The victims, who we haven’t been able to identify yet, but I am working on it, were stripped completely and the wounds, that are in your files because I so do not need to see that, show heavy signs of torture. ” Garcia informed you all.

“The next body was a single male, again stripped and tortured and the ME says this death is most likely four to five days old. This body was found a few miles away from Basin Bay Point campsite.”

“Wait a second,” somebody interrupted, causing you to turn your head. There sat a man, younger than the rest of the team, he was…how you had missed him you didn’t know but now you felt like you couldn’t look away. “If I’m not mistaken those places are roughly twenty miles from each other at walking distance.”

“And driving distance?” An older man asked.

“I don’t think there is a way to drive to Basin Bay Point, especially not to where the body was left.” The younger man replied, looking down at the folder he was given with a frown.

“I’ll have a map ready for you on the plane.” Penelope assured him before continuing. “Now, the next two bodies were the most recent, ME says they were killed a day or two ago and these victims we have been able to identify as Taylor Gomez and her boyfriend Jack Gaskarth.” Penelope said as she brought their pictures up. “They were never reported missing because they had told friends and family they were going camping, which checks out because their bodies were found three miles away from Lewis Lake campground. They show the same wounds as the other vics.” Garcia explained.

You grimaced as you looked down at the tablet Hotch had passed you as you saw a young man and woman, naked with slices all across their bodies, as well as deep bruising to the neck.

“What was the CoD, Garcia?” The younger man spoke up again.

“ME still needs to run a full examination but her best bet is that it was asphyxiation.” She told him with a frown.

“That makes sense, there isn’t a lot of blood or scabbing which suggests they were done post mortem.”

“So what,” you spoke up, pausing for a moment when everyone turned to you, “the unsub blitz attacks the victims and kills them before torturing them? What’s the point in that?”

“It could be a number of things actually. Perhaps it’s not about the kills for him but more to do with the fascination of the human body, we’ve seen it before where curiosity leads to this kind of attack. It could also be that he has to kill, he has a compulsion to kill and once he’s given into that compulsion he gets to fulfil other urges. If I had to guess I’d say the victims are victims of opportunity-” The younger man rambled, his hands gesturing in front of him as he spoke causing you to smile.

“Because there is no set pattern, he crosses race and gender lines and there’s no secondary location.” You cut off the other man who looked at you with a grin.

“Exactly, the area is so isolated that he can get away with quick and easy killings but because it doesn’t seem like there’s a secondary location yet we have to presume that the torture is a means to satisfy himself when he can’t hold his victims hostage.”

“It’s a long flight and this unsub doesn’t appear to be slowing down. Wheels up in fifteen.” Hotch said as he stood up, everyone was quick to follow until it was just you and the guy you had spoken to left.

“Hi.” He said, causing you to turn around with a smile.

“Hi.”

“I’m Spencer, Spencer Reid.” He introduced himself.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you.” You replied, reaching out your hand to shake his, your eyebrows pulling together slightly as he shook his head.

“Sorry, I don’t um,” He said, causing you to drop your hand and nod understandingly, “it’s nothing against you, just…germs.” He trailed off, berating himself in his head.

“No problem.” You smiled again, god that smile. Spencer felt his heart race.

“Congratulations on joining the team.” He praised as the two of you walked out of the round table room.

“Thank you, I’ve wanted this for so long.” He watched as the smile fell from your face before you shook your head slightly.

“Is everything ok?” He asked, understanding the nerves. He couldn’t help but glance down, almost smiling as he saw you picking at your thumb.

“Yeah, I’m just, what if I mess up?” You couldn’t help but ask. After wanting this job for as long as you had, all the hard nights and long days spent training you were finally here and you’d be damned if you screwed everything up.

“You won’t, Hotch wouldn’t have hired you if he didn’t think you were good enough, trust me. I think you’ll be amazing.” He told you, flushing slightly at his own words and the soft smile that replaced the frown on your face.

“Thank you Spencer.” You replied softly and before he could respond the rest of the team was calling for the two of you to head to the air strip.

-

On the plane you were properly introduced to everyone as you took a seat next to Spencer, sitting opposite Hotch and Rossi. On the table in front of you Spencer had both a map of the US and a smaller map of Wyoming. You watched his fingers trace invisible lines as his eyebrows knitted together.

You were trying not to stare, really you were, but there was just something about the man that made you want to get to know him.

Thankfully before anyone noticed your eyes glancing at Spencer every few moments, the man himself spoke.

“Guys, if you map out where the five victims were found,” Spencer began, circling three places on the map as he did, “it looks like the victims might have been hiking the continental divide trail.”

“Pretty boy, isn’t that trail like thousands of miles long?” Morgan asked, watching as Spencer nodded, pushing the little map of Wyoming out of the way for a moment and drawing a line down the map of the US.

“This is the continental divide trail, it’s 3,300 miles long and it’s actually quite difficult to hike. These people had to have been exceptionally fit and healthy which further backs up the theory that these were blitz attacks. You can go days without seeing other people when hiking the trail and most hikers have to give up because of lack of supplies or needing urgent medical care from injuries and illnesses they attract. A part of the Wyoming part of the trail includes a 120 mile stretch of desert with water sources few and far between.” Spencer rambled and you couldn’t help the soft smile, though you did try to hide it behind your hand, glancing away from Rossi when you locked eyes with him and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“So we have a serial killer and 3,300 miles of potential hunting grounds?” JJ asked.

“So far he seems to be focusing on Wyoming, which narrows the geographic profile down to…’ Spencer paused as he pulled the Wyoming map closer to him, “550 miles.”

“I hope you all brought your hiking boots.” Rossi said as groans filled the jet.

“Hello my crime fighters.” Garcia’s voice sounded through the speakers. “Hotch, the families of the latest two victims are at the station waiting for you.”

“Thank you Garcia,” Hotch replied before turning to the team. “JJ, I want you to come with me to the station and help interview the families. We also need to get ahead of the media on this before they start glorifying the unsub. Reid, since the geographic profile is mostly established, I want you to take Y/L/N and head to the latest crime scene. Dave and Morgan, the two of you head to the second crime scene.”

You and Spencer both shared a look at the news you were travelling to a crime scene that couldn’t be driven too. Whilst you managed to pass the FBI’s training and fitness tests you weren’t exactly athletically inclined and seeing from the look Spencer was giving you neither was he.

Judging from the chuckles that filled the plane the others had come to the same conclusion that you and Spencer were not going to recover from this trip.

-

You had driven as close to the crime scene as you could get, which was thankfully closer than the one Morgan and Rossi had to go to. It was still a hell of a hike to get to where the unsub had dumped the bodies.

“Ok, ok,” Spencer panted, cheeks flushed from the heat. “Let’s take a break.”

“Please.” You were quick to agree and the two of you sat down heavily on a fallen tree trunk. You had all been warned that you needed supplies, even for a short hike. So you had both been sent out with backpacks filled with water bottles and food. There were other supplies like maps, compasses and first aid kits that you were hoping you wouldn’t have to use. Thankfully you had been paired with the man with the eidetic memory because you couldn’t read a map to save your life.

After the two of you gulped down some water and caught your breath Spencer spoke up.

“Why the BAU?” He asked suddenly, causing you to look up in confusion.

“Sorry?” You replied.

“You said you had wanted to join the BAU for a long time, why?” He asked again, not pushing you when you paused.

It wasn’t a secret what had happened to your family, Spencer could easily find the information out if he wanted to but you wanted to be the one to tell him. It wasn’t a story you liked sharing with people but something about Spencer made you feel…safe.

“When I was a kid there was a serial killer but he was in the next state over and we were from a small town so nobody thought to worry and after a while things went quiet so everyone just assumed he stopped, you know? Anyway, one day I went to my friend’s house, it was summer and I was always out with my friends. I was there for a few hours but I was always home in time for dinner except for this day, I ended up losing track of time and headed home an hour late. When I got home, my momma was there in the kitchen. She was covered in blood and I just screamed. The rest of my family didn’t make it either. When the police came they said the markings were the same as the victims from the next state over.” You told him, not pausing for breath as you rushed through the story. You watched as his expression fell, his sympathy written on his face.

“I’m so sorry.” He told you and you could hear the sincerity in his tone. You gave him a small smile before continuing.

“I could just never understand why. The thing that kept me up at night was that question: why? Why them? Why did he come here? Why wasn’t I home? Why did I deserve to live? I started researching and somehow came across an article about the BAU, from there I knew I wanted to work there.”

“Most people wouldn’t be able to come back from something like that, especially at such a young age.” Spencer said, causing you to glance over at him. “They’d be so proud of you.”

You couldn’t help but let out what sounded like a chuckle and a sob at those words, causing Spencer’s eyes to widen in fear he had upset you further but then you smile brightly and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“I like to think so.” You said softly. “You ready to continue?” You asked, chuckling as he groaned before standing up.

“I hate Hotch.” Was the grumbled response and the laugh he received in return made every sore bone and the aching feet worth it.

-

“We know that this unsub is a physically fit white male in his mid to late thirties.” Hotch began.

“Looking at the geographical pattern it’s safe to assume that he too is hiking the Continental Divide Trail in search of victims who are isolated from the rest of civilization. He also has no problems taking down two victims.” Spencer continued.

“The period in between kills is lessening so we should expect to find another body soon, have as many officers as possible on the rest of the trail.” You picked up.

“Considering the last kill was two days ago, the average person could walk up to 30 miles a day on normal terrain but we have to consider that the terrain out there is harsh so lets say he walks 20 miles a day that gives up a 40 mile radius he could be in. He is guaranteed to stay on the continental divide trail so stop every male you see.” Spencer told the LEO’s and after some more information was shared everyone headed off in different directions, the BAU members heading into the room they had been given to work in.

“Y/N,” Hotch said, causing everyone to look over at you.

“Yes sir?” You asked, looking up from your laptop.

“You’re probably the most skilled undercover agent in this room,” He said, causing your cheeks to flush and Spencer couldn’t help but smile. “I know this isn’t exactly the type of case you’d usually be assigned but perhaps if we send you out there we have a better chance of catching him. This man is impulsive, if he sees you he won’t be able to control himself.” Hotch explained, ignoring the questioning looks he was getting from most of the team.

You, however, relaxed, thankful that you hadn’t done something wrong. Undercover work was easy, you were comfortable with it, you knew you were good at it. Obviously you weren’t as confident at this part of the job yet, how could you be on your first case, but undercover work? That was your area of expertise.

“Of course sir.” You agreed easily before remembering how fun the small hike to the last crime scene was…your body would not thank you for signing up for a much longer hike.

“Hotch, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Morgan spoke up causing you to frown. Sure they didn’t know you yet but surely your record spoke for itself. “No offence to you,” he said quickly as he turned to you, “it’s just-“

But before he could finish Hotch cut him off, “I have full faith in Y/L/N’s abilities.”

You couldn’t help feeling a swell of pride at Hotch’s words, a man who you looked up to, a man who barely knew you but was trusting you with so much already. You locked eyes with Spencer who smiled at you reassuringly.

“I’m not doubting the kid’s abilities,” Morgan continued, missing the way you rolled your eyes at being called a kid. “I’m just saying maybe don’t send her in on her own on her first case.”

“I’ll go with her.” Spencer spoke up before Hotch could argue back.

Your eyes widened at Spencer’s offer, he did just as well as you did on your first outing and now he was offering to put himself through hours more of that for what?

“Are you ok with that, Y/N?” Hotch asked you.

You didn’t even hesitate to nod, more than happy for the opportunity to spend time with Spencer Reid.

-

“We’ll be close by the whole time,” Hotch told you as he passed you your backpack filled with supplies, “the second we hear something, we’ll be there.” He assured you and you couldn’t help but smile at his concern.

“I’ll be fine, sir. This is actually the part of the job I’m good at.” You laughed, watching as his lip twitched upwards.

“You’ve been a great help in coming up with a profile too.” He assured you and before you could say anything the rest of the team was flooding in.

The plan for you and Spencer to hike up to a specific spot that Spencer had managed to pinpoint the unsub at and set up camp there. From there you would wait and hope for the unsub to appear. The man was impulsive and his need to kill would be overwhelming by now. The two of you were wired up so that if the unsub appeared the rest of the team could step in and help with the arrest.

You and Spencer were dropped off half an hour away from your campsite just so that if the unsub was around he wouldn’t suspect anything.

The walk was mostly silent, both you and Spencer focusing on not breaking an ankle on the uneven terrain when Spencer finally spoke up.

“Morgan didn’t mean anything insulting.” He told you, causing you to pause before shrugging your shoulders and continuing. When you stayed silent Spencer continued, “he’s just protective but sometimes he isn’t really good at showing it and it comes across…”

“It comes across like he thinks I can’t do my job despite this being my forte.” You finished with a huff before sighing. “I’m sorry, I just…you can’t imagine how many times a male colleague has said I can’t do something and then a supervisor has agreed, you don’t understand how hard I have to fight to be given assignments and not have somebody constantly berating me.” You ranted.

