#so can we think about some practicalities before?

[endearng]

Out of reach

Pairing: earlyseasons!Spencer Reid x hotchner!fem!reader Summary: You pull away from Spencer because of your jealousy. You go back to him after a few drinks in. WC: 9k A/N: fluff! pining! idiots/friends to lovers! alcohol consumption; spencer is a bit mean; reader doesn't communicate; hotch is a little older to have a daughter around spencer's age (do not come at me this is fiction). If I missed anything, please let me know! I had so much fun writing this one and it's now one of my favorites <3 masterlist

The jet was quiet as you and the BAU team made your way back from Los Angeles after successfully finding Lila Archer's stalker. The case had been a bit draining, after all, you've only been working with the FBI for a couple of months, and seeing dead bodies and all those other displays of violence was something you were still trying to get used to. Despite your sensitive nature, being Aaron Hotchner's daughter meant that you had mastered the art of a poker face through the years, not that it meant that your inner feelings were any less important. This is how you found yourself sitting all alone in a corner of the jet as everyone minded their own business. On any other day, you'd be sitting next to Dr. Spencer Reid, talking about whatever it was that could get your mind off the case you had just wrapped up. Spencer and you were friends, some would even say the best of friends, but you didn't mind about naming things — what mattered the most is that you got to be yourself around him and you didn't bother hiding behind the Hotchner glare, as he once put it.

Despite being unknown territory for you, after all, feelings and all that were protected by a deeply analytic and practical mind, you knew what you were feeling. Well, you were analyzing your reactions to check what had actually happened — and the thing is, you couldn't admit, not even to yourself, what that sinking feeling in your chest when you watched Spencer saying goodbye to Lila was. Amid your analysis, Spencer quietly approached you, silently motioning to the seat next to you. You nodded, shutting every single thought of him. Or at least, trying.

"Hi."

Hotch glare. "Hi, Reid."

Spencer felt nervous. He had never been on the receiving end of your… wrath before, so it was unknown territory and he didn't know how to act. His racing heart and clammy palms weren't helping him, either. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Listen, um, you... can... can we talk?" The stammering. Way to go, Spencer.

Glancing at him, ignoring the skip in your heartbeat, you nodded. "Yeah. Is everything alright?" A firm, secure tone. You mentally patted yourself on the back.

"You're a little distant... and—and I got a bit worried. Did... Did something happen?" He wanted to kick himself. What kind of person can't hold a serious conversation without stuttering like an idiot? Get a grip, Reid.

"No, Reid. Everything is alright. I'm just... thinking." You said.

Bullshit. You both knew that. Spencer, on the other hand, didn't know why it was bullshit. But he knew it was.

"Are you sure?" He asked, leaning towards you, almost invading your personal space and he shut his eyes before delivering the next question, "Is... I haven't done anything to upset you? Right?"

You took a second to answer him, willing your voice to stay still and the knot in your throat to go away. "No. It's nothing you've done. It's just... it's on me." You gave him a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes — that's when he knew something was definitely wrong.

He nodded, but he was still worried by your sudden change of behavior, especially towards him. It was like he was anyone else, again. And, God, he didn't want that. "What is it, then? You can talk to me, you know. We're best friends."

Best friends.

The words felt bitter on his tongue. The sound of them broke your heart all over again.

Best friends. "Right. Yeah. I know." You said, quietly, and it felt a little lifeless to him. He clenched his hand, fighting the urge to touch you, to ask you what was truly bothering you. "Thanks for offering."

Spencer felt conflicted. If he didn't say anything and didn't push you to speak, you would probably bury whatever it was that you were feeling and it would lead him into being even more worried about you. If he did, you would probably snap at him because of his undesired, bothersome insistence. "It's nothing." He said, defeatedly. "Can you just... Do you promise it's not me?"

Your heart ached and you smiled at him, a tiny, faint, barely there smile. He was so adorable, sometimes. "I'm just upset over something else. Don’t worry. You didn't do anything wrong." You finished, trying to convince yourself that he had not, indeed, done something wrong.

And he didn't. He didn't. You and Spencer, despite your proximity and sometimes incredibly ambiguous relationship, hadn't said anything about deeper feelings towards one another. You let yourself admire him, lovingly, from afar, and were happy with the snippets of attention you had from him when you two had some free time. You two were regulars in the coffee shop near his apartment and, by now, the local librarian, Mrs. Jones, could probably fake your signature from how often you two went there to borrow books. She would watch you two behind the bookshelves, whispering excitedly and curiously to each other about whatever suggestions you were getting from each other. As you missed Spencer's longing glances to read a summary, Mrs. Jones smiled to herself, both at how adorable you two were and how oblivious you were. In museums, you would sit down after some time walking around to his explanations of art and historical movements that impacted the expression of a certain age — you pretended to not know a few things, just so he could speak his heart away and not be interrupted by your own contributions.

You kept silent to make him happy.

Which was exactly what was happening now.

Spencer knew, for sure, that you were hiding something from him. But he also knew that he had no right to force it out. He fidgeted awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands, his heart still clenching. “But, but... you’d come to me if you needed help, right?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You knew you were wrong, omitting things from him. Just as the guilt was starting to weigh in your heart, Derek passed by you two with a magazine in his hands, throwing it at Spencer, exclaiming, "My man!"

You looked down, already knowing what it was. Spencer was a mess beside you: blushing, stuttering, avoiding your and Derek's gaze and throwing the magazine as far as he could, like it had burned him. Your reaction was a subtle twitch of your lips, not in amusement, but in need to disguise the pang in your heart. You both spent the rest of the flight sitting in silence, simply being in each other's orbit. You, guiltily. Spencer, worriedly.

Your reaction — or lack of — was staggering to Spencer. He thought you two were getting somewhere, despite your closed off nature and demeanor, he thought he was finally cracking you up. Everyday was torture, seeing you walk through the bullpen's glass doors with your professional clothes and your composed figure. It was torture to see you walk around so prettily and serious, holding his bare heart in your hands, and not even realizing it. By now, he lived and thrived on those rare opportunities you had to spend time together as he became more and more covered in you.

As the jet landed and Spencer walked out to talk to Derek, you pettily made sure to step on Lila Archer's face when leaving the jet in sheer frustration.

Back to the bullpen, you had gone to the restroom to splash some water on your face in order to calm your nerves and to tell yourself that it was only a matter of time until things got back to normal — until you got back to normal. Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you wondered if Spencer could tell that there was something wrong with you, if you had let any of your feelings slip during your short conversation. The version of you that stared back was as impassible as you ever were. As you made your way to your desk in the dimly lit sea of desks, you caught Spencer and Derek talking, both having their backs to you.

Sighing, you just left the headquarters, not wanting to know what they were discussing, or rather, knowing what they were discussing, but unwilling to stay, even if it would quench your curiosity as to what Spencer had been thinking.

Maybe you didn't want to know the answer.

—

The days went by, cases coming left and right, flights making you almost dizzy — not that you would admit, but you were terrified of heights. Between those and your training, you barely had time to think about Spencer and the entire Lila occasion. You spent your days busy with work, studies and physical training in order to keep your mind away from that, but as you lay awake at night, the memories would come back to haunt you relentlessly to the point you had recurring dreams of them. Together, as you watched from the sidelines. You kept to yourself, slipping further and further away from Spencer.

Reid, on the other hand, felt your absence more than anyone. You took a rain check on all the invitations he made, even when he invited you to movie night, when he would definitely choose a Russian movie because you mentioned once how you liked how the language sounds. There wasn't any more donuts on his desk as he arrived in the morning (he would always joke that you and your father secretly lived in the headquarters and that someday he would see Haley bringing your groceries to the secret house), and there was no one for him to throw his paper airplanes, small flashcards with the Russian phonological alphabet, at. The change in your behavior was absurdly clear to everyone: you barely called or texted him anymore, you didn't look his way when someone told a joke to check if he thought it was funny... He was sulking, to say the least. Upon questioning you, you blamed your lack of free time and as he was going to question you further, you said in a teasing tone that not everyone was like him and that the FBI was actually making you go through all the training phases.

Finally, during the end of a particularly frustrating workday, he finally snapped, grabbing your arm before you could enter the elevator. It was only you and him in the otherwise empty hallway. "Ok. What's been going on? And don't," he said, closing his eyes, "don't dance around the subject. Don't say it's the Academy. Don't say you have to work. Don't. Please, be honest with me."

The exasperation in his eyes and in his tone almost broke the wall that hid your true feelings, but as you glanced at him, you figured you couldn't do it. Be honest? What for? To hear that you're nothing more than his best friend? Losing said friend was not an option, not to you, at least. But you also knew that you weren't treating him right, that keeping him out was not at all fair to him, that leaving him in the dark was as hurtful as it would be to lose him.

Breathing deeply, you answered with the same stoic expression you wore every single damn day. "I told you, Reid. People go through different, busier times in their lives." The lie tasted like acid.

Spencer clenched his teeth, frustration and confusion beginning to override some of his social anxieties. “That! That!” He asked through clenched teeth, his gaze intense.

"That what?" You asked, puzzled.

"You... you stopped calling me 'Spence'—not that you did it often, you did it more when we were all alone, and it... it sucks! It sucks because I don't know what happened or what I did that was so wrong to make you stop liking me!"

Come on, just say something! Get angry, get sad, get something!, his mind screamed.

"I never stopped liking you," you said, looking away from him. His words hit a particular spot that you were totally willing to discover later, but the mere thought that he knew that you liked him more than as a friend made you shiver.

"That's not the point! Or—or rather, it is! Because if you didn't stop liking me, why would you act like you did?" He asked, his tone rising a bit.

"Calm down."

"Calm down? I will not calm down!" He almost yelled. His eyes widened slightly, disbelief clear in his features and tone, not to mention the frustration. "Just. Please.” He said, closing his eyes, willing himself to tone it down, not that it worked... “Tell me what you're thinking, what happened to you! For once! Any normal person would react and stop acting like an emotionless robot!"

You gaped like a fish out of water, taking a small step back, his words digging a hole in your heart. Upon hearing his own words and noticing you distancing yourself from him, all the anger vanished from his body. The widened eyes were a sign of realization of what he had said to you. During the early months of friendship, you had confided in him that you struggled with portraying emotion like others normally did. Maybe it had something to do with growing up with a father who did it so perfectly when he was out of the house. When he wasn't actively playing the ‘dad’ part, Aaron Hotchner would wear an unreadable mask like it was his armor, his defense from the outer world, but as soon as he got home, he was back to his main role. You would watch him with his coworkers and mimic him perfectly to make him laugh. At some point, making fun of and imitating his demeanor had become some serious form of self-defense for you. Spencer, then, joked that you were making your way to the perfect job, but then he had gotten serious and told you that it wasn't a flaw. That it wasn't a problem that you kept deeply to yourself sometimes — that it was okay to be yourself around him. You had felt safe by his side since then.

But now, what did those words mean? Were they lies?

He breathed out your name, softly, "I... I... I'm sorry."

"Just drop it," you replied, pushing the elevator button. Your dismissive tone and your action of leaving made Spencer feel utterly desolate, like he had done the wrongest thing in the world and perhaps he had, but he just wanted you to let him in. For once, he wanted to have the answers from your lips, not spend any more time analyzing your every single action and words...

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"You know, Spencer…" he looked up at you when he heard his name, as you held out an arm to hold the elevator doors open. As if thinking better than to say anything, you sighed and turned to enter the elevator, shaking your head with the most disappointed look he had ever seen on your face.

Spencer tried looking at you one last time before the elevator doors closed, and despite your face being as unreadable as it often was, he saw a flicker of sadness that stung his heart more than he liked to admit. If he hadn't done anything wrong before, now he had utterly fucked everything up.

—

The drive home, for Spencer, was a torture. He knew that he had to pay attention to the road ahead of him, to the other vehicles and drivers, but his mind kept drifting to the last glimpse of you back in the headquarters. Your empty eyes appeared behind his eyelids every time he pressed his eyes closed. He willed himself not to cry, to not blur his vision, taking his frustration out on the steering wheel, where his grip was so tight that his knuckles turned white. As he parked his car and looked up to one of his windows, he remembered you. Because of course he would remember you.

The sight was almost comical, to be honest. You, clad in one of the suits that fitted you so well, sitting on his windowsill, a cup of green tea in hands as you stared out the window, trying to analyze every single drop of rain before it reached somewhere outside your vision range. The funny thing was that you had no shoes on, instead, Spencer lent you a mismatched pair, not being one used to having people over, he didn't have a pair of spare slippers. Then, you sat there with a dinosaur-pattern sock on one foot and a striped-pattern sock on the other.

Spencer, sitting on his sofa and holding his own cup (he had let you choose your mug and stayed quiet when you pointed quietly at his favorite), smiled to himself. It was weirdly calming seeing you out of your character, doing something so... human.

"I can feel you staring, you know," you said. And your tone was almost... teasing?

"Right. Sorry." He said, looking down at his steaming tea.

"I'm not scolding you," you said, turning to look at his direction with a grin.

"Right, no—heh..." he replied, bashfully, cheeks reddening at the sight of your smile.

If only you knew... how many hours he would lay awake at night, as thoughts swirled in his head, how everything seemed to shut down at the thought of you. How he would fall asleep to the wish of being on the receiving end of one of your rare smiles, how he appreciated that you were always the first one he talked to upon his arrival at the headquarters. How... how he would do anything for you to look at him under a different light.

Seemingly out of nowhere, you giggled. Everything stopped.

Spencer.exe has stopped working.

"Heheh—I guess... It's not everyday you get to see a Hotchner so out of its—heheh—habitat." You quipped, looking at him with a smile on your face.

Suddenly, Spencer lost his voice. The connection between his brain and his tongue, which felt heavy, disappeared. Completely speechless, eyes slightly wide at the sound of your laughter. It made you laugh a bit more, but when his stare and open mouth got too much to handle, you looked down at your feet, wiggling your toes to distract yourself from the intensity of his gaze full of awe. Then, Spencer got back to his senses, smiling at you as you missed it to look away in embarrassment.

Spencer blinked away the tears and left his car, entering his apartment. As he took off his shoes, he let the tears fall at the sight of your windowsill.

—

Meanwhile, you were getting wasted at some bar. Not just any bar, but the one you usually went with Spencer when you were feeling daring and wanted a change from the places where you both used to go to. You were a bit of a lightweight, so a couple of drinks were enough for you to start playing trivia with Spencer and let your gaze linger for longer, basking in the sight of him so carefree, having fun with you.

Upon your arrival, the bartender that usually took care of your orders, MJ, greeted you with a smile. When she saw no one was joining you, she frowned. "Good evening, Hotch. Where's loverboy?"

You sent her a look, but since you were letting your guard down, after all, there were no acquaintances or friends around, you didn't know if the look came out as a glare or if you looked like a kicked puppy. She snorted. "Gee... That bad, huh?" She asked, and you didn't answer again, though you muttered a soft thanks, MJ when she gave you your go-to drink.

And it turned into two drinks. Three. Four...

(MJ was now giving you alcohol-free drinks, too worried for your well-being. You and Spencer started to grow on her as you two kept coming back.)

You rested your chin on your left hand while you traced patterns with your right index finger on the counter. MJ was eyeing you suspiciously, drying a few glasses with a washcloth. "He kissed another girl." You admitted, quietly.

"No way." She gasped.

"Way."

"But... I thought you two were a thing." MJ was baffled, placing down the objects she was holding in sheer shock. "I always thought you two were like... together for years."

"We were a thing.... I think, at least... I don't know, MJ." You sighed, tucking a stray of hair behind your ear. Looking up at her, hazy eyes taking in her focused expression, you sniffled, "we were on this case and then he met a girl and then the next moment the two of them were making out in a pool. In a freaking pool."

She tsked, anger flashing in her eyes, "I swear, those nerdy guys are the worst."

"Yeah..." You muttered, fiddling with your straw. "Can I have another one?"

She pursed her lips, but she relented. Then, as she handed you the liquid, a guy sat next to you. Did he look like Spencer or were you already hallucinating?

"Hi. I'm Dave. Can I buy you a drink...?" He asked with a small smile, wanting to know your name.

No, not Spencer. It’s cool.

"Hi, I..."

MJ cut you off. "Hey, Dave, I think she had too much to drink already."

They exchanged looks and it took you a minute to feel offended by her interruption and knowing you were perfectly capable of speaking for yourself, but realizing you would probably have to entertain a stranger, you felt grateful for it.

Dave left with a sour smile. "Thanks." You muttered, again, looking at MJ.

"Do you need me to get you a cab, honey?"

"That would be great." You said, placing money bills to pay for your drinks and the tip.

MJ looked around to spot someone to keep an eye on the bar as she led you out of the place, hand never leaving your shoulder. As she called a cab, she made you stand on only one leg to make sure you weren't gonna need her to go with you. You scoffed, but obeyed her all the same, with a low snicker. As you two waited for the cab driver, a woman who MJ trusted with her life (and her favorite regulars), you tried to make conversation to make up for embarrassing yourself by talking about Spencer with someone. How pathetic.

"So, what does MJ stand for?"

She chuckled, shaking her head at you and at your dazed eyes. "That's classified information."

"I'm familiar with that."

The cab driver, Paula, arrived. She greeted the both of you with a smile and a cheerful good evening! As you entered the vehicle, you rolled the windows down and pressed the subject further, "Seriously, is it Mary Jane or were your parents more creative?"

She rolled your eyes at you, shaking her head. "It's Mary Jane. MJ because who would take me seriously?"

You smiled. "I like the shoes!"

Paula started driving slowly, just to let other drivers drop their own passengers, as you were lost in your own little world, serious expression taking over your face again, not wavering, as you delved deeper into the whirlwind of thoughts plaguing your head. Paula, looking at you through the rear-view mirror, asked, "Is everything okay, honey?"

You buckled your seatbelt. "Yes, yes. Just... keep driving slowly, please."

"Where to?"

Only then you realized you never gave her an address. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you gave her Spencer's, telling her you were going home.

—

An unknown number had sent Spencer a couple of messages.

[8:32 p.m.] Lovergirl is here, drinking all by herself.

[8:32 p.m.] Water, but still. I'm not having her passed out without you here.

[8:40 p.m.] Sent her home, people were starting to approach.

Throughout the time he had spent with you at the bar, the two of you exchanged numbers with MJ in case she needed your help — you know, being FBI agents and whatnot. But Spencer didn't need to see her name to know it was her and she was talking about you; 'lovergirl' and 'passed out without you here' gave him clue enough. His stomach tied in knots when he read that people were starting to approach her, the nagging feeling that the image conjured in his mind was making him feel almost sick, then, it hit him like a truck: Lila Archer.

Their… case? was as fleeting as a careless glance. To be honest, Spencer accepted her advances to spite you for having such power over him, even if unknowingly so. The young agent felt like you were so out of his league, so out of reach — you were all that pile of confidence and stoicism and pure lusciousness and everything to him. And he was a young guy who truly had barely been kissed so far. How could he approach you, charm his way into your heart, especially when you barely bared it? With Lila, it was... nice. Easy, even. It was nice being wanted, to be able to read her intentions and desires like a children's book. With you, it was a tantalizing challenge, one he was, for the first time, struggling with. It was not like having a high-school crush, not like pining over the untouchable girls that would catch his interest as he grew older. No. This was something new. You had hit him deeper than ever or anyone before.

Plus, as much as he hated to admit it, he gave room to the anxious thoughts regarding your father as well. Would it affect his relationship with his superior? Would it affect your relationship with your father? Spencer felt dizzy just by the mere thought of ruining something uniquely yours. No, he couldn't impose himself on your life like that. It was mean, it was wrong, it was immoral.

To want, to desire, is to be selfish.

It was a bold assumption. To think you were jealous of him. Nevertheless, the signs were all there, had been all along. He was just dumb and scared enough of making assumptions.

A barely there, faint sound of a knock on his door made Spencer fly out of his bed, dropping his phone on the bedroom floor, but he didn't pick it up. He had a suspicion as to who could be knocking on his door, but he was too scared of assuming anything. Again. Opening the door, he saw you, breathing a bit heavily. The stairs, he supposed. You always complained about them. Once you exchanged looks, Spencer’s surprised one and your earnest one, you asked, "Do you really think I'm a robot?"

Shit. He could feel his heart breaking in a million little pieces. The insecure edge of your voice and words made him squeeze his eyes shut; in his mind, he was kicking himself simultaneously as he sank down to his knees, on your feet, begging you to forgive and forget his dumb, stupid, frustrated, unrealistic words.

"No," he breathed out, wincing, almost as if he was in physical pain. "I—I didn't mean to talk about you like that. I was..."

"Frustrated?"

He nodded, silently, eyes never leaving your face. Your speech, albeit way out of the ordinary that he was used to, was flawless. If not by the dilated pupils and the faint smell of alcohol, not to mention MJ's texts, he would dare to say you were perfectly sober. "I was, too." You admitted, looking down.

Spencer made way for you to enter his apartment. He watched as you kicked your shoes off. The sight, that had become as common as the act of breathing, made his way flutter. You intended on staying. Or so he hoped. You walked further into the place, noticing everything as it ever was, as if you hadn't been to his apartment for some time now. "You must be thinking why I'm here," you said, moving to sit on the couch and mentioning him to sit on the small coffee table in front of you, as if you owned the place, and not him.

Perhaps it was true.

He closed the door once you were inside, hesitating for a moment before joining you. He kept noticing things about you; the way you were walking, the way you could barely look him in the eye, the way you looked… “How much did you have to drink?” He asked, quietly.

"Not much. You know I don't usually drink because I can’t hold my drinks. And I'm sure MJ was giving me plain water at some point." You said, looking up at him. Well, at least, your speech flawlessly delivered, even though you were moving a bit more… disoriented than usual. She's totally a Hotchner.

"I... I am," he started, sitting in front of you carefully. "I... I'm sorry. It's just... You've never been so distant. I guess that I was mean to you to elicit some reaction."

Your analytical gaze softened upon his confession. You needed to give him some break, be a little easy on him. Well, easier than you were being as of lately. Nodding lightly, you added, "I'm here to apologize, too. I know... I know that I pushed you away and I made you think that... that that was your fault. It's not."

He froze. No, he wouldn't have you taking the blame for how his actions caused you to react. He looked up at you, reaching out a hand to touch your intertwined ones, "It is."

"Hear me out. Please." You said, lowly, not breaking eye contact. This was so hard, and you had never felt so afraid before. How ironic — to be afraid of being brave. "I... I guess that by now you know why I pulled away."

"I do," he admitted, nervously. "It took me some time, but I... I think I figured you out."

You looked down, embarrassed. It was overwhelming for him to see you portray such different and so many emotions all at once. To you, it was as agonizing as it was freeing. "Well, yes. So... It, um, it wasn't fair. We... we are not something. We are not a thing."

His heart, doing all the thinking and feeling, nearly stopped. As if it wasn't enough, you kept on going, "I'm sorry, I truly am, for how I behaved and how I made you feel by being absent. It's... it's not my place. You have your own life, Reid. I can't be upset with you for making decisions. You're a grown man..." you sighed, glancing at every direction but at him. "I know that I'm wrong, okay? And I know that I shouldn't have pushed you away, nor should I have kept my feelings from you."

