#so he had to take a longer route to get to the team

[d1stalker]

The Feeling's Mutual | Part One

[Logan Howlett x Mutant!Reader]

Summary: If somebody told you a week ago that you were a mutant, being stalked, and would be teaming up with an annoying, grumbly bastard, you probably would have laughed in their face. Too bad that was last week, because here you are, in that very situation, wondering how in the world things escalated so quickly.

PART TWO PART THREE FINAL PART

Warnings: fem!reader, canon-level violence, reluctant alliance, bickering, not exactly enemies-to-lovers but they don't rly get along, it's gonna be a slow burn y'all WC: 5.7k - MASTERLIST - A/N: If you saw me post this earlier, no you didn't 🤫 i added more hehe

You’ve never been so confused in your entire life.

It all started last week—when you were walking to the grocery store. Just an ordinary day, nothing special about it. You had a list in your hand, some cash in your pocket, and thoughts of what to cook for dinner running through your mind. The route you took had you winding down the usual streets of your neighbourhood, and that’s when you noticed him.

Something about him was different, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on what it was that made you think that. Perhaps it was the way his eyes followed you, stalking you, like a predator its prey.

At first, you thought it might be a coincidence. Maybe he was just another person going about his day, heading in the same direction as you. People share paths all the time; there was no reason to suspect anything sinister, right? But as you continued walking, a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach told you something was off. You decided to test it, making a sudden turn down a side street, one you usually never take.

The street was quieter, less foot traffic, and the late afternoon shadows were starting to stretch across the pavement. You glanced over your shoulder, and there he was, still a few steps behind, his gaze remaining locked onto you with a focus that sent a shiver down your spine. Quickening your pace, you felt an almost paralyzing fear.

This wasn’t just a shared route. 

The more you turned, the more you weaved through unfamiliar streets, the more persistent he became. He never faltered, never hesitated, always keeping just close enough to let you know he was there.

Finally, you reached the store, breathing in short, panicked gasps, your eyes flitting around. You ducked inside, hiding the fluorescent lights and bustling aisles. You tried to calm yourself, telling yourself it was nothing, that you were being paranoid. After all, what were the odds? Maybe he’d walk past, maybe he wasn’t even following you. You spent longer than usual picking up items you didn’t need, giving him time to disappear. 

But when you walked back outside, bags in hand, you saw him again. He wasn’t right at the door, but still, close enough—across the street, half-hidden in the shadow of another building, watching. His eyes locked with yours once more, and you froze, the plastic handles of the grocery bags digging into your palms as your grip tightened in fear. He didn’t move, didn’t smile or sneer, just stood there, silent.

You rushed home, not even bothering to see if he was tracking you down, too scared to find out the answer. Your mind was racing with a million thoughts. Who was he? What did he want? You didn’t sleep much that night, jumping at every creak and groan the apartment made, the image of that man’s cold stare burned into your mind.

The next day, you told yourself it was nothing, a one-time thing, just some creep who had too much time on his hands. A pervert, possibly. 

But happened again. A different man this time, but with the same unnerving intensity. He followed you the same way, mute and relentless, through the streets, to the store, and back home.

Then the day after that, and that, and that. They didn’t approach you directly, just followed, watched, waited. It was like a game, one that you didn’t know the rules to, and the stakes felt like they were getting higher and higher and more time passed. Whenever you stepped outside, you felt their eyes on you, felt their presence lurking just out of sight. It was terrifying.

The fear gnawed at you, growing with each passing day, until it became impossible to ignore. You started taking different routes, avoiding your usual stores, changing your routine as much as you could. Still, no matter what you did, they always found you.

Soon it changed—no longer just silent stalking. One night, as you were walking home, one of the men stepped out from the shadows and blocked your path. His presence was oppressive, the way he stood there, so still, so certain of his power over you. You had no idea what he wanted, but you knew it whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“Why are you following me?” you demanded, trying to muster up all the courage you could, voice shaking slightly despite your attempt to sound strong.

“Because we were told to,” the man said, his voice cold and emotionless. There was no malice, no pleasure in his words, just a chilling matter-of-factness. “You’re coming with us.”

Panic surged through you, a primal instinct to run, to fight, to do anything but comply. You refused to show it, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spat back, hoping your defiance would be enough to make him reconsider.

His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing in them, and before you could react, he lunged at you, his fist swinging with brutal intent. Time seemed to slow as you saw the blow coming, your mind racing, but your body moving almost on instinct. You raised your arms to defend yourself, bracing for the crushing impact that would follow.

You couldn’t explain what happened next. When his fist connected with your arm, the force that should have sent you to the ground, left you unscathed. Instead, it was the man who staggered back, a look of shock and pain twisting his features. He clutched his hand, wincing as if he had struck something far harder than just flesh and bone.

You stared at him, bewildered, before glancing down at your own arm in disbelief. There was no pain, no bruise, nothing to indicate that you’d just been hit. It was as if his attack had bounced off of you, like you were made of steel.

Had you really just blocked that hit? And why did it feel like… nothing?

Before you could process what had happened, before the realization could fully take root, another man appeared out of nowhere, moving with a speed that blurred the edges of his form. Mutant. He was faster than the first, more determined, and this time, you felt your heart stop as he came at you from behind, his hands outstretched to grab you.

But something in you reacted faster than your fear. You twisted out of his grip with lightning speed, with movements so fluid and precise, it was as if your body knew exactly what to do, even if your brain was struggling to keep up. You sidestepped his attack, narrowly avoiding his grasp, and found yourself behind him, safe for the moment.

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. How did you move like that? How had you known where to go, how to dodge?

There was no time to dwell on it. The fight intensified in an instant, the two men coming at you one after another, relentless in their assault. They weren’t holding back, and suddenly neither were you. You moved like a force of nature, dodging their attacks, striking back when you could. Each punch you threw landed with a power that surprised even you. You watched in stunned disbelief as one of the men crumpled to the ground after a single blow, his eyes rolling back as if he’d been hit by a truck.

You are not a gym regular. In fact, you hadn’t worked out in weeks. You weren’t strong, not like this. So how was it possible that your punches were so devastating, that each one seemed to carry a weight far beyond what you’d ever imagined?

Then, with a flick of his wrist, the first mutant, conjured a ball of fire in his hand, the flames crackling and roaring, craving something to burn. He hurled it at you, the fireball spinning through the air with only one target in mind. 

You barely had time to scream as the flames engulfed your arm, the searing heat burning through your skin. The pain was unbearable, a white-hot agony that made you gasp and stumble back. You expected to see your skin blackened, blistered, ruined.

And it was.

For a minute. 

To your shock—or horror—you looked down, breath catching in your throat as you watched the burn heal right before your eyes. The charred skin knitted back together in seconds, smooth and unblemished, as if nothing had happened at all.

What the fuck? 

It was in that moment that the truth hit you, like a thunderclap in your mind. You weren’t just an ordinary person caught in a nightmare. You were a mutant, with powers that had only now revealed themselves, right when you needed them most.

The men kept coming, but now you fought with a new understanding. Each punch, each dodge, each rapid movement felt more controlled, more intentional, your gym class self-defence courses coming in clutch. You were strong, faster than you’d ever been, and you could heal—regenerate from injuries that would have left others incapacitated.

Finally, the two men laid groaning on the ground, defeated. You stood there, panting, your mind spinning as you tried to make sense of it all. Super strength, super speed, regeneration… these powers, they were yours. And they had just saved your life.

But as the adrenaline began to fade, confusion set in. What did these men want with you? Why had they gone to such lengths to provoke you? To make you discover what you were capable of? 

All you knew was that one thing was clear: this was far from over. Whoever had sent these men wouldn’t stop here. They knew what you were now, and that meant they’d come after you again. You weren’t just an ordinary person anymore. You were something else, something powerful. And that put a target on your back. 

Whatever was coming next, you needed to be ready.

----

That’s how you found yourself here, one week later, crouched on the apartment rooftop, the cold wind nipping at your exposed skin. The dark streets below are eerily silent, save for the distant hum of traffic. You sense them before you see them—another group of male mutants, closing in on your position. You grip the hilt of your knife tighter, feeling the now-familiar twinge of anger and frustration settle in your chest. This is the fifth group tonight. They’ve been hunting you in groups for days now, their numbers increasing as each one goes by, and you’re tired of it. 

You’ve started to get used to your new powers—testing your limits, pushing yourself harder with each confrontation. What started as simple self-defence, a punch here, a dodge there, has escalated into something far more lethal.

You didn’t want to kill, didn’t want to by use your sharpest kitchen knife (your only kitchen knife) as a weapon, but as the attacks became more violent, you found yourself with little to no choice. 

These mutants weren’t holding back, and neither could you.

Within a week, you went from the most average person in the world to what some people might call a vigilante—except you're really only trying to save your own skin.

Leaping off the roof, you land silently behind them. The speed at which you move is almost dizzying, your body a blur as you close the distance in the blink of an eye. 

“Looking for someone?” you call out sarcastically.

They turn, eyes widening in surprise, but you’re already moving. Your blade sings through the air, striking true, as you move like a shadow, taking them down one by one. It’s not easy—these guys are tough—but you’ve become tougher. With each strike, you can feel your strength surging, far beyond what should be possible. One of the mutants tries to block you, creating a forcefield, but you grab the edges before it can fully form, and break through it, the temporary pain vanishing as quick as it came. A solid kick to his face, and he crumples to the ground, unconscious before he even realizes it.

“Is this what you wanted?!” you shout, your voice echoing through the empty street as the last attacker falls to the ground, groaning in pain. “Is this what you came for?!”

The answer doesn’t come from them. Rather, it comes from a low growl behind you. 

You whirl around, heart racing, and there he is—Logan Howlett—the Wolverine himself. The man you’ve read about in every article, every piece of mutant-related news you could get your hands on since discovering your own abilities. He’s infamous, pretty much a legend, and the stories about him are as terrifying as they are fascinating.

Standing there with that scowl on his face, he looks every bit the dangerous figure you’ve imagined. His eyes are blank, calculating, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as it sizes you up. There’s a tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as he takes a step closer.

“So, you’re the one causing all this trouble,” Logan states gruffly, irritation coating his tongue. He unsheathes his claws, the adamantium glimmering under the streetlights. The sound is unmistakable, and it sends shivers down your spine. “Heard you’ve been killin’ off mutants left and right.”

You narrow your eyes, instinctively stepping back into a defensive stance. Your heart is pounding, but you can't show any weakness. 

“Funny, I thought the same about you, Wolverine. What’s the matter? Run out of bad guys to play hero with?”

Without warning, he charges at you, claws outstretched, but you’re ready. You dart to the side, your speed giving you an edge as his claws slice through the air where you’d been standing, making a woosh sound. You counter with a swift kick to his ribs, putting your enhanced strength into the blow. He grunts, stumbling slightly, but quickly regains his balance. The momentary advantage you gained is gone as he storms toward you once more.

You meet his attacks head-on, your blade clashing with his claws in a shower of sparks. The force of each impact reverberates through your arms, but you hold your ground, refusing to back down. His attacks are ferocious, a whirlwind of claws and fury. He's fast, but you’re faster, dodging and weaving with a precision that keeps you just out of reach.

“Look, sweetheart,” he growls between strikes, his frustration evident. “You can make this easy or hard. I don’t care which, but I’m not lettin’ you hurt anyone else.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you deflect another swipe of his claws. “Oh, please. You think I’m the bad guy here? These jerks have been coming after me for days. I’m just defending myself.”

Logan doesn’t look convinced, and that pisses you off more than anything. “Right. And I’m supposed to believe you, why? You’re leavin’ a trail of bodies behind you.”

You narrow your eyes, feeling the anger boil over. “Because I’m not the one who started this! They did! But of course, you wouldn’t know that, would you? You just show up, swinging your claws around like you’re the big savior.”

“You got a mouth on you, don’t ya?” He retorts, snarling as he charges at you again, faster this time. You barely have time to block his attack, the force of his blow sending you skidding back several feet. But you dig your heels in, refusing to give an inch as he continues plows forward. Your speed kicks in, allowing you to duck under his next swing and land a punch to his jaw.

He staggers, but quickly recovers, swiping at you with renewed fury. You're a bit sloppy compared to him, not as much of a seasoned fighter. His claws swipe at your arm, cutting deep and drawing blood, but the wound heals almost instantly, the skin closing up as if it had never been cut. You see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, but it doesn’t slow him down. He lunges again, becoming a blur of motion as he ups the ante.

You parry with your knife, but this time, you’re on the offensive. You launch a rapid series of attacks, your speed and strength managing to drive him back. In the rush of movement, you're able to see an opening, grasping his shoulder and shoving him hard, sending him crashing into a nearby wall. The impact is enough to crack the brick, but Logan just shakes it off, pushing himself back to his feet.

“Gotta say,” you huff, panting slightly from the exertion, “I’m a little disappointed. I expected more from the you, after all I’ve heard.”

Logan grunts, clearly fed up with the banter. “I'm done talking.”