“People look at me like I’m a child. When I first joined the BAU nobody would take me seriously, without Gideon I don’t know what would have happened.” Spencer told you quietly, causing you to frown.

“So you can understand why it’s so frustrating that someone who doesn’t know me didn’t even want to give me a chance.” You replied, causing him to nod sadly. ‘I know he probably didn’t mean anything but…”

“You’ve heard that your entire career.” Spencer finished.

“Hotch was the first person to give me a chance without any hesitation.” You told him softly, watching as he smiled at that. “This should be close enough.” You said as you looked around, the place looked similar to the image Spencer had shown the team.

“Please tell me you know how to put a tent up.” You said, watching as his face twisted.

“I know the theory?” The way his response sounded like a question made you smile as you pulled poles and material out of a bag. The two of you staring down at the mess with matching expressions of confusion.

“Now would be a really good time for the unsub to attack.” He muttered, causing you to laugh loudly. Spencer couldn’t help but grin over at you, your cheeks flushing as you caught the expression.

It took longer than either you or Spencer were willing to admit to put the tent up, despite the fact that it wouldn’t get used, you had to make it look like the pair of you were really camping. There was a lot of grumbling, many curse words and a cut or two.

There was also a lot of laughter coming from the comms in your ears causing both you and Spencer to roll your eyes.

Once the tent was up, Spencer lay a blanket down outside of it and sat down, gesturing for you to do the same. Miraculously the two of you got a fire started and as the sun set and the night time air chilled you were thankful for it.

“I don’t camp but I guess I can see the appeal.” Spencer told you as he titled his head back to look up at the stars. You glanced up too, the sky wasn’t totally black yet, more of an inky blue colour and you could see every star on the cloudless night.

It was beautiful and yet you still found your gaze falling back on Spencer.

“Yeah, me too.” You replied softly, your voice quiet so as not to break the peacefulness around you.

Somehow the two of you ended up laying down and looking up at the sky, you had a smile on your face that refused to move as Spencer’s hushed voice told you facts about stars.

“I’m glad you’re on the team.” Spencer whispered after a long pause of silence. It took you a moment to register his words before you turned your head, coming face to face with the man.

“Me too.” You whispered back, meaning the words with your entire being.

Just as Spencer went to say something you heard a rustle in the bushes and locked eyes with Spencer who nodded.

The two of you waited, not waiting to disrupt the operation if it just turned out to be an animal, but as you pushed yourself up on your elbow and discreetly looked around you saw a faint outline of a man. He was hidden behind a tree but he was watching the two of you.

“The hike up here was exactly what we needed.” You told Spencer and through the comms you heard the team moving out.

“You’re right.” He played along, smiling up at you from his reclined position.

Before you knew what was happening Spencer had his gun out and the unsub grabbed you, placing you in front of him as a human shield. If someone asked you, you would never have been able to recall the events that led to you having a knife held to your neck.

You saw the panicked look in Spencer’s eyes but you couldn’t hear his thoughts, they were overwhelming. Thoughts of Maeve passed through his mind as he pleaded with anyone who would listen to let you be ok, he couldn’t lose you too. Hell, he’d only known you a few days and yet he knew you were special, he knew he had to have you in his life. If you died now…

“Just let her go.” Spencer said, keeping his gun trained on the man.

“I let her go, you ship me off to death row.” The man responded, his face close to your face, too close. The smell of his breath had you grimacing.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Spencer responded, not even thinking. He just needed to get you away.

“Spenc, what you doing kid?” He heard Morgan through his ear piece but he just shook his head before shooting you a reassuring smile, trying not to focus on the tears in your eyes or the blood on your neck.

“I’m listenin’.” The unsub replied after a moment of silence, gesturing for Spencer to continue.

“Let her go,” He said, lowering his gun, “I won’t arrest you. You can get a head start before anyone else gets here. Just let her go.” Spencer pleaded.

It was a tense few seconds in which Spencer never took his eyes off you, he hated to see that scared look in your eyes, the fear in them made Spencer ache.

“Let her go.” Spencer said once more and he let out a sigh of relief as you were pushed into his arms.

Just as the unsub ran to leave, you twisted around in Spencer’s arms and drew your own gun, shooting the unsub in the leg. The rest of the team ran in just as the man fell to the ground.

Spencer turned you around so that you were facing him, his hands on your shoulders.

“Are you ok?” He asked, Morgan and Hotch walking over whilst Rossi and JJ dealt with the man.

You didn’t respond with words, instead you wrapped your arms around Spencer. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his own around you, holding you close as you let the tears slid down your face.

You pulled away abruptly, rubbing your eyes as you did.

“Sorry, you don’t like to be touched and here I am-“ You said but Spencer just cut you off.

“It’s fine, really.” He assured you before his attention turned to your neck. The knife hadn’t pierced the skin too badly, there was a small bit of blood where the knife had nicked you when the unsub pressed a bit too hard.

“Are you ok?” He asked again, fingers on your jaw so that he could tilt your face and get a better look.

“Spencer, I’m fine.” You assured him but that didn’t stop him from getting you medical attention the moment you were back in the town.

Spencer watched as you squirmed away from the nurse seeing to you with a soft smile.

There was something about you that made him feel so free, like he could be himself and the thought of losing you…he didn’t want to think about it again.

“You like her.” Derek said as he came to stand next to the younger man.

“That’s ridiculous, I’ve known her for a few days.” Spencer shot back but he knew his friend was right.

“If she’s the right girl, a few days is all you need.” Was Derek’s reply before he walked away, leaving Spencer looking at you with a thoughtful look on his face.

-

The plane ride home was uneventful.

You took the seat next to Spencer again and watched him pull a book out. You couldn’t help but glance down at it, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion as you didn’t recognise the language.

“It’s Russian.” He told you quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone as they settled in for a long flight.

“You read Russian?” You asked just as quietly, watching as he smiled bashfully and shrugged before nodding. You glanced down at the pages again before letting out a small yawn. “Can you read to me?” You asked him, smiling as he nodded again.

“Of course,” He said and with that it wasn’t long before you fell asleep to the soothing sound of Spencer Reid.

-

“Ask her, man.” Morgan said as both he and Spencer watched you leave the office after finishing your paperwork. Spencer too was done and Morgan assured him he’d make sure Hotch received it.

There was only a brief moment of hesitation before Spencer snatched his satchel up and ran to the elevators, getting there just before they shut on you.

“Hey.” He greeted as he stepped in.

“Hi.” You smiled, brushing a piece of hair out of your face.

“I was wondering, I mean if you wanted to, of course you don’t have to, I was only suggesting but I’d really like it if you would,” Spencer rambled before cutting himself out with a groaning causing you to giggle.

“Are you asking me out?” You asked, cheeks flushing as you asked.

“I’m trying to,” he told you, “but I’m not very good at this.”

“Just ask.” You told him softly.

“Would you like to go out with me?” He asked after taking a deep and calming breath.

“I’d love to.” You grinned, thankful that the man had made a move. You wouldn’t have risked asking him on the chance that you were reading him wrong and he didn’t like you but thankfully he had taken it into his own hands.

“Good. Great. That, that’s great.” He repeated, a soft grin spreading across his face causing you to giggle as the doors opened.

The two of you walked out together and there was a moment of awkward silence before Spencer dipped his head down to kiss your cheek, making your blush even more prominent.

You looked so pretty when you blushed, Spencer thought.

“I’ll call you.” He promised.

“I hope so.” You replied before heading towards your car, when you turned around you saw Spencer still stood by the doors with a smile still on his face. You giggled to yourself but couldn’t stop smiling yourself if you tried.

Spencer Reid was something else and you couldn’t wait to learn everything about that wonderful man.

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk​ who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys. 

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable. 

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party. 

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that. 

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now. 

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought. 

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!" 

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening. 

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?" 

More cheers, more hollers. 

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!" 

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day. 

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse. 

Again—you fucking hate frat boys. 

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst. 

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer. 

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt. 

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team. 

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!" 

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow. 

"Hell no!" 

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike." 

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving." 

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed. 

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?" 

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.  

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly." 

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer. 

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little. 

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?" 

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along. 

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though. 

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?" 

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.  

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer." 

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers. 

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in. 

He does, and you let out a breath of relief. 

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?" 

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?" 

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you." 

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs. 

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue. 

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?" 

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself." 

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon. 

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip. 

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice. 

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach. 

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum. 

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!" 

"Ayyy, waterfall!" 

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced. 

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch. 

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up." 

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game. 

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards. 

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace. 

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup. 

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you. 

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts. 

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely. 

*

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you. 

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before. 

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team? 

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you. 

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out. 

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult. 

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt  Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes. 

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses. 

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way. 

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls. 

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you. 

*

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc. 

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover. 

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall. 

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster. 

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him. 

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them. 

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it. 

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms. 

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees. 

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested. 

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins. 

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?” 

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away. 

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him. 

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave. 

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning. 

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you. 

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too. 

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was. 

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips. 

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble. 

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere. 

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out. 

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb. 

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper. 

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind. 

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind. 

“Holy—” 

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs. 

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass. 

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately. 

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress. 

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan. 

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you. 

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it. 

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed. 

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to. 

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door. 

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

*

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias. 

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again. 

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot. 

Is still hot. 

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong. 

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner. 

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits. 

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face. 

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you. 

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago. 

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head. 

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick. 

God dammit, why is he so sexy? 

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so... 

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body. 

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face. 

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted. 

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip. 

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock. 

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat. 

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion. 

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth. 

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue. 

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you. 

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward. 

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot. 

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit. 

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to. 

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine. 

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts. 

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight." 

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you. 

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed. 

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach. 

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression. 

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support. 

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot. 

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?" 

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee." 

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out. 

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side. 

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth. 

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

*

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like. 

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?" 

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!" 

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together. 

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave. 

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it. 

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove. 

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?" 

And, there's that point. 

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request. 

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea. 

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times. 

But, it needs to stop. 

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth. 

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer. 

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call. 

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven. 

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it. 

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them. 

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious. 

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before. 

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods. 

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated. 

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself. 

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee. 

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much. 

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully. 

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?" 

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?" 

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?" 

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to. 

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point. 

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you. 

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie. 

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?" 

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal." 

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?" 

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended. 

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards. 

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day." 

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face. 

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias." 

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick. 

"You have any classes?" You ask. 

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place. 

"Sucks," is all you can come up with. 

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?" 

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself. 

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'. 

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?" 

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals. 

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it. 

"God dammit." 

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear. 

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to." 

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan. 

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole. 

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane. 

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name. 

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit. 

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air. 

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess. 

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat. 

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate. 

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

[tacticaldiary]

Harsh Words

REQUEST: When Y/n getting hurt the way Bakugou talks to her due to the tone of his voice, ended up fighting when y/n tried to tell him about it, Bakugou getting mad, both of them not talking for days/weeks, Bakugou getting triggered when Y/n is always with Shoto since they were friends too..Ahhhh thank you 🤧

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

Enjoy! :)

Pairing: Reader x Bakugou Katsuki

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me...yeah that’s bullshit. Doesn’t apply to Katsuki Bakugou. Y/N finds out first hand. The true impact of his words hits Katsuki two weeks too late, as the need to have his partner back wins over his pride.

Masterlist

Y/N lived for the rare gentle moments, sleepy conversations, quietly studying together, taking care of the other’s wounds. Although they were rare, Y/N cherished every single gentle movement with her fiery boyfriend.

Right now, though, Bakugou was anything but gentle

“Stop being dramatic.”

The words stung, especially when considering how hard Y/N was trying not to snap at him. SHe just wanted a rational conversation to discuss this. She crosses her arms, her face twisting into a scowl.

“I’m not being dramatic, Katsuki! Just listen to me for once!”

Katsuki was rough around the edges, there was no doubt, and it was one of the things that made Y/N fall for him a year ago. The past few weeks, however, had been particularly rough. His insults towards her had been much meaner, his tone harsher. Although she has always been on the lesser end of his receiving temper, this was taking a toll on her.

She finally had enough when he had insulted her clumsiness in front of the whole class in the dorm common area. She remembers full well the crash of the glass as it shattered upon impact, hitting the ground, followed by a snort and a “What? You got two left feet to match your useless quirk now?”. She had stormed out of the room, eyes glassy and Bakugou had followed her.

And here they were.

“You’ve been horrible to me this whole past month! I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, that you think it was okay to yell at me like that in front of everyone, but-”

“I’ve been exactly the same. You know what you got yourself into when you started dating me. Don’t get all sensitive now.” he rolls his eyes, fixing her with a glare. The way he completely dismisses her makes her want to bang her head against a wall with frustration. He didn’t get it. She was human too, and she had a limit to her patience.

“You’re just being an asshole lately! This has nothing to do with me being sensitive.”

“The fact that you’re yelling at me proves that it does.” He yells, before taking a step closer. “What? Can’t handle an insult, dumbass? This bothers you that much?” He mocks her on the last part, tilting his head in a fake sympathetic look.