Spencer drew in a long breath. He didn't know what to say, but you couldn't be more wrong. All at once, he wanted to scream, but he didn't know what ro say; he wanted to run, but he didn't want to leave you alone — not for a second. He didn't ever want you out of his sight; he didn't want to be the one you were apologizing to, hell, he wanted everything to be okay between them, but it was nice that she was talking to him, finally.

"I..."

Every time he thought he could say something, words failed him. Then, you took it as another opportunity to word-vomit everything you've been feeling. "I was... I was jealous. I didn't like to see that. I didn't like that it happened. But I also know that I have no right to be upset with you because you're single and she's attractive and you're both consenting and willing to do whatever you please, so..." You shrugged as if speaking those words aloud didn't stab new holes in your heart.

Spencer looked at you, totally speechless. It made you snicker. And speak further. Shut up, you idiot. Please, please, please! "And, ah—hahahah—I guess I am, indeed, a bit of a robot because it took me a bit of alcohol to pluck up the courage to come here and totally—hic—destroy our friendship by telling you I love you so much; that I'd hate to see you with anyone other than me. It happened and I hated it. It still stings."

Spencer's heart threatened to fail once again. Your giggles, your words, your confession... His mind completely short-circuited. She loved him. She loved him? She loved him?!?!???!!! That’s what she’d just said, apparently. Okay, calm down. And she’d been jealous. She didn’t like him kissing another woman, because she fucking loved him. Say something, you dumb idiot, his brain shrieked. Say something!

You parted your lips to say something else, but apparently decided against it. Another beat of silence of Spencer staring dumbly at you. "I'm going," you blurted out, standing up.

Spencer, at breakneck speed, stood up as well to stop you from walking away, placing his hands tentatively on your shoulders. Your bodies were now apart by mere inches. "No." His voice was so small and pained that you sat back down.

Despite your apparent willingness, your next words told him about your turmoil. "Why would I stay, Spencer? I've been pouring my heart out to you and you haven't said a thing."

Looking at you, so bare and so vulnerable, Spencer suddenly had flashbacks from when he had lashed out on you earlier and simultaneously fought the feelings that were bubbling inside of him upon your confession. Couldn't you see the sheer shock on his face? Couldn't you see that he was battling against every single bit of self restraint not to pull you into his embrace and make you believe him when he would tell you that you were the only woman for him?

Sure, he had dreamed of you saying those words to him countless times as time went by and you two got closer. Shit, he literally dreamed of it. Of you. Speaking sweet nothings to him... He broke out of his daze, realizing that he was deadly silent, "Don't go..."

"Then say something. I'm here. Not as Hotch's daughter, not as your coworker, not as a part of the team you work with. I'm here as the woman in whose heart you've grown over the last few months. I'm terrified of your answer and you keep depriving me of it." There was a hint of annoyance and hurry on your voice, and he could understand you, he truly could. He just didn't... he lost his voice when he looked at you.

Saying your name softly, he beginned, “I said stupid, untrue things, and I’m sorry. I’m a jerk, and I know that I’m a jerk and—" You quirked your eyebrow and he took a deep breath, trying to cut his rant. "Just... don't sit there and think that I have nothing to say."

"Have you said it?" You pressed it, quirking an eyebrow.

"No." He admitted, widening his eyes a bit as he realized his mistake.

At the same time, you shot, "Not saying something is also an answer for me—"

"—but not for the reasons you're thinking! Do you know how hard it is for me right now?" Spencer was starting to sound very desperate and pathetic, not to mention the fact that he wasn't answering your questions.

Deep breaths (from both ends).

"Look, Reid..." He glared at you upon hearing his last name. "I think I should go home. You and I clearly need some space—"

"What we need to do is talk."

You sighed. "Then why won't you give me an answer?"

Silence.

"You won't even remember this in the morning."

At that, you deemed yourself utterly defeated. This was useless. "I'm sorry I came over. I'm... I'll just go, okay? Please, don't be upset about tonight. I apologize in advance."

The sight of her, once more shying away from him and turning to escape from him, was making Spencer frustrated, with himself, to no end. His heart clenched at your apology, to which he shook his head vehemently. The thing is, he wanted to get ready to answer you, properly, just like he always had some trick up his sleeve or some funny or curious fact to blurt during the most random moments. Spencer was good at speaking, but only when the speech was already ingrained into his mind, something he had read or rehearsed before. Plus, he was sure your state of drunkenness would stop you from remembering that moment.

Spencer dashed to his door, barely stopping you. No, no, no, no, no... She can't leave. This might be my only chance. "You're not going anywhere."

"Excuse me?"

"Stay with me. I don't want you to go." He said, softly, slowly, looking straight into your eyes. It made you dizzy. Either that or the alcohol.

"No?"

"Y-you're drunk and I... I don't think it's safe for you to go by yourself and it's late and... and..." he trailed off, nervously, desperate to get you to stay.

"I'm not drunk."

"You're not fooling me. You might be as concise as ever but you're not sober. Stay."

"Promise... promise you won't be upset with me?"

His heart dropped, heavy with guilt. And with love for you. "I promise."

Spencer silently led you back to the couch, gingerly holding your hand. He felt dazzled, speechless, desperate, frustrated, all at once. But your touch was starting to ground him back to reality, where you were real, having confessed your feelings for him, and he was a mess, not even being able to say anything back. Without much thinking, he said, "You should stay over tonight."

"Okay... I'll take the couch."

"As if I'd let you sleep on the couch."

"It's okay."

"Stop... stop acting like I sent you away."

You kept silent. You felt like he did. Through his touch, he hoped to get you to understand that his feelings were a mess, but they existed, and they were real, and they were yours. "That'd be alright with me, you know. Taking your couch. I think I would sleep better on your floor than I would ever in my bed. To... to say that anything is better if you're somehow involved."

His stomach made a flip-flop. Brain short-circuited again. You yawned, as if you had just made an annoying comment on the weather.

"Are you tired?" He managed to mutter.

"I am."

"Come on. Let's get you to bed."

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'? I'm not letting you on the couch. Come on."

"I can't go to your bed with outside clothes." You booped his nose.

He chuckled lowly, confused a little by your words. "Are you seriously worried about clothes?"

"You don't like germs. That's why I removed my shoes."

Okay, he thought, if I manage to put her to sleep without having a heart attack, I definitely don't need a cardiologist's appointment because it would mean I'm that strong.

"Y-you... remembered?" Damn it, Reid. Stop stuttering.

You sighed, tiredly, and rested your head on his shoulder, looking down at his hand holding yours. "I remember everything about you."

"You do?"

"Yes. Fortunately or unfortunately."

Spencer was too stunned to speak. Too stunned, too dumb, too afraid. Damn it. Damn it. He couldn't stop cursing internally. He forced himself to pull you towards his bedroom and even though he still sensed some uncertainty, he kept going. Reaching for a pair of sweatpants and a big t-shirt, he gave those to you. "You can change into these," as he left the room to make you more comfortable.

"Wait!" You almost shrieked.

"What happened?" He prompted, worriedly, reaching a hand out to touch your arm.

"I don't want you to go."

He bit back a sigh. "I'll be just outside."

"Just... stay here?"

"I can't—" he interrupted himself, just turning around so his back was to you instead. At that, he looked up at his ceiling and prayed to any deity to let him survive that night.

He could hear the sounds of your movements. The zipper being undone, the soft ruffling of the fabric as you tugged your shirt up your head... He was imagining your exposed skin, every perfect inch, how would you look without all those clothes that suited you so nicely, how would it be to touch you, to run his fingertips all over your heated skin, how would it be to kiss every freckle on your body, to—"Done."

Turning around, the sight was adorable, which made him somewhat guilty of his early impure thoughts. "I feel like Alice when she shrunk into a tiny human."

He couldn't fight the smile at your words. He led you to his bed, where you laid on your back on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. Spencer left you briefly to get you a glass of water and some painkillers to leave by the bedside table. You thanked him with a silent glance. As he turned to leave, once again, you said in a small voice, almost phrasing it like a question, too afraid of the answer. "Stay."

"I'll take the couch."

"You asked me to stay, thrice, I guess… And I did. I asked you once and you did. I still have a few requests left. I'm keeping tabs."

He relented, laying next to you and placing a pillow between you two. You breathed out a chuckle and he shook his head, clearly knowing where your mind had gone to. He placed his hand on top of the pillow, offering his comfort, and then you tentatively placed yours on top of his. He grinned to himself.

It was hard for him to wrap his head around what had happened that night. He knew his words — or lack of — could be read the wrong way and you possibly did, but he also hoped that his actions were speaking louder. Just as he was getting lost in thought again, he heard your voice once more.

"Spence?"

That damned nickname.

"Thanks for, um, being so respectful. Not that I don't think you'd be. But, um, as you've said, I'm drunk. And I told you I love you. And you're simply holding my hand." He gulped. He was keeping count, too, of how many times you said you loved him. Twice, so far, but he wanted so much more, endlessly. He wanted to lose track. "I guess... that makes me love you even more," you finished, crushing his heart between your palms, voice thick with sleep.

When he finally turned his head to look at you, your eyes were closed and you looked peaceful, drifting off to sleep. Then, when he was sure you were actually asleep, he stood up from his bed, grabbing a pillow and a spare blanket to lay on the floor.

"I'll gladly sleep on my floor if it means I get to have you around, too..."

—

Spencer didn't get any sleep.

He tossed and turned on the floor all night long, both because his carpet was not the most comfortable spot to sleep on, but also and mostly because there was no way in hell his mind stopped working. All through the night, Spencer fought the urge to shake you awake to ask if this was real, if you really loved him, if the words that slipped through your lips were in fact your feelings towards him. Despite his curiosity and eagerness, he let you sleep, figuring that he had already put you through too much already. As you slept, a movie played on his mind: your moments together, your confession of love, and overthinking the words we are not something. We are not a thing. He feared that you would wake up and realize how badly he had screwed up and decide not to want him anymore. Yes, he was that anxious.

You, on the other hand, even though confused by his lack of answer to your heart’s words, felt lighter than ever by speaking out your truth (the booze did help you a lot, though). Being as analytical as you were had its perks. One of them is that you never let yourself suffer too much for too long, too attached to reality to care much about the rest. So what if he rejected you? Life goes on — and that’s what you thought with every other loser that you caught yourself thinking too much of. Spencer, though… Who were you kidding? Spencer was Spencer. And that meant the world… It wasn’t so bad, if he actually rejected you… you’d only have to face him every day, until the rest of your lives, doomed to work together, cursed to think and rethink all over again small, fleeting moments such as an exchange of longing glances.

(You felt strangely calm due to your touch with reality. Maybe, just maybe, you were hoping for the best based on his care with and for you. But boy, were you ready to give him a piece of your mind.)

As your eyes fluttered open, you stretched your limbs on an unfamiliar bed with too much space. Upon your confusion, the memories came back with full force. You jolted, sitting down, searching for him — and, to be honest, not wanting to find him. The house was deadly silent, so you tried to trick yourself that you were sure he wasn't there. You dashed to the bathroom, taking a quick shower to get rid of the shame and the faint reek of alcohol. As you moved around his stuff, you couldn't help but think that you were so familiar with his things that it was almost like you belonged there. Sigh. It turns out that hiding emotions is easier than feeling them, especially their extremes.

As soon as you finished putting on your own clothes, you stopped dead in your tracks as you heard footsteps outside the bedroom. You froze, not knowing what to say. Or do.

Spencer entered the room, holding a tray meticulously organized with some food on it. “Morning. I, um, made you breakfast.” Because of course he would make you fucking breakfast. 

“Morning,” you replied awkwardly and hoarsely. Maybe you cried a little bit, who knows… “Thanks, you didn't have to.”

“I did.”

You take your time to get a good look at him. He had bags under his eyes that appeared to be tired. The sight made your heart drop. “I'm sorry…”

“Don't be.”

“But I was wrong.”

“So was I.”

“But—”

“Last night you said some things. Do you, uh, do you remember what you told me?” You nodded, unable to speak. “Do you remember what you told me?” He repeated, trying to get a verbal answer from you.

“Yes, Spencer. I remember.”

“Can you listen to what I have to say now?”

You nodded, weakly.

“I didn't say anything because… because everything had gone in the most opposite direction they could've gone.” He said, approaching you calmly. “I was up the entire night, hoping to find the right words to tell you that would make you believe me after I… was stupid. I… First, I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I know you said that we're nothing, that we weren't something, that we didn't have anything… but… but you're everything to me.” At that, your eyes finally met his. The intensity of your gaze made him shudder, but he kept going. “All the time we've spent together was nothing compared to what I want to have with you… and… and… God! Do you have any idea of the torture I was put through with you? Constantly thinking of what we could be, what we should be, too scared of your reaction or that—that—that Hotch decided to chop off my neck because he found out that I was crushing on his only daughter!”

At the mention of your dad, you burst out laughing. Seriously? That was such a cliché! “Hey! I'm serious!”

“I'm sorry…” You bit your bottom lip, fighting the urge to laugh at him some more. He was adorable.

“As I was saying,” he continued, trying to sound annoyed, but a hint of a smile threatened to break on his lips, and he didn't pull away when you approached him nor he did when you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest, looking up at him, adoringly. He looked down, meeting your gaze,  “I… I love you. I love you too. God, it just feels so good to say that!”

You giggled, again. God, he could never get used to that sound.

“And I’m sorry for being so mean to you when I was frustrated. I should have been more patient and my unthoughtful words hurt you.” You kept silent, remembering his words. “I—I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing if you’ll have me.” He added, intimidated by your gaze.

Silence. “Well, I accept your apologies. I was unfair to you as well. And you know where I stand when it comes to you. My feelings, I mean.”

“I do… But…”

“But?”

“I'd like to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you love me?”

“I don't know. Do I, really?” You joked.

He blushed furiously, ready to stutter himself out of that situation. “No, I mean… you—you said that—that you remembered what you said last night and… so… putting two and two…”

Another giggle interrupted him. You traced his jawline, leaning up to kiss his right cheek. “I really, really love you.” A kiss to his left cheek. He chuckled. “I love you.” A kiss on the tip of his nose, to which he snorted, totally lovestruck. “So much.” A lingering, tender kiss to his forehead. He closed his eyes, already anticipating the next spot you would press your soft lips to.

As you made your way to finally kiss his lips, you decided to tease him and let him wait for a bit longer. Spencer groaned in protest and you chuckled a bit, finally deciding that it was enough. Pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, making him sigh, you were thrilling on making him more and more eager. His grip on you tightened just slightly as he let out a shaky breath. You wanted to laugh, but instead, you poked fun at him. “Now you know what it's like to be teased.”

“I love you. Oh, Jesus… You're driving me insane. You're here… And you, you're you…”

You grinned, looking up at him, finally, finally pressing your lips to his. As you let out a small sigh, his breath hitched, both of you utterly drowning in relief and satisfaction. You pulled back a bit, grinning, going back to kissing him. Spencer's hands found your jawline, sliding back to tangle in your hair as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. Parting your lips slightly, you granted him full access to kiss you properly, and he moaned at the taste of you, gripping your hair rougher than before. You groaned softly, and he proudly heard and swallowed all your small sounds.

The ring of a phone broke the urgent atmosphere that was building between you two. Spencer ignored it, letting it ring until you pulled away, gasping for air. As you did, the noise stopped and you met his lost eyes, totally dumbstruck, and you laughed because you probably looked the same way. He gave you a charming, lopsided grin, too stupid, too hypnotized to say anything.

The phone began ringing again. “Son of a…!” he cursed, picking up the phone. “Hi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and unless this is an absolute emergency, I'm kinda busy—”

“Reid.” Aaron Hotchner's firm voice hit Spencer like a bucket of cold water. Widening his eyes, he gulped.

“Yes… sir?” You smiled at that. Of course you knew who he was talking to.

“We have a new case.” Hotch announced.

“Oh… okay… I, um, I—I'll be there in 20.”

Silence.

“Is everything okay, Reid?” Hotchner could read anyone, Spencer was now sure of that. Even through the goddamned phone.

“Wh—yeah, yeah… Everything's… totally f—fine.” He cursed under his breath as you gripped his vest, trying not to laugh.

“Do you know where she is?” Hotch inquired after another moment of quietness. 

“Who?” He squeaked. You chuckled silently.

“My daughter.” Of course it was his daughter.

Playing dumb is not a good look on you, you mouthed.

“N—no… I haven't… heard from her.”

“Sure.” Hotch said, skeptically. Spencer could feel the sweat on his forehead. After a moment, your father finished the call with an unreadable “We need to talk.”

Once the phone call ended, you burst out laughing at Spencer's reaction. “Not funny.” He protested, a frown on his face and a soft smile betraying his faux frustration.

“Come on, it is funny.”

He glared at you. “What do you think he wants to talk about?”

“I don't know. Men talk. I wouldn't want to get involved.” You said, grinning, pulling him by his vest.

He squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the feeling of having you so close. “Do you think he knows?”

“Of course he knows.”

“How are you so collected?”

“Because I'm not the one he's going to scare to death, apparently.”

“He said ‘we’ need to talk. Emphasizing ‘we’. If he knows you’re here, then it probably—” you cut him off with a kiss.

“Well, then… Are you ready to face your biggest fear? The frightening Aaron Hotchner?”

Glancing at you adoringly, he chuckled. “I’d face him and whoever, whatever, a thousand times, if it meant that I could get you in the end.”

—

A couple days after the case, you and Spencer meet again, in your apartment. Sitting down on the couch, you ask him, amusedly, “Do you think he noticed?” 

“Totally. I could barely look him in the eye for the first moments,” He said with a fond smile, hiding from you the fact that he had awkwardly and bravely spoken to your dad about your relationship. You laughed, placing your legs on the top of his legs. “I guess we should thank Lila, after all.” He joked, and you laughed out loud. 

Leaning him closer to him, grabbing his chin and looking deep into his eyes, you muttered, “Don’t ever say her name again, Spence.”

Your wish was always his command. It would always be.

[h-sleepingirl]

You Are A Wizard, So Pour Over The Tomes

Hypnosis is magic. It is not just “the closest we can get to magic.” Trance practices in all kinds of forms have served as the basis for mysticism across cultures and human history -- thousands of years. It is not new. It is not western. It did not start with Franz Mesmer or James Braid or Milton Erickson or Wiseguy.

Modern hypnosis stems from a rich human history of fascination and spiritual veneration of the mind’s power. We are practitioners of a comparably new discipline where we can literally change the way that other people experience the world. Their innermost selves are as leverage to us -- putty to us, when we know what we are doing. We can transform others freely. We can give pleasure or pain. We can facilitate experiences that seem to defy reality.

People talk a big game about respecting that power. What they usually mean by that is respecting EACH OTHER. That’s crucial, obviously -- not manipulating, not harming, being a good person.

But what about respecting the discipline itself?

It’s tempting to see what we do as disconnected from the “historical” and “outdated” methods of hypnosis. But we are a part of that history. We are likely hilariously wrong about a lot of things related to trance, hypnosis, the human mind -- what will hypnosis and psychology look like in 100 years? And even as we innovate, we are always building on the techniques and ideas that came before us -- in ways we are often not even aware of. We reinvent; we use ideas from the past unknowingly.

We have a right -- and a responsibility -- to OWN our magic. I am not here to gatekeep and say that this magic is not yours. It IS yours; it’s unequivocally yours. But as a whole we could do more to respect it.

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” And hypnosis is not even a technology that we UNDERSTAND. The only real reason we DON’T see ourselves as wizards is because there is a huge motivation to legitimize hypnosis as a scientific discipline -- and non-rationalist perspectives are looked down upon in our culture. I’m not anti-science (maybe a little -- tongue in cheek) but I do think that labeling hypnosis as “just psychology” is dishonest about how much we actually objectively know about it -- and does a disservice to the phenomenon itself.

I’m not saying hypnosis is literally metaphysical. But I am saying we practice something very powerful without knowing its nature. There are secrets we have tried to suss out about this magic through history that we have written down -- past and present. We actually have tomes of knowledge, records of past experiments and modern inventors.

In the last couple of years, I’ve started teaching/facilitating “text studies” -- classes where we sit down with an excerpt from a hypnosis book and parse through it as a collaborative group. I desperately want to show people that there is value in just critically reading the resources available to us. The clinical texts -- especially older ones -- are hard to read, like they are almost in a different language. But it is amazing the insights we have come to by tackling them together.

These old texts are not pure truths -- there is a lot we’ve improved on over time. But we can learn a lot by learning what hypnosis was like historically. The entire discipline of hypnosis is extremely susceptible to change -- it is defined SO MUCH by how we view it culturally. I just recently was amazed at re-reading some Erickson where he talks about making his subjects daydream autonomously -- as a primary mode and result of inducing hypnosis. Contrast that with today, where if someone’s mind wanders for even a moment, they feel like they’ve failed. There’s something really important here -- a technique from 50 years ago that tells us something we’ve lost in modern practice.

And there are countless examples of this, of people losing and reinventing methods over and over. As I’ve watched our kinky niche grow over just the past 13 years, I’ve watched ideas phase in, out, and in again -- there is both growth and regression of our collective body of knowledge. That’s the nature of things, especially when we operate partially disconnected from the resources that are available to us.

We CAN be connected to the rich human history of trying to unravel the secrets about our minds, and about this thing that gives us enormous transformative powers -- powers that we take for granted.

You are a wizard -- so pour over the tomes.

Read a book. Read an article. Set aside some time and view yourself with the respect of being someone who can study and suss out a magical text. Take notes, look up words and concepts you don’t know. Or just absorb what you can on a first pass and go back later. Read a chapter or just master a single page. Romanticize the aesthetic of sitting with the scent of paper, or as the technomancer with words appearing on a screen.

Read. Own this art. And bring that respect of this art to the people you share it with. I promise you can do things with hypnosis that you have never thought possible.

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

This is a little motivational piece (for you and me!) as I gear up to teach "Analyzing Erickson" at Charmed. It's something I feel really passionately about, and I wanted to share it.

Permanently linked/free on Patreon.

[thomamaru]

Scripted Hearts: The Star, His Love, and His Spotlight...

Synopsis: Rin loves it when you wear his jersey. He may not show it, but deep inside, it shows that you are only a fan of him and nobody else's. The one day you wear it outside, you encounter his brother.

Tags: Rin Itoshi x gn!reader, jealous and protective! Rin itoshi, Sae is a tease, fluff

You’re on your way to meet Rin after his late practice, lazily wearing one of his jerseys since he left it at your place after a shoot. It feels soft and oversized, the number 10 sprawled across your back. As you pass by a café, someone calls out.

“Nice jersey.”

You turn, heart skipping as you recognize Sae Itoshi. Rin’s older brother. The famous Sae Itoshi—international soccer superstar and household name. You’d seen his aloof expression a million times in interviews, but now he’s standing a few feet from you, a brow raised.

“Thanks?” you stammer, unsure of what else to say.

“I didn’t know Rin lent you that.” His voice is cool but mildly amused. “Must mean you’re important to him.”

You chuckle nervously, “Uh, something like that. Are you visiting?”

Sae steps closer, a faint smirk gracing his face. “Something like that. Mind if I join you for a moment?”

As Sae chats with you, you find yourself less overwhelmed and more fascinated. He’s charming and charismatic, making light jokes about Rin’s dramatic nature, though there’s a sharpness in his tone whenever he mentions his younger brother.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rin walking up the street. His hoodie’s pulled low, hands tucked into his pockets, his posture already rigid when he notices Sae speaking with you.

Sae follows your gaze, and a glimmer of mischief lights up his eyes. Before you can figure out what he’s planning, Sae leans in.