He lunges at you again, and this time, it’s a battle of wills as much as it is of skill. You don't back down, your knife clashing with his claws in a series of rapid, brutal strikes. The alleyway becomes a blur of movement, metal against metal, strength against strength. Each time his claws find their mark, your regenerative abilities kick in, healing the wounds almost as quickly as they’re made. 

And for a moment, you wonder if you’ll have to kill him too, just to survive. But then something shifts. Maybe it’s the way your attacks grow weaker, less lethal. Or maybe it’s the way Logan’s eyes narrow in realization when he notices your hesitance.

“Wait a damn minute,” Logan says, stepping back just out of your reach, wiping his mouth, then spitting on the ground. He’s breathing hard, just like you. “You’re holdin’ back.”

He pauses, his eyes narrowing as they flick down to the knife you’ve been holding, and then back up to you. His expression shifts, a mix of disbelief and exasperation crossing his face. “And is that a kitchen knife?”

You glance down at the knife in your hand, realizing how absurd it must look in the middle of this intense fight. It’s not exactly standard combat gear, but it’s all you had when this started. You can’t help the smirk that pulls at your lips as you meet his gaze again.

“It gets the job done,” you quip, shrugging slightly.

He shakes his head, clearly not impressed. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I'm choosing to take that as a compliment,” The sarcasm is practically oozing off of you.

He eyes you warily, his posture still tense. “You’re not makin’ this easy, you know. You got me here thinkin’ you’re some crazed mutant killer, but you’re just a girl wavin’ around a kitchen knife like you’re in a bad horror movie.”

You cross your arms. “Well, I didn’t exactly have time to hit up a weapons store. Besides, I didn’t ask for any of this. These guys came after me first.”

Logan studies you. “So you say. But you’re killing dozens of mutants. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘innocent.’”

“Trust me, if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be doing this–fighting… killing–at all. Hell, I didn’t even know I was a mutant until some guy swung his fist at me a week ago.” You meet his gaze, challenging him. “And what about you? You’re not exactly known for playing nice.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well, most of my casualties are from the missions I go on, so I'd say it's justified.”

Your eyes narrow, catching the implication in his words. “Oh, am I your mission now? How long have you been tracking me?”

Logan’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a slight shift in his posture, a subtle acknowledgment that you’ve hit on something. “Long enough to know you’re not just some innocent bystander caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“So, what? You’ve been watching me, waiting for me to screw up so you could take me down?” you demand, the frustration clear in your voice.

“Something like that,” he replies gruffly, “But from what I’ve seen, you’re more reactive than proactive," he looks you up and down. "I can’t seem figure out if you’re the real threat here, or just someone caught in the middle of a bigger mess.”

You let out a slow breath, trying to calm the fiery anger rising within you. “I told you, I didn’t start this. They did. I’m just trying to survive.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, teeth grinding as he considers your words. You can see the gears turning in his head, trying to piece together whether you’re telling the truth or just playing him. He takes a step closer, his claws still out but not as threatening as before.

Finally, he asks, “You got a name?”

You roll your eyes, exasperated. “No shit I have a name.”

Logan huffs, unimpressed by your attitude. “Well, if you’re not gonna tell me, I’m just gonna have to call you somethin’… How 'bout Knifey?”

You stare at him, half-expecting him to crack a smile, but he’s dead serious. “Knifey? Really?”

Logan shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he eyes your weapon of choice again. “Fits, don’t you think?”

“Fine. I’ll tell you my name, alright? Anything but Knifey.” You say, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“... Gotta say, Knifey sounds a little better”

“Shut the fuck up, Wolverine”

“It’s Logan, actually.”

You release a deep sigh. “I know, and I don’t care. I’m telling you I am not the one you need to be going after.”

Logan scoffs, crossing his arms. “I’ve been around a long time. Seen my fair share of people who think they’re doin’ the right thing and end up doin’ a hell of a lot of damage. So, forgive me if I’m a little skeptical.”

“You would know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” The words come out of your mouth before you had time to think about them, and you regret it immediately. You can see the mutant in front of you’s face darken to a degree bordering murderous, and you think you’ve crossed a line you can’t come back from. Whatever playful banter existed before this is gone.

“Careful,” He growls menacingly, “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You swallow hard. The Wolverine is infamous for a reason, and you just poked at the beast beneath the surface. You briefly consider backing down, but your pride refuses to let you.

“Maybe I don’t,” you admit, “But I do know what it’s like to be hunted, to have no choice but to fight back. So yeah, maybe we’re more alike than you think.”

Logan’s glare softens just a fraction, and he lets out a long, frustrated breath. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do ya?”

“Not when I’m trying to make a point,” you retort.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just stares at you, as if he’s trying to decide whether to continue this conversation or end it with his claws. Ultimately, he shakes his head, the anger in his eyes dimming, replaced by something more akin to weary resignation.

“Fine,” he mutters. “Maybe you’re not the one I should be takin’ down. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna start trustin’ you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” you reply, feeling a bit of relief that the situation isn’t about to escalate into another fight. “But I swear, there’s someone else out there pulling the strings. And I’m not sticking around to be their puppet.”

He nods slowly, crossing his arms again. “We’ll find out who’s behind this, but I’m callin’ the shots. You step outta line, and we’re gonna have a problem.”

You smirk, a little of your bravado returning. “I’ll try not to disappoint you, Logan.”

You can tell he doesn't appreciate your attitude, but he lets it slide. “Let’s get one thing straight. This ain’t a partnership. I’m doin’ this to figure out what the hell’s goin’ on, not because I like you.”

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual,” you shoot back, though there’s no real heat behind your words.

Logan turns abruptly, not even bothering to beckon you with him.

It makes you roll your eyes but you fall in step beside him anyway, knowing that despite the rocky start, this uneasy alliance might be the only thing keeping you alive. 

“…So… where exactly are we going?”

He sends you a sidelong glance. "Who said I’m takin’ you anywhere?"

You throw your hands up, exasperated. "Well, if you don’t, these mutants are going to keep hunting me, and I’m going to keep killing them…” you shoot him a look, batting your eyelashes innocently. “You wouldn't want that, would you?"

“Fuck off”

"Well, too late for that now."

He grumbles something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but it sounds a lot like cursing his bad luck.

"We’re headin’ to my place. It’s the safest spot right now."

----

Turn’s out, it’s not really his place. Or at least, it’s what you’d thought it’d be. It’s more of an abandoned warehouse that he just decided to seek refuge in one day, doing the bare minimum to make it feel at the very least, home-y. The heavy metal doors creak open, revealing a chaotic interior cluttered with garbage, old newspapers, and a few scattered items. In the corner, a single bed and a sagging couch that look like they’ve definitely seen better days.

Your nose wrinkles in disgust as you take in the mess. "Seriously?" you mutter, your voice tinged with disbelief. "This is where you've been hiding out? It looks like a tornado hit a thrift store."

Logan, who had been trailing behind you, lets out a low grunt as he shuffles past, not bothering to respond to your jab. His heavy footsteps echo in the otherwise silent space, the sound bouncing off the bare, cold walls. He heads straight for a small, battered table that looks like it's one sharp nudge away from collapsing. On it lies a worn notebook, its pages yellowed and curling at the edges, evidence of extensive use. Without a word, he picks it up and starts flipping through the pages, his expression unreadable.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you step closer, peering over his shoulder. "What's this?" you ask, reaching out to take the notebook from him. He hesitates for a brief moment before relinquishing it into your hands. As you flip through the pages, your eyes widen in shock. The notes are detailed, almost obsessively so, listing the names of various mutants, their abilities, and the exact locations where their bodies were found. 

"Oh, great," you say with a sarcastic, half-hearted laugh. "You've been keeping tabs on me. What kind of creepy stalker are you?”

He rolls his eyes and snatches the notebook back, his voice dripping with irritation. "I wasn’t exactly tracking you. I was trying to track whoever’s been killing all those damn mutants."

Logan’s jaw tightens as you just continue to stare, and he lets out an exasperated sigh. "And don’t act all innocent. I needed to know who was causing all the chaos."

Scoffing, you continue to look through the notebook, stopping when you come across a particularly detailed entry. "Wow... 26 kills? Not too shabby for an amateur mutant, huh?"

“Is your mouth unable to stay shut?” he questions, though you know better than to answer that. 

The notebook flops back onto the table with a casual flick of your wrist. "Hey, don’t be mad just because I’m doing a better job than you expected."

He crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt. "I’m not mad," he snaps. "I’m annoyed that you’re making light of this. It’s not exactly a high score to brag about."

"Oh, come on. You’re the one who turned this place into a shrine to my success” you smirk.

"It’s not a shrine," Logan growls, his patience wearing thin. "It’s a record. If you’d been paying more attention to what’s going on, you’d know that."

The playfulness fades from your face as his words hit home. He’s right, but you’re not about to admit it. Instead, you deflect. "Yeah, and if you’d bothered to talk to me instead of playing detective, maybe we’d have figured this out sooner."

"You think you’re the only one who’s had a rough time? This whole situation is a mess, and we’re both caught in it." His eyes narrow.

You cross your arms, mirroring his defensive posture. "You didn’t have to get involved, you know. Unless...what if you’re the bad guy here?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. "Using all these mutants to lure me into your dungeon under the pretense of trying to ‘stop’ me?"

His response is immediate. "I’m way too lazy to think of doing all that."

You can’t help but believe him, especially given the state of the warehouse. He clearly lacks the energy—or the interest—to tidy up his living space, let alone mastermind a complex plot. You let out a sigh and walk over to the sagging couch in the corner. The fabric is threadbare, and the springs groan in protest as you flop down onto it.

"Fine, fine... I trust you," you concede, though your tone is far from serious. "Did you notice anything specific amongst these mutants?"

"Yeah, I’ve noticed somethin’,” Logan says, dragging a hand down his face, now looking more tired than ever. “They’re all pretty low-key. Not exactly top-tier in the mutant rankings. Never caused any trouble before, yadda yadda. If anything, they’re usually on the weaker side."

You furrow your brows, intrigued. "So they’re not a serious threat."

"Exactly," Logan confirms with a nod. "It’s weird. These mutants aren’t the type to just go around being fuckin’ annoying like they have been. Someone—or something—must be pushing them into this."

"You think they’re all being controlled somehow?" you muse, the pieces slowly falling into place. "And that’s why they’re suddenly acting out of character?"

"Seems like it," He replies, rubbing his temples. "Must be powerful if they’re all falling in line like this. We’re going to have to dig deeper to find the source of it.

He moves to sit next to you on the couch, the worn fabric sinking even further under his weight. "Tell me everything you know," Logan says quietly, his voice a tinge softer now, almost coaxing. "Everything that’s happened to you."

You sigh and lean back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as you start to recount your experience. "It all began about a week ago. Just a normal day, I was walking to the grocery store, then I noticed this guy following me. At first, I thought it was a coincidence. But no matter where I went, he was always a few steps behind."

His attention sharpens, his gaze locking onto yours. "And?"

"It started as just stalking," you continue, your voice growing quieter as the memories flood back. "Nothing violent. But then, it started happening with different people. Each time, they were more persistent, more intimidating. It became clear that something was off."

You can feel Logan’s gaze burning into you, his concern evident in the way he leans closer, listening intently. "Eventually, they started getting aggressive," you say. "One night, one of them blocked my path and tried to grab me. I managed to fight him off, but when he hit me, it didn’t hurt. I mean, it should have, he looked pretty strong, but my arm felt fine. That’s when I realized I had powers—some form of super strength, super speed, and healing abilities."

"And you figured that out just from fighting them off?" he questions, somewhat impressed.

You nod, rubbing your arms as if to ward off a lingering chill. "Yeah. I didn’t really have a choice. They kept coming, and I had to use whatever I had to protect myself—including my damn kitchen knife. The more I fought, the more I understood what I could do.”

Logan pauses, his expression unreadable as he processes everything you’ve said. The dim light from the single bulb casts long shadows across the room, emphasizing the lines of fatigue etched into his face. Finally, he stands up, his movements slow and deliberate. "So, here’s the plan," he starts, his voice rough and tired. "We need to figure out exactly where these mutants are coming from. There’s gotta be a main location where they’re getting their orders or some central hub for this control."

You hum in agreement, though a part of you is reluctant to jump back into action so soon. "Alright, so how do we start tracking that down?"

His lips press into a thin line as he thinks it over. "We’ll stake out the rooftops. From up there, we can get a clear view of their movements and see if they’re converging somewhere specific. Maybe spot a pattern."

You stretch, stifling a yawn as you glance around the shabby room. "Okay, but are we doing that tonight? I’m pretty beat."

“Seriously? You want to put this off?" he accuses, face twisting in irritation.

"I’m up for it, but I’d be more effective if I’m not running on fumes. Plus, you look pretty tired yourself," you shrug. 

He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. We’ll do it tomorrow."

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you sense his reluctance to agree. "So you agree with me," you state, not really feeling any real pride, but just wanting to push his buttons.

Logan grumbles under his breath as he starts to clear a space on the threadbare couch, which creaks loudly under even the slightest pressure. "Do you ever shut up? I’m letting you crash in my bed, aren’t I?"