“You know what? Fuck you!” She yells back, shaking her head, tears of anger and frustration trailing down her cheeks. “I don’t have to deal with this shit. Come talk to me once you fix your shitty attitude and decide to stop being a literal asshole to me.” Y/N turns on heel and walks out of his room, ignoring Bakugou’s angry calls for her to come back.

Her tears unsettled him, although he doesn’t admit it. He feels guilt, or some variant of it, eat away at his insides, knowing he was the reason for their distress. He did care about her, a little too much in his opinion. He watches the door shut behind her.

Scoffing he moves over to his desk, sitting down and running a hand through his head angrily. He wasn’t any more of an asshole than he usually was, he was sure of it. Right?

Lost in his though, he idly fidgets with a pen from the holder at his desk. He recalls Y/N frowning a lot more these days...and she didn’t really bite back to his jabs anymore...when was the last time they had actually spent time together? Gone out? Now that he thought about it he hadn’t had a quiet moment with her in a week or two.

Huffing out a breath, he shakes his head to himself. Whatever. He would do something about that once she came back to him and apologised. That’s how it usually worked after one of their fights. Y/N was the first one to apologise, then he’d do his part silently by spoiling her or spending time with her. It was his way of a silent apology. She always came to him first though, knowing his pride wouldn’t let him be the first to admit the fault lied with him.

Bakugou is left hanging for the first time. He expected nothing to happen on the first day, or the second day...but two weeks later?

Y/N had not talked to him for two weeks, and he was itching for things to go back to normal. He didn’t want to admit how much this was affecting him. Not having her to study quietly with, or cuddle with at night, or someone to nag at him for pushing himself too hard...it was annoyingly frustrating. He wanted her back. He wanted her so damn badly and he was starting to crack.

He feels especially shitty today as he watches her walk straight past their usual table, to join another table, where she’d been sitting at for the length of time she’d been...ignoring him. The fact that it was Deku’s table only worked harder to piss him off. He watches, his eyes narrowing in an intense stare as she slips into the seat next to Todoroki.

Icyhot.

Another reason he’d been especially prickly. Y/N was good friends with Deku’s group, he knew that. It’s not like he could, or would, stop her from doing what she wanted. He wasn’t like that, even he wasn’t that much of an asshole.

He can’t help but shift restlessly in his place, as he sees her relaxed, giggling at something Icyhot had said. He didn’t even know the guy was capable of making jokes. Gritting his teeth, he turns away, focusing on the conversation the idiots around him were having.

He manages to keep himself at bay for about 15 minutes, before he sees Y/N and Todoroki get up...together, and leave. Together. The fact that she didn’t even spare him a glance as she walked by definitely didn’t feel like someone was painfully squeezing his heart. Obviously not. As he stares at them leaving, his eyes narrow when the Half and Half bastard puts an arm around her shoulders and leads her out. He gets up suddenly and follows them, fuming.

Y/N was miserable ever since the argument. She was tired and hurting and today was especially hard for some reason. The moment she walked into the cafeteria, she felt her boyfriend's eyes on her. Ignoring them, refusing to look his way, she made her way over to Izuku’s table. He wasn’t going to be the one to apologise. If he truly cared about her and their relationship, he would have to swallow his pride and come to her.  

The whole time she’d been a little dazed, and on the brink of tears, effectively hiding it underneath laughs and jokes. She fooled pretty much everyone except the quiet guy next to her. About 15 minutes into lunch, she feels Todoroki nudge her and point to the door, a look of muted worry plastered on his face. Y/N can do nothing to protest without bursting into tears so she complies, standing and excusing herself.

By the time she’s nearing the exit door, her shoulders are shaking, and she feels Todoroki’s steadying arm around her. She welcomes the comforting touch.

He leads her to an empty hallway, pulling her into a classroom. He prompts her to sit on one of the desks, taking a seat next to her. Y/N feels bad about placing her worries on her friend, but she can’t help but let it out. She knew Todoroki was a good listener and that he wouldn’t judge her. By the time she’s done recounting the past painful weeks, there are tears running down her cheeks.

Todoroki awkwardly looks around for a second, before placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder and comforting her. He was trying his best, but the look of uncomfort on his face was almost comical. He wanted to be there for his friend, and Y/N was thankful for it. She looks up and offers Todoroki a shaky smile. She goes to thank him, when she’s cut off by a familiar harsh voice.

“The hell are you two doing?” Bakugou stands, eyes narrowed at the two of them, a scowl on his face. Why were they so close? They didn’t need to be this close.

“Bakugou.” Todoroki nods, standing. Y/N glances at him once, before looking away, determined to keep ignoring him. She doesn’t know why he’s here. He hasn’t tried to talk to her at all. She doesn’t realise she’s tuned out the conversation between the other two, which in retrospect, was a horrible idea knowing how much Bakugou disliked Todoroki, she’s only snapped out of her thoughts when she hears the door slam, causing her to jump.

Bakugou stands there for a second, before narrowing his eyes and walking towards her. She stays where she is on the desk, shifting her gaze to stare at the ground. Why was he still here? Where had Todoroki gone?

She stills as she feels him stop in front of her. Feeling his hands rest on the desk either side of her, he hears him scoff when she doesn’t look up. Hearing him shift, he grasps her chin and makes her look at him.

Although he has his usual scowl and annoyed expression, Y/N can identify mild worry as his eyes scan over her face. It’s very evident that she’s been crying, her eyes still puffy. She doesn’t have time to react, before Bakugou steps forward and slides his hands up to her sides pulling her into a...hug? He rests his chin on top of her head and holds her tightly to himself.

What?

After her momentary confusion, she struggles half heartedly to get him to let go of her. However much she didn’t want to admit it, she missed this.

She missed him.

Pretty son she gives up and stays there, letting him stand in front of her and hold her. He’s fully aware of the tears slowly soaking the front of his shirt.

“What do you want?” Y/N asks quietly, a single hand clutching the back of his shirt. She feels, doesn’t hear, his mouth move in her hair. Pulling away slightly she looks up. Even when she’s sitting down on a desk, he’s still a little taller. His gaze flickers to her eyes, before going back to looking at something behind her. He mumbles something Y/N can’t quite hear, but he doesn’t loosen his grip around her.

“...What the hell are you say-”

“I’m sorry.” He finally says properly, shifting his gaze back to her.

Y/N’s pretty sure that’s the first time she’s heard him genuinely say those words. “Are you?” Ignoring the hope swelling inside her, she tilts her head in question. She wouldn’t let him get off the hook that easily.

He looks slightly annoyed, before remembering why they were in this situation in the first place. “I am. I...shit, I didn’t realise I was hurting you. The past few weeks have been shit without you. I’m sorry.” He mutters the last part again, heat creeping up his neck. It looks like he was struggling to get the words out.

“You did. Hurt me, that is. That won’t change.”

“I know.” His voice is unusually quiet. “Won’t happen again.”

“It will.” Bakugou looks surprised at that. “I’m not telling you to become a whole different person, Katsuki.”

She brings up a hand and cups his cheek, smiling a little when he leans into the touch. She was glad she wasn’t the only one being affected by this fight.

“That brash loud part of you is the guy I fell for. I don’t want that to change. It’s just...yelling at me like that in front of everyone wasn’t cool. You really made me feel like shit.”

Bakugou let’s that sink in, before scoffing and tightening his grip around her. The guilt that had been brewing over the days comes crashing like a wave. “I said it wouldn’t happen again, didn’t I? You think I make empty promises, dumbass?” He didn’t. He’d keep his word.

Y/N responds by tugging on his shirt and pulling him closer and resting her head on his shoulder, humming a little at how warm he was. She feels him reach up and brush her hair off her forehead and place a small peck on it.

She knew how un-Bakugou-like that was. It showed her that he really was sorry. She swears it could be her mind playing tricks on her, but she’s sure she heard Bakugou say something. Smiling into the fabric of his shirt, she responds.

“I missed you too.”

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Author’s Note: These types of fics are my jam! Feel free to leave feedback! (23/02/2021)

Edit: I had to reupload this because the link was faulty, so excuse the reupload!

Requests for BNHA are Open and Welcome!

[ohheyitsokay]

nicknames

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x reader

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings: none to my knowledge, just a silly thought I strung out

Summary: the things we call each other are an intimate look into how we regard them

>>

“Why do you call him Mandalorian?” Cara was never subtle with you. You had been friends with her for years, and you should’ve known she would notice something after only a few days of your traveling with the three of them.

Shrugging, you looked at her. “I never told you?” You’d completed a lot of tasks together, as a very well balanced pair. And honestly you’d become close quickly, so it surprised you that she didn’t know you inside and out yet.

“I just feel like nicknames are too affectionate. On my home planet they're…” you searched for the word, not wanting to offend her, “intimate? Soft, maybe?”

Cara's dark eyebrows drew together.

“Mando… it sounds like a word some use for ‘dumpling',” you laughed, and her confusion broke - she grinned at you. “Mandu,” you offered, trying to explain. The words were similar under your tongue, thus the core of your problem.

“I cannot walk around professionally and call a warrior I just met dumpling.” And she nodded, laughing along with you.

It was too ridiculous, too cute, and far too intimate. Even without the double meaning, you didn’t want to be overly familiar with the Mandalorian. After all, you would only be traveling with him a few more days, and you’d hardly talked.

The mission went smoothly, however, and you were surprised to find that they offered for you to continue to team up with them. Another set of skills was welcome, and another pair of eyes on the little child was even more so. Your resolve stuck, though. It just didn’t fit, to call him anything other than the title he had given you. And you liked him a bit too much to open that door for yourself.

-

Din Djarin knew there was something special about you from the very beginning. He wasn’t sure if he liked it, at first, but certainly he had been very aware.

You were interesting, for someone in his field. Not at all the large, muscular fighter that he was used to seeing. But also not a seedy assassin. He’d learned quickly that your skill set came primarily in observation. You had no need to manhandle or shove your way to your bounty, instead choosing to melt into the background and watch until you’d identified the perfect strategy.

It made the first week of the job so much easier, he was content with the idea that you would travel and work with them. But then:

“How did you even know that corridor was there?” Cara was clearly excited by your field work, too. She was hardly paying attention as she walked through his ship into the cockpit.

Shoulders rising slightly, you followed her. “Micro-glitch in the holo-projection shield. I’m sure the Mandalorian's helmet identified it too.” You looked at him.

You looked right at him.

Effortlessly, your eyes found his through the visor. You were smiling a little bit, unaware of his state of shock.

Din had been wearing this helmet long enough to be used to never truly making eye contact with people. Sometimes a person got it right at random, but he could feel the difference – they couldn’t tell. But here you were, your gaze in his casually, like there wasn’t a solid layer between you.

He shrugged, reminding himself to get it together. As you turned back to Cara, he felt like he could breathe again.

Din had heard stories, children’s tales, of catching your soulmate’s eyes across the cantina - or maybe a palace room?, and being drawn together by fate. They were ridiculous, of course, but the very idea that you could bring up the memory was more than jarring.

Still, surely this was a one time thing, and he could forget about it.

For the first few weeks, it seemed like he was right. You rarely directed your gaze in his direction, anyway, being very professional and what he could only assume was shy.

You were more than happy to help with the child sometimes, and you talked freely to Cara, but in his presence you were polite and quiet. All your tasks were completed with efficiency and you would often complete other’s just because of who you were as a person. Normally, this was ideal for him - useless chatter had never been something he was good at. He was more than occupied making sure something was not breaking or mysteriously floating away, or they weren’t in danger. When you offered him silence, he should have been content to do the same, and watch the stars race by.

But… well, Din wasn’t sure he liked that either. Certainly it was strange to feel seen by you, but it felt worse that he could be making you uncomfortable, particularly as his comrade. And the more and more your eyes met his, the more it became exciting, and if maybe he wanted you to be even more than that.

So how could he get more if you hardly ever talked to him? Din shook himself, feeling silly for having zoned out in these thoughts. After all, he didn’t really talk to you, either.

-

After two months traveling with this strange little group, you were more than settled.

It took no time at all: you had hung up a spare scrap of fabric and made a little room for yourself, and the team functioned like a well oiled machine.

You got up before anyone else, this particular day, and were happy to enjoy the quiet sounds of the Crest as you checked everything needed for the day.

“Good morning, Mandalorian,” you heard the weight of his footsteps through the quiet halls. You didn’t even need to turn around, focused on correcting the flight pattern of the ship.

He had not questioned the use of the full title, had hardly questioned you at all. Outside missions, you two had only had a couple of actual conversations which seemed at first to be just fine. But there was a small nagging in the corner of your mind. His armor and helmet made reading his behavior hard, but you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was off between you two. His body language was … almost gentle with you, not the same as he was with the little one, but as if he was afraid you’d startle if he wasn’t.

Unbeknownst to you, he had grown to like the way you said Mandalorian. It rolled off your tongue, as if it really was his name, as if you liked to say it. Din had been increasingly nervous about making you feel uncomfortable, awkward in his efforts to learn about you enough to make you stay. The prospect of sharing pieces of himself with you had become an indulgent fantasy, if only he could figure out how to talk to you.