“Stand still,” he says casually, pulling out his phone.

“What—?”

Click.

The sudden flash blinds you, and before you can react, Sae pulls back with a smug grin. Turning to Rin, who’s now glaring at the scene from just a few feet away, Sae holds up the phone as if to say, See this?

“Later,” Sae says coolly, walking past you to casually bump shoulders with Rin. His exit is punctuated with a stuck-out tongue that only Rin can see.

You turn to Rin, still stunned. “That was...weird.”

Rin doesn’t answer. His teal eyes are locked on the spot Sae disappeared, his jaw visibly clenched. Without a word, he turns and starts walking ahead of you.

---

From that point on, Rin becomes...strange.

He starts hovering closer, always making sure his arm rests around your shoulders or that he’s the one holding your hand—even in situations where it isn’t necessary.

He starts nitpicking things. “Why were you talking to him for so long?” “You looked too comfortable.” “Don’t trust anything he says.”

During a red-carpet event, he leans in closer than usual when photographers ask for a couple shot, his lips brushing your temple with a pointed, "Mine," under his breath.

At first, you think he’s just being protective. But after the third time you catch him scrolling through his phone (most likely checking Sae’s social media), you finally confront him.

It’s late at night, and Rin is at your place, brooding on your couch while you try to get some work done. When he sighs for the fifth time in ten minutes, you slam your laptop shut.

“Okay, spill.”

Rin flinches but doesn’t look at you. “What?”

“You’ve been acting weird ever since we bumped into Sae. Don’t lie.”

His lips tighten into a thin line as his fingers tap against his knee—a rare show of nervousness. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s obviously not ‘nothing.’ Rin, if something’s bothering you, just—"

“I didn’t like it.”

You blink, startled by his bluntness. “…Didn’t like what?”

“The jersey,” he says softly, staring at his hands. “You wearing my number. His number. Him acting like you…” Rin takes a deep breath, the words almost growled: “...like you’re someone he can mess with.”

“Oh.” You sit back, realization dawning on you. “You’re jealous.”

His head snaps up, his teal eyes wide. “I’m not—”

“You’re definitely jealous!” you say, stifling a laugh.

“I’m not!” Rin protests, his voice rising slightly before softening. “It’s just… I don’t like the way he looks at you. Like he’s better than me. Like he can take you—”

“Rin.”

Your voice makes him pause, and when you place a hand on his cheek, his rigid expression crumbles just slightly.

“I’m with you because I want you. Not Sae, not anyone else. Just you.

He swallows hard, leaning into your touch. “You mean that?”

“Of course, I mean it.” You smile softly. “Though, for the record, I like when you get a little possessive. It’s cute.”

Rin groans, burying his face in your neck as you laugh.

---

The next day, Rin posts a picture of the two of you in his jersey on his private account—a candid shot of you laughing on his couch while he watches you with a rare, genuine smile.

Minutes later, your phone buzzes with a notification.

Sae Itoshi: Guess he made his move, huh? Cute.

You laugh, showing Rin the message. He narrows his eyes, snatching your phone and typing a single reply.

Y/N : Stay away.

When you glance at him, his glare softens into a small smirk. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, pulling him closer. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Only because of you,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours.

And for once, you’re okay with that.

(*￣∇￣)ノ

[purplereina11]

New Signing, New Beginning Part 2!

Mia Larsen was Barcelonas new summer signing

Alexia Putellas is a club legend who just can't seem to talk to her

Mia had a few good days in training, and it showed. Her confidence was up, she was walking out for today’s training with Keira, seemed to be a theme Alexia just ahead yet again. As ever near by but never felt the awkwardness she was slowly creating.

Alexia was having an internal conversation with her self hyping her up to make such a simple comment to Mia. She stopped suddenly turning and seeing that Mia looked a bit taken a back, with her sudden spin. Smooth she said to herself, before speaking “Alba couldn’t get that jacket”

“Oh?” Mia said softly Alexia falling in line with her, “How come?” Mia asked after a few beats of silence

“Couldn’t find in her size”

“Shame” Mia looked to Alexia and they held eye contact, when Alexia didn’t speak, Mia broke the silence, “Well..” she broke the eye contact, “Um i seem to be in there a lot lately so i’ll keep an eye out, what size is she?”

“She’s looking for small”

“Ok” Mia nodded pierced her lips together and broke out into a jog to get to training.

+

Mia was in Zara, shocker, after training she was with Julia and her little brother Diego who only agreed to come, as he was told they were going out for dinner after the shops. He didn’t take into account how long two women can stand debating over a top however.

Mia was looking at tank tops when Julia appeared with the pink jacket, “Hey, you know how i love your jacket, they have one small left-“

“Please don’t tell me you’re buying that” Mia gave Julia a dumbfounded expression, “Just borrow mine!”

“Oh” Julia shrugged, “I’ll go put it back”

Mia pointed, “Just leave it there” Mia carried on looking through for her size

“You buy a lot of clothes”

“Surprisingly Julia, living in England i didn’t have many warm weather clothes, i need practically a whole new wardrobe”

Julia sighed, “I best find Diego before he gets himself into trouble”

“Are you buying anything? I’m going to go pay”

“No i’ll just get him and meet you outside”

Mia smiled, “Ok, find out where he wants to eat i can’t be bothered for a 45 minute argument wandering around the same places”

Despite the conversation they still ended up having the same 45 minute argument before settling on the same place they always go.

“So how’s it going? The captain like you yet”

Mia chewing her food shook her head, “I don’t care if she doesn’t like me, you can’t put 22 women together and expect them all to get on, i think as long as we can communicate effectively about football then that’s fine”

“Your tune has changed”

“I’ve come to terms with it, when i don’t get any minutes in the games then come back to me, then i’ll be bothered again”

“She can do that?”

“She’s Alexia Putellas if anyone can she can” Mia shrugged, “I have the same few girls who i speak to, i’m good with that”

Julia looked at her, “Do you hate me that i followed her on Insta today”

Mia laughed softly, “No”

“She’s hot” Mia rose her eyes, “What? I have eyes”

“I’m going to be sick” Diego spoke

“Shut up and eat your paella” Julia said to her younger brother shoving the dish closer to him

Mia pulled a face at Diego about his bossy sister that he laughed at, “When you’re older you’ll understand why she’s grumpy” Mia nodded

“She’s horny and no man will look at her that’s why suddenly she’s decided she likes women”

Mia burst out laughing as Julia was embarrassed and amused all in the same breath by her 10 year old brother. “Diego! How do you even know that word?”

“I’m 10 Julia, i’m not a kid anymore”

Mia was laughing softly, “You’ll always be our baby”

“Gross”

Mia stood up leaning over the table to kiss his face, “You’re so cute”

“You’re pretty, and a nice person, your captain will see that soon”

Mia smiled, “You going to come some of the games?”

Diego nodded, “I’ll get mami to buy me a shirt with your name on and everything”

“I might even show up” Julia smiled never being a fan of football, all the shouting was unnecessary! She didn’t understand how people got so invested in people kicking a ball.

Mia moved her eyes to Julia, “You’re just coming to eye up the players”

“No”

“Yes�� Diego agreed with Julia, “You don’t even know the off side rule, that’s like going to church when you don’t believe”

Mia chuckled, “He’s got you there”

+

Mia arrived at training she smiled at the little boy rushing around reception, he took one look at her and went all shy, “Mia” She looked to the receptionist, “No ones answering the locker room phone, can you tell Irene her wife and son are here for her”

“Sure”

“¿cómo te llamas?” Mia looked to the little boy holding his arms over his chest shy but was seemingly so curious of the new face at his mamis work he could over come it.

Mia crouched extending her hand, “Mia, ¿cómo te llamas?”

“Matteo” he shook her hand animately moving it up and down greatly.

Mia told him it was very nice to meet him and that she’d go get his mummy, but Matteo started a conversation. He told her how he was going to the zoo with his school and all the animals he was excited to see. And that he was even getting a packed lunch.

Mia rose to her feet as Irene’s wife introduced herself, “He’s never this chatty, he’s meant to be going today but Irene forgot to sign his permission slip, we both have to sign it”

Matteo took hold of two of Mias fingers took the slip from his mum and told her to wait there he’ll go with Mia then come back he was a big boy and could do it.

Mia laughed softly as he lead the way not giving her much of a say on the matter, “This way” she said to him gently when he turned the wrong way.

“Mami” Matteo spoke pointing ahead of him, “This way?”

“Yeah she’s this way” Mia spoke, “What other animals do you want to see?”

“T-rex”

“T-rex” Mia exclaimed, “I don’t think they’ll be in the zoo” she said with a smile, she got the dressing room, she looked around and Irene wasn’t there. She caught Marta’s eye, “Do you know where Irene is?”

“Yeah they’ve um, they’ve just gone into meeting room 1 if you’re quick you might catch them before they start” Marta got a shy little wave from Matteo when she waved at him, she’d watch this little shy boy grow up to see him happily with Mia was a surprise to her. He normally clung to Irene, Alexia or Maria would get a cuddle if they were lucky on a good day.

“Come on handsome” Mia spoke luckily the meeting room was only mere metres away his little legs not moving him with any pace. She didn’t want to interrupt them if they’d already started.

Mateo turned first pulling on Mias fingers, “Come on beautiful”

Mia laughed with Marta, “Oh wonder where you got all this charm from ay?”

Mia got Matteo to the door and knocked, she heard a come in and when she opened the door, she was met with the coaches and the senior players of the team all turned to look at her and she felt like a bit of a deer in highlights in that moment. Pere smiled, “Hola Mia what can we do for you?”

“Well” she smiled, “I have a little boy out here that just needs a moment of his mamis time if that’s ok”

Matteo stood pressed against Mias leg until he spotted Irene “Mami” Matteo waved the slip at Irene rushing around the table to her

“You a nanny now?” Maria smiled turning more in her chair to look at Mia who smiled.

“Side hustle” Mia nodded leaning on the door frame, “Lucia said if i do a good job i get some of his rice crackers” Maria laughed as for some reason Alexia didn’t want to show her amusement. It showed for a second before she repressed it again. “You think i’m joking” she stood up from the frame.

“You going with Mia back to Mami?” Irene kissed Matteos cheek placing him back down on the ground.

Matteo came around the table, “Come on then handsome” she smiled putting her hand towards him.

Mia smiled down at him, “I coming beautiful” Matteo reached up, “Mia hand, no reach”

“Oh sorry” Mia lowered her hand, “Let’s leave them to there meeting and get you back to Mami so you can go the zoo”

“Mia i want to see monkeys to”

“Oh of course, Monkeys are the best animal” Mia spoke as she shut the door and off they went.

+

Irene found Mia on the training field, “I just wanted to thank you for before” Mia furrowed her brows, “You didn’t have to bring him through like that, it was kind of you”

Mia smiled, “It was no bother” Alexia bent over near them fixing her socks, “Honestly can he come more often the amount of compliments he gave me” Mia laughed softly

“Lucia text when she dropped him off at school, apparently he didn’t shut up about his new friend Mia so I think you won’t have much choice about that”

Mia rose her arms as Keira approached, “Guess what” she said to Keira

“What?” Keira asked giving her a funny look wondering where this was going

“I’ve made my first new friend in Barca” Mia smiled proudly

“Sorry what about me?” Keira asked

“I knew you pre Barca”

“Who’s your friend?”

“Matteo” Mia pointed to Irene who was smiling, Mia seemed always so collected, but when she dropped that ever so slightly, which seemed to only ever be around Keira, she had a little silly side.

“He avoids me like the plague”

“Maybe its that permanent scowl you always have.. honestly its a wonder Laura even entertained you”

Keira dropped her mouth staring at Mias cheeky grin laughing in disbelief, “Rude!”

“Oh calm down grandma”

Keira pointed at her, “Not from you, I’m not accepting it from you of all people, what did you do last night Mia?”

“I went out for dinner with my cousins”

“Then”

“My Grandma taught me to knit” she muttered

“Exactly” Keira gave her a look, “And you can’t question Lauras taste when you dated Katie McCabe for three months”

Irene scrunched her face trying to place the name, “Is that.. the angry little Irish woman?”

“Please don’t judge me.. it was a lapse in judgment”

Keira began walking away backwards to the other side of the huddle, “She’s judging you” she smiled pointing at Irene, who was indeed judging.

Mia sighed placing her hands on her hips, “You don’t know me very well, but I promise I have taste”

Irene laughed as Alexia smiled. Irene had noticed how Alexia hadn’t taken her eyes of Mia but had yet to say a word and Alexia always had something to say usually. “I feel I need to know who your other exes are now, because so far with what I know, I can’t say I believe you”

“Tell them about the hummer Mia” Keira smiled calling across the huddle.

Alexia lowered her head chuckling at the look Mia was giving Keira, if looks could kill as they say, Pere smiled, “What’s this about a hummer?”

Mia put one foot to the side and lowered her head as she put her hands behind her back, she rose her head, “It’s not that interesting of a story if i’m honest..” she smiled

Pere laughed sensing her embarrassment and started the training session with a quick run down of what they were doing and what he needed from her.

The girls were told to separate over the pitch and kick the ball back and to each other, Mia scrunched her face as Keira came towards her motioning they were pairing, Alexia and Mia seemed to be in perfect sync as they kicked the ball and received it. Mia noticed every one else seemed to be having conversations with those around them. Bar her and Alexia. So she struck up a conversation about something surely Alexia would talk about, “That jacket your sister wants”

Alexia looked to her, “She still can’t find it, she’s got everyone looking for it” Mia smiled as she controlled a tricky ball from Keira, “Nice, good control” she felt her cheeks warm at the compliment from the multi award winning midfielder.

Mia sent the ball back, “I went to Zara yesterday after training”

“Do you have second job there?”

Mia laughed as Alexia chuckled at herself, “No” Alexia looked pleased with herself she made her laugh like Mia was the one who had a wall that needed breaking down, “My cousin, she came over with the jacket in a small, last one left” Alexia looked to her after sending her ball back over to Irene who seemed to be paying a lot of attention, “I convinced her to not buy it,” Mia jogged back to control the next ball from Keira and sent it back with one touch.

“Your control” Alexia waved her hand, “Crazy”

“I wanted to be a defender” Mia told Alexia a story she never really shared with people before, it was that interesting but she found herself telling her anyway as a way to make small talk, “But my coach at the time, said with my touch, I had to be a striker and in the box”

“Your coach right” Alexia nodded, “We’re excited to have you here”

Mia pierced her lips together, “Thank you.. anyway, I bought the jacket, I have it with me so you can give it to your sister”

“Gracias, she be very happy, I give you the money” Alexia hid her surprise that Mia did that for her sister, Mia did a touch that made Alexia turn away, “You’re just showing off now” Mia laughed just as the whistle blew.

+

Mia was in the canteen after training having something to eat alone, by choice, when Alexia approached, Mia rose her head. “Can I join?” Mia nodded Alexia sitting opposite her silently, Mia was having an out of body experience she was sat opposite the Alexia Putellas putting a straw into a juice box and sipping it like a child. She looked cute in her soft tracksuit and her hair down wavy. Made her somewhat hardness towards Mia soften. Mia lowered her eyes back to her sudoko when Alexia’s eyes darted to hers and she thought she got away with Alexia not catching her but she did. “Suduko no?”

“Si” Mia spoke filling another number in

“To complicada for me, I can’t do them”

Mia smiled gently raising her eyes, “They relax me”

Alexia rose her eyes, and the soft smiley Alexia Mia had watched her be with everyone else was finally sat before her looking at her with those sparkly eyes with the glint in them, that part was new. “Relaxing, no? Not possible” she laughed gently shaking her head

Alexia felt her stomach flip when Mia smiled at her as she rose her eyes looking at her, “Si possible” she nodded with a little laugh

Mia and Alexia didn’t stop smiling the entire time they spoke, they made each other laugh. Mia found it endearing the biggest name in women’s football was a tad awkward, held herself gently. She was softly spoken towards her like if she spoke to loud it would spook her. Because she had so much aura about her on the pitch, that’s where she was the Alexia Putellas. Confident. Assured. Knew herself. Maybe here she was being just Alexia. Because she seemed none of those things. She seemed, human.

A person despite previous opinions formed, was growing on Mia. Showing a different side.

+

Mia came out reception after the team meeting, Alba spotted her before Alexia did, “Ay” she called Mia smiled seeing Alba with the jacket on modelling it for her with a smile on her face.

Alexia turned to see Mia coming down the steps clearly amused by Alba, “Suits you”

“Gracias” Alba was a hugger. Mia not so much she just let the hug happen. Can’t say no to a Putellas after all. Practically royals of the game.

Mia smiled, “You’re welcome” Mia kept walking as Alexia opened the car door, to Mia that was a signal she didn’t want her sticking around for a chat

“Wait, i owe you money for it” Alba spoke

“Alexia covered it, you owe her not me” Mia called looking over her shoulder

“Ay free jacket” Alba grinned to herself with a laugh

Mia laughed when Alexia frowned at Alba back handing her sister in the arm, she got into her Granddads car as they were seeming to bicker.

+

Mia looked as she got a notification, then an email. Then another notification.

Alexia Putellas has started following you

Alexia Putellas has liked your post

Mia felt, weirdly vulnerable knowing Alexia was looking at her instagram and actively scrolling as the post she liked about her announcing her move to Barcelona was several posts down.

She wondered if she would ever get to the point she would trigger an email when she followed someone because she was big time like Alexia.

+

Alexia locked her phone and placed it down as she was at dinner with Irene. “So i have a question” Irene spoke looking to Alexia, “What’s your deal with Mia?”

Alexia furrowed her brows, “What do you mean?”

“Ale, you seemed to always be around her but never make the effort to talk to her, then three four weeks go by and suddenly you’re seeking her out to have lunch with her and apparently stalking her Instagram” she motioned to the phone now sat down

Alexia sipped her wine, “I don’t know how to be around her”

Irene furrowed her brows but in bounded Maria babbling about it was Ingrid’s fault she’s late and she was hogging the bathroom. Oblivious Maria greeted them both taking her seat and she froze when she saw the look Irene was giving Alexia.

“You don’t know how to be around her?”

“I can’t explain it” Alexia carried on, she was sure Maria would catch on soon enough she didn’t feel she needed to explain.

“Try” Irene prodded

“She doesn’t seem bothered by me, every other person they speak to me whether i want them to or not. They cling and they fuss and they want constant validation from me but her… she doesn’t do that. It’s like she couldn’t care less”

It was like someone switched a light on in Irene’s brain, she didn’t dislike Mia, “You like her”

“Who?!” Maria exclaimed, “Please catch me up, i could flick Ingrid for making me late and missing the vital information”

“Calm down” Irene chuckled, “It’s Mia”

Maria looked to Alexia, “You like Larsen? Gosh i sounded 12 then”

Alexia smiled looking down at the menu, “I find her intriguing we’ll put it that way” Irene and Maria shared a look

“Yet you won’t speak to her. Hardly.” She wasn’t even aware of Alexia’s Instagram stalking. Mapi flipped her menu not making eye contact with Alexia, the pair learned she’s more like to open up if you don’t pressure her or stare at her expectantly.

“I talk to her”

Irene smiled, “If we had a team dinner and we sat her next to you, you would happily sit in silence next to her all night”

“I don’t know what to say to her”

“Talk to her about clothes or skin care, her and Ingrid are always going on about that, honestly who knew you needed so many different face creams.” Maria rolled her eyes, “She was meeting Mia to go face cream shopping like who does that?“

Alexia laughed softly before they ordered their meals conversation halting as the waitress arrived, “Would you date Mia?” Irene asked, Alexia furrowed her brows at that question, “It was just a question” Irene held her hands up as she smiled, “You said yourself, she doesn’t seem bothered by you” Irene shrugged, “Maybe she isn’t impressed by La Reina”

“Then what makes you think she’ll want to date me?”

“That’s my point, she may date you.. for you.”

“I’m not that interesting” Alexia spoke sipping her wine, she looked as Maria’s phone pinged. “That Ingrid?”

Mapi opened the text, “She didn’t mention Mia if that’s what you’re digging for”

“I wasn’t, can we drop it now?”

Maria leant forward and whispered, “She is your type” she sat back up putting her hands up, “Had to be put out there”

“Did it?” Alexia smirked, even she found that funny

The girls had a lovely meal they were having a drink after there meal, Maria checked her phone, it was odd Ingrid hadn’t text she was home, she was only going out for an hour or so she told Maria.

She checked Instagram, she smiled seeing why she hadn’t gone home yet

Mia and Ingrid were talking about her first couple of weeks in Barcelona, how she was finding it. “Daunting coming into a team like this isn’t it, I remember by first couple of weeks, I’d just go home and sleep it was so overwhelming, new country new language new culture, trying to learn the Barca way” Ingrid smiled sipping her wine.

Mia looked up from her wine, “Did you ever get imposter syndrome, like you felt like you didn’t actually belong here?” Ingrid nodded with a soft smile, “I feel like they’re going to turn around any minute and tell me to get lost”

“I’m not just bullshitting you with this, and I shouldn’t be telling you this because Maria shouldn’t of told me.. but in there captains meeting, she said how Aitana and Alexia were singing your praises”

“Alexia surprises me”

Ingrid tilted her head, “Why?”

Mia seemed to hold her breathe as she thought, “I’m not asking for a fan fair or anything from her, but I just seem to get tips from her, and I know its how I’m perceiving it and she probably doesn’t mean to come across like it but I’m taking it as your shit, sort your shit out”

Ingrid smiled shaking her head, “I can hand on heart say, Alexia is a perfectionist and very very self critical, but she’d never push that on someone else, she just wants people to come into things trying there best and wants the best out of them.. she hates loosing, honestly, she was backing you hard in that meeting.”

Mia smiled, “I appreciate that but I will still think she doesn’t want me here”

“Mia” Ingrid tilted her head

A finger came out the side of Mia’s glass pointing at the door opened behind Ingrid, “You will learn very quickly I’m quite self critical to” Mia smirked seeing the face come through the door first, “You have a visitor” she sipped her wine as Irene and Alexia came inside behind Mapi who instantly reached over the table to squeeze Mias hand before hugging Ingrid and kissing her cheek.

“What are you doing here?”

“We were down the road having dinner, saw you were here, came to see how the shopping went?”

Mia leant on the table smiling, “You’ll be pleased to know you’ve got less room in the bathroom” Maria pulled a face at the bags under the table.

“How many face creams do you need?” Maria exclaimed, she pointed at Mia, “You are a bad influence”

Mia smiled shrugged and sipped her wine again, her eyes went to Alexia who was watching her, before Irene caught Mia’s attention, “Matteo said beautiful Mia would love the zoo, they had her favourite animal monkeys”

Mia melted, “He’s just adorable. Why can’t all men be more like him?”

Maria snapped her head so fast she went dizzy, “You’re straight!” She exclaimed

Mia sat up arms open slightly as Irene settle beside her Ingrid moving up one to let Alexia on the bench that side opposite Mia, “Wow.. when Keira told me you have to be gay and have tattoos to play football here I thought she was joking”

Maria laughed reaching to touch her arm, “Love is Love”

Mia giggled, “We’ll have to get you a flag with that on”

“I love flags”

“I’m not doubting you do” Mia smiled

“I’m going to go the bar, what do you want, Ale?” Maria asked Alexia who just pointed at Mia glass,

“Wines fine for me”

“Same again?” Ingrid smiled, Mia nodded, “We should of just bought the bottle” Mia smiled

“I’ll come with you, I fancy something different” Irene stood up with Maria as Ingrid turned on the bench to get out.