You chuckle softly, watching him arrange a tattered blanket on the couch with exaggerated care. "Yeah, yeah, okay. Goodnight, old man."

"Watch it, Knifey," he mutters, settling onto the couch with a groan as the springs protest under his weight.

You roll your eyes at his choice of nickname, and with a sigh, you make your way over to the bed, which is small and far from luxurious, but it’s better than nothing. The mattress dips slightly as you climb in, and the covers are thin, barely providing any warmth. Still, exhaustion pulls at you, and you barely have time to think about what the covers smell like before sleep overtakes you.

----

pls comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the series taglist!

[mandarinmoons]

Hello, how about Spencer with an outdoorsy reader. She is always on hikes and goes on long backpacking trips when he’s out of town for a case. Mostly because Spencer isn’t the hiking type.

Anyways what if when she’s just on a day trip while he’s working a local case and she finds a body. She calls him immediately and that’s when the team discovers Spencer has a girlfriend and she’s not what they expected.

I love this idea! x

The morning sun shone through the window as you were sitting by the kitchen table, admiring the dew drops on the glass and the gentle sound of the birds singing outside. It looked to be a perfect morning and with the air feeling so crisp and fresh, you were excited to go on the small hike you had been planning for the past few weeks. Work had been hectic and a little retreat to one of your favorite places was just what you needed.

After getting dressed, filling your water bottle and packing some snacks you took off to your destination. You thought about getting your boyfriend Spencer to tag along with you, but knowing how that went down last time, and that he was working, you had to enjoy the trails all by yourself this time.

“Spence, c’mon! We’re nearly there!”

You looked behind your shoulder to see how far behind Spencer was. You stopped and waited for a minute before you saw the lanky man in your view, breathing heavily and holding tightly onto the straps of his backpack.

“Hold on for a moment. I gotta…”

Spencer leans against the side of a tree, his face red and sweaty, even if he regularly chases down unsubs he’s clearly not used to hiking down these long trails.

Walking beside him, you offered your water to him, which he downed nearly half of it.

“How do you do this every week?”

“Practice my love, it takes practice.”

Chuckling to yourself at the memory, you walked ahead and took your time to admire the scenery around you.

It was nearing the end of summer and the leaves had already started to change colors and fall away from their branches, leaving them bare and withered.

Taking a few steps away from the route, you headed down your usual secret path to a small cliff that showed off a beautiful view to the town, a scene you were almost sure only you knew about.

Carefully making your way up the hill, you stopped in your tracks when you saw what seemed to be a shoe sticking out from the side of a bush.

Don’t let this be what I think it is

You were reminded of the case Spencer was working on and the details he shared with you flashed through your mind.

“Women in their late twenties to early thirties have been found dead in secluded areas, out in the woods and paths.”

You knew that with dating an FBI agent there was bound to be a moment where his work would entangle with your life, but you never expected it to happen in this way.

Slowly walking over to the foliage, your worst fears were brought to life when you saw a hand peek through the branches, covered in a crimson sheen, which was undoubtedly blood.

Trying to control your breathing, you pulled out your phone and dialed Spencer’s number. When the call connected through, your tongue went numb and you tried to figure out a way to explain your situation, which seemed impossible.

“Y/N? Y/N, are you there?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m here.”

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

“No… no, Spencer I’m not-”, your breathing picked up and your head started to spin. You sat down on the ground to try and ground yourself a bit, breathing in and out through your nose to fight off the dizziness.

“Y/N, where are you?”

“I’m on the trail… Spencer, I think I found a body.”

-

The blinking lights on the police cars blinded you as you watched by the sidelines, a detective questioning you about how you made your discovery.

The longer you were questioned the more you felt the energy leave your being. Spencer took notice in your demeanor and quickly pulled you to his side as soon as the last of the questions were answered.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Tired.”

Spencer nodded and ran his palms over your arms, you weren’t cold and yet you weren’t able to stop shaking the entirety of the time you were interviewed.

“They’re about to wrap up the body and then we can go home, okay?”

Nodding as a response, Spencer guided you along to the car and let you be by yourself for a moment while he talked over details with his team.

Nearing his team mates, the last thing Spencer expected to see was a grin on some people’s faces.

“So, you and nature girl, huh?”

Derek was always one to make a quip over Spencer, which he didn’t mind, but regarding how everyone found out about this during such grim circumstances, now wasn’t the best time for jokes.

During the time Spencer was away, you managed to get comfy enough to close your eyes and get some snooze, but that was cut short by the engine being turned on and your seatbelt being clicked on.

“It’s okay, we’re going home.”

The car ride home was silent. Spencer would occasionally ask what you’d want when you arrived, but you didn’t have the energy to reply to him and simply replied back with either a nod or shake of your head.

You hadn’t felt this drained in a while. When arriving home you didn’t even have the energy to step out of the car and Spencer made his way to scoop you into his arms and carry you inside.

Inside the house, Spencer crouched down and took off your shoes for you, you looked down on him as his hands carefully undid the laces and slipped the shoes off, the gentleness making your heart clench.

“I’ll go make you some tea and we’ll lie down for a bit, how does that sound?”

Spencer looked up and his eyes met your glassy ones, tears threatening to spill at any moment.

“Oh honey,” standing up and taking you into his embrace, the tears took over and spilled over your cheeks as the distraught you faced today could no longer be hidden.

“How can anyone be that cruel?”

“I don’t know, angel.”

But that was a lie, Spencer did know how someone could be that cruel. In fact, he could list out the exact chemical reactions that needed to happen in someone’s brain in order for someone to behave in such an animalistic way, but he knew not to speak of them, at least not in this moment, because ignorance was bliss, and he did not want the only innocent miracle in his life to be tainted with the sorrows of his job, or should he say his primary life.

Taglist: @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @reidstheyfriend @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @kimm4710 @niktwazny303 @reidsdaisies @mindfullycriminal @cumulo-stratus @gayfor-rosadiaz @gubsbuubs @multifandomsimp69 @chyozai @deppfanatic @potatovoyager @indyvelazquez @nini123 @justlivinginadaydream @kers505 @dan-the-womans-blog

Note: The taglist will be discontinued at the end of the month so if you'd like to keep up to date with my latest fics then please follow me!

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[mariasont]

you should do more aaron hotchner x reader but they get drunk together and they just have a make out session or something 🤫🤫

Strawberry Wine - A.H

a/n: i took this the bimbo reader route because i'm slightly obsessed with them lately so i hope you don't mind <3

thank you so much for requesting xoxo

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: hotch is a lot more flirty when he's got some alcohol in him

warnings: kind of suggestive?, flirty hotch, making out, mutual pining

wc: 0.9k

You were vaguely aware of the dizzy sensation taking hold, your steps a little unsteady, cheeks a little more flushed. Penelope's voice, usually so clear, now sound like she was yelling from afar, her excitement over a new cooking show barely registering with you. It all faded into the background as your focus narrowed on one person alone--your boss.

Concentrating on something else was the logical choice, but logic seemed to falter in the face of such distraction. I mean, you had eyes after all.

He looked exceptionally good tonight. Jeans. He was wearing jeans and a zip up. His casual look held an irresistibility about it that you rarely got to appreciate, and now it's all you can dwell on. You could easily blame your preoccupation on a few drinks, but in all honesty, you'd be just as enthralled sober.

Your name was floating through the air, and as you turned, you saw Morgan. His grin was wide, the kind that told you he'd been trying to catch your attention for longer than you'd realized.

His eyebrows lifted, bumping against you with a shoulder as he waggled those same eyebrows. So childish. You knew what he was referring to. He was the first one to catch on to your little crush, but despite his behavior you knew he'd never divulge your secret. 

You nudged him back, not realizing your own strength until you were almost toppling over. You only found your footing when you felt hands on your waist. You leaned back, assuming it was Morgan. You were wrong. 

"You okay?" His voice was soft and low, a soothing sound that tempted you to both lean into him and step back in a fluster.

You glanced around, only to realize that Morgan had disappeared, leaving you with Hotch. You clamped your lips together, fighting the urge to let a stupid smile spread across your face, but the wine's influence made it challenging.

"Yes."

The room spun just a tad more as you tried to focus on Hotch, his usually sharp gaze softened just a bit more tonight. 

He chuckled--a rare, perfect sound that made you tingly all over--and leaned closer. "The wine seems to be doing its job. How many glasses in are we?"

You giggled, but the sound was more like a hiccup. "I should be asking you that," you said with a lopsided smile. "But then again, I guess I mean glasses of scotch, right? You seem like a scotch over wine kind of guy."

"Do I?" His voice was rich and warm. He stepped forward, his eyes briefly flickering to where the rest of the team congregated in Rossi's kitchen. However, they seemed miles away. "You smell good."

His compliment threw you off guard, you blinked, cheeks heating up as you swayed slightly towards him, voice a bubbly stream of words you couldn't control. "You think so? It's actually this new perfume--I got it on sale, can you believe it? And the bottle is just the cutest thing, all pink and pretty."

"I bet." He was smirking. Smirking. You were pretty sure you had stumbled into an alternate reality where Hotch was not just your boss, but someone who was relaxed, almost flirtatious? 

"Here," you said, pointing to the middle of your chest. You were a little breathless, "this is where I spray it."

He gave a low hum, almost inaudible, stepping in until you were toe to toe. You caught the hint of scotch on his breath--just as you had suspected--and it made the room spin a little more. 

His face moved down toward your chest, and you couldn't hardly believe that he couldn't hear your heart pounding against your ribs. 

You inhaled sharply, the valley of your breasts rising to graze against his nose, so lightly that it might have gone unnoticed if not for your intense focus on him. 

"What do you think--?" you started to ask, but as he raised his head, your noses were nearly touching, and the rest of your sentence dissolved.

The realization of how easy it would be to kiss him struck you, tempting and terrifying all at one, and you hesitated, knowing that was one line you shouldn't cross.

But you didn't need to cross it because he obliterated the line with a kiss that thundered against your lips before you could even blink. A smile bloomed against his mouth, and you returned it full force.

It was as if you were tingly from head to toe, like fireworks were exploding all around you, like you were floating on a cloud.

You looped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, as if the space between you could vanish entirely. You felt his broad hands sweep and down your spine, your tongues vying for dominance, the rich, smoky taste of that scotch lingering in your mouth, as if you were absorbing its essence through every five senses.

It was as if you were back in high school, making out under the bleachers, hiding from the rest of your classmates. You didn't want it to end, but reality intruded like a dream dispelled.

The click of a camera snapped you back to the present, his arms still wrapped around you protectively, hands on the damning evidence.

Gathered at the window there the team was, Garcia's fingers curled around her phone, its lens aimed squarely at you. Your surprised came out as a high-pitched squeal mingled with their distance laughter and cheers. You pressed your face into the fabric of Hotch's zip up, silently pleading for the earth to open up and swallow you whole.

"Next time, we'll opt for the bathroom. Less room for an audience."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[uranometrias]

✮ꜜ : ❛ now i see daylight : spencer reid x fem! reader

pairing: spencer reid x fem! reader

summary: three weeks have gone by since your last encounter with reid. you'd both been doing an exceptional job of pretending that the other didn't exist. you felt like it was only fair. he didn't have the right to talk to you any type of way, and you supposed in his mind, you didn't have the right to behave so jealously. three weeks of no ground being made, that is, of course, until a conversation with rossi helps to screw your head on straight

content warnings: love confessions. reader definitely has anxiety and a fear of romance/relationships, BUT she fights her fear! i also think it's fair to say that she views telling spencer about her feelings as facing her fear, regardless of his response! this is part two to 'guilt is a motherfucker'.... i'm so sorry it's taken forever, but i've actually preparing to enlist in the army && haven't had a lot of down time. i've got 10 drafts to prove it, but i tried my best to make this longer than part one, and i hope that you guys enjoy it.

Grow up.

Those words had haunted you for about three weeks. It'd been that long since the day you and Spencer had sort of... drifted apart. You refused to blame yourself, despite knowing full well this whole ordeal was majorly your fault. Okay, all of the blame very well rested on your shoulders, but you were stubborn. You'd been that way forever.

Maybe you were the childish, scared, and jealous little girl he'd accused you of being. That wasn't your job to figure out, because he had no business speaking to you that way. Who did he think he was? You could hit him right in his stupid little face. That last thought of violence seems to follow you.

Especially as you sat as your desk, leg bouncing furiously underneath as you counted the seconds until he was away from the kitchenette. Your cup of coffee was dwindling, and you still had a few more files to get through, before you'd give yourself room to slack off. You needed more caffeine, but the newfound thorn in your side was taking up space, using up all the sugar as he made his third cup of the day.

A more mature person might have questioned why you didn't just go up there anyway. He didn't own the kitchenette, and it wasn't like you had to say anything at all. It was meant to be cut-and-dry, you were both mature adults, you could interact as such. Except neither of you were quite as mature as you affronted. You could just picture the screwed up expression he'd offer you if you chose to approach.