“Good morning,” you could hear the sleep at the edges of his voice, and the softness you’d learned to recognize.

You hummed for a moment, thinking, before adding, “Good morning too you, too, little one.”  You were rewarded with a sleepy little noise, and you smiled as you finished your task before turning towards them both. Thank goodness the child was awake, and you hadn’t caused any problems. His wide eyes were staring at you from above his father's armored forearm, and you smiled. It was these moments you were reminded of mandu – he was being soft.

You looked up to the Mandalorian, half wanting to tell him, but he stiffened: his shoulders rising and back straightening. Biting your lip, you averted your gaze.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” you turned back towards the stars, letting him think in silence for a moment.

“No,” he said, and you both relaxed. Whatever it was between you was gone for now, and you sat together, listening to the child wake up fully and begin to babble. It occurred to you that maybe he relished these moments, the times in which there were no expectations weighing on his shoulders. You wanted to give him more of those, if possible, to thank him for accepting you into his fold. Besides that, you spent much of your work life manipulating people, and you certainly wanted to establish that you weren’t like that here.

“How did you do that?” his voice, clearer now, interrupted your thoughts.

“Do what?” the Mandalorian rarely initiated conversation with you and it caught you off guard.

“How do you know what… is happening? What is going to happen?” he tone was genuinely curious, and you had to think before you responded. Of course, he knew you mostly just took the time to be more observant, instead of throwing yourself in head first. That’s not what he was asking.

“People are the same wherever you go. The more you watch and the closer you listen, the easier they are to predict,” you said, trying to be both brief and candid. “I was almost no one where I come from. One day, I decided instead of hating that, to use it.”

A small, deep, thoughtful hum came from the helmet beside you.

Silence settled over you for awhile before he quietly begin to talk.

Din told you of his people, his creed, and for the very first time you felt as though you were actually getting to know him. It was nice, not being professional.

“Do you ever want to be seen?” the conclusion of his talking was another surprise for you. Of course, this man who had sworn not to have his face shown would wonder at your apparent comfort with it.

The question felt as if it was seeping into your mind as you pondered it. It occured to you that this conversation had made you ache to be seen by him.

“I think everyone wants that, in their own way,” you said, and as you finally turned towards him, he held your gaze and nodded.

-

For someone so smart, it was infuriating how you seemed to completely miss the way he was around you.

Din Djarin, a warrior, had finally mustered up the courage to ask you to help him with a bandage on his lower back. The gentle touches and soft brush of your skin against his were foreign, but wonderful.

Unfortunately for him, you had noticed his awkwardness and assumed it was your fault. Ever the problem solver, you’d found a piece of mirror and rigged some wire to hold cleaning pads. It effectively made it easy for him to patch himself up on his own – and ruined the chance for him to steal your touch.

His previous fear had been wrong – you were not soulmates across the room, instead comrades sharing the same space. You were not exactly story royalty, but in spite of that, he was still falling hopelessly for you.

The way you talked to people – who weren’t bounties – with care and kindness. How good you were at your job, and how nice you made their shared space. How you laughed and rolled with the punches that came with this lifestyle. Din had never met anyone quite like you, and beyond all reason, he wanted to know everything about you, share all of himself with you. But you were so clever and polite it made him want to bang his head against a wall.

He couldn’t stop trying though, to get closer to you. Previously, you and Cara had left him and the child occasionally for a personal missions, and it left his feeling strange the entire three days. When you came back his heart had felt light and he wanted desperately to hold onto that feeling.

It wasn’t the same, when Cara went out for the afternoon a day or two after the patch up incident. In fact, he quite enjoyed the jolt of excitement that came with a whole few hours of potential.

Din couldn’t finish his tasks fast enough, even putting the child down for an early nap before nervously setting out to find you.

As expected, you were settled in the common area, reading through articles on your upcoming bounty. He sat next to you, willing himself not to betray his heart with his behavior and scare you away.

He said your name, his blood pumping even before you met his eyes.

“Yes, Mandalorian?” he had no idea why he was so nervous. He’d rehearsed this moment in his mind, it had been aching to be brought to life.

“You… you can call me Din… Djarin.”

It was not exactly as planned.

You’re eyes, ever in his, were wide.

“Din Djarin,” you said it reverently, before saying, “I promise I will keep it safe.”

He held back a small groan. There you went again, being so considerate he was afraid you’d never actually use it.

The frustration overwhelmed him, filling him with boldness and he pressed into your space insistently.

“No,” he said, “Well, do, but use it, please. I cannot stand you calling me Mandalorian like nothing has changed since we first met. I trust you, use it.”

You were adorable, the fear of his confession was damped by how intoxicating it was to be close to you. His hands found you, turning your body in your seat so you were facing him, and settling on the tops of your shoulders. He gently tugged you into him, encouraged that you didn’t pull away, but relaxed into his touch.

“I don’t want to slip,” you said, your voice barely audible.

The forehead of his helmet was so close to yours, you could feel your breath bouncing off of the mask.

“Please,” he said, and it smashed through all the walls you had created.

“Din Djarin,” you said again, tasting it on your tongue. You felt metal above your eyebrows and realized your eyes had closed, savoring the intimacy of the moment. You didn’t open them, allowing your heart to beat at lightspeed, and the tingles radiating from his gloved hands flow through you.

He was being soft with you.

“What if we compromised?” you could hear the smile in your own voice, and he gave a rumbling hum. You wondered if he was as absorbed in this moment as you were, unable to think straight.

“Mandu,” you murmured.

He was silent for awhile, the only indication he heard you being his palms, which slid to where your shoulders curved into your neck.

You could almost hear him thinking.

“I don’t understand,” he finally said, nearly inaudible. Your hands had reached out for him, one wrapping around the armor on his forearm, the other in the soft fabric on the side of his neck. He was distracted, bliss clouding his brain.

“Dumpling,” you said, and if it were anyone else, he would have thrown you across the room. “When you are being my strong and capable leader, you will be Mandalorian,” you continued, unaware that your words and actions were making his whole body fill with warmth and pride. “When you are being yourself, at home with us, I will call you Mandu – it sounds enough like Mando that no one will know it’s because you are truly soft.” He found himself smiling, despite his embarrassment. For you, he was soft. “And I will call you Din when it is just us, and I can be with you as you are now.”

There was no question that these moments would come again. He had made you give in to reading him completely, without any personal doubts.

“Okay, cyar’ika.”

<<

Taglist: @fangirl-316 @scribbledghost

[reidgraygubler]

growing in a garden (spencer reid)

Title: Growing in a Garden

Requested: yes, was a request someone sent to @imagining-in-the-margins, but she offered it to me

Pairing: dad!spencer reid/non-binary!child!reader

Category: mostly fluff

Content Warning: talks about the lgbt community, figuring out gender identity/pronouns/labels, brief mentions of parental death, afab!child!reader, I honestly do not know what else needs to be tagged if anything needs to be tagged. Like always if something needs to be tagged let me know!

Word Count: 1,826

Summary: Spencer’s 12-year-old is confused about their gender identity and goes to their dad for help and advice. Later his child has some exciting news.

A/N: okay so pom offered this one to me. It’s got two of my favorite things. Dad!spencer, and a non-binary character. It was quite literally an offer i couldn’t refuse. I also added in an idea I had come up with the same day she sent me the request. Also, like my last enby!reader fic (linked here!) reader is afab and will use they/them pronouns, since that’s me. thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

“Hey Dad.” Spencer’s child looked up at him and watched as he carefully closed and lowered his book. At that moment, his child had his undivided attention.

“Yeah, Peanut?” Spencer looked down at the preteen. His child looked away from Spencer and down at their lap. They couldn’t help but pull at the loose threads on their jeans. “What’s wrong, Peanut?” Spencer asked as he sensed there was an issue. 

“I…” his child paused and looked up at him for a brief moment before dropping their gaze. Spencer turned to face them more, preparing for a more serious conversation.

“Do we need to be in Safe Space?” Spencer asked as he rested a hand on his child’s knee. Safe Space was what the father and child called when they needed to have a serious or difficult conversation. Spencer decided it was a need between him and his child after his partner had passed. And he’s happy it exists. The number of times it’s helped his child was amazing. They both dreaded having serious conversations, and would rather have fun or light-hearted conversations. However, Spencer knew those serious conversations came with being a parent. 

But this conversation was different. His child almost never approaches him with a serious topic. Usually it was Spencer going to the pre-teen with a worry or chore. The times his child went to him was typically about school, whether it’d be a bully or a question about a subject. Spencer had a feeling this wasn’t about school. Which made him wonder if it was about something more serious. His mind was reeling with thoughts and worries of what his child would want to talk about. 

“You know you can talk to me about anything… This is a judgment-free zone,” Spencer whispered as he looked at the child. His child looked up at him and nodded. Spencer noted the mild fear hidden in his child’s eyes. Their eyes quickly dropped to look at their knee where their father’s hand was resting. “You have nothing to be afraid about. And I won’t be mad at you,” Spencer reassured. 

“Sometimes… Sometimes I don’t feel like… I should be a girl,” they whispered as they looked at the coffee table in front of them.

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. An unnerving silence fell over the pair as Spencer began thinking of what to say. He’d never thought about this being a situation. He’d read all the parenting books he could, but they never mentioned this topic. Spencer worried he’d say the wrong thing and make his offspring upset. 

He’d never be mad at his child. They’d never do anything wrong in his eyes. The pre-teen shouldn’t be scared about this or their dad being mad at them. To be fair, his child had never felt this way before. They were confused and needed help figuring it out. So, they went to the one person they knew who knows everything. But this time was different, because Spencer didn’t exactly know what to say.

“Well,” he started and paused for a thought. Although none of the parenting books mentioned a scenario like this, he had read plenty of LGBTQ+ books. He knew enough about that to help his child. “What do you feel like? Do you feel like a boy?” Spencer quietly asked. His child looked up at him and furrowed their eyebrows before shaking their head. 

“No… No, I don’t feel like a boy… Or like a girl… I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it,” the child whispered as they rambled for a moment. Spencer could feel the tension his child was feeling, and the stress that was growing. The longer he stayed quiet, the more his child got scared. Spencer knew he’d have to be quick and say something. “Does that make me a bad person?” their voice was quiet and soft. They were worried they were wrong

“No, no!” Spencer exclaimed as he shook his head. His child jumped and looked over at him. He didn’t  intend to scare them, but it’s what happened. “That doesn’t make you a bad person at all, Peanut! There’s nothing wrong with not knowing how to identify yourself,” Spencer started as he moved to kneel on the ground.

His child looked at him as he knelt beside them. Spencer grabbed both their hands and looked up at them. The smile that grew on his lips sacred the child, but also equally calmed them down. The child looked down at their hands, calming down as they looked at the way Spencer held their hands. It made them feel safe.

“Gender is a social construct…” Spencer started with a smile. The pre-teen looked up at their dad with furrowed eyebrows.

“What does that mean?” 

“It’s fake. Made up. It doesn’t matter what you are. A boy, a girl… A robot even! It doesn’t matter,” Spencer replied as he looked at the child. His child looked back up at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Yes, you can identify as a robot… If you wanted.” That made the pair laugh, the intensity breaking for a moment. 

“I can?” 

“If that’s what you want.”

“What… What would the other kids in my class think?” they asked with worry in their voice and on their face. Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed together as he looked at them.

“As long as you’re unapologetically you… you don’t have to care about what anyone says or thinks,” Spencer whispered back, “You got that?”

“Yeah, yeah… Got that,” they softly whispered. Spencer’s eyebrow raised as he looked up at his child.

“What is it?”

“What… What would you call me? Like, I dunno… if I’m not a girl, and I’m not a boy… What would I be?” The child’s voice was quiet and so soft.  Spencer was grateful he was so close to them because he probably wouldn’t have heard them otherwise. Spencer dropped his head to his shoulder as he looked at the child. 

“Well, if you don’t want to be a girl, or a boy… We could try they/them pronouns if you want.” Spencer looked at the pre-teen as he spoke. “How does that sound?” 

“Yeah… Yeah, I like that,” the child whispered and nodded.

“And if you really want to label it, we could try non-binary. And that means you don’t follow the normal gender binary. Do you know what gender binary means?” Spencer asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“No," The pre-teen replied with a shake of the head. 

“So, the gender binary is what being a boy or a girl is called, because binary means ‘having two parts’. Therefore, non-binary is just a term people use to describe genders that don’t fall into one of those categories. Like, identifying as a robot, you wouldn’t fall into either of those categories.” Spencer tried to explain but it was hard for him to explain in a way for a child to understand. “Does that make any sense?” His child looked back at him and nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. It makes sense. Thanks, Dad,” they whispered as they looked back down at their lap. Spencer smiled before patting their knee.

“Of course. If you have any other questions, just let me know and we can figure it out together. Okay?” Spencer asked as he stood. 

“Okay,” they replied back with a nod. Spencer looked at his child as he sat back down beside them on the couch. 