“Shall I just get the bottle?” Ingrid asked, “Would you drink that Ale?”

“What is it?” She asked then smiled when Ingrid pulled a face telling her she didn’t know

Mia held her glass to Alexia, “Try it”

Alexia looked to her it took a second but she took the glass and took a sip nodding her approval, “I’ll get a bottle then” she smiled and off she went to find the girls at the bar who shut up as soon as she got there, “What are you two up to?”

“Been to Zara today?” Alexia joked hands resting in her lap, looking at Mia who smiled ever so slightly looking at her, “You did didn’t you”

“Only because Ingrid wanted to go”

“Oh sure” Alexia shook her head, “Do you own any other clothes that aren’t from Zara?”

Mia scratched her face, “Got a bit of Barca stuff”

Alexia titled her head ever so slightly, “Please tell me you’re joking”

“I could tell you I was joking, but that would be a lie”

Alexia was laughing gently, “I’ll have to get myself to one and see what all the fuss is about, Alba is just the same”

“I’ll probably see you there” Mia joked Alexia laughed nodding knowing she probably would. And secretly hoping she did. “Bet you’re more of Passeig De Gràcia kind of girl huh?” Mia teased lifting her wine to her lips, Mia had walked down the street lined with all the designer shops on each side but hadn’t dared going into any of the shops

“You’re not funny” Alexia spoke with a smile that indeed told Mia and the returning Barca girls, she was in fact funny

Mia hummed tilting her head briefly, “If you say so” she sipped her wine, placing the glass back down.

Ingrid poured Alexia a glass, “Gracias” before she lifted her own glass

“Salud” They all clinked their glasses saying it several times to each other.

Mia looked at her phone as a text popped up, she read it on the front screen before opening it to read the rest, “Angry little Irish women?” Irene asked

“Honestly” Mia locked her phone, “You would think she’d get the message”

“When did you break up?” Ingrid asked softly

Mia seemed to have to think about it which gave them a clue of the time frame, “.. April”

“And she still texts?”

“And calls, and asks to FaceTime, a few times a day to, it had gone a bit quiet but now they’re coming to Barcelona for that friendly, she’s ramped up again wanting to meet up”

“Will you.. meet up with her?” Alexia asked sipping her wine, she was looking over Mia’s face, she was hard read

“No” Mia shook her head, “She had her chance, you don’t get to screw me over more than once”

The girls finished the bottle between them as they chatted and laughed, Alexia didn’t have much to contribute but she was at least laughing when Mia cracked a joke. Mia appreciative because sometimes she was the only one to. She felt maybe, the ice had been broken. It wouldn’t be as awkward, she knew there may always be that slight awkwardness due to the awkward soul that was Alexia in some situations, but slowly she was believing what Ingrid had told her earlier.

Mia got to the locker room the following morning, Alexia looked at the paper Mia picked up then to Mias face to see her reaction, “Irene said Mateo drew it for you” Mia smiled looking to where Irene sat and held the picture to her

“He was insistent that I gave it to you soon as I saw you”

Mia dropped her bag between her legs where she stood and the girls could see even though she never voiced it, she was clearly touched, she took some blu tack from a near by strategy board and stuck it in her cubby, before getting on with her morning to be ready for training. Afterwards she was shocked she had been picked to do media, with the queen herself Alexia Putellas.

Alexia sent a soft smile over her shoulder, “Don’t look so nervous, it’s fine” Never did Mia think she’d be thankful to have Alexia there for her but her calmness and composure as she walked in helped calm her. Alexia pulled the chair out for Mi

 before taking her own

“Gracias” Mia muttered sitting down, much to her surprise the first question was posed to her

“Mia, Welcome to Barcelona, you’ll have to excuse my English”

“La podemos hacer en español si lo prefieres.” Mia said with a shrug of a shoulder as she leant on the table telling the interviewer he could do it in Spanish if he preferred

Alexia as she pulled her chair in smirked looking to Mia, “Español? Si?” The interviewer tried to confirm

Mia nodded, “Si”

Alexia watched Mia the entire time she did her little bit in the media room, she fiddled with her hoop earrings as the next question was posed yet again to Mia, “What’s it been like these past few weeks in pre-season with some of the best players in the world, one of whom is sitting beside you”

Mia smiled as did Alexia, “Be nice” she spoke in a mock warning tone

“It’s a real honour” Mia started in a mock rehearsed voice before smiling, “No but seriously it has been an honour, like you say I’m sharing the grass with the best players in the world and I’ve just been trying to do my best and really take on board and soak up all the comments and advice” Mia motioned to Alexia briefly, “The team and players have been giving me, to be become a better player so I can contribute in my time here, its been an adjustment thats for sure like it would be to go into any new team but one with the stature and history of Barcelona brings with its own set of nerves, so just keeping my head down and focusing on pre-season to get a prepared for the season ahead as much as I can”

“Alexia, from your point of view how’s Mia been doing”

Alexia smiled as Mia mimicked her, “Be nice”

She laughed before speaking, “Shall I do mine in English?” Mia smiled nodding

“If you want to”

“Mia” Mia lowered her head briefly, it caught her off guard how much she liked the way Alexia said her name, she’d never heard her say her name before, “For sure, if you” Alexia paused briefly, “Pass her, it will be assist because 100% would be a goal, I tell her this in training, her touch crazy, how she control ball, incredible, I like a lot how she moves without ball also so I think she do well at Barca. We’re very happy she on our team”

Mia smiled timidly looking to Alexia looked to her, “Cheers, I’ll pay you later”

“100 euro no?” Alexia asked trying to surprise her smile playing along

Mia nodded as the room laughed, “Si”

Mia went on her daily Zara peruse after training feeling a lot better about how her captain felt about her, although as she was looking around she couldn’t help but giggle at the face she knew Alexia could give her if she knew she was here yet again.

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

Can not believe the response the last part got! Thank you so much!

No idea how many parts this will be but let me know if you want more! Also do we like the fake socials

[starlighttsv]

can you write a fix of paige as a mom to a teen girl who she catches trying to sneak out

Sneaking out - Pazzi’s daughter

Sum: paige catches Saylor sneaking out

Warnings: none for now I don’t think

Notes: I hope I did this justice 🤞 I know some people have said they’re excited for this fic so I’m honestly hoping you guys all like this

Wc: 1k

Pair: paige x daughter!oc (Saylor)

Saylors Masterlist

“Just climb out your window, It’s not that hard dude.” Saylor’s friend Jasmine says over the phone. “My moms could catch me Jas, then I’ll be grounded. Then what?”

“You’re acting like your moms even pay attention to you bro, they’re way to famous and busy to pay attention to what you of all people are doing. Sneak out through your window or we are leaving without you. We are not gonna get caught because your a scaredy cat” Jasmine says not leaving room for argument and hanging up the phone

Saylor sighs bringing her phone down from her ear and looking at the picture of her moms and her on Christmas morning a few years back that is taped to her vanity mirror. Back in a time where Saylor wasn’t constantly being looked down on by her friends, and was actually happy. Back in a time where she wasn’t a complete disappointment to her moms, and they didn’t have to constantly ground her.

Saylor takes a deep breath and then gets up from her bed and walking to her closet to start getting ready. After Saylor got dressed and did her hair and makeup, she texted her friend group chat that she was ready to be picked up - getting left on read

With them not responding and giving her an estimated time of when they’ll be here, she sat by her window waiting.

When they finally do get to the Bueckers household after around 35 minutes when it’s a 14 minute drive, Saylor opens her window and climbs out carefully turning around to close her window a little bit

“Hey bug, do you wanna watch a movie with me? Mama’s gonna be home lat-“ Saylor froze immediately seeing her mom walk into her room while she was pulling the window down. “Get in the house” Paige says in a monotone voice

Jasmine and the others could see Paige through the window and immediately drove off, leaving Saylor to fend for herself.

Saylor slowly climbs back into her room and stands by the window with her head down and hands clasped behind her back. Paige scoffs “What? You not gonna look at me now?”

Saylor just keeps her head down, “living room! NOW!” Paige says and then commands when Saylor doesn’t move. Saylor walks past Paige and walks downstairs to the living room - sitting on the couch and waiting for Paige to come back.

“You wanna tell me where you were going?” Paige says while walking down the stairs and to the couch - sitting down in front of Saylor.

Saylor just keeps her head down and looks at her hands in her lap. “Hello? I’m talking to you!” Paige says still trying to get Saylors attention “Saylor Jade Bueckers, look at me and answer the question now!” Paige says sternly, making Saylor shake her head

“No? You’re gonna tell me no? After I just caught YOU trying to sneak out?” Paige says baffled about how her daughter’s been acting recently “Fine you wanna play this game? Let’s play this game! You’re grounded for two months - no phone, no tv, no video games, you will have my old phone with mine and Azzi’s phone numbers that you can call and text ONLY us with and you will turn it in, to one of us when you’re home from school. You use your computer ONLY for school. No basketball or dance for two weeks-“

“Mom! No! You can’t do that! College recruiters are watching us now at games and recitals, how are they supposed to see me if you do that?!”

“I guess you should have thought about that before you decided to sneak out!” Paige yells making Saylor look back down at her hands and try to hold in her tears “I will call your coaches tomorrow morning and tell them that you are not to be participating in practices, games, recitals, all of that for two weeks. You are to go to school and come home immediately. You also now have a bedtime, me and Azzi will come and check on you randomly. Oh and I will be installing cameras around the house and outside of your windows tomorrow”

“Mom!-“ “Do NOT mom me right now Saylor Jade! What did you think was gonna happen when you decided to sneak out? That we would just never find out? That we wouldn’t care? What?! Tell me what you thought was gonna happen?! And let’s mention how you always get ungrounded and then immediately do something to get you grounded again! What is going on with you?! Paige yelled again just to be met with silence

“Go to your room!” Paige said pinching the bridge of her nose “mom-“ Saylor starts but gets cut off “Go. To. Your. Room. Saylor” Paige say’s strictly making Saylor sniffle and slowly get up and start making her way to the stairs

When she reaches them Paige stops her “While you’re up there, think about what you’ve done in the last year. Think about how you’ve been acting for the last 2+ years. And while you’re at it, try to find my daughter for me cause the girl standing in front of me is not my daughter. My daughter is a sweet girl that does her homework the day she gets it even if it’s not due for a month, she wants to dance and play basketball, she wants to go to college, my daughter wouldn’t throw her whole life away for some party, or alcohol & drugs, or even a fling” Paige says tearing up that she even has to say this

Saylor just looks at the ground and makes her way upstairs and to her room, getting in her bed and under the covers finally letting the tears fall.

I’m such a disappointment is all that is ringing through her head

@melpthatsme

[lostinlovingrevery]

Just a thought and no offense but I think Logan just wants to be in love and feel loved in return.

(This isnt proofread and came out as rambling so have fun trying to read it and decipher it! 😅)

So WE ALL know that Logan can be flirty, and that he may have had a period where he was a bit of a manwhore (*cough* 70s Logan *cough*)

I feel like that period though, and any other flings, one night stands, etc whatever was less out of lust and more of a desperation to feel SOME kind of human connection bc the mans so lonely and has been treated like a soldier, a weapon for so long that hes desperate for human connection, even if it makes him end up feeling depraved afterwards. Post-nut clarity wakes him up next to some girl he met at a bar, and guilt sinks its teeth into him because he doesnt even know her name, much less actually LIKE her. The man was born in the 1800s, he may have grown with time but you cannot tell me theres not some inkling of being a gentleman- and wanting to find someone you truly love, hidden in there somewhere. I think overtime he may fall into this routine, believing he needed to be a walking sex magnet, gruff, cocky, whatever have you because hes convinced its the only way he can have a connection with someone, even if its for a few passionate moments under bedsheets, and an awkward "that was nice. Bye"

It only fuels his self hatred, convincing him that he really his just an animal, looking to get his sick desires out, eat, fuck, sleep, survive.

When we see him in the X movies, as a cage fighter he is brutal and rough and he doesnt seem to have a caring bone in his body yet he still manages to find himself caring about this young girl who stowawayed in his trailer, and does help her, even if he acts like this version of logan he created. Someone who doesnt care. But he cares. A lot.

Its not until he meets YOU, that he starts to wonder if he got it all wrong. Kind, beautiful, smart YOU.

I fully believe that logan just wants a partner. One night stands, flings, what have you, were just him lying to himself, desperate to feel something other than hate. After he lost his memories, and he began just wandering, the concept of love was lost on him. And lust wasnt there anymore either. He was approached by women, perfectly fine, pretty women, all the time during his time cage fighting, bars, etc. He turned them all away- completely opposite of logan 30-40 years ago (my timing probs not right on xmen lol) who was convinced the only way he was living was if he had ass next to him every night he went to sleep because he was lonely. This version of logan, lost, angry, wanted nothing to do with people. Some of it the repressed feelings coming out from his past that he doesnt even remember. He was convinced then that he had to be alone. Becoming a lone wolf that bared his teeth at anyone who tried to pet it. Secretly though, deep down although he wouldnt admit it, there was that deep desire, that he always felt in his 200 years, that he just wanted to find his mate. He'd call soulmates bullshit if you asked him, but the moment he meets you, hed know that it was real, and that maybe god cursed (gifted) him the ability of healing and practical immortality just so he could find you. And hed do it over and over again, the pain and suffering and loneliness, if it meant you would be the endgoal.

Logan is a pack animal. He needed a family, to protect, and cherish. When he meets and ends up at the x-men, his demeanor and attitude changes quickly to something similar to a dog that snaps at you when you pet it only for it to whine and whimper "im sorry, please dont hate me, i just dont know how to accept love.". Hes still wary, because hed never KNOWN a family before. Put aside his memory loss, the closest things he had to a family was a creep of a brother, and a woman who said she loved him under false pretenses (i still dont like you kayla even if you say it was real). He barely knew his parents, and even then that was a lie because his father wasnt even his biological father. Yeah, Logans life was pretty damn lonely, so its no wonder the man is cautious of anybody and anything.

The moment you come into his life though, that bitterness, anger, and meaningless flirting goes right out the window. Hes serious about you. Hes usually cautious, nervous around people but he meets you and its almost like he threw all those imaginary rules he has for himself out of the window.

Look at how he was with Jean in the movies. He barely knew the woman, they barely shared ANY lines in the movie yet he was almost completely devoted (dont get me started on that storyline). Trust didnt come easy to the wolverine. And Kayla- their relationship just shows how much he wants love and to be loved. I never seen origins but a lot of gifsets and read the synopsis of the plot, but i think he had a feeling with Kayla he couldnt trust (remember how he says hell never go against his gut again?) But he so badly just wanted that connection he ignored all the warning signs and did everything to build a life with this woman who not only tricked him, but put him through unimaginable pain both physically and mentally. (Look I REALLY dont like kayla but i do feel bad for her because stryker did have her sister captive). I know stryker is the evil mastermind here, but god imagine trying to find love with someone, only for it all to be a farce, even if they claimed they did love you the entire time- the intentions from the very beginning was far from love.

Oh but when he is in love with you. From the moment he met you, it wasnt love at first sight exactly, more like a feeling that you were it. Hes all about you. He sticks around, under the pretense that he just needed to make some money first, doing some missions for charles, keep an eye on rogue. He cant admit its because he wants to stay close to you. Hes like a feral cat taking shelter in your shed. Stays away at first, cautious of your spspspsp, but curious nonetheless. Completely ignores the first bowl of food you put down for it- or so you thought because when you came back it was completely devoured. It takes weeks of food and spspsps before it finally warms up to you, but after that first contact with your hand and its head- good luck ever getting rid of it. Not that youd want to 😊

Logan becomes a shadow to you, once you become something akin to friends. (Its really more than that but no ones addressed it). He teases you and flirts with you, and its something you think he does with everyone, until Ororo tells you that he only does it to you. Sometimes he just sits in your company, other times hes curious about what youre working on, not wanting to start the convo, but does things like leering over your shoulder (which he may or may not be doing just to he close to you and get a good whiff of the smell of your hair). He stresses when you go on missions without him. He slowly opens up about his past to you when he begins to get his memories back. Trusting only you (and maybe charles) with the truth ablut the man he used to be, and still is.

When your feelings finally do come out in the open though, however it happens, that first kiss, the first time you make love, etc etc. Logans a different man. I mean, hes still that cocky, grumpy person we all know and love. But he carried himself differently. Hes confident and wiser, hes comfortable, and hes happy. He found a home, his pack. And maybe after countless conversations about his past, the things hes done, and the comforting words and understandings you give him, he starts to learn that he isnt so bad, because if you love him, YOU, the most wonderful person hes ever known in 200 years, love him despite all of his violence and hatred and slight whoreish tendecies back in the 70s...then he must be alright.

He doesnt need to worry about his past anymore, when hes got you, right there with him, promising a loving future together.

[robynhoodwrites]

˚｡❆ Rivals to Lovers ˚｡❆

Request: "Can I request a rivals to lovers fic (with smut if you will) about Zayne and MC where they live in a normal world, and they're both in med school?"

This will be written from the reader (aka the MC's) point of view. The MC will be AFAB, but will be referred to with they/them pronouns.

Minors DNI! This writing contains the following: smut, vaginal penetration, medical discussions, blood (in a medical setting), rivals to lovers, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, fellatio, switch!Zayne and switch!reader.

My heels clack loudly against the clean, tiled floors of the hospital. The sound echoes down the hallway, and I cringe internally at the fact that I’m practically announcing my presence. I hear a yawn sound from one of the receptionists behind me, hoping that the coffee now coursing through me is enough to keep me awake.

“Morning!” One of the nurses, Tara, smiles at me. She stops where she’s walking, seemingly trying to start a conversation.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t have time right now!” I breathe, my heart pounding as I pick up the pace. She frowns slightly, her chest deflating. “We can meet for lunch later! Promise!” I yell behind me, and she just laughs and continues walking to where she’s going.

This meeting isn’t necessarily important, but I haven’t earned the title “overachiever” for nothing. If I make it earlier than everyone else, it shows initiative. And initiative means I’m better than the others, which means I get the internship, which means I get a good job in the future, which means-

I’m almost at the door when I notice Zayne across the hallway. We had been in the same medical program for the last year, but only recently has he become such a pain in my ass. It seemed like no matter what grade I got, he matched it (or, God forbid, his was higher). It had become somewhat of an unspoken competition between us to see who would end up on top.

He seems to notice me, his eyes meeting mine from the other side of the hall. He looks at the door and then back at me before speeding up, his eyes now sporting a determined glare. I do the same, the clacking of my heels reaching insane speeds.

Even with the newfound speed, I am nowhere as fast as Zayne. Screw these stupid heels and Zayne’s long ass legs. I’m right behind him when he throws open the door, letting it start to close behind him as he enters the conference room before me.

“Wow, what a gentleman,” I mutter, and he seems to hear me, chuckling to himself.

“Zayne, nice to see you here bright and early,” our boss, Dr. Jenna says. Her eyes then flick to me, smiling. “Oh, and good to see you here early, too. You two have some real initiative.”

I silently thank the universe that coming in second has not put a blot on my record. It’s then that Zayne puts down his backpack, producing a coffee from the cupholder sewn to the side of it. “You like the cold brew, right?” he asks, handing her the coffee.

“Aw, Zayne, you shouldn’t have!” Jenna smiles, grabbing the drink from his hand and taking a sip with a content look on her face. Fuck, that’s genius. Why didn’t I think of that?

“Of course, Doctor Jenna. I cannot imagine how tired you must be, considering the fact that you’re working and taking the time to teach us. I don’t know how you do it,” Zayne gushes, and Jenna just smiles wider and thanks him before going back to writing on the whiteboard.

Zayne turns back to where I am standing, a stupid smirk lining his face. He sticks up two hands, one making the shape of a “zero” and the other creating a “one”.

Zayne: 1. Me: 0.

He winks as he goes to sit in his spot in the front row. Other students finally begin filing in, and I rush to take my spot in the front next to Zayne. “Really laying it on thick, huh?” I mutter, and he chuckles again.

“Maybe if you did the same, you wouldn’t be losing,” he whispers back, reclining in his chair nonchalantly.

“I don’t need to kiss ass. My superior doctoring skills will get me that internship,” I tease, mockingly reclining like him. He shows no sign that he’s noticed, instead deciding to unpack his notebook and pencil from his backpack.

“The points are saying otherwise,” he responds, opening his notebook to a fresh page. He writes down our names at the top of the page, putting a tally mark next to his own.

“That’s what this is to you? A game?” I ask, huffing out a breath of frustration. “There are 5 spots for the internship. We can both get it! There’s no need to fight me for it.” I am thoroughly enjoying the competition, but it’s not as fun when I’m the one that’s losing.

“I am not going to settle for mediocrity. I want to get chosen for the internship not just because she wants me there, but because she needs me there,” he tells me, stating it like it’s a fact. I suppose I understand that, but I am never going to let him hear me admit that.

“Where did this vanity come from, Zayne? I swear, you seemed so docile when I met you last year,” I tease. Rather than answer me, he looks down at the paper in front of him. “Or do you only act vain when you’re threatened? Am I a threat to you, Zayne?”

He doesn't respond. In fact, he acts like he hasn't heard me. Instead, he sticks out his hand, seeming to be asking for a handshake. “May the best doctor win,” he says confidently, and I grasp his hand firmly. It’s strangely warm, his long fingers holding my own tightly.

“I will,” I say back, letting go of his hand and turning to face the board. Before he can say something in retaliation, Doctor Jenna clears her throat and the class goes silent.

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By the last 10 minutes of class, I’ve nearly filled three pages with notes, front and back. The notes are nowhere near clean or pretty looking, but they’ll work for when I’m studying later. Dr. Jenna has started reviewing some of the information from the last class, which means I can zone out for a moment and let my brain take a break.

I spin my pen in my fingers, my eyes blurred as I think about absolutely nothing for the first time in a while. The peace doesn’t last, though. I hear a small rustle in front of me and look down to see a folded sheet of notebook paper.

I turn to look at Zayne, the most likely suspect. However, he’s looking straight ahead at the board in a focused manner, his eyes not meeting mine. I look back down at the paper curiously, finally relenting and unfolding it in front of me.

The paper has a messy stick figure drawing on the top, showing a tall man with dark hair and glasses holding a trophy. It’s nowhere near artist quality, but something about it makes me chuckle. I glance over at Zayne, who can’t help the smile now spreading across his face.

I click open my pen, drawing my own stick figure masterpiece under his. I surround his drawing with a thought bubble before drawing a picture of Zayne sleeping soundly underneath. Under his sleeping stick figure, I write “In your dreams!” before folding the paper neatly and handing it back to him.

He hesitates for a moment, waiting until Jenna’s back is turned before carefully unfolding the drawing. He snorts, covering his mouth with his hand quickly. I just keep looking forward at the whiteboard, listening to him hastily scribble on the paper before sliding it back to me.

I roll my eyes, unfolding the paper yet again. Zayne’s familiar, neat writing lines the page underneath my drawing. “You’re one to talk about dreams. What are you daydreaming about over there while Dr. Jenna teaches?”

He noticed that?  I feel a weird flutter in my chest, but I push it down as I write my own message underneath his. “Just plotting my victory,” I write, checking to make sure Jenna’s back is turned before handing it to him.