You were certain your face was already twisted up, showing off your own annoyance, and he wasn't even near you.

You'd been berated by Derek, Emily, and Penelope over your petty streak, all three parties really driving in the point that you were behaving like a toddler throwing a tantrum. They had a point, but you also refused to accept any such criticism about your behavior. Partly, because you hated correction, and you didn't want to think about the possibility that all of your friends were on his side.

But you think most of your refusal to accept your part from any of them had a lot to do with the fact that they weren't the ones who'd been so callously humiliated, and they weren't the ones with feelings for someone who obviously knew, and was perfectly content flaunting such knowledge right in your face.

God, you could punt him like a football.

You needed to work on your insult creativity, these were starting to get repetitive. You shake all thoughts of assault out of your mind as Dave begins to approach your desk. Rossi wasn't stupid, he like everyone else had noticed the significant decline in attention passed between you, and Reid. But unlike the rowdier members of the team, he and JJ had elected to go the route of silent but deadly.

They'd cast the both of you disapproving looks when in rare form you'd allowed your spat to affect your job. Their clear disappointment in you exceptionally loud. Times like those were sparce, you really only ever objected obedience when Hotch insisted on partnering the both of you up. Which had luckily become much more rare in the last few weeks.

"Still pouting, angioletto?" he asks, and his ability to read right through you seems to make your pout deepen. "It's been three weeks, don't you think it's time to talk about it or move on?" he questions, and there's no judgement there. It's what you like the most about Rossi, he seemed to have fallen into the role of paternal figure incredibly well. He gave you the tough love that you often needed.

But he never disrespected your boundaries, he never went too far. He'd always say just enough to nudge you in the right direction.

"Maybe." you agree, and it's true. You know it's time to put this situation behind you in one way or another, but you refused to cave first. You didn't want to give Spencer the satisfaction of it, and once again you're made aware of just how petty you really were. "But I don't want to." you voice this thought to Dave, who offers an unamused expression. You narrow your eyes in his direction.

"He's the one that started it..." you exclaim your side for the umpteenth time. Rossi's expression doesn't morph, but there is a bit of disappointment swimming in his eyes. It makes you avert your gaze quickly, you could feel the first pinpricks of guilt slicing at you. "It's true." you insist. Rossi waves a tired hand at you, ushering you to proceed, and you find yourself grateful for the chance to vent.

Everyone else knew too much about the behind the scenes to let you get a word in edgewise. Rossi was basically a clean slate. "If he knew all along, what he thinks he knows..." you stop long enough to look towards the kitchenette. He's still there, which is a relief, you'd be pissed if somehow he managed to overhear this. "Then why would he come over here and flaunt it. Was he trying to rub it in?" you demand.

Silly you for thinking that Rossi would be any less on your ass than the rest of the team. He was David Rossi after all, one of the founders of the BAU, a smart man that could read you like a picture book. "You finished?" he asks, and your mouth parts. You weren't finished, but you don't tell him that, he looked like he was ready to lecture. You offer a curt nod, and he hums under his breath.

"What exactly were you expecting from him, Y/N?" he asks, and you blanche. You weren't expecting anything, you'd never expected anything from Spencer. "I mean just stick with me here... put yourself in his shoes for one second." he prompts, and you huff. Those were big shoes, probably uncomfortable. Still, you play along as you wait for Rossi to proceed. "Would you wait around for two years for someone to finally realize that they want to be with you?" he asks.

You hope that it's rhetorical, because the answer for you was probably a lot different than the one he was expecting. You also feel the urge to correct him, you didn't take two years to figure out you liked him, you'd known since your first day. Your issue was verbalizing it, because you cared about your bond. Spencer was nice, he was the sweetest person you'd ever met. You liked seeing him get excited about the things no one else seemed to care about. He was different.

He was your friend, and you had always admired him.

"I wasn't making him wait..." you voice the correction. "And I didn't need time to realize anything..." you trail off, and realization seems to set in for Rossi. He sighs deeply, head shaking as you continue on your tangent. "I liked him back when all the girls in the unit still looked at him like he was some freak, and I'm not saying it entitles me to anything... I'm the dummy for being a chicken, but he didn't have to be so mean." and you're certain that's the root of it all.

Your feelings were hurt.

"Ah, well haven't you heard? Boys are quite stupid." Rossi offers, and you think he only said it to get you to laugh. It works, because you do chuckle, and it makes Dave's shoulders relax just slightly. "Talk to him, Y/N." he presses, and you find yourself looking across the bullpen. "It's the right thing to do." and you know he's right. "And who knows, it might even wind up being for the best." he offers, and you blanch. You nod your head, and Rossi beams proudly.

"You're right." you agree audibly, and you're fidgeting in your chair.

"You are coming this Friday aren't you?" Rossi pries, and you've gone nonverbal, head nodding once more as he mimics your action. "See if you guys can't get this squared away before then, won't you?" he asks, and he's leaving you with a gentle pat on the shoulder. You stare after Rossi with a mixture of disdain and appreciation. Leave it to the old man to get you off your ass. Your eyes are drawn to Spencer as he draws closer, you know he's not coming to you.

It was a byproduct of your desk location, but it wouldn't hurt to use it to your advantage. When he's within earshot, you take the first step. "Spence?" you try, and you expect him to ignore you, to keep walking like the sassy bastard that he is, but he shocks you. He seems to mirror your feelings with his own surprised expression. "Can we talk?" you try, and it's the cliche thing... but you don't have it in you to be poetic. He stops abruptly, head nodding stiffly as he does so.

You feel like you need to stand up, having him stand over you feels too much like you're being cornered or something of the sort. He takes a small step back when you do so though, and the tension seems to only grow tenfold. You mask your disappointment in his retreat easily, instead standing up a bit straighter, sticking your chin out as you prepare to bite the bullet and be the bigger woman. It was utterly humiliating having to bring yourself back to Earth like this.

"Sure." he finally verbally answers your question, you take that as a cue to get on with it. Your patience for back and forth seemed almost as thin as his.

"Maybe it's three weeks too late..." you begin, and his eyebrows furrow. "And I know we've got this new rhythm of pretending we don't exist to each other," and his face betrays how wrong he finds that statement. His face pinches up like he's smelled something bad, and he wants to remind you that the only reason you hadn't spoken was because you hadn't had the guts to own up to the fact that you had feelings for him, but he digresses. He wasn't here to pick a fight.

"But, I'm sorry...." you spit the apology out and it feels hollow. You know you have to do better, so you proceed before he can shoot you a disapproving glance. "I really am." you insist, and despite the fact that you had only just begun to feel guilty about the whole thing in the last few minutes, you meant it. "I never should've acted like that, and I never should have let this go on for so long." you express.

Across the bullpen, Rossi, Penelope, Derek, and Emily are huddled up watching the exchange, not so discreetly. You're none the wiser to your growing audience, but Spencer sees them clearly. Not that they were really aiming for subtlety. "It's not my business what you do outside of work or who you do it with." and your nose curls, mostly because you want it to be your business. You want to be valid in your aggravation, more than that you wanted to be his. How annoying.

Your leg starts to shake just barely, and you look like you'll crumble to the ground at any moment. Spencer notices all of these ticks, and stores them into the part of his brain that's full of things specific to you. "So I'm sorry that I was being a jerk." you offer, and Spencer's face doesn't show any signs of whether or not he believed you, so you continue. "I'm happy for you." you clear your throat, and feel embarrassment setting in.

"Thanks, Y/N." his head tips to the right as he appraises you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes you in. It's not a menacing sort of glance. He seemed to be waiting for something else, you weren't sure what more could be put into your apology, there was no way you were about to give an outright confession, that'd be humiliating. Instead, you avert your gaze, and it seems to be enough of an answer to whatever internal question he had. "That actually means a lot."

You don't smile, mostly because you're not sure what the actually means, he seems to notice the way your expression changes just slightly, and he's quick to correct himself.

"I just mean that your approval does mean a lot to me." he says, and you relax. You can't quite beam, you're still not up for it, but you offer a small smile, one that could count more as a grimace than anything else, but you weren't in the headspace to monitor your facial expressions. You were growing bothered all over again, and you had to do everything in your power to ensure that this time things didn't end with another three-week break between you and Spencer.

"Really?"

Spencer's nose curls now, he's an expressive guy. His facials said a lot more than his words could at times, and you note that this particular expressions reads somewhere between confused and surprised. Those were almost synonyms in the grand scheme of things, right? "Is that a real question?" Spencer asks, and despite the tension that hung over you at the start of the conversation, with this question you witness the way his guard drops. It was liberating in a way.

"I asked it didn't I?" you quip, but there's no real bite behind your words. Spencer seems to note this, lips pressing together firmly.

"You're important to me." he promises, and you hate that his first reaction is to validate you. Your anxiety-riddled mind would convince you that he secretly thought you were fishing for praise, which was the farthest thing from the truth. Still, you love Spencer, platonically and otherwise, and you're certain that's why you're mimicking his words back to him so quickly.

"You're important to me too."

He takes a second to stare at you, and you stare right back. You're careful not to show any signs of timidity or awkwardness, things were finally starting to look up. "I..." he begins, and you stay silent to allow him the time he needs to get whatever was on his chest off. "I'm sorry." he says, and you're surprised. It was the last thing you'd expected from this conversation, you're certain your surprise is evident plain as day on your face.

"Yeah?" you feel it's only fair to press him onward.

"Jealous little girl." he cringes as he repeats it, and you wince because it still hurts. "That was-" he shakes his head. "It was out of line. Plain and simple, I guess I was just a little frustrated, but that's not your fault. It wasn't fair of me to come at you in that way." he begins to ramble. "I wouldn't want you to feel... mocked or belittled by me." and you blink. Mostly because that was exactly how you had felt, but how did he know. It's then that you finally feel the beady-eyed stares.

You look over your shoulder just in time to witness the group dispersing, Penelope grasping a file in her hand as she scurried in the opposite direction. Derek picking up a file folder, and Emily focusing all her attention on the drink sloshing around her mug. You really hate profilers, this is the loudest thought in your head as you turn back to Spencer. "It doesn't matter if I felt justified then, or even if I feel justified about it now." and it makes you snort.

Classic Spence.

"D-Do you forgive me? Are we okay?" he asks, and his voice has grown a bit fainter. If you listen hard enough you hear the echoes of the Spencer you first met. Even with all his strides, and the confidence he gained, there was still that small part of him that felt like the nerdy boy that everyone overlooked. The one that talked too much, and was constantly silenced with looks or snide remarks whenever he rambled for too long about some niche subject.

You think this train of thought is what gets you to see Rossi's point of view. And who were you to get in the way of someone who clearly was ready for someone as amazing as Spencer. You didn't know much about the woman, aside from the fact that she was constantly making coffee, and staring at Spencer. You didn't know how long she'd worked at the bureau, you didn't even know her name, but you knew that she was brave. She knew what she wanted and got it.

Unlike you.

You suppose 'snooze you lose' is your burden to carry from this ordeal. At least you'd gotten your friend back though. And that was enough, it could be anyway. You nod your head at his question, offering a half smile. "We're okay, Spence." you promise, and he seems relieved. His smile is one of those rare ones, the gorgeous kind that Spencer reserved for special occasions. He then visibly and audibly lets out a quiet sound of relief, and it makes you relax.

"Hey, Spence, can I get your help?" JJ is calling, and your pulled from your bubble. The world is still spinning, there's still work to do, pressing matters that needed your attention. You felt a little lighter, offering another half smile as he offers you a sheepish glance. He's heading towards JJ as you sit back down at your desk. Your leg bounces despite the perceived 'win'. It only takes you a moment to wonder why, reality sets in, and you realize your shortcomings.

You'd failed the test twice.

Twice you'd had the chance to be the most open and honest with Spencer, only to let your nerves or fear of rejection get in the way. The jealousy is gone now though, instead replaced with a brief feeling of self-aggravation. You hear Dave's stern voice in your head. 'Talk to him, Y/N.' and you frown. Hadn't that been what you'd done? You'd talked to him, so why did you still feel so bummed.

Why don't you just talk to the guy? Look him in the eye and tell him straight up how you're feeling? Derek's question from three weeks prior slaps you like a ton of bricks. You supposed that was the end goal, wasn't it? The only way to relieve yourself of all this anxiety and all the big feelings you were having a hard time digesting. You're back to pouting, mostly because you've got no idea where to start.

You pick up one of your files, and flip it open, hoping to bury yourself in work. Every time your mind tried to stray to Spencer or your feelings, you'd switch files, until all twenty-five on your desk had a dent in them. Your hand was cramped, and you know that soon enough you'll need a cup of coffee. Emily approaches your desk, hands centered as she leans forward, eyes right on you.

"So how did it go?" she asks, and you cut your eyes at her. "Tension's all gone, so it must have gone well, right?" she's grinning down at you. "I told you if you told him the truth, you'd have nothing to worry about." Emily proceeds, and you're shaking your head back and forth.

"Emily... Emily, no!" you exclaim, and her smile drops.

"No? What do you mean, no?" she demands as you exhale.