And with that, the usual silence fell over the pair. Spencer went back to reading his book, while his child stayed sitting on the couch. Spencer didn’t question it. He just assumed they needed a break after their conversation and school. They were probably over-loaded and needed a small break. 

That was until they asked another question.

“Hey dad,”

“Yes, Peanut?”

“Can I tell you something?” 

“Of course you can, Peanut.” Spencer looked down at his off-spring with a raised brow and small smile on his lips. The child looked up at him with a smirk.

“I think I'm non-binary,” they whispered as they looked at their dad. Spencer smiled before wrapping his arms around his child’s shoulders. The child smiled before melting into Spencer’s body. 

“I’m happy for you, Peanut. And I’m proud that you were able to figure it out,” Spencer whispered as he embraced his child harder. The child sighed deeply and nodded. 

“Thank you, Dad.” “Of course. I love you, you know that?” 

“Yeah, I know,” the child whispered and nodded. “I love you too.” {***}{***}{***}

“Drinks anyone?” Luke asked as everyone stepped off the elevator. The team simultaneously let out a sigh of relief at the offer. The case they had just finished was a rough one, and drinks seemed like a good way to unwind, for some. For other’s, they’d rather be at home with their spouses and families.

“I’m in for drinks,” Emily was the first to speak as she lifted a hand. Jennifer followed up, joining Emily and Luke.

“Krystall made dinner and I’d much rather see her than have drinks with you suckers,” Rossi spoke as he gestured towards the team. Everyone looked at him with a raised brow as he parted from the group. 

“Wait,” Spencer looked down at his watch when he realized what time it was. Thirty minutes till 3:00pm. If he left now, he’d be able to pick his child up from school. It’d been a rough week for him, so picking them up would make him feel better, and it’d be a nice surprise for his child. “I want to pick my robot up from school.” He looked back at the team as he started walking towards his desk.

“Robot?” Jennifer raised an eyebrow as she looked at her friend, “Spence, do you mean your daughter?” 

“Yeah, like real, flesh and blood, human child?” Matt asked with confusion on his face. 

“No, I mean… Yes, I have a real, flesh and blood, human child. But, no, I don’t have a daughter. I have a robot,” Spencer explained as he gathered his things into his bag.

“Do you maybe want to further explain?” Tara asked. Spencer sighed deeply as he looked at his friends. Everyone surrounded his desk, waiting for a response.

“My child said they identify as a robot. And they use they/them pronouns. I’m not sure what else you want me to say. I gotta go pick them up from school. I’m sure they’ll be excited to see me.” Spencer let out a deep sigh as he threw his bag strap over his shoulder. “See you guys tomorrow.” He smiled before taking off. 

Spencer didn’t bother waiting for the onslaught of questions everyone had. They weren’t exactly his questions to answer, they were his child’s. So he just left, not wanting to keep his child waiting. They’d have to plan dinner with the team so his child could tell them their news.

taglist: @mggsprettygirl​ @muffin-cup​ @thebluetint​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @misshale21 @spenciegoob​

if you want to be a part of a taglst or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

hello! i was wondering if you could write the following request; you are a member of the Brotherhood, the most dangerous assassins league of Middle Earth. To say that the Company of Thorin Oakenshield is both impressed and intimidated is an understatement.

The Company/Reader: Killer Good Looks pt.1

Trigger Warnings: Referenced assault and child abuse, murder

----

To say you're an excellent fighter would be a gross understatement.

You're the very definition of a rogue; you like shiny things, you're stealthy, cunning, persuasive, what are we missing...? Oh! And you're also an infamous deadly assassin for hire, and you get hired alright.

You're wanted (in more ways than one), for people are always looking for someone to fulfill their dirty deeds for them.

Almost everything is on the table with you; you'll steal things for people (and yourself), kill if the price is right, infiltrate and lie, and many other things, however, there are some things off limits.

For example, you won't kill kids. You never have and you never will, you flat out refuse; you also don't sell yourself to others for pleasure or other things of inappropriate nature; and, most importantly of all, you don't kill those whom you have a relationship with (meaning you don't kill friends, though those are few and far between).

When you were but a child your parents sold you off to put bread on their table, and you knew nothing but torment from that moment on.

For months the lady's husband would sneak into your rooms at night, and she would always pretend not to notice; she took to releasing her frustrations out on you under the false pretense that you were an issue, beating you, berating you, yelling, abusing; they were horrible people taking advantage of a 10 year old child in every way imaginable.

You felt no remorse when you finally gathered the courage to slit their throats one night, and to this day you still don't.

The news of your deeds spread quickly, for they proved to be quite shocking and a wonderful topic for conversation.

A mere child servant manages to kill their masters unseen and unheard, escaping into the night never to be seen again? That would catch anyones attention. And it certainly caught the attention of The Brotherhood.

They found you, took you in, and honed your sloppy skills to make you into the perfect, lethal weapon.

You've killed more people than you can count, stolen more than even the richest man has, and lied to everyone you've ever met at least once.

It's safe to say that you're not exactly a stand up citizen.

Your name, as well as the name of the organization who taught you all you know, is well known throughout Middle Earth which is why you were, ultimately, employed to assist and protect the line of Durin in their journey to reclaim Erebor...

Except, unbeknownst to them, you have ulterior orders from The Brotherhood regarding the operation.

Once the dragon is either confirmed dead or slain and the mountain is reclaimed, you are to kill the Durin's (and anyone else who stands in your way) and claim the mountain for The Brotherhood.

When you were first given this assignment you had no qualms with it.

Yes, dwarfs are strong, brave, and resilient, but you are fast, intelligent, and one of the best fighters in the organization because of your early start and ability to disconnect yourself from almost every situation. Also, you don't know them, any of them, and you've never had trouble killing royal, powerful people before.

It was supposed to be easy.

You joined the group in a cute little place called The Shire in a hobbit hole belonging to one Bilbo Baggins, and when you met everyone you figured that killing them would be easy, but as time went on you began to forget about your mission.

Everything started out simple. You didn't talk much and they stayed away from you for the most part; partially out of intimidation, but also from reservations on disturbing you.

You're a private person, and they'd hate to make you dislike them by being nosy or prying.

Gandalf is the only one who knows of your past, but even knowing who you truly are, he never for a second suspected what your true purpose was.

It's around the time you all leave Rivendell and return to the road when things start to change.

Thorin wanted to keep a schedule and reach the Misty Mountains before the end of the 4th week, and halfway into the 4th, you're already there are the entrance to the mountain pass.

Because the group makes such excellent time Thorin chooses to reward the group with a day and night full of rest to spend restocking supplies, regrouping, and relaxing, which is something that benefits you all greatly.

By this point, you've worked up enough 'trust' to actually sleep in short bursts around them, and you take full advantage of this day of rest to regain your strength.

At some point during the night you manage to fall asleep, and hen you wake you find that you managed to pass out for a good 4 hours.

The very first thing you notice is Dwalin sitting not far from you, and the blanket draped over your resting form.

To say you're taken off guard would be an understatement, for you never expected to be treated with such tenderness (or at least, tenderness by your definition considering the life you've lead).

"Dwalin...?" You call after a time of looking ahead, wanting to find out his motivations.

His gaze snaps over to you and a small, greeting smile falls upon his lips, "Good evening. It is mid-night, I'm sure you'd like to know."

You glance briefly up at the sky and observe the position of the moon and stars and find that he's correct, then your gaze returns to his face. "I see. What are you doing over here, though?"

The balding dwarf looks a tad more sheepish when you ask your question, and his voice contains slight embarrassment, "Well, we know you don't much like sleeping around us, or in general, so I thought that keeping watch here may help you feel even a bit safer."

Those words shock you to your very core.

"You'll always be safe with us, you should know. You protect us in waking, so the least we can do is return the favor in sleeping."

Any and all responses that come to your mind in this moment seem inadequate in comparison to his declaration, so you're left sitting there looking at him with a blank, yet dumbfounded stare.

"You needn't say anything in response. I just thought you should know." Another smile graces upon his lips, and then his attention turns back out towards the darkened tree line surrounding the mini camp in a half circle. "Sleep more if the desire is to suddenly strike you."

And, for some odd reason, you do.

---

For the first time in what has to be years, you sleep through the night and do not wake again until the sun beckons you to do so.

When the first light shines through the trees and makes the forest sparkle with morning magic, you arise and find that a new dwarf, Ori, has taken the place of Dwalin.

A feeling, one that you can't identify, rises within you, and you find yourself unable to handle it.

"Ori." You greet curtly, "I am going to depart for a time. Expect me back in 20 minutes."

The young dwarf looks up at you and nods shallowly, not even entertaining the thought that you would need an escort. "Alright. Get back safely."

His words linger with you after you leave, for the act of being cared for is alien to you.

When was the last time someone genuinely cared for your well-being and not just what they would lose if you were to perish? When was the last time someone thought of you as a person who could be harmed instead of a weapon that maybe tarnished every-so-often?

These thoughts plague your mind as you go to search the game traps you lay around the camp the morning before, and you find that the prize is well worth the early journey.

3 rabbits, 2 squirrels, and a wild hog around 2 feet long and a foot wide. The hog you caught along the way, actually. It had been sniffing around one of the game traps you sent (the trap wouldn't have been strong enough to hold it anyways), and you wasted no time in throwing a dagger straight into its' head.

You string up the rabbits into a line of rope and carry the hog over your shoulders (it's really heavy, so you made sure to evenly distribute the weight), and then you head straight for the group with your prizes in hand.

When you enter the clearing you're noticed immediately, for the game hanging from your body draw a lot of attention.

"Odin's beard!" Gloin exclaims, jumping up from his spot once his eyes fall upon you, "Look at all of that!"

All eyes are on you as soon as the red-haired dwarf alerts them to your presence, but you maintain a mask of nothing even despite your discomfort with being the center of attention.

"Where did you get all that?" Fili calls, getting up and approaching you to help carry the load.

You shrug off the line of rabbits and squirrels to him when he begins to tug on it and bring the hog to the middle of the camp, dropping it down heavily.

Bombur looks up at you with a grand smile and praises you in his low, baritone voice, "Well will you look at that! Now that's a hog."

You dip your head in acknowledgement of his compliments and offer right after, "Do you want me to skin them?"

"Oh, no, no! You have done more enough for us, we can manage that at the very least." The older dwarf assures you, patting the fat belly of the swine, "Thank you, lass. We haven't had a commendable meal in months, so this will be a real treat."

You received so many compliments and acclimations that you almost began to blush, but that's an unconscious ability that had left you a long time ago.

Everyone traveled with full bellies that afternoon, and there was plenty of leftovers to last everyone well into the next day as well.

Things like this are seldom the topic of talk or praise in the organization you work for, and you can never rely on anyone. You're all thieves, after all. Liars, tricksters, murderers... how could you trust someone like that to have your back? But... somehow, they trust you to protect them and their precious royal friends.

You: the liar, trickster, and murderer.

They sleep in your presence as if you hadn't stolen millions in treasure, product, and money; as if you hadn't killed a quarter of the people you've met in your lifetime. They trust you, the real you (or at least the realest version of you that there is), and it's a truly foreign feeling.

Of course, even though these good feelings long since lost to you have returned for a time, you keep yourself in check with the thoughts of what they would do to you if they found about your true intentions.

The images of their betrayed, angry faces, the disgust that would shine in their eyes when they realize what you're truly capable of... you're always sure to not lose sight of your end goal; the Mountain of Erebor and its' lost treasure. If you're to fail, you're certain that you'll be killed (either by the dwarfs or The Brotherhood), so you don't even entertain the thought of abandoning your mission.

---

Later in the day, during the trek up those horrible, treacherous mountains, you're approached by Bofur, the hat wearing dwarf with a smile more contagious than any sickness.

"Hello." You greet curtly when he falls into step beside you, eyeing him in your peripherals. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Oh, no." He shakes his head no and reaches up to straighten his fur hat, "You just looked a little lonely, is all."

Lonely, huh?

You don't reply right away and look ahead with your usual blank expression and dull eyes, though you do feel an uncomfortable, appreciative feeling swell inside of you. "I am not lonely." You inform him matter-of-factly, though when you glance down at his face you see that your words have slightly hurt his feelings.

Your heart twists slightly painfully when you see his saddened countenance, and before you can even think about it you're blurting out, "But I welcome the company regardless."

His frown is immediately replaced with a brilliant smile and his eyes positively shine with enthusiasm; you never thought your acceptance would garner such a reaction from him (much less anyone for that matter).

The dwarf practically talks your ear off while the 15 of you travel up the Misty Mountains, telling you everything he possibly can about his homeland, family, and feelings regarding the journey (as well as other things), and while all this incessant blathering would normally irk you, you actually find that you quite like it.

Bofur's excited speech does eventually die down when it starts to rain, though, for he and yourself both think it safer to concentrate on the hike as its level of danger grows.

It isn't long before night falls, and once it does the rain becomes a much more dangerous obstacle.

There is lower visibility and the rocks become horribly slippery, though neither of these things could ever hope to top the giant stone beasts that begin to battle right in front of you all.