A moment passes before the note lands back on my desk, the paper filled with more of Zayne’s neat, looping letters. “If you spend all class thinking about how to beat me, you’ll never pass your tests.”

I write back quickly, my messy scrawl in stark contrast to Zayne’s clear writing. “And if you spend all class staring at me, you’ll never get the internship.” I pass the note back to Zayne, keeping my eyes glued to the board as he takes in a sharp breath. He hesitates, slowly writing his next response before going to pass it back to me.

“Zayne, no passing notes in class. Put it away,” Jenna snaps, and I see Zayne’s face go pale. He crumples up the note, throwing it into his backpack. He mutters an apology under his breath, his pale face now growing a deep shade of red.

“Yeah, Zayne, I’m trying to learn,” I say, loud enough for Jenna to hear. She nods, throwing Zayne another sharp look before turning back to the board. Zayne shoots me a glare, his jaw clenched in annoyance. I wink at him, before shooting a quick glance at the board to see if Jenna is looking.

When her back is turned, I lean in closer to him, delighting in the quick breath he sucks in. I bring my pen to the top of his paper, adding a point under my name. “One to one,” I whisper, before leaning back and letting my focus return to the board.

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I yawn as I put some quarters into the vending machine, watching as it shoots an energy drink down towards the bottom. I grab it, quickly opening it and gulping down as much as I can. It was nearly the end of my shift, and a long day of shadowing doctors has left an ache in my feet and a pain in my back. I can’t wait to go home and sleep…

“Hey,” I hear a familiar voice say from behind me, and I turn to see Zayne standing impatiently behind me. I gulp, pulling the energy drink away from my mouth and thinking of what to say to the intimidating man in front of me.

 In class, he is just like any other student. But, when working in the clinic, he’s… different. His lab coat perfectly frames his tall figure, his glasses sitting on the edge of his nose. He’s always sitting when he's in class, but during clinic duty, he towers over me.

“Listen, I’m sorry for throwing you under the bus. I didn’t-” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“I’m not here about that. Well played, by the way,” he admits, and I feel that flutter in my chest again. “Jenna wants us in her office. Wants our opinion on something before we clock out.”

I nod, unable to stop a relieved breath from leaving my lungs. I chug down the rest of my energy drink, crushing the can in my hands before throwing it away. He chuckles and turns to walk towards the office. I follow close behind, not too keen on letting him beat me to something again.

When we finally reach the office, he pauses a moment before going in. Then, much to my surprise, he holds the door open for me. I just stare at him for a moment, trying to figure out what he could possibly gain from this.

“It’s not a trick,” he says reassuringly. “I just want to be a bit kind to you before I wipe the floor with you in this consult.” There it is. I stick out my tongue at him, not caring how childish I look. He shakes his head as I walk past him, muttering something about good sportsmanship.

Jenna is waiting for us in her office, a whiteboard standing on stilts in front of her as she chews on the end of her pen. When we enter, she turns to us with a smile on her face. A few more students pile in behind us and Jenna begins writing on the whiteboard.

“Alright, students. We had a patient come in with a hurt leg. She presents with hypersensitivity to touch as well as tendonitis and high calcium,” Jenna explains, writing the symptoms on the whiteboard in front of her. She pauses, turning back around to face us. “What do we do?”

“It could be an adenoma,” Zayne offers, and I curse myself for not being quick enough.

“That’s true, but it could be a multitude of things. Maybe kidney problems or a vitamin D intoxication?” I offer, and Jenna writes all of our suggestions down on the whiteboard.

“True, but I think the adenoma is still the best option. If not that, it could also be hyperthyroidism,” Zayne shoots back, and Jenna writes hyperthyroidism on the board. I begin to hit him with another response, but Jenna interrupts before I can.

“I believe an adenoma is the most likely cause. Good work, Dr. Zayne. What should we do with this information?” Jenna asks us, and I nearly punch Zayne when he speaks before I can.

“We’ll have to test her blood for PTH, phosphorus, and ionized calcium.”

“Very good, Zayne,” Jenna says, before turning to me. “And if those tests come back normal, we’ll start on your theory. Good work to you both,” she says, circling “adenoma” on the whiteboard. Zayne shoots me a sly smile, now holding up a two on one hand and a one on the other. I flip him off, and he chuckles to himself.

“Since the labs are closed for the night, they’ll have to process the blood in the morning. I’ll page you guys as soon as I get the results,” Jenna says, waving a hand to dismiss us. “Get some rest, and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”

We all file out of the office, and I pause in the hallway for a moment. If I test the blood tonight, it will get her the results faster. And, more importantly, it will make me look amazing…

I turn down the hallway, my heels clacking against the tiled floors once again as I quickly make my way down to the lab. I scan my card against the door, sighing in relief when I notice that the lab is empty. I throw my backpack down on a chair, hurrying to the refrigerator at the back of the room and quickly scanning for the right vial.

The door swings open behind me, somebody else rushing in before pausing in shock. “Shit!” The voice mutters, and I turn to find Zayne in front of me, his eyes narrowed. “I should’ve known you would have the same idea,” he seethes, and I smile at the annoyed look on his face. He throws his backpack down, his notebook and a few papers spilling out onto the ground as he moves closer to me.

“You may have had the same idea, but I came up with it first,” I tell him, clutching the vial of blood in my hands. I turn and close the door to the fridge and when I turn back around, Zayne is much closer than before. I attempt to move away, but he blocks me in with his arms.

“Give me the vial,” he practically orders, and I can’t help but scoff at him.

“Wow, you really are a sore loser. Whatever happened to ‘may the best doctor win’?” I ask, and he doesn’t react. Rather than relent, he just sits there with his arms trapping me against the refrigerator. “Zayne?” I ask, now breathing a bit heavily under the man's piercing gaze.

In a moment of courage I did not know I possessed, I lean forward on my tiptoes until my mouth is next to his ear. “You lost this round. Let it go,” I whisper, and I swear he isn’t breathing as I lower myself back to my original position. He stays for a moment longer before finally letting his arms fall to rest at his sides.

I exhale a breath that I didn’t know I was holding, finally relaxing my tense shoulders. Zayne walks over to one of the counters, quickly putting on gloves before walking over to the machine sitting in the corner.

“Zayne, what are you doing?” I ask, and he doesn’t look up as he begins removing tools from the drawer next to him.

“Oh, just cleaning the centrifuge. It’s been a while since anyone has really given it a good scrub down.”

I pause, biting the inside of my cheek to keep myself from cursing him out. “Zayne, that’s the machine I need to use,” I say through gritted teeth. Zayne looks up at me from where he is disassembling the machine, false shock covering his face.

“Oh, is it? What a shame. Looks like you’ll have to do those tests tomorrow, instead.” He goes back to disassembling the centrifuge, a small (and annoying) smile now spreading across his face.

“You absolutely childish-” I begin, stopping to take a breath before I say something worse. I let out a sigh, rubbing my temples as I let my temper cool. “We’ll do the tests together. Share the credit. Is that good enough for you?” I groan, and he stops what he’s doing to face me.

“That’s an incredible idea. Can’t believe I didn’t think of it,” he says mockingly, and I nearly spit on him out of anger. This manipulative, conniving… He starts putting the machine back together, and I walk over to where he is standing to put the vial on a stand next to him.

“This is so incredibly unfair,” I whine, and he chuckles to himself. He turns to face me yet again, his eyes staring daggers into me from only inches away.

“You started this when you threw me under the bus in class, you know.” I suppose I deserve that. He finishes reassembling the machine, putting the vial in and pressing a button on the front. The centrifuge starts with a beep, and the blood begins spinning in its vial.

 I don’t say anything, moving away from him to grab some supplies from the cabinet above me. My attempt to reach the pipettes on the top shelf is in vain, and I stand on my tiptoes as I try to reach it. I hop slightly, barely reaching the corner of the box and coming back down empty-handed.

Zayne moves next to me, reaching up with ease and grabbing the box. He grabs a pipette and returns the box, holding the pipette out in his hands for me to take. Before I can touch it, he grabs my wrist tightly. I gasp, and he drops my arm almost instantly. Damn… wait, why did I enjoy that?  I push these strange feelings down, instead looking up at him inquisitively.

“Gloves,” he explains, and I curse under my breath. “You’ve been in this program for two years, yet you forget something as simple as gloves.”

“I was a bit distracted, Zayne. It’s not every day I am cornered in the lab by another doctor,” I say, and he smiles as he throws me a box of gloves.

“If I don’t keep you on your toes, then this competition will be boring. If I’m going to win so easily, I might as well have a bit of fun.” He turns back to the centrifuge, which has now stopped spinning.

“Prick,” I mutter, and he chuckles as he pulls the vial from the machine. He hands me the vial and the pipette before grabbing the microscope down from the cabinets above us. I carefully pipe out a few drops of blood before handing him the vial to put in the next machine.

I drop the blood onto a slide, placing it under the microscope before peering into it. I start to adjust the settings, the blood coming into focus as I turn each knob. I feel warm breath on my neck and flinch slightly at the sudden intrusion. I didn’t even hear him walk over here.

“Well?” He asks, his voice soft as his breath continues to dance across the skin of my neck. I don’t respond, the fluttering in my chest getting worse. Any attempt to pay attention to the blood in front of me is abandoned, my attention instead drawn to the warm presence looming behind me.

“Let me look,” he mutters, and I move out of the way quickly to let him peer into the microscope. I exhale a shaky breath, steadying myself against the counter. Why did that affect me the way that it did?

Zayne hums under his breath, moving the dials on the side of the microscope with intense focus. “Grab me my notebook, will you?” He asks, and I mutter something about not being his servant before turning around and doing exactly what he asked.

His backpack, having been thrown in his rush to beat me, is lying on the floor. His notebook is on the ground, as well as several papers that had come flying out during the landing. I bend down to pick them all up, my eyes catching on a crumpled ball of paper lying near his notebook. Is that…?

I quickly unravel the paper ball, staring blankly as I realize what it is. Our notes from class. My eyes scan over the paper, smiling to myself as I think about my victory over him in that class period. My eyes reach the bottom of the paper, realizing that I never got to read the final thing he wrote to me.

“And if you spend all class staring at me, you’ll never get the internship,” my messy writing reads. His beautiful, loopy letters are lined underneath it, and I gasp as I finally process the words.

“How could I not spend the class staring at you? You’re so beautiful when you’re lost in thought.”

That now-familiar fluttering returns to my chest, this time with a thundering rhythm. I somehow feel both excited and nauseous at the same time, my head swirling with so many emotions. I definitely like him, don’t I?

I gulp down some air before picking up his notebook, letting our notes sit on the top as I walk nervously over to where he is standing. His eyes are still on the blood, but he lifts his head as he hears me approaching. I hand him the notebook, our notes being the first thing he sees as he looks down.

He pauses, his breath seemingly caught in his throat. “You think I’m beautiful?” I ask, and he looks back up to me with wide eyes. “Or are you just saying that to ‘keep me on my toes’?” I ask, and he pauses for a moment before responding.

“I wouldn’t lie about something like that.” I feel a warmth spread across my cheeks, and I pray that I’m not blushing as much as I think I am. I push the notebook into his arms, not saying anything as I turn back to the microscope.

I attempt to keep my focus on the task at hand, trying to ignore the rampant pounding of my heart. Zayne drops the notebook onto the table next to us, his breath now resuming its place on the back of my neck. I can’t help but lean into his warmth, and he puts his arms on either side of me to rest on the counter.

“What do you see?” He asks, his voice husky in my ear. I try to focus, not wanting to let him know how much control he has over me. If he knows how affected I am, he’ll win. I inhale a shaky breath, bringing my eyes down to the blood in front of me.

“I-it looks… normal. To me, at least,” I mutter, and he moves back a bit so that I can turn around and face him. His sharp gaze never leaves my face, glancing slowly from my eyes to my lips.

“I noticed that, too. Looks like you might have been right,” he hisses, and despite the frown on his face, another emotion seems to glimmer in his eyes. The air between us is thick, his face mere inches from mine. His breath smells sweet, with light notes of peppermint dancing across it.

Heels clack, somebody quickly approaching from down the hallway, and Zayne quickly moves away from me as the door to the lab opens. Jenna enters, her eyes wide as she notes our presence in the room. Thanks for moving, Zayne.

“You two? I should’ve known you would be here. Such hard workers,” she praises, and I smile nervously as my blush grows deeper.

“Thank you, Doctor. We wanted to get a head start on that blood for the patient with the hurt leg,” Zayne tells her, and I nod along with him. Jenna nods, placing her purse down on the table by the door.

“I’m here for the same reason, actually. Any news?” She asks, seemingly unaware of the tense scene she had walked in on.

“We’re still waiting on one last test, but it appears that they were right. No adenoma,” Zayne admits, and I am floored by how easily he has admitted defeat. Jenna just nods in response, taking a sip out of her coffee mug before putting on some gloves of her own.

“Great work, you two. I’ll wait for that last test. Go home and get some rest,” she tells us, and Zayne opens his mouth to argue. “No, I insist. You guys don’t get paid for overtime, and I do. It’s better for everyone,” she winks, and Zayne concedes defeat. We grab our backpacks, thanking Jenna profusely as we leave the lab and enter the hallway.

Zayne doesn’t say a word as we walk down the hall, and I consider several different things I can say. “I win?” No, maybe “I told you so?” Or should I just leave it alone? I open my mouth to say something, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me into a dark room before I can begin.

“Zayne-” I begin, but he shushes me as locks the door behind him with a click. We are in one of the empty patient rooms, a clean and perfectly made bed sitting in the center of the room. He quickly shuts the curtains to the room, leaving only the small lamp in the corner to illuminate us.

I open my mouth to ask him what he’s doing, but he’s on me before I can get a single word out. His lips press against my own, almost hungry as bites my bottom lip. I can’t help but moan into his mouth, my lips moving aggressively against his as he pushes me against the door behind me.

One of his hands finds my hair, pulling slightly on my ponytail, which coaxes another moan from my mouth. His other hand finds the side of my face, pulling me even closer to him as his tongue sweeps across my bottom lip. I part my lips, letting him search my mouth with a ferocity I’ve never seen from him before.

I pull away for air, and he groans impatiently. “Zayne, where is this coming from?” I ask as he begins moving his lips down my face and onto my neck. A mewl escapes from my parted lips as he finds a particular spot in the crook of my neck, sucking on it roughly. “Zayne!” I say again, practically breathing out his name.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while now,” he whispers in between his kisses on my neck. “I love how aggressive you get, and how competitive you are... And- fuck- the way you talk to me? So bratty,” he moans out the last word, nipping at my neck with his teeth. I let out a yelp, and he licks the bite apologetically.

He pauses, looking up at me from where he is kissing my neck. “This is okay, right?” He asks, his eyes almost pleading. I scoff, pushing his head back towards my neck.

“Better than okay, Zayne.”

He groans against me, kissing me once more on the neck before tearing the lab coat off of my shoulders. He takes his off as well, licking along the column of my neck as he throws it to the floor. Without warning, he puts his arms around my bottom and lifts me in the air. I gasp, and he walks us over to the hospital bed as he presses another aggressive kiss on my lips.

He lays me on the bed, hiking my skirt up until my entire lower half is exposed. My underwear is now soaked, and he seems to notice almost immediately. A grin spreads across his face as he feels me through my underwear, the friction of the fabric against my clit making me hiss in a breath.

“We’ve only just started, and you’re already so wet for me,” he murmurs, a hint of pride in his voice. I try to think of something snarky to say, but his finger feeling me through my underwear sends another jolt of pleasure through my body.

He chuckles darkly, pulling his hand away. I let out a whine of protest, but his hands move up to his neck as he begins to loosen his tie. I watch the tendons in his hands flex, the beauty of just this small part of him enough to captivate me. He notices me staring, slowing his movements as his long, dexterous fingers untie the knot around his neck.

“I want those in me so bad,” I admit, and he smirks as he finally takes off his tie. He begins unbuttoning his shirt, each release of a button showing me more and more of his toned torso. He doesn’t take the shirt all the way off, instead choosing to let his lay open against his chest.

“Your turn,” he mutters, eyeing my clothed chest with impatience. I take the hint, quickly moving my fingers to unbutton my shirt. I manage to get most of them unbuttoned, my bare breasts finally exposed to the cold hospital air. Before I can finish unbuttoning it, though, Zayne pounces.

His thumb finds my nipple, already peaked due to the chill of the hospital room. He tweaks the tip of my nipple, sending a shiver down my spine as I arch my chest up into him. “So eager,” he moans, doing the same to the other nipple.

He lowers his head, taking one of my nipples in his warm mouth as he kneads my other breast with his hand. I curse as his tongue circles my nipple, the pleasure rippling through my body in waves. I almost beg him to come back when he finally pulls away, but he moves too quickly for me to get a word out.

His thumb hooks on my soaked underwear, pulling it down my legs before throwing it in the pile of lab coats next to him. He pauses, slowly rolling up his sleeves as I lay utterly bare before him. The sight alone sends another wave of pleasure through me. His eyes never leave me, finally rolling up his sleeves to his elbows and exposing his toned forearms.

He bends down on the floor in front of me, gripping my legs and pulling me towards the edge of the bed. I yelp in surprise, attempting to close my legs. He forces them back open with ease, positioning himself in between my legs as he looks up at me.

“Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

“Don’t you dare.”

He smiles, lowering his head down until his warm breath is dancing across my exposed pussy. I shiver, and he finally licks up my vagina until he reaches my clit. I shudder out a breath as his tongue swirls circles around it, moving torturously slowly. He brings his hand up to where he is working, slowly pushing a finger in and letting it curl inside me.

“F-Fuck, Zayne,” I moan, my hand coming down to find his hair and grabbing tightly. He just moans in response, the vibration against my clit sending me reeling. He puts a second finger inside me, massaging my walls with delectable pressure. I pull harder on his hair, which only makes him thrust into me with more intensity.

“You’re doing such a good job,” he moans into me, before resuming the work of his tongue on my clit. I feel my orgasm finally begin to build, the tension in my lower half beginning to reach its peak.

“Zayne, please,” I mutter, but my pleas are not enough. He pulls away, leaving me feeling empty as the cold air hits my exposed cunt. “Z-Zayne,” I whine, and he just makes a tsk noise.

“So needy,” he tells me, and I whine again as I feel my orgasm start to retreat. I hear the clink of metal and watch as he begins to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather from the loops of his belt and letting it fall to the floor. He quickly unbuttons his slacks, letting them hit the floor at his feet.

All that’s left are his boxers, the only thing keeping me from what I want. When he doesn’t take them off, I sit up and move to take them off myself, kneeling down on the ground in front of him. He just grabs my wrists, making that tsk noise yet again.

“Patience is one of the most important traits a doctor can have, you know,” he murmurs, taking a moment to rub his thumb over my swollen lips.

“Says the guy fucking me in a doctor's office instead of asking me on a date first,” I answer back, taking his thumb in my mouth and sucking on it teasingly. He rolls his eyes, but he can’t quite hide the hunger now sparkling in them.

He pulls down the boxers, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side impatiently. His length is now fully exposed, and I almost start to feel nauseous just from the idea of it going in me. “There’s no way,” I whine, and he seems to think this is hilarious.

He pushes the tip of his dick towards me until it is tapping against my lips, rubbing teasing circles until I finally take him in my mouth. I take in just the tip, letting my tongue catch the small dots of precum and swirling my tongue around teasingly. He twitches at each rotation, and I can’t help but smile onto his cock.

I start to move slowly down the shaft, but there is no way I am fitting it in its entirety down my throat. Instead, I bring my hands to the bit left over and massage it roughly, my head bobbing faster as his hands reach my ponytail.

“F-fuck,” he manages to groan, his hand grasping my ponytail tightly as he helps move me up and down his length. His movements get sloppier, his legs shaking as his release approaches faster and faster with each bob.

Before he can finish, I pull my mouth off of him with a sinful pop. I stand back up, staring directly into his eyes as he looks down at me. Sweat is dripping from his hair now, a few shivers still racking his body as he stands bare in front of me. His cock is throbbing, and I watch as his pleading eyes turn to pure lust.

He pushes me back onto the hospital bed, and as I turn to try and escape, he manages to catch me around the waist. My back is now to him, my ass pressed firmly against his rigid length behind me. I can’t help but moan, letting him tease me by grinding into my backside.

“Please,” he whispers, his lips touching my ear as he pleads into it. He pauses for a moment, biting down lightly on my earlobe. “I can’t wait any longer. I need to feel you now,” he mutters again, letting one of his hands move back to my clit.

I lift my head over my shoulder, managing to reach his lips with my own as I give him a small peck. He presses his finger down harder on my clit, and I let my head fall again as I grow weak from pleasure.

“Say it,” he pleads again, his finger rubbing circles on me with a delectable pressure. I struggle to find the words, breathless from his length still grinding against my backside.

“P-please, fuck me. Oh G-God,” I manage to mumble out, and he doesn’t wait a second longer before he bends me over. His dick finds my folds, rubbing against them teasingly before slowly sliding into me.

He starts with just the tip, easing in and out a few times before finally pushing himself in fully. I have to bite back the scream that threatens to escape from me, the sensation of suddenly being so full of him almost too much to handle.

His thighs slap against my ass as he thrusts in again, his fingers digging into my hips as he moves me on him. I can already feel his fingers leaving bruises on me, and I suddenly feel grateful that the lab coat covers so much of my body when I wear it.

One of his hands finds its way up to my ponytail, yanking back on it roughly and sending my face upwards. He groans again, using my hair to help him thrust in even deeper than before. His cock rams over and over again into my G-spot, the release in my stomach building more with every thrust.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his hand leaving my hair and instead moving around my waist. It presses down on my stomach, making my walls even tighter around him. He shudders, his arms wrapping around me in something close to a hug as he continues pounding into me.

I’ve nearly reached my peak when he brings his hand back down towards my clit. Rubbing quick circles around it as he thrusts even faster. It hits me, nearly blindingly, and I feel my body start to spasm. My legs are shaking, my orgasm making me clench tighter around his cock.

He lets out a curse, nearly whimpering as he finally falls apart. His grip around me tightens as he finishes, shooting deep inside me and somehow filling me up even more. He continues thrusting, his cock now throbbing as he finally slows down.

We let the spasms run their course, each of our bodies twitching from the sheer pleasure of it all. I finally collapse, his large body moving to cradle mine in the twin-sized hospital bed below us. Our foreheads touch as he presses a soft kiss to my lips, sweat dripping from both of us as he smiles stupidly at me.

“I’ve never seen you so disheveled before. You’re usually so well put together,” I mumble, marveling at the way the top student in our class heaves out a shaky breath and caresses my face with his hand. He kisses my lips again before trailing the kisses back down to my neck.

As he kisses the bruised spot on my neck, I lean down and put my mouth right next to his ear.

“Zayne: 2. Me: 2,” I whisper, and he stops kissing my neck immediately. He looks up at me, his eyes meeting mine with a deadly seriousness.

“Looks like we’ll need a tiebreaker then, huh?”

“What did you have in mind?” I ask, and he just gives me a devilish grin before trailing the kisses back down my neck, moving lower with each one.

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THANKS FOR READING GUYS! And thank you to the person who left this ask. I had so much fun researching for this one and ended up texting my biochemistry major friend to ask for help (hiiiiiii Rich, if you're reading this).

I'll have the other asks I've received posted soon, I promise!