"I still haven't told him, and I'd really appreciate it, if you'd lower your voice." you hiss as she pouts. "Maybe it's just not supposed to be." you shrug, and Emily looks visibly disgruntled with your thoughts. "I'm just saying... we're okay, because we apologized." you explain. "I don't want to risk making it awkward again, because I think I have feelings." and now you're being purposely dismissive.

"Oh, so now you're not sure?" Emily questions, and then she's clicking her tongue against her teeth. "No. I don't buy that." she denies, and she's stern, but discrete. "Don't do this, Y/N. Don't be that girl." she pleads. "There's nothing worse than regret. It eats at you until there's nothing left, you don't want to look back, and think 'what if!'" and that's twice you're hearing something of the sort. Wasn't there some quote about hearing important things twice? You're not sure.

"If you like him-" she pauses, head still shaking from side to side. "If you love him... like it seems, you owe it to yourself to tell him. What's the worst thing that could happen?" she questions, and you scoff. "No, realistically." she insists. "Realistically tell me what the worst thing could be? And not from that place where your irrational fears sit." she deadpans, and you feel attacked, it makes you look away.

"In the two years of you knowing Reid, do you actually think that he's the kind of guy to break you down to nothing if he doesn't feel the same?" she asks, and the answer when presented to you like this is no. "So tell me what it is that you're really scared of?" she presses, and you don't understand why everyone's so worked up over this. Why the whole unit seemed to be invested in you expressing your feelings.

"I don't want to mess it up..." you shrug your shoulders. "I don't want to make it weird." you offer, and Emily's unmoved by your answer.

"You managed to do that without saying a thing." she retorts, and you feel like you've got no room to speak, no voice to rebuttal with. "Let me be your shrink for a second." Emily is your friend for moments like these, where her clear allegiance to you shines through. "Talk to me." she prompts.

"Why are you so invested in this?" you inquire. "Why does it even matter?" you huff.

"Because it matters to you." she answers. "What? You didn't know that's how this team works?" she asks, and you huff out a puff of air through your nose. "This isn't about us playing matchmaker... it's about you realizing that you've got a few bad beliefs about romance... and friendships.... and relationships that are going to keep you all by yourself if you don't start speaking your mind." she shrugs.

"And despite the way you curl into yourself back here at your desk, we both know you don't really want to be alone." and you think you might cry, it makes you wince. "You owe it to yourself to try, but ultimately the decision is all yours. I just think you'll feel better if you take Reid aside, and tell him the truth about how you feel." she seems done, and you don't know how to respond. Emily pats your shoulder as she rounds your desk, before heading back across the unit.

You really hate profilers.

By the time you're heading home for the night, you and Spencer hadn't spoken again. You'd been so buried in work that you'd skipped lunch to get things done. You'd gotten a comment from Hotch about that, wondering if you were feeling alright. You knew that he knew the truth, even as you told him a fib. Hotch though, was discrete enough not to make you feel scrutinized by exposing just how obvious you were. You couldn't get Emily's words out of your head.

You didn't feel angry with her, and your embarrassment had managed to go away within the first forty minutes after she'd left you alone. You knew she was right, but it still didn't make things easier. It was almost like you forgot how to speak whenever the time came to really express yourself. You supposed that was why your apology had been so flat. Feelings weren't your strong suit, and you'd learned to express them by lashing out. A less than healthy way to live.

You liked that the team didn't speak to you like a child or treat you like you were incapable. Instead, they talked to you like an adult, gave the truth to you in a way that sliced through all your stubbornness and attitude. As you head towards the elevator, you hear footsteps, and look just in time to see Spencer making his way towards you. His satchel hangs off his shoulder, and he looks relieved, an emotion that you knew all too well by the end of a work shift.

You hoped there wouldn't be any cases that drug you back to the unit, all you wanted was a shower and a nap in your own bed.

Stepping into the elevator, Spencer trails you. He takes one side of the elevator, while you huddle up in the other. He offers you a tired smile as the doors slide closed, you offer him a smile right back. It's weary, mostly because you were drained, but partly, because Spencer had been the object of your thoughts the entire day. Especially after Emily's blunt speech. You were drained. The anxiety of keeping the secret far outweighed any fear of rejection now.

"Hey, are you alright?" he addresses you, after noticing the way you seemed lost in your head.

"Hmm?" you hum, and he repeats himself. It snaps you out of your mind spiral, and your head nods. A lie. "I'm all good, Spence." you reply, and he looks disappointed, but not surprised. "Thanks for asking though." you add a second after, and he offers you a dry little nod of his head. The elevator is back silent, and you hope the doors open quick. You might drown if the tension grew any thicker.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." he says, and you blank. Your confusion is clear as day on your face. "Earlier..." and your still not understanding. "I wasn't telling you that you were important to me, because I was expecting anything in return." he explains, and it clicks. "If it made you feel weird, I'm sorry. It just felt like the right way to express my point then." he proceeds, and you don't know how to collect yourself. "So, I'm sorry." and you want to scream.

Mostly at yourself for being so infuriatingly inadequate at expressing your thoughts and feelings.

"If you want, we could just pretend I never said anything?" he offers, and you don't answer quick enough. The elevator slides open just as the words are settling inside your head, and he's stepping out into the parking deck without another word. You sit there in the elevator for a moment, the door sliding shut after a moment, but you don't move. You feel like you're at a crossroads, almost at a point of no return. If you let Spencer leave now... like this, there would be no coming back.

There would be no room to gain some balls later, and try again. It wouldn't be fair to him. It wouldn't be fair to yourself.

You feel like hyperventilating, thoughts everywhere. Love had never been a subject you really understood. You'd always sort of saw it as this concrete construct. Unchangeable, always either black or white. A gloomy, gray, existence that could cut you up and spit you out. Love could turn you into a hollow version of who you once were. Love could break you down, and make you nothing. But then you think of your team. JJ and Penelope, Hotch, Dave, Emily, Derek. Spencer.

They were the rarest and purest examples of love in your day-to-day life, weren't they? You'd never quite met anyone who had your back more than your team. They fought for you, they fought with you. They believed in you, pushed you to be the best you that you could be. So why was it so hard, what were you scared of? Was it the notion of getting Spencer, and staining him? Blowing out that light inside him the way you'd witnessed for so long?

Was that a life worth living? Was it a chance you could take?

And then you huff, because damnit... you were tired of waiting. You were tired of anxiety, and uncertainty, and insecurity, and pain. You're certain that is why you hit the button to open the elevator. Gracefulness is not on your side as you practically sprint out into the car park, your eyes scanning hopefully for the familiar silhouette of your friend. When you spot him, you release a quiet noise of relief. "S-Spencer!" you hear the echo from your shout, and cringe.

But it doesn't matter, because he turns, he stops, and he's looking at you. His eyebrows are raised, hands gripping his bag, as you start to run. You ignore your fatigue, and your desire to run and hide, and instead run towards something for once. You don't stop running until you're past the point of 'personal space', you want to hover, you want to be in his space, because it was the only way you could possibly get through this. He looks a bit unsure, and still a bit grumpy.

You hope by the end of this that's no longer the case.

"Spencer, I don't want to forget about what you said." you're trying to catch your breath, bouncing up on your heels. "I don't want to pretend you never said it." you add, and Spencer's surprised expression has the hairs on your arm and neck ready to stand on end. "I-I actually want to know what you meant." you admit. "Because, I know what I meant when I said it... and it's not something that I take back." you express, and you can hear blood rushing in your ears.

"What did you mean?" Spencer asks, and you blanche.

"I asked you first." the obvious retort, and Spencer exhales loudly, but there's no annoyance, no exasperation. Only amusement, like always.

"I've done enough talking, haven't I?" he asks. "I want to know what you're thinking." and his voice is so soft, full of tenderness that you feel like you're being serenaded. You feel like you've got a knot in your throat also, almost like you'll suffocate if you don't get your thoughts out. "I promise I won't leave you hanging." and you're not sure what he means by that, but it helps. It makes your heart stutter-step, and you need to catch your breath, because you can't believe this is actually happening, or that you're actually here.

"I-" you play withy your fingers, and you have to inhale deeply to ensure you don't chicken out. "Spence, I didn't tell you that you were important to me, because you said it first." you promise, and he nods, but he doesn't say anything. His eyes are syrupy, alluring, and beautiful, still twinkling under the dingy, flickering lights of the parking deck. "I said it because you're all I really think about." you admit, and his eyebrows furrow, and you're scared.

"And the last three weeks... I've been so mad at you." you blurt out. "I was the one that acted like a child, but I was angry with you, because I thought that you were making fun of me... and all the feelings I have for you." you exhale, and you look down at the ground, because the nerves that come with your words are overwhelming. "I was jealous, I acted like a child, but it was only because I thought you were rubbing it in my face... I thought you were being cruel."

Spencer's long lashes blink rapidly, but he's still stone silent. Probably because he knows that you're still not done. "And that wasn't fair of me, because I know you, Spence. You're not that type of person, but I just I couldn't reign myself in, and I acted immaturely because I was scared... and then just now, in the elevator... I almost did it again. I almost let you think that I don't care about you... but I do. Spencer, I have feelings for you." and you clear your throat, legs shaking.

"I'm in love with you, and I'm not... this isn't some trick or ploy or cry for help. I understand if you're mind is elsewhere... and I'm so sorry if the way I've been acting ruined everything, but I-I love you okay? That's what this has all been about. I'm sorry it took me so long to say something, but there it is." and you gasp, chest heaving now that you were finished. You finally look up at Spencer again, and he's staring you down. It doesn't feel hypersexual or heady with tension.

Instead, it's like the first intake of air into your lungs after being under water for so long. You supposed that's what the truth did, you supposed that's what your feelings for Spencer did when you allowed them to exist. "You mean that?" he asks, and you huff.

"Of course, I mean it. I mean it so much, I think I'm going to be sick." and despite himself he laughs, a bright beam following after it. He takes a small step towards you, and you feel crowded, the body heat from you both warming you up from the inside out. Still, despite how outwardly calm he looked in comparison to you, you managed to spot the shyness, the anxiety that rested in his own eyes. He looked unsure, almost like he was being careful not to ruin the moment.

"Do you know how long I've been wanting to hear you say that?" he asks, and you're shocked, stuck, surprised. You don't know if this is in your mind or if you just got lucky. "Have you ever-" he's got this gleeful look on his face. "There's this quote by Lao Tzu..." he stammers, "Love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart, and the senses." he quotes, and there are no butterflies... you think that might be a good thing.

"I don't know if there's been a time since I met you that you haven't been on my mind." Spencer explains, and there it is. "I think that's why I snapped the way I did, I don't think I ever imagined a scenario where we'd be here." he admits, and it pains you to know that he thought that way. "It was-" he motions between you both. "The thought of us being something was sort of just something I believed would always sort of just be a thought." Spencer's glowing red.

The blush coats his ears, cheeks, nose, and neck. His eyes are brighter, and his hands twitch at his side, almost like he's restraining himself. You think you only notice, because you're doing the same.

"I want to be with you." he says this so faintly you're almost unsure you heard him correctly. Your eyes widen, and your surprise is obvious. He takes a small step forward, and he's crowding you. It's nothing like the movies, in fact, the closer he gets to you, the more you're able to see the shyness in his eyes. He reaches out, and his hand ghosts over your side.

"Spence-" and the you that you were just an hour earlier, the one too scared to tell him the truth almost feels like she never even existed.

"Can I?" he asks, and your eyes drift to his hands that are inching closer to your body. You nod your head quickly, and he doesn't look amused. "I want to hear you." he says quietly. "I want you to tell me that I can." he adds, and you find yourself nodding anyway.

"Y-You can." you promise. "But I don't want you to pretend." his eyebrows furrow again. "Please don't do this if you don't mean it." you say, and Spencer's hands drop to your side, there's no wandering fingers, in fact it feels like he wanted to touch you for the sole purpose of keeping you from shaking any longer.

"Y/N, I want to be with you." he repeats it more firmly this time, and he's looking directly at you. It's intense, the eye contact more than anything else. He sounds sincere, and that makes you nervous.

"But what about..." and you trail off, because you don't know what to label the pretty woman he'd been entertaining. Spencer chuckles quietly, and his head shakes from side to side.

"She was nice." he reiterates the words he'd said three weeks prior. "But, she's not you... I don't think anyone would've been able to fill your shoes." he says, and you squeeze your eyes closed, because God, Spencer was so good with words. His hands are on your face, brushing at your cheeks as you shed a few long overdue tears. "Are these happy tears?" he asks hopefully, and your eyes shoot open. Your head nods, and you're not sure why you're so quiet.

Maybe, because life had thrown a curveball and surprised you in a good way. "Happy tears." you agree, and he presses his lips together, thumbs still working to keep the tears at bay. "I just can't believe-"

"Please do." he cuts you off, before you can get it out. "Believe this, believe me." he almost begs, and you hum. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, and you don't answer him, instead you surge forward and press your lips to his. You're certain security is getting a full view of the action, Spencer kisses like he wants to inhale you, and it's nice.. It's more than nice, his kisses are surged with emotion, every ounce of affection that his words had been drenched in was felt in the kiss.