The stone giants don't seem notice any of you, and if they do then they simply don't care, and you all barely escape with your lives. They throw huge boulders bigger than any building you've ever seen, and their hand-to-hand combat leaves you all shaking against the mountainside, fearful of falling to your deaths as you sway every which way.

To your, and everyone else's luck and great joy, a little cave in the mountainside appears before you all (after a horrible death scare with half of the company), and it becomes your resting spot for the night.

You, like usual, choose a spot closest to the cave entrance with rock that covers both your back and left side and fall asleep effortlessly. You plan on only resting for four or so hours, hopefully until the rain passes, and then you can resume watch so the others may regain their strength (they're heavier and bigger than you, so they need more rest and food).

Those 4 hours (and an extra half!) pass by without issue and your internal clock eventually wakes you up.

One of the first things you see when your eyes flutter open is the stone ceiling of the cave hovering above you, and the next is Bofur who sits in the little watch spot right across from your sleeping area.

You sit up as soon as your sleep addled mind clears and your blurry eyes gain focus and call softly, "Bofur, go ahead and take a rest. I can resume your watch."

The dwarf jumps slightly when your soft voice breaks through the silence and reaches out to him, but he doesn't move to get up. Instead, a small smile upturns the corners of his lips and he whispers back, "No, you do a watch of your own every night and refuse to wake anyone else up often enough. Please, go back to sleep."

He noticed that?

You can't even keep the surprise from your face, for your eyes widen almost imperceptibly and your lips part slightly. "I..." You've been shocked speechless, something that you thought impossible.

"We have all noticed, in case you're wondering. Now, go ahead and resume sleep. I've still got another 30 minutes of watch."

And, for some reason, you don't protest.

Sleep calls to you and tugs at your eyelids, making them heavy and causing your eyes to burn. What spell have they put you under to make you tired again under a simple command, you wonder?

You fall back asleep despite yourself, but it doesn't last long, for within 20 minutes after Bilbo tries to leave and the storm begins to quiet, the floor opens beneath you all and swallows everyone whole.

[lin-nin]

Tribulation & Tenderness - Chapter 8

Ship: Main Technoblade x Reader, some Dream x Reader

Plot:  You're a princess in a Kingdom suffering a years long famine. In a   desperate attempt to help your people, you accept one simple offer:   Marriage to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom. Anything to help your people survive. Surely it can't be too bad, can it?

Chapter List: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Disclaimer:   Cross-posted on Wattpad (discontinued) and Ao3. This is based off of everyone's CHARACTERS. I do not write fanfic based off the actual people.

--

Chapter 8: Introductions

< | Previous Chapter

At some point in the journey, you had opened the curtains to the carriage windows, peering outside of them curiously. You knew you were well beyond your territory now. All the lands that sprawled outside were Techno’s, small farms and towns whipping by as you went. You weren’t entirely sure exactly how long the two of you had been traveling, but you knew you were beyond ready to get out and stretch. Your legs were growing restless, and you were sure it showed in how you shifted constantly beneath your blanket.

“We’ll be there soon. The capital isn’t too far off now, those are the outlying villages there,” Techno spoke up, glancing from the book in his lap. He pointed out the window, your gaze following the direction. Beyond the window stood a clearly more populated town. It seemed to flourish well. At least from what you could see.

“Good. I’m tired of being in here,” You nearly whined, leaning back some. He chuckled in response, returning his attention back to his book. The two of you had lapsed into silence some time ago, but it was welcome. You took the time to watch the landscape roll by. Now, though, you were just ready to get to the castle. You knew it was definitely gonna be eventful, though you weren’t entirely sure how eventful. 

The scenery slowly morphed from the flourishing outer towns to that of the capital, buildings lining the cobbled streets. People were looking towards the carriage, clearly clamoring. Were they excited to see you? Or were they unhappy that it was you inside with Techno? You couldn’t gauge that from inside, and you weren’t sure you really wanted the answer. Not right now, at least. You sunk against the seat, closing your eyes and taking a slow breath. That similar nervousness was beginning to build in your stomach again.

“It won’t be too bad. They’re not scary.” Techno reassured you from his spot, closing his book and setting it aside. He glanced out of the window instead. You shifted, giving a small nod.

“It’s hard to not be nervous. You are the only person here I know,” you murmured. Your fingers curled into the blanket on your lap. Then they smoothed it over, repeating the motion several times. As if it were the most therapeutic thing there was right now. The castle was quickly coming into sight, and you nervously chewed on your lip. Was there anything about this place that wasn't intimidating?

As if to answer your question, the carriage lurched to a halt. No sooner than the carriage's stop, you could hear an almost overwhelming clamor outside of it. "Technoblade!" One voice had called out, clearly enunciating each syllable of his name. You turned to the aforem prince, raising an eyebrow.

Before he could even comment, a much louder voice was calling out, "Oi! Techno! Took you long enough to get here!" Were those both his brothers? He sighed, standing up to move towards the door.

"Might as well get it over with before they come in here themselves." He shook his head, opening the door and stepping down onto the stone beneath the carriage. He turned back towards the carriage and where you sat, holding out a hand to help you down. You had carefully moved the blanket away from your lap, moving towards the exit. Your hand was shaking, you realized, as you settled it into Techno’s. His fingers curled around your palm, grounding you slightly as you followed him down onto the path below. Once you had landed safely, his hand was withdrawing from yours. Much to your chagrin. 

Your attention was forced away from Techno, instead to the small gathering of people who had been clearly waiting. Four of them stood there, and you really wanted to shrink away from them. It didn’t help that two of them were tall. Just like Techno. Were those his brothers? There were certainly some similarities between them.

“How was your trip?” One of the men said. He wasn’t as tall as the others, but he was clearly older. Blonde hair was held in a loose ponytail, quite similar to how Techno wore his. Just without the braids. His blue eyes were framed by the faintest hint of bags. He seemed… nice. Whoever he was, Techno hadn’t told you of him. 

"It was fine. Philza, meet my fiancée," Techno motioned towards you. The man turned to you with a soft smile, offering his hand out for a shake. You very carefully took it, offering a soft smile.

"Lovely to meet you. I'm these boys's uncle." He let go of your hand as he spoke. At least he was relatively nice. It helped to soothe your nerves. Of course, it still didn't stop you from sticking to Techno’s side, almost literally. He was the most reassuring thing here.

"Those are my brothers," Techno grabbed your attention, pointing out the two tall ones.

"Wilbur," he identified one of them. He was the tallest of the group. If he had been closer, you undoubtedly would have had to crane your head back. He didn't have long hair, but it was instead kept short. Soft brown curls sat messily atop his head, a few trapped beneath a thin circlet. His brown eyes looked nothing short of tired. That seemed to be a theme among the family, but you didn't exactly question it. He raised his hand, waving at you.

"Pleasure." He inclined his head, and you could only blink. This was the man your parents assumed you would be marrying. He definitely held himself differently from Techno, so you could understand their rage.

"Nice to meet you, Wilbur." You were quick to greet, turning to look at the blonde one beside him. His hair was quite similar to Wilbur’s, just blonde instead of brunette. He bore quite the resemblance to Philza. Just younger and taller. Blue eyes looked at you excitedly, not nearly as exhausted looking as his family.

"Tommy." Techno gave Tommy a very pointed glare. Almost as if to tell him to behave.

"It's about time Techno got a wife," Tommy huffed. His voice was louder than Wilbur and Philza's. You had a feeling it could get louder if prompted. Heat rose to your cheeks at the statement, and you looked aside. You weren’t married to him yet.

"I'm Tubbo! Tommy's friend!" The shortest of the bunch greeted rather excitedly. He grinned at you, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. He seemed kind, even with the ends of his brown locks covering his brown eyes. Techno had been right. They didn't seem too bad, and all around seemed nice. Hopefully you were able to form a friendship with them over time.

"Schlatt has been in a fit about needing you to come talk to him when you came back. I told him you would be busy, but he didn’t care to listen,” Philza spoke up once more, causing Techno to give perhaps the most irritated sigh you had heard.

“I don’t care about him. What does he even want?” Techno put a hand between your shoulders, gingerly steering you forward towards the castle. He walked alongside Philza, keeping his hand steady. You found solace in the touch, not caring to move away. You didn’t exactly want to get lost here.

“Same thing he wanted the past couple of weeks. Complaints about the marriage arrangement. You know he’s determined that this is the worst decision ever. It’s not, but he really has himself convinced it is,” Philza explained to Techno. You couldn’t help but frown at that. You had no idea who this Schlatt was, but he sounded somewhat important. He didn’t seem to like the idea of you being here, either.

“Hey, Tubbo,” Tommy’s voice rang from behind you. You hadn’t even noticed the other three following. That wasn’t exactly surprising, though. 

“Yes, Tommy?”

“Have you ever tried telling your father to shut the fuck up?” You couldn’t help but snort at the words, head shaking. “Why’s he care who Techno marries?” There was a couple of seconds of silence following the questions.

“You know he’s kind of scary, Tommy. I’m the one who has to stay with him at the end of the day.” Tubbo sounded almost reluctant, and you peered over your shoulder to get a peek at him and the blonde.

“Remember what happened last time he spoke out, Tommy. We agreed that we wouldn’t have him do anything like that again,” Wilbur had spoken up, voice level and calm. He sounded like a voice of reason to the younger.

“I know, I just wish someone would shut him up. Maybe we should give Tubbo a room in the castle. Techno! Hey, Techno!” Tommy pondered out loud before calling to the man beside you. Quite loudly. That must have been what Techno meant when he said Tommy was obnoxious. You had tuned out of Techno and Philza’s conversation in favor of the one the other three had been having, but turned your attention to the men beside you. Especially since Tommy was relentlessly dragging them into this conversation instead.

Techno sighed, not even bothering to glance at his younger brother. He must be used to this. There was no telling how much this happened. “Yes, Tommy?”

“Could we give Tubbo a room here in the castle? So he doesn’t have to deal with shitty Schlatt?” Tubbo stammered as Tommy spoke, as if weakly protesting. He was largely ignored.

“I’m not king yet, Tommy. That isn’t my call. It probably won’t be for a while.” He reasoned, leading the blonde to frustratedly groan. 

“Father never sides with me. Surely you can put a word in for poor Tubbo here.” You hardly paid attention to the shifting scenery around you, only distractedly noting the warm toned walls and tile floors. A touch nicer than your own castle, but somehow that wasn’t a surprise. You were more fond of listening to the siblings bicker back and forth between each other instead.

“Depends. Does Tubbo want a room in the castle?” All attention shifted to the aforementioned male, who seemed to sweat under the pressure.

“I, uh… I mean, I’m not entirely opposed to it, no. It would be nice to get away from him…” Tubbo murmured in uncertainty. Techno nodded, pausing in the middle of the room they had entered. Subsequently, his hand fell away from your shoulders and you immediately missed the warmth of his hand there. It had been comforting. Sure, it wasn’t as intimidating now that you knew four other people at least liked you. Yet you also knew there was one person, if not more, that weren’t entirely fond of you. Or the idea of you. 

“Then I’ll speak to him about it. I’m sure we have a room to spare. Now, do you three intend to follow me? I would like to do a tour of the castle,” Techno turned to the three others. You glanced over towards Philza, who simply chuckled and shook his head.

“I’ll see you around, little one,” The older blonde said. He walked by you, gently patting your shoulder in reassurance as he walked up one of the sets of stairs winding around either side of the room. 

“I’m going, Nihachu wants to see me for something anyways.” Wilbur didn’t say much, instead opting to just walk away. That was fine with you, honestly. You briefly watched him go down a hall to the left of the stairs, wondering who Nihachu was. You’d probably meet them sooner or later. There were a lot of people to meet, but there was time for that.

“Oh, you hear that Tubbo? Techno wants to be alone with his woman-” Tommy had began loudly, causing Techno to groan.

“Tommy-”

“Let’s give him some privacy. Behave yourselves, you two! Don’t do anything Quackity would do!” Tommy was already leaving, dragging Tubbo alongside him. Techno sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. You really understood what he meant when he called Tommy obnoxious. 

“Ignore him. He’s an idiot. Let’s just go, shall we?” He turned towards you. You laughed a little, shaking your head.

“He’s certainly a character. They all are,” You couldn’t help smiling fondly though. You knew you would grow to like them. They had, momentarily, squashed all stress and worry you had felt. Techno’s hand returned to your shoulder, moving you along the way to finally start the proper tour of the castle. Without Tommy breathing down your shoulders.

Next Chapter | >

[officialtrashbusiness]

Hidden Gem - Katsuki Bakugou

info : fluff, cursing, gn! reader, ( kinda? )self indulgent , mostly bakugou’s pov

word count: 1889

synopsis: You’re the quiet and forgettable student in class 1-A that is until you tell Katsuki Bakugou to ‘shut the fuck up’.