-Robbie

[bueckersstuff]

REMEMBER

Click here for chapter: 1 & 2

Chapter 3: Forgotten Faces, Remembered Pain

Paige's POV

I grew up here in Minnesota, living what seemed like a perfect life until I left for college in Connecticut three years ago. Good family, solid school, a career I was proud of, the best friends anyone could ask for. I had everything I could have dreamed of. Or at least, I thought I did. But then, a certain someone walked back into my life, and now I realized—time doesn’t heal anything. You just get used to carrying the weight of what hurts for a lot longer than you should.

It all started when I was twelve, discovering my love for basketball. My dad used to bring me to this basketball court just down the street to practice, sometimes for hours. We’d always end up at the local convenience store, grabbing snacks—he’d stock up on chips while I picked out ice cream. I still remember that day. I grabbed my usual chocolate ice cream, lined up to pay, and that’s when I heard it.

"No! What you gave me is a dollar short! I can count!" A girl’s voice, sharp with frustration, cutting through the air. I turned, half expecting some kind of mistake, but she was standing there, arguing with the cashier, insisting on the right change.

I couldn’t help it—my eyes met hers, and she shoved the receipt into my face, her little face demanding validation.

"You know math? Tell me I’m right, and she’s wrong."

I had to laugh. I looked at the cashier, then back at her. "Yeah, you’re right." Though I was laughing, I actually glanced at the receipt and she was, indeed, right.

She flashed that cocky grin of hers, so smug. "See? Told you I’m right."

That was just the beginning.

She started following me around, asking questions, poking into my life, telling me she had no friends, she was bored all the time. I didn’t even know why I let her in, but I did. So, I told her, "If you want to waste time, you can come watch me practice. You live around here, right?" She had mentioned earlier that she lives nearby.

"Yeah, that works," she replied, smirking. "I can waste time and practice my math by counting your scores. That is, if you can score."

That was her way of challenging me.

Five years. Five years we spent inseparable, like we couldn’t exist without each other. And then, the world broke apart.

One day, she came to practice with bloodshot eyes, her face red and blotchy from crying. Before I could even ask, she blurted out, her voice cracking:

"I’m leaving Minnesota. Mom says it’s for work, and we’ll be back sooner than I think."

She started sobbing uncontrollably. "I don’t want to leave. I can’t leave you here alone."

I was speechless. My world was spinning, and I didn’t know how to respond. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

"If that’s what the adults want, there’s nothing we can do about it, right?" I muttered, trying to ease the tension. "We can still talk on video calls, and you’ll be back before you know it."

But what about what I wanted?

"No!" she screamed. "If I leave, you’ll forget about me. You’ll find new friends!"

I could hear the panic in her voice, and it drove a sharp pain into my chest. "I won’t. I promise. It’s just us two, forever and ever."

And then she was gone.

For two years, we kept in touch, but as soon as I moved to Connecticut for college, things started to unravel. The calls grew less frequent, the arguments more intense. Silence followed, suffocating silence. No texts, no calls. Just emptiness.

I thought she was living her best life—at least, that’s what her social media told me. She seemed happy, thriving. But where did that leave me? Did "forever and ever" mean nothing? Was I just another part of her past, fading away?

I moved on, or so I told myself. I threw myself into my studies, my career. But still, there were nights when I found myself searching for her name, staring at her photos, wondering what had happened. Longing. Disappointment. Anger. Then confusion. Why was I still so obsessed? She left me all alone, even when I needed her the most. When I suffered an injury while playing my sport, I thought she’d be there for me, but I was wrong. I admit, I reached out to her, sending messages here and there—but maybe that was just my vulnerability talking. In the end, it didn’t matter. The lowest point of my life wasn’t even worth her time.

And then, there she was. Standing in front of me. But she was... different. Not in a good way. Something about her seemed so out of place. Her whole aura had changed. What happened to her?

It’s been a week since that first encounter, and I’m running errands for Drew. I roll my eyes—he’s got the audacity to ask me to get ice cream for him. As I’m perusing the different flavors, out of the corner of my eye, I see him.

Steve.

The shock is immediate, but the look on his face is worse. He’s more stunned than I am. But why is that? Am I not supposed to see him anymore?

"Paige? Long time no see! What are you doing here? I thought you were in Connecticut?"

My heart skips a beat. He keeps tabs on me?

"I’m on a break. Gonna head back tomorrow though, classes start soon. It’s good to see you again, Steve." I try to sound calm, but it’s hard when my mind is still reeling. "How’s Emma?"

His face contorts, and I see a flicker of pain—something I haven’t seen before, and it sends a sharp pang through me.

"Emma’s gone. Just three months ago."

The words crash into me like a wrecking ball. What? Emma’s dead?

I don’t know what to say. My mouth goes dry. "Oh my god. I’m so sorry. How are you holding up?"

"We’re fine now, I guess. But the last three months have been hell. Losing Emma... and then having my daughter almost..." He trails off, his voice cracking. "I’m just thankful my daughter got lucky."

My stomach drops. "What do you mean?"

"I came here with my daughter. You haven’t seen her yet?" he asks, and the words send a shiver through me.

Oh, I've seen her, but then she disappears again for the rest of the week.

"But maybe even if you did, she won’t remember you," he adds, his voice tinged with sadness.

I freeze. What?

"She’s suffering from a temporary memory loss from the accident, Paige."

She forgot me? She forgot about us?

The ice cream Steve is holding shakes slightly in his hands, and I suddenly realize I’m staring at it. "Is that for her? That’s her favorite."

"Yeah. I’m hoping it’ll help her remember, you know?" Steve’s voice breaks, and it feels like the weight of everything is pressing in on me.

I don’t know why I say it, but it spills out before I can stop myself.

"I want to help. Make her remember."

I must be crazy.

He looks at me, surprised but grateful. "You would? That means a lot to me, Paige."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes a little distant, before continuing. "I’ve been thinking about it for a while now—about sending her back to school. The doctors think getting back into a routine could help her. They said it might spark something, help her remember what she loved." He exhales, his voice wavering slightly. "I’ve been struggling with whether or not it's the right time, but... I think it might be the only way."

I barely hear him as my mind races. "She can attend to mine. Transfer her. She can join the swimming team. She still swims, right?"

Or maybe I'm just out of my fucking mind.

"Yes!" Steve’s face lights up. "That’s actually a great idea. I’ll start processing her papers next week."

She needs to remember. Because when she finally looks me in the eye and says sorry, it won’t be some empty apology. It’ll be real.

She’ll remember me. She has to.

Chapter 4 setting's gonna be at Uconn. More interactions and stuff!! <3

Taglist: @authentic-girl03 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @0phantom0 @sjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

[justmeinadaze]

I Have Nothing (If I Don't Have You) Part 10 (Steddie X You)

Warning: Soft Dom Security Steddie & Sub Singer Fem Y/N, SMUT, dirty talk, semi-public (in an office at a party), light choking, FLUFF, they love each other, Steve makes a declaration to his father involving Y/N, Y/N gives them a present <3

ANGST *throws a baton in the air and catches it in angst!*

There is a shooting that's referenced throughout that Steddie protect her from, blood is mentioned, slight cliffhanger ending, Steves Dad is a dick (of course), calls Y/N demeaning names (trash, mentions her past), mentions of loss of a loved one.

Like most chapters of this series, this deals with some heavy themes but it's not too bad. Enjoy my friends <3!

Word Count: 4033

Series Here/Donate to Me :)

Sarah pants as she all but sprints into Hawkin’s General, growling as she finally makes it through all the paparazzi flashing pictures outside while the police department keeps them at bay. 

“Where is Y/N?! I’m her agent!”, she practically screams to one of the officers as her eyes search for a face she could recognize.

“Hey, hey. Let her through.”, an older gentlemen instructed as he ushered her forward into a waiting room. 

“What happened?! Where is Y/N?!”

“I don’t know. All they’ll tell me is there was a shooting. I’ve tried to get a goddamn doctor to tell me something but… I’m Wayne by the way. I’m Eddie Munson’s uncle.”

“Where are they? Eddie and Steve? Are they ok?!”

“I-I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

***

Steve heavily sighs as the elevator doors slowly open to the party on the third floor of. His parent’s building. 

Even though your arm was clinging to both of theirs, his hand over yours seem to be grasping for dear life. 

“We don’t have to do this, Steve.”, you whisper causing Eddie’s gaze to shift that way. 

“No, no. I’m ok. I can do this. What about you? D-Do you need anything or—”

Both men had shown fear before when they were trying to find you when you ODed but they still had that aggressive, protective demeanor behind it like the big protector men they were. As Steve stuttered over his words, he seemed like a frightened child about to tell his parents he failed a test and your heart broke. 

Not caring about any eyes in the room or what people would think, your palm cupped his cheek as you brought your lips to his. 

“No, baby. I’m ok. We’re right here.”

The metalhead softly smiled as he comfortingly patted his friend’s shoulder.

“I can kiss you to if you want. I mean—”

“No. No, thank you.”, Steve laughs as you giggle at Eddie’s antics. 

As the three of you walk further into the room, you take in the high class setting around you. Whatever Steve’s dad sold or did, he was definitely doing it well because everything seemed exceptionally expensive with nothing out of place. The stuffy air was slightly suffocating but you were used to that when it came to events like this but normally you had something in your system to calm your nerves. 

“Champagne?”, a waiter asked as he held out the tray, startling you slightly.

“No, thank you, and don’t ask again.”

The boy just nodded before swishing away to the next person surprising you as you watched him nonchalantly smile and ask someone else.

“You two can drink if you want.”

“No, honey, we’re ok. Plus, even if this is a party, we still need to be on alert for you.”

“He means his dad and his bullshit.”, Eddie whispers, winking your way when you smile.

The sound of a woman’s laugh and high pitch squeal caught your attention as she made a beeline towards Steve. Since neither man jumped in front of you, you assumed this was someone they knew. 

“Baby! Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re home. Hello, Edward! And oh my gosh who is this you brought with you?”

“This is our client. Y/N Y/L/N, meet my mom. Mom; Y/N.”

“Oh, hi. It’s very nice to meet you.”, you grin as you extend your hand out to hers before she grabs it and pulls you into a hug while Eddie snickers behind you. 

“Mom…mom…come on, now.”

“I’m just so happy to meet you. Plus, I want you to have a good image of me in your mind before my asshole husband ruins it.”

With that she turns around and motions for your three to follow her. 

“Is she high?”, you whisper with wide amused eyes. 

“Um, no, but I think she’s definitely had a champagne bottle…or two.”, Steve sighs as he places his hand on his lower back and guides you forward. 

***

“Steven! Good to see you, son.”

“Hey, dad.”, the man replies with a tight smile as he awkwardly embraces his father. “You remember Eddie.” The man slightly grimaces at the metalhead even as he nods in his direction before his disgust settles on you. “And this is Y/N. She’s the client we look after.”

“Hm. You brought a client to our event? I’m sure she has better things to do unless you just wanted to show off your wealth.”, his dad sassed causing your head to tilt.

“I have no wealth to show off. Plus, she’s my friend—”

“Oh, your friends with someone you do business with? Because that won’t end badly.”

“Bill.”, Steve’s mother hisses as your grip around his hand tightens. 

“May I have a moment alone with my son?” 

As Steve starts to pull away, your palm tugs him back eliciting a soft smile from him as he turns to face you. 

“Don’t go in there. I don’t like the way he talks to you.”

“It’s ok, baby. I’m used to it.”

“Steve…”

Cupping your face in his palms, he kisses your forehead and a heavy sigh leaves you when you finally let him go. 

“He’ll be alright, sweetheart.”, Eddie tries to calm you as he rubs your back. 

################

“Look, I don’t know how many times I can tell you people I didn’t see anything!”, a man growls, grabbing Sarah’s attention as she heads that way with Wayne in tow pausing when she finds him yelling at an officer. 

He seemed incredibly irate with his suit half undone and his face redder than a tomato as sweat dripped down his features. 

“Bill…can you please…stop…yelling.”, a woman sighs from her seat near him with a can of Ginger Ale against her forehead. 

“Mr. Harrington, this was your event and my understanding is it’s pretty guarded so how did the perpetrator get in?”

“Mr. Harrington? You’re Steven’s dad? Is he ok?!”

“Goddamn it! Am I speaking Spanish or something? I. DON’T. KNOW! All I know is my son shows up after so much time and brings this trash singer he claims to be in love with—”

“What?”, Sarah asks, cutting him off. As she shifts her gaze towards Eddie’s uncle, his own gravitates towards the floor and she knows it’s true. “Well, that explains some things.”

***

Eddie chuckles lightly as he scans your worried features, grabbing your hand and placing his own on your lower back as you both gently sway to the violin music from the floor below. 

“He’ll be fine, sweetheart. Trust me.”

“I just…I remember what it was like hearing my parents talk to me like that. It stays with you…”

“Yeah…definitely longer than any bruises.”

Your gaze shifts to his as his jaw unhinges and he gently smiles your way. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no, your highness. You didn’t do anything wrong.”, he comforts as he twirls you and playfully dips you, making you laugh before pulling you back up into his embrace. “My dad definitely had a bite to his words. I think what’s weird is… I could always anticipate when a fist was coming but his words…they seemed to come out of nowhere sometimes…”

Wrapping your arms around him, you rested your head on his chest as you squeezed him tightly to you.

“I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.”, he whispers.

The door to Mr. Harrington’s office door bangs open as an angry Steve stomps out before his dad grabs his arm. 

“Don’t do this, son. You’re throwing your entire future away.”

“No, I’m not. I’m good at what I do, dad, and I’m not giving up my business for yours.”

“Oh, yeah? And what part of fucking your client is good for business?!”

The man stood up straighter and on impulse Eddie pushed you behind him, keeping a hand on your arm to make sure you were safe.

“Lower your fucking voice. She’s been through enough.”

“I know, Steven. I can fucking read. Arrests, alcohol, drugs, parties. Hell, didn’t she just overdose a few months ago!?”

“She’s been sober and doing better—What the fuck am I doing? I don’t need to explain anything to you. I love her, dad, and I love my job. Come on, guys.”, he ushers, grabbing your arm as he pulls you both down the hall to head for the stairs. 

“Wait, wait.”, you insist as you pull him into an empty office. “What happened there? Talk to me, baby.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I know we wanted to keep this a secret. I just…he was talking about you and it was pissing me off and I just blurted it out. I love you so much and I’m not going to let ANY asshole talk to you or about you like your trash—”

Grasping his collar, you yanked him to you and smashed your lips to his. It took him a moment but after a few seconds, Steve finally exhaled as his shoulders deflated and he lifted you into his arms to carry you to the desk behind you. 

“If you’re going to get riled up about every asshole who calls me trash, we’ll need to hire some more security guys.” The man laughed as he kissed you again, cupping your face in his palms. “We can tell people…if you want…maybe talk to Sarah first but…”

“You don’t have to do that for us, sweetheart.”

“I don’t want to hide you guys. I love you…both of you… I just don’t want to ruin your business. You said it could look bad if—”

Eddie’s fingers gripping your cheeks interrupted you as he turned you to face him so he could kiss your lips. 

“Let’s not worry about that right now, pretty girl.”

Steve’s lips sucked on your neck as he rolled his hips between your legs eliciting a heavy pant from you both. 

“U-Use me, baby. It’s ok. I want you to. I’m yours.”

Leaning back, his eyes search yours as his palm caresses your face and his thumb grazes your lips. 

“What if we get caught?”, he teases, making you giggle as you circle one of your legs around his waist and pull him closer to you. 

“We’ll just have to be quick and quiet, Mr. Harrington.”

A loud groan of approval leaves him as your own hand slides under his button up shirt near his neck and he hastily fumbles with his belt, pulling down his pants enough to free his cock. Steve lifts you slightly to help you take off your panties that you promptly toss as Eddie who rolls his eyes as he winks your way. 

After tugging you closer to the edge of the desk, he tilts down to lick a long stripe through your folds before tapping your clit with his length and guiding himself inside you as you fell back against the wood underneath you. 

“Oh my God—”

“Shhhh…”, the metalhead scolded as he quickly came around covered your mouth. 

“Fuck…so deep…”, you whine as Eddie removes his hand to pet your head. 

“Yeah? Feels good, your highness? Jesus, I can’t wait for the world to find out you’re ours. This beautiful girl deserves the world.”

Grabbing your throat, Steve pulled you up right and rested his forehead against yours as he thrust his hips at a rapid pace knowing your time may be short. 

“That’s it, baby. Right there. Mmph…”

“Right there, honey? Fuck you feel so good. We’re going to take such good care of you. Mmm—you’ll never have to worry about anyone hurting you ever again.” His last sentence came out as a bit of growl and you wrapped your arms around his neck as he did the same holding you to his chest. “You’re safe with me, Y/N. I promise.”

“I know, Steve. I know. Make me cum, baby, please.”

Honoring your request, you clung to each other as he slammed his cock into you, muffling your moans in his shoulder as the ball dropped in your belly with him following close behind. 

“I love you, Y/N.”, Steve panted.

“I love you to.”

As he ran his fingers through his hair, he backed away from you and you smiled as Eddie came around, lifting you into his arms to carry you to a nearby armchair where he took a seat with your straddling his waist.

The metalhead watched you with admiration as you unbuckled his belt and removed his cock from his slacks. After spitting into your hand, he mewled as you stroked it along his shaft and slowly descended onto him.

“Fuck me.”, Eddie groans as he cups your face in his palm and brings your lips to his. “Good girl, your highness. Bounce on my cock just like that.”

His fingers tangle in your hair as your head falls into his shoulder to muffle your moans as your hips grind and roll against him. 

“I-I love you, Eddie. Oh my God.” Lightly tugging you back, you groan against his lips as you whisper against them. “You’re safe with me to, baby. I promise. I-I’ll be good. I p-promise I won’t embarrass you.”

“You never have, sweetheart.” Planting his feet, he thrust upwards, slamming the tip of his length against that spongy spot deep inside you roughly as your eyes roll closed. “I k-know people pretended to care about you, baby, but we genuinely do—Jesus—we just want y-you to be happy and—and healthy so…”

“So what, Eddie? Tell me, please.”

Pulling you back down against his shoulder, he hugs you to him just as Steve had as he fully takes over pumping his length while murmuring into your ear. 

“So we can spend our lives with you—fuck—have a family with you…grow old together…we’d marry you, princess, if we could…put a ring on your finger…show the world you’re ours and—fuck I’m gonna cum—you’re safe.”

Your lips crash to his as your body trembles and pussy quivers around him as you cum. Eddie grunts at the feeling, his fingers digging into your flesh as his rhythm faulters and you feel him warm your insides. 

#################

A door slowly opens and Sarah gasps as Steve steps through with blood still clinging to his what was once pristine shirt. 

“Steve! Oh my God. Are—Are you alright? What happened?!”

“I…we…I promised myself I would do everything…to make sure she never saw hospital again…”, he mumbled before falling to his knees as Wayne caught him halfway down and held him to his chest as the boy sobbed. “This is my fault. I never should have…brought her there…my dad…I can’t focus…”

“Steven…I know you’re hurting but…I need you to tell me if Eddie is alright.” 

As he continued to cry, your agent and the metalhead’s uncle kept hearing the same thing over and over. 

“This is my fault…”

***

You grin in the mirror at the reflection of both boys straightening up their attire as you finish quickly restyling your hair. 

“Hey Steve, can you hand me my clutch, please?”

“Oh manners. I love it.”, he smiles as he reaches for what you asked and bows as he presents it to you. “Your highness.”

“Thank you.”, you giggle. “It’s funny…you mentioned rings because…I got you guys a present before we flew out here and I was waiting for the right time to give them to you…”

After digging in your bag, you produce a box that Eddie giddily takes causing the other boy to playfully roll his eyes. Inside were two silver bands with an engraving etched along the inside. 

“’ Je suis à toi et tu es à moi.’”, the pretty boy reads aloud in choppy French that has you beaming wide. “Something about you and me. I know that much.”

“I am yours and you are mine?” Your jaw drops as the metalhead chuckles your way before he shrugs. “I’ve, um, I may have been trying to learn some French since it’s your safe place. That way whenever we go back I can actually understand what people are saying. Was I right?”

You nod as you wrap your arms around him and kiss his lips before doing the same with Steve. 

“We’ll get you something too, honey. I promise—”

“You don’t have to. I just…I saw them and I thought of you…how much I love you.”

“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we get out of here, go to the diner, and fill up on some greasy burgers?”

“Oh my God. I’m starving.”, you jokingly whine as you follow them out the door and down the stairs. “I have to run to the restroom first if that’s ok?”

“Oh yeah, now she’s asking. Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you to hold your dress up?”

Smiling, you smack Eddie’s chest as you scurry to the restroom to do what you needed. 

Everything seemed completely normal and you were the happiest you had been in what felt like your entire life. You shouldn’t have been surprised when you opened the bathroom door and were met with a face you hadn’t seen in person in a very long time. 

“Natalie?”, you ask as your eyes promptly search for the boys.. “What, um, what are you doing here in Hawkins?”

“I saw the interview… saw some sightings online of you on a plane to Indiana…did some research on your entourage now…put two and two together.”

Something was off in her tone as she spoke and you noticed immediately that her hands were shaking. 

“Natalie why are you here?”, you ask her as calmly as possible.

“You didn’t go to Simon’s funeral.”

“I didn’t think it was appropriate.”

“For my brother’s girlfriend to be at his funeral?!” 

You jumped at her outburst and held out your hand hoping to calm her.

“Natalie…Simon and I broke up months ago…”

“Then why was he with you that night?”, she asked as tears began to leave her eyes. “I have…so many questions and every answer I do find…leads back to you, Y/N.”

“Honey, I—”

“Don’t do that! Don’t you dare talk down to me!” Reaching into her coat pocket, she pulled out a handgun making you gasp as she pointed it your way. 

“Y/N, honey is everything—” As Steve walked down the hallway, she turned on him and his eyes widen as he holds up his palms to show he’s unarmed.

“NO! No, Natalie! Keep talking to me! You said you had questions about your brother. Ask me! Ask me anything!”

Her wild eyes kept flicking between you both as she back away and kept the weapon pointed at you. 

“Answer…me. If you two…broke up…why were you with him?”

“I…I had a relapse…and I knew he’d…he’d give me a fix.”

“So you used him?”, she growled.

“Yes.”, you whisper as your own tears begin to fall.  “I’m not perfect, Nat, but—”

“But you’re still here and my brother is gone! Do you know what my mom and I have been through?!”

“I would give anything to bring him back. I really would—”

“Fucking liar!”

Right as she cocks the gun, Steve rushes forward to lift her arm in the air as Eddie comes out of nowhere and tackles you from the side out of harms way. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”, he panics as he takes off his suit jacket. “You’re bleeding, b-baby. Where…where did you get hit?”

Your hands fly down your body, feeling the dampness of blood but not finding a wound.

“I don’t know. I don’t feel—Eddie?”

The metalhead’s eyes flutter as he collapses in your arms and you realize the blood that was on your dress was sticking to his torso. Tearing open his shirt, you found a wound on his abs and quickly grab his jacket to press against it. 

“STEVE!”

While Eddie had been attending to you, the other man was able to subdue Simon’s sister and get the gun away from her as security appeared to cuff her. Sliding to your side, he moved the jacket back to assess his injury. Silently, he pulls out his phone as you continue to hold the long-haired boy in your grasp. 