Had breathing not been a factor, you might have stayed there. When you pull back to inhale, Spencer's got this twinkle in his eye that makes your nose scrunch up. "What?" you press, and he grins at you.

"You love me..." he breathes it out, and you're not sure if he's stating it or asking, but you suppose now that the cat's out of the bag, saying it again is nothing.

"Yeah. I love you, Spence." you promise, and he's quick to lean in and peck you on the lips. "D'you love me too?" you ask, once he's pulled back, and his hands move up, cupping both sides of your face as he drags his thumbs up and down.

"I love you." and it sounds like a promise.

So you believe him.

 "It’s a profoundly strange feeling, to stumble across someone whose desires are shaped so closely to your own, like reaching toward your reflection in a mirror and finding warm flesh under your fingertips. If you should ever be lucky enough to find that magical, fearful symmetry, I hope you’re brave enough to grab it with both hands and not let go.” ― Alix E. Harrow

[evilminji]

Hey Minji! A thought for your Star Wars things!

Who ever said the SI-OC was the only one to get dumped in SW? Just. A Creche that has several Reincarnations/Transmigrants.

Oh? My god? Just... the FIRST thing that popped into my head? Was the image of one of those "we are so Unbelievably Overworked We No Longer Fear You Nor Death" Sort of office workers/team of workers(nonspecific)?

Just... fuckin EVERYBODY knows Star Wars. Not everybody focused on the same PART of it, but the DO know it. So OBVIOUSLY? The Force decided it should bring in an A Team.

It Did Not ASK the A Team.

They are... like? 4. And sitting in a soft foam, brightly colored Creche, in their lil Jedi rompers, all sitting in a circle, looking at each other like... ( -_-) (-_- ) you too, huh?

Yeeeeeep. (God does Jerry want a cigarette. Jerry gave them up in his 20s. But he's KINDA GOING THROUGH IT, okay?!) (Sarah is hyperventilating in the corner. Her KIDS! Oh GOD. Her KIDS! She was on the way to pick them up from SOCCOR PRACTICE!!!)

Just? This whole ass team of "yeah, we know the LORE, but buddy, pal, we had LIVES! What the FUCK. Star Wars was a HOBBY!" Type adults? No one is happy and everyone wants to choke the metaphysical concept of The Force with their itty, bitty lil baby hands.

They may RIOT.

And like? Do to sheer NUMBERS? They make up ALMOST a full Creche?

Almost.

There is like... one? Maybe two? Actual Jedi Babies™ in their group? It's A Team... plus our collective children. Whom we parent. The MOST baby of babies. Also the spokesperson when they want to fool anyone into thinking they're "normal".

I want Jerry to have a fake cigarette. He's looked up death sticks and like FUCK is he putting that shit in his body, but dear LORD are the oral fixation and mental effects of a past addiction still both real, and a pain in the ASS.

If you try and TAKE his fake ass, hand made, bespoke not-a-cigarette from his itty bitty lil baby hands? He will take your KNEES. These FUCKERS won't even let him have COFFEE. Let him HAVE THIS. *hisses from the walls*

I want them to be ☆~Nightmare Children~☆

They have the power of The Force, various past life skills, an uninterrupted access to the galaxy's BIGGEST LIBRARY, close proximity to FAR too many senator AND their living spaces, and? An actual negative number of fucks to give. They can take shifts. Tag team. Be creepy, horrible, terrible, God awful nightmare creatures climbing out from your WALLS.

Somehow they keep escaping.

Down through the lower temple as they examine the hidden tunnels and escape routes. Through the vents. Forcing other jedi to become VERY familiar with where those pathways are. Sure hope THAT won't someday save your lives! Ya ungrateful, "you're grounded, stop sneaking out younglings" BASTARDS! So rude!!

The camp out in the Corrie Gaurd office. Bring the babies.

Here, you seem stressed, random gaurd. Hold a Jedi Baby. They radiate sunshine and good vibes. Are literally the Anti-Old-Man-Sith. We brought caffeine and food from the temple. Are willing to follow you around like "adorable ducklings" on patrol under the excuse that we're "training" for when we get our own soilders.

Sure is INCONVENIENT for all these asshole senators to has a witness, huh?

You gaurd my back, I'll gaurd yours. And if a certain long neck trips near the stairs? You didn't see SHIT. I'm BABY. How could I POSSIBLY have the control to do that? Now excuse me... we need to practice our "we Jedi Children can stare into your SOOOOOULS, we See All Your Sins." Wide Eyed Unblinking Predator Stare.

(O.O) (O.O) (O.O)

[chuckeroo777]

Laios got Eaten AU Chapters 1-52

So, I was pondering a lot (as I do), and was thinking about this AU. Here's my take on it. Sorry if my grasp on characterization isn't the best. Expect lots of Farcille.

This is mostly a plot point based summary, going chapter by chapter. If something isn't elaborated on, assume it's the same as canon.

Note: This first installment ends at the same point as the anime, but as a manga reader, there are spoilers for later in the canon story.

Edit: Wowzers, that ended up being over 4,000 words! Guess I had more to say than I thought.

This is pretty long, so I'll begin under the cut.

Chapter 1:

Unlike Laios' self deprecating take on this scenario, the rest of the team doesn't immediately give up on him. Marcille and Chilchuck are his friends, and if Falin thinks it's possible, then they're in.

Namari leaves of course, but Toshiro is more complex. He argues with Falin, trying to convince her not to embark on such a risky mission, and may accidentally frame it as Falin choosing between him and Laios. Falin, of course, picks Laios. Toshiro leaves, dejected. After feeling sorry for himself for a while, he gets his retainers and heads after her, hoping to offer backup.

Falin proposes the dungeon eating plan, having casually discussed the possibility with Laios in the past. Without the gourmet guide, she isn't as knowledgeable about monsters, but she is pretty good at identifying stuff from her days of eating weird stuff in the woods, so she can tell the walking mushroom isn't poisonous. She also manages to grab the scorpion, having messed with crayfish as a kid.

Unlike Laios, she doesn't try to eat the venom, but they still struggle, and Senshi comes in to help. Falin is very excited to have such an expert helping them out, and is happy to have him join the team.

In general, Marcille is just as squicked out by monster cuisine, but she tries to put on a brave face for Falin. In fact, her attempts to be more accepting results in her not yelling at Senshi, so the slime doesn't attack her.

Chapter 2:

They go after the man-eating plants, and things mostly go down the same. Without Laios, it takes a little longer for Falin and Senshi to figure out how to save Marcille, going for the root. Marcille gets seeds planted in her skin, but Falin is able to heal her and get them out.

Chapter 3:

Senshi takes them Basilisk hunting, and Marcille is dismayed to see Falin knows the trick for intimidating Basilisks, a sight she will not soon forget. While Senshi slices the snake, Falin caves the chicken's head in.

While Senshi prepares the Basilisk, Falin is able to use a detox spell on Doni. The two still stay to eat though.

Chapter 4:

Events mostly play out the same, though Falin is a bit more gentle in rejecting Marcille's help. Falin admits to having skipped class the day they learned about mandrake harvesting.

Chapter 5:

Chilchuck uses Falin's metal staff instead of the sword to find the passage. When they go to get the oil, Falin casts a fire-ward spell on Chilchuck, just in case. Senshi declines to take one too.

Chapter 6-7:

Without Laios' insights, they deem the living armor too dangerous after the first attempt, and take a slightly different route to the third level.

Much to Marcille's chagrin, they run into a nest of giant rats, and they end up having giant rat stir-fry instead.

Chapter 8:

Falin thinks Senshi's utilization of the golems is absolutely delightful.

Chapter 9:

Falin is rather uncomfortable with Chilchuck's suggestion to trade at the seedy bar, but doesn't argue.

Events with the orcs go more or less the same. Falin thinks Bahay is very cute.

Chapter 10:

No Kensuke, so they get ambushed by the bugs. Chilchuck gets bitten, but Falin is able to heal him.

Falin applies much better ghost wards than Marcille. In fact, she quickly realizes they are just paralyzed, and is able to heal them. Yeah, no. That would have way too big of a butterfly effect on the story. Maybe she's too distracted by the pretty bugs to notice.

Unlike Marcille, Falin thinks the centipedes are adorable. In fact, she secretly takes one and hides it in her pack to keep as a pet.

Chapter 11:

As one would expect, the ghosts are a complete non-issue. No ice cream for them.

Chapter 12-13:

No one in this party is crazy enough to bother with the living paintings. Without the delay, they are able to make camp at the level 4 entrance, bypassing the mimic.

Senshi catches some fish, and they have a very nice dinner.

Chapter 14:

Mostly the same, except instead of Laios, Senshi is saved by Falin. She has experience in such manners.

Chapter 15:

Sadly, Falin does not know the song, so they have to resort to earplugs. This leads to a silent but amusing argument where Chilchuck has to talk down Falin from eating fish-men without words. Falin does not pull the waterweed stunt.

Chapter 16:

The kraken battle is pretty much identical.

Unlike Laios, Falin has eaten calamari before, having gone to that restaurant with Marcille several times. She is very disappointed the kraken tastes bad.

Senshi cooks up the parasite, and Falin doesn't eat any raw.

Chapter 17:

No one is sick, so this chapter doesn't happen.

Chapter 18:

Marcille has a sponge bath and insists Falin take one too. Chilchuck is annoyed by their flirting, but Senshi thinks it's cute.

When the Undine attacks, Falin is able to waterwalk and help Marcille, but neither of them has particularly good magic for fighting an undine. Both are badly injured, but they manage to escape.

Falin is able to heal both of them, but they are both left very hungry, and relatively low on mana. They have a barbecue to help them recover.

Chapter 19-20:

The Tansu party arrives. Tensions aren't quite as high between Marcille and Namari, but it's still there.

After Tansu fails to pacify the Undine. the two parties agree to help each other out. First, they help get down to the tower. A well placed fireball saves Kiki from the tentacles. Sadly, without Laios' knowledge, they can't eat them, at least not as easily.

When coming up with a plan to stop the undine, the idea to trap it is brought up, and they basically use the same plan, except Namari is in on it from the start.

After killing it, Falin suggests eating it, and the two groups enjoy some kelpie stew before departing opposite ways.

Chapter 21:

More or less plays out the same. Chilchuck suggests making the suits, to which Falin enthusiastically agrees. Senshi makes froggy hash instead of pasta, since he doesn't know how to neutralize the stinging.

Marcille puts on the frog suit without complaint since Falin puts one on first.

She attempts to take it off to much complaint still.

Chapter 22:

Most identical chapter yet. Namari asks about Laios instead of Falin. That's it.

Chapter 23:

Plans are made to take down the red dragon. With Falin here, their warding spells are much better, but no Laios means Senshi is the only proper warrior. Falin is a decent fighter, and plans to join Senshi and Chilchuck on the frontline. They search the orc's storehouse and find some spears, which will hopefully be enough for the inverse scale.

They mostly come up with the same plan. Crush the dragon, then kill it.

Chapter 24-25:

The pot defenses fail, and they go ahead and crush the dragon. When the dragon emerges, Falin is able to execute the plan, stabbing the dragon as they play dead. However, she isn't able to stab deeply enough before the dragon recoils, the spear getting pulled away from her, landing some distance away.

Senshi tries to stab the dragon in the foot, but the spear breaks. Things go as they do in canon, with Senshi and Chilchuck managing to toss Falin the spear and blind the dragon in one eye.

Falin meets up with Marcille, and ends up pulling the same self-sacrificing gambit Laios did, stabbing the dragon in the throat while dangling from its mouth.

Chapter 26:

Falin falls unconscious, and has a dream about when Laios first left home, leaving her behind. And how he later promised to never leave her behind again.

Marcille still has to heal Chilchuck and Senshi herself, since Falin is in no state to do it herself. They retrieve her leg, and Falin is able to finish healing all four of them.

They begin carving into the dragon, with Senshi taking the lead. Laios' intrusive thought fun facts end up saving the day, reminding Falin about the flame sac.

Chapter 27:

Falin doesn't even bother mentioning the resurrection office, already knowing what must be done. Marcille doesn't hesitate to offer her ancient magic as the solution.

Falin is able to assuage Chilchuck's concerns a little better than Marcille did, clarifying that the ancient magic is just used to perform magic of a magnitude impossible with just natural mana. He still doesn't quite buy it, but doesn't protest further.

Putting Laios' skeleton together takes longer, since no one here is super knowledgeable about dog skeletons. They get it eventually though.

Marcille does the ritual. Falin thinks Marcille is hot when she lets her hair down like that.

Laios is revived successfully, and everyone is incredibly happy.

Chapter 28:

No bath scene. :(

Laios is incredibly curious about their journey, and is running his mouth asking questions. He is extremely excited that his monster eating idea worked, and is practically glued to Senshi for a while asking questions. Due to his presence, Senshi doesn't explode the dragon.