Amongst the eccentric students of class 1-A, you were a part of the quiet and reserved minority-- including but not limited to: Shoji, Tokoyami and Koda. Compared to your quieter (and shyer) classmates, you were physically plain. You could say the same about your quirk as well. It was not eye catching compared to the heroic and whimsical wonders that were your classmates. If the people outside of class 1-A were to have a sudden fascination with you, they would conclude that you were part of general education-- the much blander courses of UA. These variables formulated a simple conclusion: You were forgettable, and you were fine with that.

So it wasn’t much of a discovery when the infamous firecracker of a blonde had zero fucking clue as to who you were. So much so that when you had uncharacteristically told him to ‘Shut the fuck up’, after some built up tension of one bad examen score and his constant yowling that you had to deal with as you sat in behind him, he was stunned alongside the class of 1-A. His bubbling brain tried to place the crude nickname that he so humbly gave you just like he did with every bumbling idiot in the classroom.

But his brain turned out blank.

His scrutinizing, carmine eyes traced your complexion as he tried to spit up some basic yet negative nicknames for you that are usually attributed to your physical features. He couldn’t find a defining detail that he could dub you with. It fucking irked him.

What the fuck? He thought. Who..

“Who the fuck were you, hah?” Bakugou snarled. His back was slightly hunched as he leaned forward towards you. His fingers slightly curled at his side as if he was threatening to trigger his quirk in the classroom. His pose and threatening scowl were used as tools to intimidate you. The quirk of his lip exposed the canine of his teeth while his hair seemed to bristle with vexing rage.

Kinda like a cat, you inwardly chuckle as you try to ease the trepidation riddling your brain. The unusual amount of eyes on you were unorthodox and felt like a sunburn. The murmurs and giggles amongst the students of class 1-A had turned your brain into mush. You did not mean to say that out loud.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You shot back without thinking.

A howl of laughter makes you jolt as well as the sudden realization that hits you once you have processed what you had said. Bakugou’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before transitioning into a jaw clenching growl. You could see his whole being vibrate with rage.

The class president marches up from the other side of the room. His instincts pull him from his seat as he predicts that Bakugou’s going to have hissy fit with one of the (supposedly) quietest students in class. His sense of responsibility did not want a scorch mark on the walls.. Or on your face.

“Enough, you two!” Iida scolds as he towers over the both of your sitting figures. “We do not tolerate inappropriate language!” His hand slices through the air, ashamed as he has to scold the two students for fowl language. He turns over to the spiky haired blonde, “I expected this kind of behavior from you, Bakugou but (L/--”

“Shut the fuck up, glasses!” Bakugou spat out as his glare was now pointed at the dutiful class president. Iida’s eyes widen behind his glasses with offense. His mouth parts, ready to fire another scolding towards the mouthy blonde. “Quit your fucking nagging! I’m tired of your uptight ass!”

“(L/N),” Sero calls out. His laugh cuts through the argument and grabs your attention. “I never knew you had it in you to tell Bakugou off!” He tilts his head back with laughter.

Kaminari pats a hand on Sero’s shoulder. His body doubled over with snorts and howling. “Yeah!” He snorts before wiping a fake tear away causing Sero to giggle. “We all thought you were shy and stuff! You’re always so quiet!” He points an accusing finger towards Bakugou. “You even got him to shut up for a second! You’re a miracle worker!”

You chuckle before giving the two jokesters a smug smile and shrug, feeling your heart lighten at the sudden praise.

“Shut the fuck up! This nobody didn’t do jack shit, you fucking dumbasses!”He fumed before hearing the chimes of your giggles enter his ear. His ego deflates as his body bristles. He whips his head towards your direction. “What’s so fucking funny, extra?!” He screamed.

“I just didn’t expect you to listen to me.” You smirked.

An unexpected acquaintanceship between you and the two knuckleheads from Bakugou’s group began to slowly form after that-- much to Bakugou’s chagrin and your surprise. They’re stuck to you like a pair of parasites feeding off of you for nutrients, Bakugou mentally grumbled. He instantly knew the relationship between the three was reminiscent of him and the other parasites in his group. You had grown to warm up to the two boys after they relentlessly poked and prodded you, just like Bakugou did-- although, he would be caught dead admitting any positive comments relating to his group.

By the time you had opened up, the rest of the group had followed suit and made friends with you. It was only natural seeing that you have been recruited by one of the two dumbasses of the group. Having two friends from the group, you naturally melded in.

The quiet demeanor you held in front of class seemed to unravel once you had made your home in the sociable group. You had separated yourself from the distant and shy minority and began to feel more secure conversing amongst your fellow classmates. Although you weren’t friends with everyone in the classroom, you had the ability to smile and approach them with ease.

Amongst all of this, Bakugou was the outlier of the classroom. In contrast to everyone, he talked to you even less than before. His pride and embarrassment impelled him to ignore you, in which you did back-- you didn’t have the gall to bother him. Although the communication between the two of you was dead, he would watch you from afar.

Bakugou identified people by physical appearance but never by name. His mind was too busy bustling about becoming the number one hero for him to care about names. He always remembered faces and the different (most of the time negative) facets of people’s appearance, but he didn’t remember yours. He had never seen your face and he couldn’t deem a nickname based off of the quirks of your appearance, and it pissed him right the fuck off.

So, he watched the way you move, the tone of your voice and the way you talked. He watched your hands move as you talk confidently with his little group of stalkers from the corner of his eyes. His ears picked up the loud chime of your laughter and noted your thoughts and opinions as you broadcasted them to the group.

He had noticed that you were honest and straightforward when the time really appreciated it to be. You were a bit opinionated, but held an air of understanding. He wants to laugh at the fact that you’re a little mean hearted despite seeming to always lend a hand when there was any sign of needing one.

You were different from what he perceived. You weren’t some plain wuss of an extra, and he didn’t know what to think of it.

You were a diamond in the ruff, an intruding thought whispers.

Bakugou stomped away after an excruciating match with Todoroki. His usual hunched back was heavier and the trample of his feet was louder than usual. His heavy set growl seemed more menacing as he grumbled out curses. His red eyes glowered at the floor.

He found himself under the shade where the bleachers were. He snatched his plastic bottle from where it resided underestimating the weight as he realized it was empty. He rips out a growl of annoyance before tossing the bottle into the large blue recycling bin near him.

“You want one of mine?” An all too familiar voice called out.

He whipped his upward to see you sitting two benches up. The upper half of your body was slightly hunched as one of your elbows rested on your knee. Your face leans against the heel of your palm that is being supported by your knee. The arm closest to him is extended towards him as it tries to offer him a cool bottle of pocari sweat.

For the second time, he pauses. His eyes blink as he observes your sitting form, trying to slew some sort of nasty nickname at you, but it comes out blank. Your eyes are a bit sleepy from the sun’s beating and the harsh one-on-one between you and one of your classmates. Your expression is relaxed and seems a bit spacey (or maybe a tad bit soft) as you look down at him. Your cheeks look pillowy as the hand against it pushes out a subtle pout from your lips. You let out a soft ‘here’ before tossing the bottle at him, which he snatches from the air effortlessly.

This was his second time directly talking to you, he thinks to himself as he stares down at the bottle. You had only made comments about him, but never talked to him. He starts to wonder if you also observe him from the corner of your eye or listen to his snappy remarks.

“It hasn’t been tinkered with, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He can tell by the tone of your voice that you were joking, so he looks up to see if there’s a sleepy smile on your face. There was one. “I bought an extra one because I noticed that your bottles are always almost empty as soon as the hero's class is over.” You stated honestly.

Bakugou realizes he’s been too quiet, so he tuts and looks away. Your hotheaded classmate reluctantly twists the white cap as the air around his face begins to warm up.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t need you to be my fucking mom.” He hisses before taking a swig as he tries to avoid the pressuring gaze of your eyes before turning to glare at you as he tightens the lid.

“No need to be embarrassed, Bakugou.” A smug smirk appears on your lips as you chuckle at him. Your sleepy eyes look unintentionally sultry as it accompanies your smirk. It doesn’t help that your relaxed pose enhances the way you. His stomach tightens. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

The flushed blonde reddens even more, realizing that his reaction had been caught red handed. “L-Like hell, I’m fucking embarrased!” He exclaims.

You mirror the wide eyed expression on his face at the realization of his stutter. Your smiles widened as you let out a laugh. It dawns on him as he watches you laugh as to why he couldn’t find a kink in your appearance. The blissed out look on your face as well as the melody of your laughter makes his heart stutter.

You’re fucking beautiful and he hates it.

Please Reblog if you enjoyed it! I might make a part two, but only if y’all tell me to!

[ray-ray-writings]

Oh Boy!-BadBoyHalo

One of you lovelies requested a part two to Oh Baby! So here you go! I hope I do it justice and that you enjoy! 

This is a BadBoyHalo x gn!reader. Again this is pretty heavily fem but I know there are people that do get pregnant that do not identify as a woman, and for that reason this is gender neutral. Also, COVID-19? We don’t know her in this fic. 

How Darryl and Y/N tell their families, friends, and fans that they’re expecting. 

Y/N’s POV

After Darryl and I celebrated our good news, we decided it would be best to make a doctor’s appointment to check how far along I was and make sure everything was alright in my uterus. The doctor determined I was 6-7 weeks along and everything was going fine. Darryl and I once again celebrated by ordering food from one of our favorite places. 

“When do you think we can tell  people?” Darryl asked excitedly, picking at his food. I chuckled as I swallowed the food in my mouth before answering, “Well I definitely want to make sure that I get out of the first trimester before we tell anyone. I just want to be extra careful incase things go wrong,” I explained softly, a hand falling to rest on my stomach. Darryl nodded understandingly, “That makes total sense and I agree.” “Maybe when I hit 14 weeks we can tell our parents. And then maybe you could even invite the boys down at around 16 weeks and we can tell them in person,” I stated, shoving another forkful of food in my mouth. 

Darryl let out a small gasp, “You’d let the boys come over and stay with us?” I giggled and nodded, “Of course! They’re some of your best friends and the most important people in your life. You know, we could even have our gender reveal party while they’re here! We could record some of it and upload it somewhere and announce it to your fans, if that’s something you want to do!” I stated excitedly, my mind already racing with ideas. A soft smile fell on Darryl’s lips. He quickly leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to my lips. “That sounds perfect baby. I’ll talk to them about it tomorrow!” He exclaimed giddily. “Sounds good!” 

*Time skip. Many weeks later*

Keeping the secret was really hard for the two of us. But somehow Darryl and I managed. We did have a few close calls. A few slips of the tongue that caused raised eyebrows and hushed whispers, but we always managed to recover from the small mistakes. 

I was so excited to finally be out of the first trimester. Darryl and I planned a dinner for both of our parents. We invited them over under the pretense that we simply wanted to see them and catch up. The four didn’t seem to bat an eye. They came over and enjoyed a really nice meal with a very sweet dessert. After we finished our plates, I offered to brew some coffee for our parents. When everyone agreed, I immediately made my way into the kitchen, Darryl following close behind me. We had to keep our giggles quiet as we poured coffee into the four new mugs we had purchased. 

Yesterday, Darryl and I went out and bought four new mugs. But not just any four mugs. On each of the four mugs, the phrase, “Grandparent. Established: 2021” was written. Bad and I thought this was the best and funniest way to announce it to them, as well as giving each a cute little gift. 

Darryl and I quickly carried the mugs back into the dining room, making sure to cover the labels of the mugs so no one would see before they all were revealed. The mugs were removed from our hands and the four began sipping on their hot drinks. Darryl and I watched with glee as their eyes got wide as they caught sight of the writing on the mugs. All heads snapped to us as we began to giggle at their reaction. “Are you serious?” Darryl’s mom squealed. I simply turned to the side to show off my small baby bump causing the four to gasp in surprise. “Surprise!” The two of us exclaimed together. The four parents stood up and rushed over, wrapping their arms around us in a tight hug. Happy tears fell from everyone’s eyes as we basked in the announcement. The rest of the night was spent sitting around the table talking and laughing. It was an amazing night for everyone. 

*Time skip. Two weeks later*

Today was the day! The boys would be here any moment! Darryl had left early in the morning to pick the boys, Dream, Sapnap, and George, up from the airport. I would have gone with him, but I felt a little too ill. The morning sickness had died down a bit ever since I left the first trimester, but there were definitely days I still felt sick to my stomach. That being said, it did give me enough time to cook up a big breakfast for everyone to enjoy. They had said in the group chat that no one really had time to eat. 

It was perfect timing because as I finished the last pancake, the door swung open. “Honey! We’re home!” Four voices teasingly called from the front door. I quickly turned off the stove and rushed to the door. “BOYS!” I exclaimed in excitement, wrapping my arms around all three in a big hug. “Y/N!” They cheered back, immediately returning the hug. “You’re just in time! I just finished breakfast, come, come!” I babbled, grabbing someone’s hand and pulling them with me. 

The four boys followed me into the kitchen and quickly gaped at the sight. “You didn’t have to do all of this” Darryl whispered, moving forward and pressing a kiss to my cheek. I smiled and shrugged, “I wanted to.” Clay, Nick, and George quickly grabbed plates and piled theirs high of the breakfast foods. “Plus, it makes our announcement a little smoother” I murmured to Darryl as the two of us followed behind the three. 