“Yeah, we need ambulance and police at the Harrington Company building. Shooter is subdued by security and my-uh-my partner was hit in the abdomen…No…I don’t think anyone else was-was injured.” As his voice cracks, you move some Steve’s hair back with your fingers and his teary eyes immediately turn to you. “Are you ok? Were you hit?”

“No…No, I’m ok. I think…”

“Yes ma’am. I’m Steven Harrington and my partner is Edward Munson. We are security for Y/N Y/L/N…Yes ma’am…No, she says she’s fine but…” You wince as Steve delicately touches your arm and you see the slight bruising beginning to appear on your wrist. “…She may have a sprained arm from him pushing her out of the way…Yes…please…please hurry.”

“Eddie, you need to open your eyes, baby, please.”, you beg. 

His lips began to move and you leaned down to hear what he was mumbling. 

“I love you.”

##################

“Wayne Munson and Sarah Dash?”, the nurse called, guiding them and Steve to the hospital room. 

“Y/N!”, your agent sighed in relief as she quickly scurried to your side of the room and pulled you into her arms. “Everything is going to be alright, sweetie.”

“Y/N has a small fracture at the wrist so she’ll need to wear that cast for about a month. As for Mr. Munson, he was extremely lucky. The bullet went straight through and missed anything vital. We gave him some meds to help him sleep and he’ll definitely need to rest. He’s going to be in a lot of pain these next few weeks.”

“He’ll be ok?”, Wayne asked as he placed his palm on his nephew’s chest. “We shouldn’t be worried?”

“Not from what I see… Of course, we’ll keep him for the next few days to make sure everything is alright before we let him go.”

“H-Have you heard anything about Natalie? Where is she?”, you murmur as Sarah tenderly pets your head. 

“Um, that’s the young lady who…? My understanding is she’s in a cell but—”

“I can find all that out for you, honey.”, your agent relays and you nod. 

After the doctor leaves, Steve’s eyes harden as he enters his professional mode you had seen many times before. 

“I’m going to talk to the officers and security here at the hospital to make sure their privacy is respected and no one can sneak in.”

“Steven.”, Eddie’s uncle says with a deep authoritative tone as he grabs the boy’s arm, surprising you when he yanks it away. “Son…you’re going to want to be one of the first people he sees when he wakes up.”

As he stomps out of the room, he doesn’t even hear your socked feet slide across the linoleum. When your palm touches his shoulder, in one swift motion he grabs your forearm and shoves you hard against the wall, breathing heavily as he holds you still, raising his fist in the air defensively. 

“It’s me, Steve! It’s me. It’s ok—”

“It’s NOT ok! You both got hurt! I failed!”

“You didn’t fail. You both saved me and the doctor says Eddie will be ok—”

“He shouldn’t be in there to begin with!! I should have clocked her at the party. We should have seen her. I should have noticed how agitated she was before I said anything…I-I-I…It should be me in there.”

“No, baby, no. Neither of you should be in there b-but you told me…it was part of the job…that’s why I couldn’t take that bullet for you…a bullet that was meant for ME.”

His eyes soften at your words as if finally realizing it was you he was holding and promptly let you go as he placed his hands on his hips. 

“That’s my best friend, Y/N.”

As he begins to cry, you immediately tackle your arms around him and he promptly does the same, nuzzling his face into your neck as you hold him tightly to you. 

####################

@rckstrbee @melodymishahiddlestan @myherometalhead

@siriuslysmoking @micheledawn1975 @cositaslua

@munsonmoonshine86 @unfocused81 @paleidiot

@dad-steddie @aol19 @strngrlytn @mrsjellymunson

@needylilgal022 @dashingdeb16 @hardladyheart

[soleilpinto]

DRS = Defining Relationship Status?: Love in the Last Corner °‧🫐𐙚⭒

“Defining Relationship Status Zone” 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐

Synopsis: Motorsport fan and model, Y/n, and her thirst-filled tweets about Franco catch his attention, sparking a hilarious online banter that goes viral. As their playful exchanges become real connections, fans and media can’t get enough—will their chemistry survive offline?

Genre: Fluff, Crack, Slowburn, (Slight) Angst

AU: Social Media AU!

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Note: I can’t believe we’re finally at the final part of this series, it’s been a wild time writing this fic 😭 Don’t worry though, I’ll have another smau coming out soon so you guys won’t get bored. Thank you guys so much again for the huge amount of love on the series, even if it is my first one on this account. Love you all!

DRS Masterlist. (PREV./NEXT.)

@williamzracing so y/n's been radio silent about franco for weeks... but now she’s in qatar and hanging out with lando? 👀 something’s up

@oversteerqueen y/n showing up in the mclaren garage with lando like she didn’t spend the entire season thirsting over franco... the AUDACITY

@chequeredflirt i’m calling it now: y/n and franco are done, and lando is moving in for the win (and i’m not talking about the constructors) 😂

@chicanechatter imagine being franco and seeing y/n with lando in qatar. the silence is deafening.

@formulafrenzyy this lando and y/n thing better be pr because I’m not emotionally ready for a breakup AND a new ship all at once

The McLaren garage buzzed with energy as checks were being made before the first free practice session.

You stood off to the side, leaning casually against a wall, chatting with Lando. His easy humor had you laughing, your shoulders relaxing despite the chaos of the paddock around you.

“You know,” Lando teased, crossing his arms with a sly grin, “if you’re going to hang around the McLaren garage this much, we might as well get you some team gear. You’d look good in papaya.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “I don’t know, Lando. Orange might not be my color.”

“It’s papaya,” Lando corrected with mock seriousness, making you laugh again.

The sound of footsteps caught your attention, and before you could turn fully, you felt it—Franco’s presence. He was walking past, his gaze locked on you and Lando, his jaw tight and his eyes unreadable.

You tensed involuntarily, your laughter dying down as your eyes met his for the briefest of moments.

Lando noticed the change in your demeanor and followed your gaze, his expression shifting.

“Speak of the devil,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

Franco slowed his stride as if debating something, and then, to your surprise, he pivoted on his heel and walked straight toward you. Your stomach flipped.

This wasn’t like him.

“Can we talk?” Franco’s voice was steady, but there was a sharp edge to it as he glanced between you and Lando.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Now?”

“Yes. Now.” Franco’s tone left no room for argument.

Lando raised an eyebrow, stepping back slightly but still hovering close enough to observe.

“Well, I think that’s my cue to check on the car,” he said, shooting you a quick look as if to say good luck.

“Thanks, Lando,” you muttered, your voice tight as he walked off, leaving you alone with Franco.

You crossed your arms, looking up at him. “What’s this about?”

Franco’s expression softened for a moment before hardening again, as if he were fighting some internal battle.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said bluntly.

You frowned. “Do what?”

“This... pretending like I don’t care,” he admitted, his voice low but intense.

“I saw you laughing with Lando, and I couldn’t just walk away this time. I’m tired of avoiding this, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched at the sudden vulnerability in his tone, your heart pounding as you tried to process his words.

“Avoiding what?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Franco’s eyes searched yours, and for the first time in weeks, the tension between you felt less like a wall and more like a thread ready to snap.

“You,” he said simply. “Us.”

Your heart felt like it had stopped altogether, and the world around you faded into the background. But before you could find the words to respond, Franco shook his head slightly, as if trying to steady himself.

“I just... I needed to say it,” he muttered. “I couldn’t let it go unsaid anymore.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there in the middle of the McLaren garage, your thoughts spinning faster than the engines roaring in the background.

liked by lettiemng, gabyprentice_ and others

ynbardot doha dump (day one)

lilymhe always so gorgeous

— ynbardot when YOU exist omg lily 😭

iamrebeccad 😍

— ynbardot 😚

The hotel room was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning and the occasional sound of Elena scrolling on her phone.

You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the room service tray you’d barely touched, replaying the events from the McLaren garage over and over in your mind.

Elena finally looked up, noticing the faraway expression on your face.

“Alright, spill,” she said, setting her phone down and crossing her legs. “What’s got you looking like you’ve seen a ghost?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“Franco came up to me today. In the McLaren garage.”

Elena’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“What? He actually said something for once? And here I thought the boy had forgotten how to talk.”

You managed a small, bitter laugh. “Yeah, he finally talked. He said he couldn’t pretend he didn’t care anymore.”

“Wait… what exactly did he say?” Her expression shifted, softening with curiosity.

You hesitated, trying to recall the exact words without letting your emotions twist them.

“He said he was tired of avoiding it. That he couldn’t just walk away this time. And then he said… he’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t care.”

Elena stared at you, her lips parted in shock. “Wow,” she finally said, leaning back against the headboard.

“That’s big. That’s really big.”

“Is it, though?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I still don’t understand why he’s been so cold lately. Why he let things get so bad between us. I don’t even know if I believe him, Elena. It’s like… it’s like he’s just now realizing I exist.”

Elena frowned, tilting her head as she studied you.

“You’re hurt,” she said softly.

“Of course I am,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly.

“This whole thing has been a mess. He was fine keeping his distance for weeks, acting like nothing happened, and now he decides to come up to me and say all this? I don’t know how to feel.”

Elena reached over, placing a hand on your arm.

“Y/N, I get it. But listen to me—Franco’s been in his head about you for a while now. Probably longer than he even realizes.”

“What are you talking about?” You looked at her skeptically.

She shrugged, her tone matter-of-fact.

“He’s been acting this way ever since Vegas. I mean, the guy practically spiraled when he saw you and Lando hanging out. Do you really think he didn’t know what he was feeling back then? He’s just been too stubborn—or scared—to admit it.”

Your heart clenched at her words, the memory of Vegas flooding back. Franco’s sharp glares, his tense expression, the way he seemed on edge every time Lando was around.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“Because it wasn’t my place to meddle,” Elena said gently.

“He had to figure it out on his own, and it looks like he finally has. I’m just saying—maybe don’t write him off completely just yet.”

You sighed, burying your face in your hands.

“I don’t know, Elena. It’s not that simple. I’m still hurt. I still don’t trust him not to run away again.”

“And that’s fair,” she said, her voice firm but understanding. “But if he’s finally stepping up, don’t shut him out without hearing him out first. You deserve answers, Y/N. You deserve to know how he really feels.”

You leaned back against the pillows, your mind swirling with doubt and confusion. “What if it’s too late?” you asked softly.

Elena gave you a small smile, her tone reassuring. “If it’s real, it’s never too late. But you have to decide if you’re willing to find out.”

You closed your eyes, her words settling over you like a weight.

Part of you wanted to keep your walls up, to protect yourself from further hurt. But another part—a smaller, quieter part—couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Franco was finally ready to let you in.

The next afternoon, the buzz of activity in the McLaren garage was a welcome distraction. Engineers hurried around, adjusting setups, while mechanics prepped Lando’s car for the third free practice session.

You were perched on a stool by one of the monitors, sipping on a water bottle as Elena scrolled through her phone beside you.

Lando strolled over, helmet tucked under his arm, his signature grin plastered on his face. “Enjoying the chaos?” he asked, leaning casually against the counter.

You laughed softly. “It’s actually kind of relaxing. Well, compared to my brain lately.”

Elena shot you a knowing look, but said nothing, letting Lando take the bait.

“Oh?” Lando raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s going on in that overthinking head of yours?”

You hesitated, glancing at Elena, who nodded encouragingly.

“It’s… about Franco,” you finally admitted.

Lando set his helmet down, folding his arms as he leaned in closer.

“Alright, now I’m invested. What did he do this time?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. ��Remember how he came up to me yesterday? Before free practice. He said he couldn’t pretend he didn’t care anymore.”

Lando blinked, clearly surprised. “Wow. That’s… actually huge for him. But I’m guessing there’s more to the story.”

“Of course there is,” you said with a dry laugh.

“I just… I don’t know what to do, Lando. Part of me wants to hear him out, but the other part is still so angry and hurt. He’s been so distant for weeks, and now suddenly he wants to talk?”

Lando nodded thoughtfully, his expression unusually serious.

“Look, I’m not gonna pretend I know Franco super well, but from what I’ve seen? He’s not the kind of guy who puts himself out there unless he means it.”

“That’s what Elena said,” you muttered, glancing at your friend, who gave you an encouraging smile.

Lando shrugged, his tone casual but sincere.

“Then maybe Elena’s onto something. I get that you’re hurt, and you have every right to be. But if he’s finally stepping up, don’t you think it’s worth at least hearing him out?”

You bit your lip, his words sinking in. “What if he’s just going to hurt me again?”

“Then you’ll have every right to tell him to shove it. But at least you’ll know you gave him the chance to explain himself. Better than sitting here wondering what could’ve been, right?” Lando reached out, gently poking your shoulder.

Before you could respond, Oscar called for Lando, signaling it was time for him to suit up. He grabbed his helmet, flashing you a quick grin.

“Think about it, yeah? I’ve gotta go be a superstar now.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help smiling as he walked off toward his car. Elena nudged your arm, her expression teasing.

“He’s got a point, you know,” she said.

You exhaled deeply, watching as Lando climbed into his car, the hum of the engine roaring to life. Maybe it was time to stop running from this and face whatever was waiting for you.

The podium celebrations had ended, and the Qatar Grand Prix winners were back in the paddock, mingling with team members and a few drivers who had stayed behind to offer their congratulations.

The desert night was cool, but the buzz of the race still lingered in the air.

You stood nearby with Elena, chatting casually with Lando and Oscar, both still riding the adrenaline high from their stellar performances that weekend.

“Not a bad day at the office, huh?” you said to Lando, who was leaning against a table, his trademark grin on full display.

“Not bad at all,” he replied, his tone playful. “But now, it’s all about getting some rest before Abu Dhabi. That’s where the real fun is.”

Oscar chuckled, his demeanor calm as always. “Yeah, if we don’t wake up late that is. Speaking of, we should probably head out soon.”

“Agreed,” Lando added, pushing himself upright. “Gotta make sure we’re fresh for the finale.” He glanced at you and Elena. “You two are heading to Abu Dhabi later, right?”

You nodded. “We’re on the early morning flight. Guess we’ll see you there.”

“Perfect,” Lando said with a wink. “Abu Dhabi’s gonna be a party.”

The sun casts a golden glow over Abu Dhabi, illuminating the city’s gleaming architecture and turquoise waters.

You wandered through the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque with Elena, Jade, and Alex by your side, the four of you taking in the breathtaking beauty of the place. Tourists moved around you, their whispers blending into the serene atmosphere.

Elena nudged your side as you adjusted your scarf. “You’ve been quiet all morning. Still thinking about Franco?”

“What do you think?” You shot her a look, but the slight heat in your cheeks gave you away.

“I think you’re pretending to enjoy the scenery, but all you can think about is how he looked at you back in Vegas—and maybe what he said yesterday.” She smirked knowingly.

You sighed, brushing your fingers over the marble pillars. “It’s just… I don’t know what to do. He seemed so genuine, but it’s hard to forget how much he hurt me. And this is supposed to be his weekend. His last race in F1. I don’t want to distract him.”

Elena stopped walking and turned to face you, her expression soft yet serious.

“Y/N, you’re not a distraction. You’re the one thing he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about. Don’t you see it? He’s been aware of his feelings for you since Vegas, and the fact that he finally admitted them says a lot.”

You crossed your arms, feeling the weight of her words. “What if I can’t trust him again? What if I just get hurt all over?”

Elena reached out, placing a comforting hand on your arm.

“That’s a risk, yeah. But what if this time, he’s ready to prove himself to you? You’ve always been good at reading people, Y/N. Trust your gut.”

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Pulling it out, you saw Franco’s name flashing on the screen. Your heart skipped a beat, and Elena raised an eyebrow.

“Speaking of,” she said with a teasing grin.

You hesitated before answering, your voice coming out softer than you intended.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Franco’s voice was steady, but there was an undertone of nervousness. “I heard you’re out exploring the city. Do you have a minute? There’s something I want to show you.”

Elena gave you an encouraging nod, mouthing, Go.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, your pulse quickening. “Where are you?”

“Corniche Beach,” he replied. “I’ll send you the location.”

After hanging up, you turned to Elena, who was already grinning. “Go,” she urged. “I’ll be fine. Take the chance, Y/N.”

You gave her a hesitant smile before walking toward the exit. As you stepped into the warm Abu Dhabi air, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the moment where things between you and Franco would finally find clarity—or fall apart completely.

The sun dipped low over Corniche Beach, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose.

The gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore was a stark contrast to the whirlwind in your chest as you spotted Franco waiting by the railing. He was dressed casually, his hands shoved into his pockets, but the look on his face was anything but relaxed.

He straightened up when he saw you approach, his lips curving into a tentative smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you replied, stopping a few feet away.

The cool evening breeze swept through your hair, and you crossed your arms, unsure of how to start. “You wanted to see me?”

Franco nodded, exhaling deeply before gesturing toward the beach.

“Yeah, I thought this would be a good place to talk. It’s quieter.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Talk about what?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground before meeting yours again. “Us.”

The word hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded. You swallowed hard, trying to steel yourself.

“What about us, Franco?”

He stepped closer, his expression serious yet vulnerable.

“I’ve been a complete idiot. I know that. I messed everything up in Vegas, and then I made it worse by not talking to you. I let my own fear ruin everything. But… I can’t keep pretending I don’t care about you. Because I do. I care so much it scares me.”

Your breath hitched, his words cutting through the layers of doubt and hurt that had built up over the past few weeks.

“Franco, you can’t just say that after everything,” you said, your voice wavering. “You hurt me. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been?”

“I know,” he said, his voice low and laced with regret. “I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But I need you to know that it wasn’t because I didn’t care. It was because I cared too much, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. But all you saw was raw honesty, his dark eyes pleading with you to believe him.

“I kept telling myself this was fake, that it didn’t mean anything,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “But it wasn’t fake for me. Not then, and definitely not now.”

The weight of his confession settled over you, leaving you momentarily speechless. When you finally found your voice, it was soft but steady.

“Franco, I don’t want to be someone you’re unsure about. I don’t want to be second-guessing where I stand with you.”

“You’re not,” he said firmly, taking another step closer. “You’re not second to anything, Y/N. You’re everything. And I’m done running from it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the walls you’d built around it starting to crack.

“Franco, if I give this a chance—if I give you a chance—you have to promise me something.”

“Anything,” he said without hesitation.

“Be honest with me,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “No more mixed signals, no more hiding. If you’re all in, I need to know.”

He nodded, reaching for your hands. His touch was warm, grounding you as he looked into your eyes with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“I’m all in,” he said softly. “I’m not letting fear get in the way again.”

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, the sound of the waves and the distant hum of the city becoming background noise. Then, slowly, you nodded.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Let’s do this.”

A smile broke across his face, and before you could say another word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world. You leaned into him, the weight of the past weeks lifting as the warmth of his embrace wrapped around you.

When he finally pulled back, his grin was boyish, full of relief and happiness. “You won’t regret this,” he promised.

You couldn’t help but smile, the tension in your chest finally easing. “You better not make me.”

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the beach, you felt something you hadn’t in weeks—hope.

liked by francolapinto, alexandrasaintmleux and others

ynbardot headstart in abu dhabi

elenavalor omg she finally did it 😭

— ynbardot i love you 🥹

francisca.cgomes 🥹🫶

@gridgossips not y/n soft launching franco on her feed and him immediately liking it. y’all… we’re so back. 😭

@lightsoutndaway y/n subtly dropping franco in her post and he’s out here liking it like they didn’t just have the messiest fallout? this is PEAK f1 drama

@tifosiqueen that photo of franco and y/n in her post was so soft. are they finally on good terms or are we entering relationship announcement territory? 👀✨

@pitlaneinsider not me seeing y/n and franco walking together at the paddock entrance…i thought they weren’t on speaking terms? 🧐

@colapintcentral the fact that y/n and franco are literally together at yas marina right now after WEEKS of silence has me going insane. someone explain the timeline 🥲

The roar of the crowd at Yas Marina fades into a low hum as you make your way to the paddock after the race.

The air feels thick with tension, and the pit crews are busy packing up, but all you can focus on is Franco.

You had seen him in the cockpit, his car fighting for position before that unfortunate technical issue, and now you know he's out of the race.

He didn't finish.

You walk through the garage, your heart sinking a little with every step until you spot him by his team's pit wall.

Franco's shoulders are slumped, and his gaze is fixed on the ground. He doesn’t see you at first, too caught up in the frustration of yet another DNF.

“Franco,” you call softly, and his head snaps up.

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, and for a moment, you almost regret the words that follow. “Are you okay?”

He exhales sharply, his usual confident demeanor now worn down by the race.

“I’ll live,” he says with a tight smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m just... tired since it’s already the last race. Feels like I’m always on the edge, always close, but never quite there.”

You walk closer, carefully avoiding the space around him that feels like he’s trying to keep himself distant.

“You know, you're still one of the best out there,” you say, your voice soothing despite the ache in your chest. “None of this was your fault.”

Franco lets out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I’m not worried about that. It’s more... everything else. The pressure. The expectations. And... well,” he pauses, glancing at you through his lashes, “this.”

You swallow, trying not to let the weight of his words pull you under. “You don’t have to keep pretending with me, you know,” you murmur, stepping closer so there’s no space between the two of you.

You’re quiet for a beat, your heart hammering in your chest as his words echo in your head. It’s strange.

It’s been so easy to let things go, to keep pretending for the cameras, for the fans. But now, it feels different.

“I don’t know where we go from here,” you say, voice shaking slightly, but your eyes never leave his. “I don’t know if this is just a phase, or if we’re making something out of nothing.”

Franco steps a little closer, his hand brushing against yours.

“We take it one step at a time. No pressure. Just... let’s see where the world takes us, yeah?”

You nod, a small but relieved smile tugging at your lips. It’s not perfect. It’s not figured out.

But for the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe you’ve taken a step toward something real—something you weren’t sure you’d get.

© soleilpinto 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[lelengerine]

₊˚⊹♡ mixed orders

pairing. tokuno yushi x reader

synopsis. a silly mistake has yushi thinking about you for days.

tags. college cafe drabble, just a lot of fluff, in the member's pov bc i like writing inner dilemmas, mentions of food, reader uses she/her prns... i think that's it! (lmk if anything was missed)

wc. 0.8k words

notes. my first work for the year and its for the wishies (i hope u all don't mind me writing for them now hehe) 🥺 also what do we think of this new banner style 👐👐 likes and feedback are highly appreciated!

꒰ m.list ꒱

yushi thinks he’s losing it.

it started last week—when he met you.

his friends had begged him to check out a cafe near campus, throwing around excuses about needing a change of scenery to study. yushi knew better. studying was always the last thing on their minds when they were together. but when riku slung an arm around his shoulders and sion dangled the promise of good coffee in front of him, he couldn’t find it in himself to say no.

the cafe was warm and cozy, filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and pastries. yushi didn’t think much of it at first. it was just another cafe, just another outing with his friends.

but then he saw you.

you were standing behind the counter, adjusting the straps of your apron before glancing up at him with a small smile. the soft, golden lights of the cafe reflected in your eyes, giving them an almost starry quality. his friends wasted no time rattling off their orders to him, not even sparing a second glance before they darted off to claim a table. now he was left standing there, brain inexplicably stalling as if some pop up screen was blocking it from functioning normally.

“hi! what can i get you?” you asked, your voice bright and clear.

“um… uh, what was it… two raspberry lattes and a caramel soda?”