Marcille isn't surprised in the least by Laios' enthusiasm, and is just glad to have her friend back. They enjoy their little dragon feast, regaling Laios with their tales of monster eating.

Unlike Falin, Laios does not realize that forbidden magic was used to revive him, and apologizes profusely for abandoning Falin, even though she insists it wasn't his fault.

Chapter 29:

When Thistle summons Laios, a ghost wakes Falin up. She wakes the others, and they go looking for him.

Unlike Falin, Laios doesn't gain magical power from the dragon, instead getting an even bigger boost to his strength. Falin isn't just knocked unconscious, but is badly injured by his punch.

Not even being dominated by the mad mage can stop Laios from yapping. As he is transformed, he gives Thistle tips, causing his chimera form to be significantly more dangerous, featuring a bigger but more slender build and bigger wings, allowing him to actually fly. As well as a few other embellishments, such as tail spikes and small horns.

The ghosts save the party, and things proceed as normal.

Chapter 30:

Chilchuck's arc is mostly the same, except that it is easier to convince Falin once she wakes up. Healing the internal bleeding Laios caused took a lot out of her, and both her and Marcille are tapped of magic. They agree to return to the surface.

Chapter 31:

Literally Identical.

Chapter 32:

Kabru's deductions are mostly the same, only altered slightly due to being warded by Falin instead of Marcille.

Shuro isn't quite as haggard. Falin isn't actively dead, so he doesn't feel the need to run himself ragged. Funny enough, taking better care of himself ends up canceling things out, and he arrives at Kabru's group at about the same time.

Chapter 33:

Senshi and Chilchuck have to fight the Dryads by themselves. They use the axe instead of Kensuke. Not that Laios helped much, but the first dryad manages to attack Senshi, leaving him in much rougher shape by the end of the fight.

Thankfully, he makes a full recovery once Falin recovers some mana from the yummy pottage.

Once Falin is recovering, she suggests teleporting out of the dungeon, but Marcille flat out refuses to let Falin do that again. It's way too risky. Now that they have a source of food, mapping out the area should be simple.

Chilchuck does not escape the sex ed.

Chapter 34:

A dramatic reenactment of chapter 34:

They still need to spend several days making the map, but at least petrification isn't an issue.

Chapter 35:

The ghost warns Falin about the wyvern, and they hide in the wall, so business as usual.

When Marcille accidentally puts on the frog suit, Falin decides to put hers on too. This somehow makes Marcille more mortified, not less.

Recognizing Falin, the ninjas don't attack. Marcille is annoyed how happy Falin is to see Toshiro, considering the bad terms he split off on.

Chapter 36:

Since Falin has been enthusiastic, but not overbearing about monster food, Chilchuck chooses to go with Senshi even more easily.

Falin explains what happened to Toshiro, leaving out the ancient magic. Toshiro has no reason to think Falin wouldn't be able to revive Laios. He is happy to learn that she intends to return to the surface, and he plans to try and talk her out of returning once safe on the surface.

Kabru can tell Falin is lying about something, but remains quiet.

Chapter 37:

Even though harpies show up, everything seems to be going well, until Hien splatters on the ground. The Laigon quickly proves to be a ferocious foe, with razor sharp claws, a vicious thagomizer, and the ability to easily fly out of reach, or drop opponents from deadly heights.

Marcille didn't know that sufficient brute force could splatter an Undine to death, but apparently so.

Falin watches in horror as she can see an almost joyous look in his eyes. He would never do this of his own volition... but he clearly doesn't hate it.

When Rin grounds the Laigon with lightning, Falin steels her resolve and charges in to pummel his weak point, but he smiles and says her name.

Chapter 38:

After Kabru fails to kill him, the Laigon is too powerful, and kills Kabru before Falin can do anything. Seeing the Laigon about to attack Falin, Marcille hits it with an explosion.

Snarling, the Laigon looks like it's about to pounce at Marcille and company, causing Falin to fully freak out and unleash her strongest offensive spell, causing several massive rocky spires to erupt and impale the Laigon from below, and accidentally hitting Rin in the process.

Screaming and convulsing in pain, the Laigon takes for the sky, fleeing as fast as it can, leaving behind a thick trail of blood.

With both Falin and Holm alive, as well as Marcille not being barred from helping, the revivals go smoothly.

Toshiro ends up getting into a shouting match with Falin regarding her goal of saving Laios. Falin insists that if they defeat the mad mage, they can save him. He insists that trying to do so at this point is suicidal.

In the heat of the moment, Toshiro declares that Laios isn't even worth saving, and Falin slaps him. The conversation comes to an abrupt end, with both severely regretting their actions. Toshiro walks off to think, while Marcille comforts Falin, who seems on the verge of tears.

Toshiro ends up apologizing, saying he can't understand her decision, but he will respect it. He has Maizuru give them supplies so they can head down immediately, and gives Falin the bell.

Asebi overhears Marcille speculating with Chilchuck about the Laigon, and the possibility of the dragon's soul getting mixed in due to her revival magic.

Kabru leaves with a higher opinion of Falin than he did of Laios, because while she seemed fascinated by monsters, she wasn't as crazed about it as him. Plus she didn't offer him a harpy omelette, so that helps.

Chapter 39:

Without the living paintings, they aren't able to quite grasp the mad mage's motives, but are still hopeful that they can talk to him.

And then the shapeshifters happen.

Chilchuck's Falin is an airhead, reflecting her calm demeanor and lack of commanding presence, even though she is ostensibly the leader without Laios around.

Senshi's Falin looks just like his Laios, but with longer hair. They look identical to Senshi.

Falin's Chilchuck is colder and more even-tempered than the real Chilchuck. She appreciates his levelheadedness and maturity.

Falin's Senshi is always spouting fun facts about food and food prep, and is always smiling. Senshi reminds her a lot of her brother's passions.

At first, the group is confused. They seem to be short two fakes. But then they find Falin's Marcille and Marcille's Falin making out in one of the cells. Both are too shy to admit their feelings, but apparently their mental images aren't so shy about it.

Once obvious stuff is out of the way, and equipment has been checked, Marcille and Falin have been found, but Chilchuck's Senshi, Marcille's Chilchuck, and Falin's Chilchuck are still around.

Chapter 40:

Marcille and Falin manage to eliminate Chilchuck's Senshi, since they both get a weird feeling from it, and all three Chilchucks agree it's the right Senshi, practically confirming it to be Chilchuck's.

The Chilchucks prove much trickier, until Falin comes up with an idea. We skipped chapter 13, so Falin suggests the Chilchucks provide their age. Marcille's says 20. Falin's says 45. Chilchuck is able to explain those guesses are way off the mark, and as the only one able to give a proper explanation of half-foot age ranges, he is clearly the correct one.

With all the copies locked up, the shapeshifter gives up and goes to find other prey.

Asebi ambushes the party as normal afterwards.

Chapter 41:

There is a bit of confusion at Asebi's accusations, since Marcille never confessed to using ancient magic, but Asebi overheard her talking about how she may have blended Laios' soul with the dragon, and that is not something someone does on accident. Clearly she must have been using black magic to do something like that.

Nonetheless, Marcille agrees to break the collar's magic, and things proceed the same. Falin attacks the hag with her mace-staff, creating a messier cut, but functionally the same.

The explanation of their goals goes about the same, including Falin being rather happy to meet Izutsumi, though she's a little less weird about it, talking about how Laios was fine before the mage kidnapped him, and that hopefully he'll go back to that state of mind when saved.

Chapter 42:

In Falin's nightmare, the Laigon appears and tries to kill her, but Falin becomes lucid before it can strike.

Falin goes into Marcille's nightmare to help her. Being more experienced with this sort of thing, she is able to calm Marcille down, and cause her to become lucid, dispelling the nightmare without violating Marcille's private traumas.

They then spend the rest of the lucid dream having fun together. I'll let you decide how much those shapeshifter clones inspired their behavior.

Senshi cooks the nightmares, and much to the girls' dismay, the dream is shown for all to see. Everyone agrees not to bring it up again.

Chapter 43:

While searching the recovered packs, Falin is delighted to find the Dungeon Gourmet Guide. She was afraid it had been digested with Laios.

Note: Falin should be seeing the ghost by now, but I don't want to break up the chapter flow, so just assume the ghost got caught in ghost traffic.

Without Laios to block them, Marcille gets impaled by a few stalactites, and Falin has to tend to her. The fight goes as normal.

Izutsumi is able to undress without anyone being weird about it.

When doing the sauna thing, Chilchuck can't help but notice how closely Marcille and Falin are sitting. He tried to block the dream out of his mind, but it's clear that now that the feelings are out in the open, that's just how they're going to act from now on. He just hopes this doesn't cause any issues.

Chapter 44:

Falin finds the boiled mandrake quite tasty, and so doesn't question it when Izutsumi gives her a second.

When arguing over dinner, Falin is just as baffled as Izutsumi regarding the Barometz. As they run over, she flips through the guide, discovering the potential danger a few seconds too late.

Izutsumi and Marcille run off to do their thing. Falin panics and does something dumb. She starts barking. She isn't as good as Laios, but it's enough to scare off the wolves. Chilchuck isn't even surprised at this point.

Chapter 45:

Pretty much goes the same. Toshiro plans to report the Chimera, at least so people know to be wary, and Falin is just as careless with the bell as Laios.

As they eat their eggs, the ghost finally catches up and Falin is happy to chat.

Chapter 46:

Our party arrives in the golden country. Falin wants to check out the monster corrals, just like Laios, but while he was ecstatic about minotaur milking, Falin is much more charmed by the opportunity to pet the basilisk chicks.

Falin becomes extremely flustered at the sight of Marcille in a pretty dress. Unlike Laios, Izutsumi lets her pet her.

Since minotaur was not requested, they are served basilisk cordon bleu.

Sadly, the running joke of turning ghosts into ice cream is dead.

"One shall come who bears a staff of living wood." With Laios out of the picture, Marcille is the lion's next choice of champion.

Marcille really isn't sure what to think about this. Her? Become new queen of the land?

She ultimately gives no conclusive answer, but the possibility of gaining dominion over this land where no one ever dies is tempting.

Marcille and Falin share the double bed, while Chilchuck gets the single bed to himself. At least until Izutsumi curls up on him.

Chapter 47:

Breakfast goes smoothly, and they head back into the dungeon.

Things in the cistern go mostly the same, though Falin also thinks the griffon is Laios. Senshi doesn't panic until the griffon actually appears.

Chapter 48:

Marcille puts her plan into action, and Falin carries her.

With the second familiar, Falin suggests shaping it like a dragonfly, since they are very fast and agile. It isn't as fast as the wyvern, but it dodges a lot easier. The third familiar is still sky fish.

Once the griffon is defeated, Falin suggests eating the sky fish. Marcille objects, but she can't say no to Falin's smile.

And Senshi shares his story.

Chapter 49:

Unlike Laios, Falin doesn't push Senshi to try the griffon. She suggests cooking it, since they don't want to waste good food, but Senshi doesn't have to try it if he doesn't want to.

Senshi decides to go for it. You can decide if he's traumatized further, or if changelings follow logic, and meat without any spores on it (since it was cut from inside the griffon), and was then "washed" by turning it into soup turns back into hippogriff. Senshi tastes the "griffon" soup, and is immeasurably relieved.

Changlings are a lot of fun, but they sure open some plot holes. By all accounts, it should have reverted to hippogriff soup.

Look, this is my silly what-if AU, things don't have to be perfect.

Chapter 50:

Falin is a dwarf now. She sucks at magic, but now she can really smash some heads in.

Falin thinks half-foot Marcille is adorable. Marcille isn't sure what to think of dwarf Falin.

When they reach the door, Falin is surprised when her pet pearlipede crawls out unbidden and unlocks the door.

Despite the disadvantages, Falin's mace proves super-effective against the gargoyles, managing to defeat one, but tiring out while one is still left. They flee through the door.

Now that the party knows she has it (and that it's oddly useful), Falin starts wearing her pet as a bracelet.

While preparing dumplings, Falin ponders if maybe the griffon wasn't actually a griffon, but Chilchuck shuts her down before she can accidentally re-traumatize Senshi.

Chapter 51:

Falin notices Marcille's strong adverse reaction to the news that half-foots only live fifty years, but doesn't say anything.

Falin suggests the possibility of using the changelings on Laios, though unlike him, she doesn't consider that the two halves might change separately. She just imagines them turning the whole Laigon into a gnome or something.

When the last gargoyle arrives, Falin's staff gets knocked out of her grasp, and thrown by the gargoyle.

They use the knowledge from the transformed staff to defeat the last gargoyle. Sadly, Marcille does not get to fly.

Falin washes her staff.

Chapter 52:

Senshi grows curious and asks about Laios. Falin talks about how Laios always had trouble fitting in, and it wasn't until he started dungeon diving that he finally seemed able to make friends and be happy. Falin had dropped out of magic school because she didn't want Laios to be alone.

Marcille starts crying and clinging to Falin. She talks about how she used to hate Laios. But as they adventured together, he became like a brother to her. Falin starts crying too. Izutsumi sits by Chilchuck to avoid all the tears.