Once all plates were piled, we moved to the dining room and began eating. We talked and laughed as we caught up with one another, discussing how their flights and things like that. Our discussion was interrupted by a loud beeping from the oven, causing us to jump. 

“Oh gosh! I have a bun in the oven!” I exclaimed standing up and rushing to the kitchen to turn off the stove timer. As I approached the dining room once more, I could hear the boys laughing and when I appeared, they began teasing me. “You’re so forgetful Y/N,” Clay teased, taking a bite of pancake. “Yeah how could you forget your oven’s on?” George also poked, taking a sip of his juice. “Hey, don’t be mean to Y/N! I’ve left buns in the oven before.” Darryl defended, giving me a slight wink. “Oh I remember that!” I exclaimed, “We’re still dealing with that today… And then for the rest of our lives as well.” The three boys fell silent at my statement. Confusion fell onto each of their faces, “What? What does that mean?” Nick questioned. I couldn’t help the grin that covered my face as I rested my hand on my stomach and turned sideways. 

An audible gasp left the three boy’s lips. “No way!” Clay uttered, “No way!” “Way!” I responded, turning to face forward and walk to my chair. “We’re going to be uncles?” Nick questioned softly. Tears pricked in my eyes at the question, but I nodded excitedly. “Yeah, you’re going to be uncles.” The sound of chairs scraping against the floor greeted me before three bodies slammed into me, hugging me tightly. I giggled as I attempted to wrap my arms around everyone to hug them back. Darryl’s chair scraped against the floor and soon his arms wrapped around us as well. 

We stood there for a while, just hugging. Our food was getting cold, but none of us cared. “Do you know the gender?” George asked, pulling his head back a bit. I smiled making eye contact. “I don’t, but our mommas do. They’re in charge of the gender reveal, which is this Saturday. We planned it so that you three could be here for it.” I answered with a grin. The boys seemed to be touched at what I had to say. “You didn’t have to plan your baby’s reveal around us,” Clay uttered softly. I simply scoffed and shook my head, “Of course I did. You’re a part of our family. You’re way too important not to include in this type of stuff,” I answered honestly. Tears seemed to form in everyone’s eyes at my response. “You’re our family too, Bad, Y/N. We love you” “We love you too.” 

*Time skip to Saturday*

Today was the day. We find out what gender our baby is today. I couldn’t help but grin as I watched everyone interact at the party. Darryl and I decided to combine the baby shower with the gender reveal so everyone could get together for one big party. It was also so that the Dream Team could be here for both without having to go home and then turn back around to come for a different party. Besides, they would already be coming back down a month or two after I gave birth so they could actually meet their niece or nephew. 

Darryl’s arms wrapping around me, startled me out of my slight daze. “We’re ready to cut the cake whenever you are,” He murmured, pressing a kiss into the side of my head. I hummed in response and turned to him, “I’m ready”. He ushered me to the table where the cake that our mothers had made. Our moms made a cute cake that was white on the outside with pink and blue decorations on the outside, with “Boy or girl?” Written on the top. “Gather round for the cake cutting!” Darryl called out. 

“Do you really have no preference?” Darryl questioned as everyone made their way over to the front of the table. I smiled and shook my head no, “I honestly don’t care, as long as our baby remains healthy, I’m okay with whatever they turn out to be.” Darryl hummed, kissing the side of my head once more, “I completely agree baby.” Once we made sure that everyone was ready, the two of us picked up the knife together. Darryl’s hands rested over mine as our hands hovered over the cake. The knife cut into the cake easily, a piece was quickly cut. I took a deep breath as we let go of the knife. Darryl reached over and grabbed a spatula to move the cake piece. 

“Ready?” He exclaimed to the crowd. Shouts of affirmation resonated back. Darryl slowly moved the piece out of the way causing blue M&M’s to fall from the center of the cake. Everyone that had gathered around burst into cheers at the reveal. I wrapped my arms around Darryl’s neck after he set the cake down on a plate. His arms came to rest around my waist. “It’s a boy!” I whispered, “It’s a boy Darryl. We’re going to have a baby boy.” “That we are, sweetheart.” 

The two of us let go of our hug and turned back to the crowd. “Well come get some cake!” I exclaimed, motioning for everyone to come forward. Nick, Clay, and George were the first to charge forward. Excited babbles fell from their mouths about having another boys join them. They chattered about how they were going to teach them everything there was to know about Minecraft, not that they couldn’t do that with a girl, but they couldn’t help but be so excited about a boy. A grin fell on my lips and my hand fell to my tummy as I listened to the four babble about everything they were going to do with our baby. Only one thought came to my mind as their words rang in my ears… Oh boy! 

*Bonus*

The day after the gender reveal, Darryl posted a photo of the two of us hugging after we cut the cake. It was a picture that I didn’t know existed, but was so glad it did. The response was overwhelming. The fans exploded at the announcement. Many comments and tweets were so supportive of the two of us having a baby together, claiming it would be the best and cutest kid ever, which I couldn’t help but agree with. Fans being excited about the baby just made me even more excited, I couldn’t wait to hold my baby boy in my arms.

 There you go! I really hope you enjoyed, if so please be sure to leave a like!!

[logically-asexual]

because i'm procrastinating, the timeline of how Jon Cozart's After Ever After radically changed the course of my life.

I am terrible with years and keeping memories in a coherent timeline, but I'll try and might make up some fake dates accidentally.

around 2012-2013 i was in middle school and my classmates and i had a facebook group, like it was done back then. and a friend made a post sharing this silly Disney Parody. i watched it and thought it was soo cool and clever and also spent more time than i'd like to admit trying to figure out whether it was four identical guys or only one. (it was too impressive for my young mind, i still am impressed by it now)

then i proceeded to tell my friend when i saw her that i loved the video and we learned the lyrics and would sing them constantly, with one doing the accompanying rhythms and one singing the song (including, very importantly, the "p a i n t subscribe!" at the end).

then a few years later, around 2016 i created a tumblr account (that i barely used) because of facebooks page "people of tumblr", i only reblogged grunge or emo posts because i wanted to have that aesthetic.

i don't know if it was in that same year or until 2017 but i went on youtube and remembered this after ever after parody and then went to watch a bunch of other videos in the same channel. i thought jon was hilarious and edgy and hot so i became a fan.

while watching his content, i watched three videos he did with Thomas Sanders, but i can't for the life of me remember in which order. i think it was in this order:

Vine vs Youtube song

RIP Vine Agony parody

I've been shipped with Jon Cozart (on thomas' channel)

and at this point in my life i had somehow unlearned a lot of ugly predjudices i had (i don't remember how. i just gradually became a little better person) so when i watched that last one i was like "oh that's so cool that these (straight) men are comfortable in their masculinity enough to make a video like this!"

and i also liked watching it because i thought jon was So Cool and i was a teenage "girl" with no friends so i of course was playing along figuring out how compatible i was with him. and i also thought "oh this Thomas guy is very cool, too, i seem to have more in common with him actually"

i also remember watching the vine videos and thinking "oh this is the Storytime! guy!* he can sing??" and though i feel very little attraction, any time i see a man can sing i do feel it so much.

*i didn't have vine, i only watched compilations that popped up on facebook, mostly those Storytime ones.

so in the beginning of 2017 i caved and watched videos by thomas. and it was when i found Sanders Sides and i feel in love. my crush also moved from jon to thomas* lol. he was nice and sweet and relatable and attractive and his voice was so comforting. and i was aware of his presence on tumblr because he used to be very popular here before the exclusionists ruined everything. after watching Sanders Sides i followed some sanders sides blogs, of course.

*i didn't think much about his sexuality until i became a bit more of a fan and saw people arguing in the comments of his videos about it. everyone thought he was bisexual because of his vines and he insisted that it was only acting so i didn't speculate, but i did think he was attracted to women, specially after the valentine's video with valerie (listen.. it probably didn't fool actually perceptive people im just dense as hell). i found out he wasn't (like everyone else did) with that pride video in june 2017, and in a video after that when he corrected joan about not being bi. after that my crush died (for that + other silly reasons lol)

which then lead to the actual changes. the queer presence in the fandom took over my dash, i learned so much, i had no idea how little i knew about everything. for one, i dont remember exactly who put the definition of asexual in my dash but im sure i wouldn't have been so open to identifying with it if i hadnt become so used to seeing all blogs talking about it and reading fanfics with people giving the sides so many different identities. and being asexual is a big part of how i see myself now. its important, i filter a lot of my experiences throught this knowledge, and it's good!

then i also found out thanks to thomas' videos what being non binary was. because i heard it first from joan, who for some reason i thought was a trans woman who was using neutral pronouns while they felt comfortable enough to transicion completely. i now know that's not how it works. but that was the first step. i really learned so much about gender and also how i see the world has changed thanks to this new perspective i had never considered. i don't know what hot takes i would have now if it weren't for this. i knew back in 2016 i did have so very bad ones.

now more dominoes..

while i was patiently waiting for jon to post more videos and sneaking a peek into thomas’ channel, before getting well into sanders sides i watched

an awkward duet

this cover of waving through a window

this cover of birds

dear happy

human

city of stars

all with dodie, all absolute gems, lovely, gorgeous, spectacular, and i loved them but i didn't really care about dodie in particular (for some incredibly stupid reason) but i did get immersed in this fandom for specifically Jon, Thomas and Dodie, mostly comprised of bisexual people who shipped the three of them or couldn't decide who to ship with whom lol. but generally as a trio of friends they seemed like a really cool group and i loved the energy. they gave me this vibe of cool older cousins to look up to.

and from here two big changes:

first that cover of waving through a window made me cry so much. i knew that they were into musicals and i do like musicals but i was never into theather so i never knew what they were all talking about. i had heard thomas name dear evan hansen and also i had seen it around on tumblr. but that cover of waving through a window moved something so fundamental in me idk. it was An Experience. I watched it once sitting on my living room by my piano and cried so so much.

so i went and watched dear evan hansen as soon as i found a link to a bootleg. and it was incredible. the story was something i had never seen before, the emotions i felt were also so special. i felt so heard by several of the characters in a way that i just never had. it also changed my view of myself and of some personal struggles in my life. and to this day i think i have been able to cope with these problems a little better thanks to this musical. it's also the first theater musical i watched before i went on to watch a few others and realize that i adore the genre. after it i watched heathers which also had affected a lot the way i cope with my emotions, although maybe that's not such a big impact but big enough.

the second change was eventually giving in to the youtube recommendations and discovering dodie as an artist.

and god. her music. losing my mind. i couldn't believe what i had been missing. same as with dear evan hansen, it was so fresh and different from anything i knew before, and felt so much closer to me than any other music. the themes of her lyrics were stuff i couldn't find anywhere else (not that i’ve ever been good at finding music), that i didn't even know i was looking for. it always was so comforting, even when they were sad and made me cry. i bought her vinyl album last year because i love her so much.

also through dodie i have found many more artists that make up most of my current taste, like orla gartland and tessa violet and mxmtoon.

and well lastly, of course, Sanders Sides.

the first sanders sides i watched was the Q&A (it was the most recent one then). i realized when they brough up "last week's video" that it was a series so i watched the previous episode Losing my Motivation, which i loved. then i went back to the Q&A with more context and then i watched everything in the right order.

several things here. first Logan and Virgil as characters helped me figure a lot of stuff out about myself and my identity. they also helped me build it. i really didn't have much personality and only had a few traits that stood out somewhat as a kid. but during high school with these characters i was able to like, spot some things about myself that made me different from others, that i liked, so i could build upon them to create a more solid sense of self. stuff that already was there but i was unaware of or was just avoiding. now i feel like i have it more clear and it has helped me be more confident about who i am and interact better with people and make friends.

janus + my psychologist also have formed another part of who i am today which is a little shamelessly selfish but in a healthy way. im okay with it. i need to practice more kindness but i'm not an awful person and i am not hurting myself as much as i used to.

ALSO that. tumblr and dear evan hansen helped me realize that when you have serious issues with anxiety you look for professional help so i did when i was having an awful time in my last year of high school.

also i never drew much as a kid because i thought i sucked at it. and i did. i wasn't very creative and the assignments in art class never made sense to me. but sanders sides was so important to me that one day i thought.. damn... i have to draw this specific image i have in my head of these guys or else!

which provided three things: a nice peaceful way to cope during that bad year of high school in 2017-2018, nice online friends who i could talk to when i had nobody else, and also the idea that i do like drawing and that maybe i could get better at it with practice.

and i'm not much better now than i was before (many other artists i’ve seen have had much more radical transformations) but i have developed some sense for aesthetics and stuff that i didn't have and i also realized that i would like to know more graphic design.

which led me to think that a major thing i want to do as a professional is write and illustrate science articles. another huge part of what i am becoming, with great consequences for my future, thanks to me forcing myself to draw these silly characters in silly situations because i knew nobody else would.

...

so yeah. everyone say thank you jon...

that's all i can think of but it's probably enough. i don't know if anyone will read through all this but i felt like wasting a little time and sharing this.

goodnight.