“i think you meant two raspberry sodas and a caramel latte,” you corrected gently, a small laugh slipping out as you tapped the order into the register.

yushi felt like sinking into the floor at that very moment. “r-right, those please.”

“that’ll be fifteen dollars in total. can i have your name, please?”

“my name?” he echoed dumbly, his voice cracking slightly.

you tilted your head, clearly amused. “so you can claim your drinks when they’re ready, silly.”

“oh- right.” his hand fumbled with his wallet, nearly dropping his card in the process. the tips of his ears burned, and he could already hear sion and riku laughing if they had seen this. “it’s yushi.”

“okay! here you go.” you handed him his change and a buzzer, your fingers brushing his ever so briefly. “you can pick up your drinks when it starts beeping.”

“i… i knew that,” he mumbled, gripping the buzzer tightly like it was a lifeline that would save him from his ever growing embarrassment.

“just making sure.” you winked playfully before turning your attention to the next customer.

yushi moved out of the line on autopilot, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. by the time he reached his friends, he realized he hadn’t even thanked you. the thought lingered even after he had already retrieved the drinks, silently gnawing at him as his friends started chatting about some new game release.

it wasn’t anything special, so why did his mind keep recalling the way you laughed? or the mischievous glint in your eyes when you teased him?

“hey, class ended like five minutes ago, and you’re usually the first one out as soon as the bell rings.”

huh?

yushi blinked, realizing he’d been staring blankly at his notebook. sion was leaning on his desk, one eyebrow raised, his messenger bag slung carelessly over his shoulder.

“your mind’s been absent all day,” riku added, tossing a pen into his backpack with a practiced flick. he nudged yushi’s chair with his foot. “whatcha thinking about, hmm?”

“nothing,” yushi muttered, shoving his notebook into his bag with a little more force than necessary.

sion crossed his arms, a sly grin spreading across his face. “oh, it’s definitely something. wait a second- this started last week, didn’t it? at the cafe.”

riku’s eyes widened as he snapped his fingers. “it’s the barista, isn’t it?!”

yushi froze, his ears instantly turning red and his friends could already tell what that implies without him needing to even speak.

“dude, you’re so obvious.” sion plopped down on the desk next to yushi’s, leaning in with a teasing grin. “you’ve been zoning out ever since we went there. what, are you gonna ask her out or just keep replaying that little meet-cute in your head?”

“i barely know her,” yushi snapped, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he stood. “and i don’t even—”

“you don’t even what?” riku cut in, blocking his path with a smirk. “like her? think about her every day? want to go back just to see her?”

yushi groaned, burying his face in his hands. “you’re both the worst.”

“well, lucky for you,” sion said, patting his shoulder with mock sympathy, “we’re heading back tomorrow. don’t say we never do anything for you.”

“wait- what?” yushi looked up, panicked.

“don’t worry, we’ll even order for you this time so you don’t embarrass yourself again.” riku laughed, dodging the half-hearted punch yushi threw his way.

as they left the classroom, yushi lagged behind, trying to quiet the flurry of nerves in his chest. it wasn’t much—just a thought. but somehow, the idea of seeing you again didn’t seem so bad.

[charmac]

thoughts on charlie learning how to read?

As to the effect, I think we’ll have to wait to see what really comes of it, considering the very final joke of the episode is he thinks “guest” on the scoreboard says “ghost,” they definitely made a point to make it clear he’s not necessarily literate by any means beyond “enough to graduate kindergarten”

I do like what Justin and Patrick, the EPs for Abbott said about the longevity of that establishment:

In the end, it’s definitely what Sunny and Charlie Day decide to do with this canon. We know the Abbott ep was filmed before any of the episodes for Season 17 of Sunny, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility that they do stick with the idea that Charlie doesn’t struggle as much with reading and writing and maybe has a little kick in him to keep practicing.

Personally on the existence of the storyline now incorporated into Sunny canon, I think they did it in such a fantastic way it’s hard for me to argue anything against or say anything negative. I loved watching it. The thing I love about Abbott is the heart they have in the stories and how real a lot of what they address and tackle in childhood-into-adult development is, and you feel that here, for sure. And we’re watching Abbott, not Sunny, so it’s something removed from the purgatory of the bar.

For those of us that know and love Charlie, I think it’s hard to not feel soft toward this idea that (even if it doesn’t stick or it’s so so basic) there really truly are ways for the Gang to develop and improve on their faults/stubbornness to change, provided it’s treated the right way. And that can only be done (and maybe only continue) in a completely different environment, like Abbott.

The tragedy of Sunny and the Gang is that they’ll never treat each other in that way and therefore can rarely develop. It’s not that they don’t necessarily care, but that their communication methods are so crude and fulled by (often trauma-born) selfishness, they can never give each other the support needed to help improve each other. They make each other miserable in most cases, but they’re also content with that because they almost equally inflict what they take on....

Though Sunny isn't all complete misery, as we all know. They do love each other in fucked up ways and (maybe) almost wish they could help each other in certain respects. Mac's support and encouragement of Charlie being able to read is evident in many Sunny episodes, so it really warmed my heart that Charlie was so eager to show Mac how he had learned and could do a more difficult part of the book for him :) In my opinion, they kept it well aligned with Sunny canon. The Gang don't have the tools to teach Charlie to read, but they do all support and even partly enjoy him learning if they don't have to do it themselves.

I think what we see of Charlie in the Sunny episode will be interesting. Since he's the A plot in Abbott, I have to imagine he has a minor role in Sunny, but will certainly be present. If the idea here is that everyone other than Dennis is serving to distract the teachers, and Charlie only learned to read for the week and goes back to his baseline state of illiteracy, I think I would accept that too.

The lasting effect of the plot doesn't matter too much to me. I think instead the idea that, in the right environment, Charlie can learn to read (and even gets some sense of pride and excitement out of being able to read) but Paddy's and the Gang are really what hinder him from being able to do so (despite the Gang not necessarily against the idea, and considering the fact that Charlie contributes to and prefers the environment they've created) reinforces the Sunny that we hold dear.

[l-starlight-l]

The love of a Hero

The Hero’s Betrayal

Previous: masterlist

Warning: some light smutt but nothing crazy

Description: Jason pulls you into a closet at work and helps you blow off some steam.

Pairing: redhood x reader

——————————————————————————

——————————————————————————

You had been on his mind constantly since he first met you. The way you smile and laugh. He thinks about your beauty and your brains. He is slowly falling in love with you and he knows it, but he’s unsure if you love him as Jason or the red hood. You don’t know they’re the same person but you still flirt with both. There’s been moments between you and “both” boys but that doesn’t mean your falling for them. He doesn’t think to much on it cause either way you would choose him and that’s all he wanted.

Arkham is buzzing today due to a failed escape attempt. There are so many people working that the huge building seems so overwhelmingly small. There are guards posted at every cell and a group of people you think might be engineers or maintenance workers, you’re not sure but they are all over the place. There hasn’t been a second you’ve been alone this shift and it is driving you insane. The job already takes such a toll on your mental health and this is making it so much worse. You didn’t even get a chance for a lunch break so you could see your favorite masked hero.

On the verge of a breakdown you practically run down a hallway looking for a quiet place to think. Suddenly a hand reaches out of a nearby closet and scoops you in. You panic at first and try to break free but realize there is barely any room to move. It’s to dark to see anything which makes your heart beat even faster. “Calm down, doc” a firimilair voice says.

“Jason?” You question, “what are you doing here?”

The voice freezes for a minute and then speaks softly “I was called in for a job, you were short a guard and I’m firmilar with the building”. You didn’t for second doubt that his story was true, you knew he was some sort of security personnel and trusted him with your whole heart.

“Why are we in a closet?” you ask feeling the warmth of his body against you, “a very small one at that” you litter to yourself. It’s not like you haven’t been this close to him before, the last time you guys hung out you slightly remember a drunken make out sess but this feels so much different. Maybe it’s the lack of alcohol in your system or the stressful day you’ve had. His hands grin your hips till the skin aches under his finger tips. “Jason?” You barely breathe out. You can’t see his face but you can feel him, you can feel the yearning in his body for you. Instinctively you lean up on your toes trying to find his face. You gently cup his cheeks, “what’s wrong?” you ask softly.

He doesn’t reply with his words but pulls you into him. You lips crash into his, the heat of his body suddenly overwhelming. You let him take control as your hands fall around his neck. You pull him in closer as the kiss grows more violent. His hands roaming up from your hips to hover around your breasts, almost as if he’s afraid to touch you in such a vulnerable spot. A soft moan escapes your lips muffled by the kiss and he takes it as a go ahead to finally grab you. The feeling of his lips on yours and his hands massaging your boobs ignite a growing passion in your core. You forget where you are or what you were supposed to be doing and you only want more of him.

He lets out a low groan as your nails claw into your back, your hips grinds on his knee between your legs. The frictions making you melt faster into him. Your body yearns for a release and to feel his skin on yours. You can tell he wants it to as his movements become sloppier and sloppier. “Does that feel good?” he whispers into your kiss and all you can do is nodded as a moan replaces your words as your hips move faster against his thigh.

The moment is broken when you hear your pager beep in your pocket. You eyes open reluctantly and you sign so loudly that someone outside the door could definitely hear it. “I have to go” you say the disappointment heavy in your voice. He untangled the two of you so you can leave to do your job and he can get back to his. You open the door letting the hallway light in and look back. You freeze. That wasn’t Jason, it was the red hood. He was only wearing a simple domino mask, his hair was a mess. You look down at his swollen lips and then up to his guilty eyes with your widened ones. “What the hell” anger laces your voice as the words come out. Your pager beep again before you can say anything further. You give his one last hurt look before running away from him. In hopes to help you coworkers and maybe to also get away from him.

——————————————————————————

[protectorcraft]

mutual liked the gripe post which reminded me to write it. okay hi im pyxis and im gonna talk about a trope the isat community falls back on a lot in writing that bugs me okay thanks

this is gonna be long and probably annoying so im putting it under a cut. open at ur own risk. heavy spoiler warning thanks.

okay. how do i start this. a thing ive seen in quite a few fics and theories, and its that the islanders are directly- and purposefully- responsible for their own disappearance. usually i see it framed as "the islanders made themselves disappear/attempted to wish away knowledge of wishcraft because it was dangerous" and like. hm! i dont think so.

take this with a grain of salt as ur local cracker but considering the framing of the island's disappearance- abrupt, sudden, disastrous- something everyone was talking about- the disappearance definitely falls more in line with the metaphor of some sort of disaster or, as is a significant theme in the game, colonialism/imperialism and the subjugation of cultures.

this was- 100%- not the islander's faults, and blaming them completely misses the point of the matter.

while people can say wishcraft is dangerous- and really, it is, there's no getting around it- it also seems like it was an important piece of the Island's culture and based off the few islanders we meet, probably used fairly regularly in day to day life. siffrin, for example, literally uses it on the regular without even realizing it. the knowledge of how to do it properly is probably pretty ingrained into the average Islander's brain. to them, it's just a fact of life! i mean, literally all the scriptures we see on wishcraft (and astronomy) ingame are written in the Islander language. they were The Experts on this stuff. (not to mention that this proves the knowledge was in the general public's grasp, even if it required knowledge of their language to learn about)

so it just doesnt make sense that they'd wish something so important to them away like that- sure there was probably discourse amongst them about the dangers of these practices, but they would know enough to know attempt something as risky as, say, wishing away all knowledge of their country or any one big thing. not to mention wishcraft is weird- technically speaking, siffrin's wish probably wouldve had a lot less effect if all the energy of the failed wishes hadnt culminated into their successful one.

and before you bring up how op the kings wish is- remember that a good 75% of the game is exposing all the ways the other characters foil siffrin, including the king. the king, who supposedly made a wish to freeze vaugarde- but did he?

a lot of the king's dialogue, when he isnt gushing about vaugarde and how much he loves it, is about his grief surrounding the loss of his own country. when given the chance, he'll grasp at any opportunity to remember anything about it, even if its putting trust in the hands of a stranger who is literally here to kill him for help. its pretty clear to anyone with a brain that he's not being ingenuine about this.

and, see, siffrin's true wish was masked over by their other wish. its one of the game's big red herrings. yadda yadda yadda how do we know that the king's true wish was really the "preserve" vaugarde, huh?

"where are you going with this we've gotten wildly off track" no we havent! get fucked! i think the kings true wish was the remember his country- and, yknow, there's probably a fair few islanders remaining. probably yearning to grasp even a fragment of their lost culture, hoping and dreaming and wishing for answers. not unlike the king, perhaps? perhaps a culmination of half baked wishes being fueled by one, fully formed wish?

yeah, you get where im going with this.

so perhaps wishcraft isnt quite as strong as we assume it is? that the soul intent of one person isn't necessarily going to give you godlike power in most cases- mind we're not quite grasping the full scope due to loops. Whole Situation. but that's not why we're here.

if the Islanders had enough faith in the rest of the world to provide them with their wishcraft knowledge- then i doubt they wouldve wished themselves or their knowledge away. nobody would do that.

and if the rest of the world did, indeed, have access to that knowledge, then there's a fair chance some other group could be responsible. a group who doesnt even recall their own responsibility because it's been wiped from their memories.

like, idk.... a more on the nose version how colonizer countries bury their own history of misdeeds from the general populace?

idk man. idk. just feels weird to me that so many people seem to have immediately gone towards the Cultural Suicide route for some reason. you have to be willing to acknowledge that the isat universe is definitely not the perfect, pristine world you think it is. and maybe folks just need to be willing to acknowledge the actual brutality the metaphor is alluding to.

after all, an entire island- all of its peoples and cultures- disappeared.

[wlwsoccerfics]

Communication is Key (Sydney LohmannxGwinnReader!)

(Part 2 of Knocked Out)

Warnings: mentions of epilepsy, mental health struggles, relationship arguements

It has been 2 months since you had to give up your soccer career. It sucked and you still weren't over it. But now there was no secret in the way of you moving in with Sydney. Honestly there was no way that she would let you live on your own and neither was your sister Giulia. The two and your friends have learned how to deal with your epilepsy and what to do in case of an emergency. And now you were an Assistent Coach for the team. It wasn't the same as playing and being so close to the field still stung a bit but it was better then anything else you could have imagined for yourself. You also apologized for your behavior because snapping at the people that love and care about you isn't it. Probably wasn't gonna be the last time though. Cause you are only human.

Sydney walked to her car with you. Holding hands. You always were a Passanger princess so the fact that you weren't allowed to drive with your health issues wasn't bothering you at all. "Did you take your meds, babe?" She asked you. "Yes my love. Don't worry about me. Things are fine!" You told her but of course she was gonna worry. It was her duty as your girlfriend. And in all honesty you always were worried about her as well when she wasn't feeling so great. Even when it was just a cold. That what love is all about, caring about the other Person. "I am gonna worry no matter what! Cause you are the love of my life! You are stuck with me!" Sydney answered with a smile. "Is this a threat?" You asked jokingly and pulled her close. "Just kidding, you are the love of my life too. I sincerly believe what we have is for forever!" You told her, kissing her softly. She kissed you back before opening the car door for you. You thank her and sat down in the passenger seat. She closed it and walked around the car to get into the drivers seat. "For the record i sincerly believe what we have is for forever as well!" Sydney replied and started the car. You put on some music, connecting your Phone to the Bluetooth of the car. The two of you drove in comfortable silence, Sydneys hand resting on your knee for the most part of the 15 minute car ride.

You walked inside together once Sydney parked her car. You two kissed eachother before going your seperate ways. She got changed while you went to meet up with Alex to have a little chat about today's practice. "Hey y/n!" He said. "Hey Alex! So last practice before the game against Wolfsburg. Which we need to win! It's important that we work on standards cause those will be really important. Given that is how we can Score since out of the usual Play it will be hard to get even slightly close to the goal or even make it into their half of the field." You said and he chuckled softly. He appreciated how focused you were and how important this all was to you. Even though you had to give up playing.

At the same time with most of the team getting changed...

Giulia was talking to Sydney about you. Being the concerned big sister she always was. "Syd is she actually okay? I feel like she is not actually dealing with the situation. It has me worried. The fact that she said 'no' to therapy after her dreams were crushed. And the fact that she tried to hide it from us before...i don't think she is dealing with it like she should!" Your sister told your girlfriend. "I do think the same sometimes. But she always keeps promising that things are fine!" Sydney stated. "Maybe we should try and talk to her together!" Giulia suggested. Lea who was sitting next to them, putting her hair into a ponytail. "Guys she might think that it's an intervention if you try to sit her down to talk about that! I mean it is ... but still...she might be even more closed off if you go on about it like that. It needs to be in a more causal way!" Lea told them. "Yes, listen to Lea! I am not a child and i decide when i need therapy...no one else!" You said from the doorway of the changing room. all eyes were on you now. "Babe..." Sydney tried to talk to you but you were quite upset so you stopped her, holding your hand up. "I don't want to hear it, Sydney! You two just could have talked to me when we would hang out with one another and make it sound like you are just checking in and not discussing my business at work. In front of our friends! I am so upset and angry with both of you! Sydney and Giulia!" They knew they messed up because you never used their legal names. It was always: Syd, Babe, Baby, SydBear or something cute like that. For Giulia it was always : Giuli, G, Sis, Things like that. Neither of them had the chance of saying anything else. Because you left. Walking towards your office on Bayern Campus.

Your head was pounding and you didn't feel great at all after that argument or confrontation whatever you wanted to call it. Tears in your eyes. You couldn't even see where you were going at this point, which is why you almost ran into Lena who just got back from physiotherapy. She quickly stopped you. "Y/n? What's wrong?" She asked. "Lena?... Nothing, well...i had an argument with Syd & my sister! They talked about my mental health in front of the entire team. I hate that they talk behind my back about me that way!" You explained to her. She opened her arms to offer you a hug which you gladly took. Stepping into her arms. "They just worry about you! We all do! You mean so much to us! Especially to Syd & Giuli! Your sister loves you so much and would do whatever for you and Syd is so madly in love with you that she still blushes when someone mentions your name." Lena told you. "I know Obi i know. Maybe i was a bit unfair but since they knew about my diagnosis they watch me like Hawks. And sometines when Syd does it then it feels like she is my Care Giver and not my girlfriend! I Love both of them too! With all of my Heart and Sydney for sure is the love of my life!" You told your friend. "Maybe talk to them about how you feel?" Obi suggested as the two of you let go of eachother. "Good Idea! Thank you, Obi! Means alot to me!" Lena smiled at you. "That's what friends are for!" She answered. The two of you said your 'see you later' and that you would soon meet on the field. You just had to grab something from your office.

You sat down in your office chair, opening your Laptop to print Out some statistics. A knock on the door interrupted you though. "Yes? Please come in!" You said and looked up from your laptop. Both Giulia and Sydney walked in, looking like kicked puppies. "Can we Talk?" Your sister asked which you agreed to with a nod of your head. "Please sit." You told them. Giulia sat down on one of the chairs that stood in front of your desk Sydney sat down in your lap. "I am sorry, Angel face!" Your girlfriend whispered out, kissing your cheeks gently. "That's mean, Syd! I am trying to be mad at you!" You replied but couldn't help yourself, you just have to smile. "I am sorry as well, sis!" Giulia told you. "Fine i forgive the two of you! But please next time you are worried just talk to me! It has been two weeks since my last seizure and it was a minor one! Just an absence seizure. I get that you worry! I worry about the two of you as well when you get hurt or are not feeling well. But maybe we start to communicate better? Cause i really want things to be normal between us! And not like i am a helpless toddler. You worry more than Mom & Dad!" You explained, altough your parents do worry alot and you know they often would asked Giulia about how you are doing. Sometimes they would also call Syd to get an update on you cause you often would just say you are fine so they wouldn't worry. It was a circle of emotions really. "We are sorry! We both gonna try to be more chill, right Giuli?" Sydney promised you. "Yes right!" She agreed, nodding her head softly. "Good! And i promise i will also talk to my therapist about everything that happened in the last couple of months." You just wanted to let them know that you were dealing with it in a healthy way!

Around a month later Sydney proposed to you after they won the Champions League finale. Which of course you said yes to.

The following summer you got married, your teammates, families & some friends were there to celebrate with the two of you.

You officially were y/n Lohmann now and you couldn't be happier about it.

(There will be a part three and maybe a Part four)

[spriteofmushrooms]

@wouldyoulikeacupofteadear More thoughts on chengyao, those tags on their dynamics/sex with my in customer mode and jc aiming to please and thinking my wanted big strong man and them having mediocre sex were great

"Thank you for answering my letter. It is delicate," Jin Guangyao said, shifting his teacup, "since it is believed that a young man changing the way his house is run within three years of his father's passing must be unfilial." Jin Guangyao allowed that statement to breathe, and Jiang Wanyin waited patiently with a slight frown between his eyebrows. "However, some matters require immediate redress."

From his sleeve, he pulled a scroll and placed it between them on the table.

Jiang Wanyin's gaze darted to it. The air grew thick, the heavy feeling of a storm approaching. Zidian lay quiescent, at least.

"Which aspects of the contract would you like to amend, Lianfang-zun?"

"Although you may not know, I was raised in Yunping. We rarely saw cultivators, but the few times our neighbors required help, it was given by YunmengJiang. Your father required very little payment from those who had little to give; and this, I believe, is a tradition you have honored him by continuing."

Jiang Wanyin held still. A clearly practiced posture even now, years into his leadership. "It's reasonable. Expecting poor people to pay you more than they make in half a year allows resentment to fester."

"Not every sect leader makes that choice."

"You've met them," Jiang Wanyin said drily. "You know how they make their choices."

Jin Guangyao smiled and refilled Jiang Wanyin's cup. "Just so. In that spirit, I would like to renegotiate our formal alliance, paying particular notice of certain clauses—especially the ones placing conditions on your access to Jin Ling."

Almond eyes wide, Jiang Wanyin said, "How?"

"By removing them."

With a gasp from Jiang Wanyin, the air cleared. He pulled his hands to his lap, but not before Jin Guangyao noticed them quaking.

Jin Guangyao continued, "Jin Ling is very fortunate to have a jiujiu like you. If it would be amenable to you, I think he would enjoy splitting his time between Jinlin Tai and Lianhua Wu. There are considerations, of course, such as his attendants needing accommodation."

"What do you want in return?" Jiang Wanyin asked neutrally.

"This contract is secret. Changing it will not alter the appearance of either of our sects. No one knows the pressures which were placed upon you; once those pressures end, outsiders will rightly attribute your sect's recovery to your own excellent management, which has been hampered all these years."

"I won't support all of your acts as xiandu," Jiang Wanyin said immediately. "No one can be right all of the time, and I won't pretend you are."

Jin Guangyao shook his head. "Oh my, I explained myself poorly. There are no conditions on this, implied or explicit. Even if nothing else about our alliance changes, that will change. My hope is not for you to become a sycophant, but to understand me better."

Jiang Wanyin raised an eyebrow. "You ended the war with a tyrant. You're the sworn brother of the two most powerful cultivators alive. You're the damn xiandu. Why would my opinion matter?"

"Jin Ling is a sweet, sensitive boy." Jin Guangyao straightened his robes, fingers fluttering over the embroidered garden of his sleeves. "It will be his sect someday. I don't want him to find this contract in ten years' time and discover things about his grandfather and shushu that would disappoint him."

Jiang Wanyin huffed. "Give him twenty years instead, for all our sakes. In ten, he'll still be the silliest boy alive."