Senshi proposes his bacon and eggs plan. Falin can't find any issue with his reasoning, and thinks its a great idea, but Chilchuck points out how long it will take to eat that much meat. They start making plans for the foreseeable future.

Thistle tries to stop the Laigon from eating a walking mushroom, but is unsuccessful.

Chapters 53-85

Chapter 86-Finale

[botboots]

Saw that your requests were open so what about TFP cons with an adorkable teen human reader? A really close friend (the emotional support bundle of joy™) that is really artistic, kind, understanding and just a pure cinnamon roll, what would be the bots reaction to the lil' human? Optimus, Ratchet,Bulkhead, Arcee, BB, and if you do the kids then the kids. If not the other bots, stay safe!

im back!! so sorry for the long ass wait, had so much going on in my life recently (graduating, going back home, etc.) but hopefully i'll be back to posting somewhat regularly! tysm for the continuous support :] love seeing the notifs pop up every day this is one of the first asks in my inbox (and i completely forgot that the prompt said reader was part of the cons... whoops) and i've wanted to get it done for a while now! have so many more to get through but will get them done eventually - this isn't the best but its cute <3 and you can 100% tell who my favs are lmao warnings: none word count: 939 (GN reader)

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

Optimus:

he finds your outlook on things is a nice change of pace compared to the more pessimistic views that some members of the team can have at times

values your compassion greatly, often turning to you as a confidant over the time you’ve gotten to know each other. a mission went wrong and he’s putting all the blame on himself? you’re there to reassure him in a heartbeat, reminding him that he did his best and there’s always another chance; you keep him grounded

has an innate interest in art and writing - he used to be an archivist, after all

so he enjoys watching you indulge in your hobby, your excitement about it reminds him of his younger years of being a clerk at iacon when he would become giddy over a newfound archaic text

he’s very fond of you and makes sure you know it, taking note of the small things you like and getting you whatever little gift he can manage to find - genuinely thinks you’re cute and likes seeing you happy :] 

Ratchet:

while it may have taken him a little longer than the others to warm up to you fully, he grew to start looking forward to your company (despite his his best efforts to hide it)

he appreciates your quiet company; you’re much less rambunctious than both the other humans and his own team - you complain a lot less too, probably one of his favorite qualities about you

like optimus, your bubbly attitude gives him a much needed break from the dreary duties that come with being the autobot medic

you often find yourselves working in tandem, with you sitting on the couch working on your newest project while he stands at his terminal typing away. occasionally you’ll walk over with a nervous smile, and with a roll of his optics he’ll lower a servo for you to climb into and lift you up onto the corner of the console, huffing when you chirp a thank you before the both of you quietly return to your tasks (he enjoys it, really)

while he’s not one to vent his frustrations to you, he’ll always be open to listen to you vent about yours. even if he doesn’t respond with much, he’ll offer logical solutions and observations for whatever issue you’re having

Bulkhead:

the big guy loves art, having been exposed to his fair share of it by miko, and is very encouraging when it comes to your projects

he might not get some of the nuances or meanings of the things you make, but he tries - oftentimes making you laugh a bit at the sheer amount he misses. it’s endearing though, and you appreciate the effort

too fidgety to sit and watch you do anything for too long, but he’ll offer to drive you to a vista for some inspiration while he does his usual scouting routes, miko tagging along of course. she’ll probably bring her sketchbook with her and sit next to you and draw, chattering the entire time while blasting some music from her ipod, offering you one of her earbuds

Arcee:

similar to ratchet she takes a while to get used to you, a little cold at first to your attempts at friendliness

she notices how happy you seem to make everyone else and eventually makes a legitimate pass at being friendly despite how awkward it feels

but with how eagerly you accept it she doesn’t feel as bad, sighing in relief as you immediately start filling her in on how much you’ve enjoyed your time with the autobots

she’s not much of a conversationalist (especially when it comes to humans) so your chattiness is almost a relief - not having to keep up fake interest and energy with someone puts her in a more comfortable position; especially since you’re not one to comment on it like others tend to

will sit and watch you work on whatever your newest project is, a comfortable silence shared between the two of you

rambles about random stuff from her past sometimes - you turn out to be one of the few people she trusts enough to mindlessly dump her thoughts to, both good and bad

Bumblebee:

one of the first to get to know you, overly excited about having a fresh face around

super curious when he sees you working on something, a barrage of questions translated from mechanical chirps and whirrs with the help (and annoyance) of ratchet

he’ll actually try and mimic some of your art on the walls of hidden ditches where he and rafael hang out, excitedly bringing you along to show off his latest work and buzzing happily when you praise it

will eventually, with your encouragement, try and make something original - he ends up finding it pretty soothing and an easier way to feel understood; communicating his feelings without words can be unsurprisingly helpful for someone who can’t use any of his own

you’ll spend hours hanging out and working on your stuff - he likes when you help him with his own art, adding your own brushstrokes to the concrete wall

he’ll let you sit up on his shoulder just to watch him make whatever he feels like making, or even just taking you on joyrides in the desert where he doesnt need to worry about anything going wrong

while it’s usually you, him and raf hanging out he does enjoy spending solo time with you - usually in silence or one-sided conversations, but you understand each other well enough without words

will also figure out what your favorite songs are and surprise you with them; he loves when you get all giddy about literally anything

[holllandtrash]

chasing fate | lance stroll

pairing: lance stroll x hamilton!reader

after months of lingering looks and shy smiles, all the two of you need is a little push in the right direction, but when that direction ends up being in circles, you start to wonder if there's even an end in sight

word count: 5k tags/warnings: soft and sweet, literally so pure and innocent

To put it simply, Lance Stroll was an introvert. 

He loved his career, he loved the people on his team, but when the weekend ended he wanted nothing more than to go back to Montreal and hide away in the comfort of his house until he had to fly to the next country.

The worst was when there was no break in between races. When he had to fly from one race location to another, Lance struggled to hold in his complaints. 

Oftentimes during the race weekend, he sought out places where he could find temporary comfort. Away from the crowds, away from the team sporting the matching Aston Martin colours. He just needed to breathe and he couldn’t do that with someone at his side. He couldn’t do that if he was called away for media or autographs. He couldn’t do that if he had to sit through yet another pointless meeting.

He lucked out in Monza, finding a spot early Thursday morning. Somewhere behind the motorhomes, a route that emergency vehicles would take so it wasn’t accessible to the public. 

There was a bench, even somewhere for him to put his feet up. Absolutely perfect, he thought. 

He sat there in between media sessions on Thursday, taking deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. 

He didn’t have anxiety, he just got overwhelmed easily. 

All he wanted to do was race, he wished he could do that without the fifty thousand other agreements he never thought would become more and more unbearable as the races continued, as the years went on. Wasn’t it supposed to get easier the longer he did this? Why was he always counting down the minutes until he could just go home, or at least go back to the hotel?

Lance waited a minute or two more before standing up from the bench. He avoided the puddle that was near his feet and looked up at the sky. The clouds were a light grey, but no rain was supposed to be expected for the rest of the weekend, hopefully.

He was still looking up as he walked around the motorhome, thinking about how bad a storm would have to be for a race to be cancelled.

And you were looking down at your phone as you walked down that same dirt path, not caring about how the mud was going to stain the sides of your shoes because if you were being honest, you hated that you had to look your best during these weekends.

You hated that Lewis had turned the paddock into his own personal fashion show because the days you showed up with him, people expected you to also make some sort of statement or rep some expensive brand with your outfit. After all, you were the younger sister of 7 time world champion Lewis Hamilton, and your association came with upholding his image.

But god you were tired of it sometimes. You loved watching the races, but you could do without being asked what you thought about your brother's career, how you felt his battle was going, if he was going to retire soon. 

You didn’t care, truly. 

Lewis knew what he was doing, all you wanted to do was watch and support and not be sucked into whatever drama was circling his life that week.

That's how you found yourself looking for a seclusive spot to just get away from it all. 

When you bumped into Lance, you were both taken off guard. You hand went to his chest, his hand went to your arm to keep you both steady.

“Sorry, I wasn’t-” You started to say, the same time Lance said “I didn’t see-”

You closed your mouth, dropping your hand to your side as he took a step back. The synchronised apologies didn’t need to be finished, it was clear you both weren’t looking where you were going. 

“Is this your hideout?” You asked, a faint smile on your face when you saw the bench and the black boxes he had turned upside down to rest his feet on. 

Lance looked behind him, inhaling a quiet breath before he smiled too, “Yeah, but I don’t mind sharing it if you’re in need of one.”

“How generous,” you teased. 

Lance moved to step around you and had you kept walking towards the bench, you would have missed the way his smile dropped when he spotted the crowd of people on the other side of the motorhome. 

But you caught it. 

You didn’t say anything, but you felt bad for him, knowing that he had it so much worse being an actual driver. There was the stress of delivering and getting points every weekend on top of what he had to face when he stepped out of the car.

At least you got to go home after this and not think about Formula 1 until you decided to attend another race. This was Lance’s life.

And you liked Lance. You didn’t speak as often as you would have liked, but he was always very polite to you when you were in the paddock. Whereas most of the drivers kept to themselves and their teams if they were heading somewhere, Lance would send you a smile if he recognised you.

You knew he was shy, which is why you were always a little surprised if he did go out of his way to talk to you. Again, it wasn’t often, just a simple ‘How are you?’ or ‘It’s nice to see you’. 

You liked his faint lisp as he spoke, you liked his Canadian accent, it made chatting with him more amusing for you. You were sick of the French and the British, you liked that when Lance spoke, there was always a sense of optimism to his words, even if he didn’t intend for it.

But most of all, you liked that despite being the son of Lawrence Stroll, despite having a paid seat, he fought hard. He worked his ass off every weekend to earn points for the team, he put effort in that not many other paid drivers would. He loved this sport, he loved racing, and you could see that even when you sat at home and watched the race from the comfort of your living room.

His effort in F1 seemed to go unnoticed a lot of the time. He had Seb as a teammate the last few years and now he was with Fernando. Two very prominent names and yes, two incredible drivers that helped him out immensely, but the attention always went to them.

So yeah, you felt bad for him.

You couldn’t relate to the driving aspect, but you understood what it was like being in someone's shadow. Something that you never once blamed Lewis for, just like you knew Lance would never blame Seb or Fernando. 

It was just the cards you had been dealt, it was the fate you found yourself accepting.

You didn’t think twice before cupping your hand around your lips, calling out to Lance, “Hey!”

He turned right before reaching the paddock, eyebrows raised, but when your mouth curved into a warm smile, he reciprocated it before you even said anything else. 

“Good luck this weekend,” you said and he chuckled, yelling a ‘thank you’ in response.

Four little words, but it showed him that someone was on his side. 

And that someone was you, which Lance needed a second to process as he walked through the paddock.

He admired you, really. 

He had been following you on social media for a while, he saw the work you put into Lewis’ organisations, how much of a role model you aspired to be. He liked the calming aura you carried into the paddock, it was something that drew Lance to you from day one.

Maybe that’s why he wasn’t afraid to talk to you, maybe that’s why you were one of the few people he didn’t shy away from. He hated crowds, he hated the obligations that came with being a driver, he hated struggling to find the right words to say when a camera was shoved in his face.

But you were different. 

He could spot you halfway down the paddock and it made his job a little easier.

And if he just so happened to perform better when you were in attendance, well, no one really had any issues with that. No one even knew you were the reason behind it, behind his insane lap times during practices, behind his incredible qualifying finish that put him third behind Max and Checo.

Almost everyone was clueless, and that included Lance.

The one person who wasn’t clueless, was Lewis.

He bumped into Lance in the paddock, it was nearing sunset on that Saturday before the race and you had already gone back to the hotel at this point, telling Lewis you’ll see him later and congratulating on his P5 grid position.

Now, unlike you, Lewis was intimidating. Sure, he was probably the nicest driver in the paddock and wore his heart on his sleeve, but the man held seven world championship titles and knew a thing or two about racing. 

So naturally, when Lewis approached him, Lance stood up straighter, slid his phone into his pocket and was ready to listen to whatever the British driver had to say.

“P3, mate, good job,” Lewis congratulated him, arm going around his shoulders to pat his back as they walked through the paddock.

“Yeah, thanks,” Lance smiled. “It was close there, in that last session. I just lucked out.”

“Nah it’s not luck,” Lewis laughed. “You’re a good driver. It’s only right you’re fighting for the big points.”

Lewis was a fierce competitor, but he showed every driver on the grid the respect they deserved. Lance was appreciative of his words, but it also left him stunned in response. 

You were easier to talk to than your brother, that’s for sure.

“You’re doing well this year,” he then pointed out. 

Ideally, Lance would have liked to be doing better. It was September and he found himself seventh in the standings. Better than last year, for sure, but Lance expected more of himself, more from the car. 

But what was he supposed to say to Lewis, ‘I disagree’? Lance just thanked him again.

“Do you know what I’ve noticed?" Lewis, still with one arm around Lance, laughed quietly to himself. It wasn’t threatening by any means, but Lance felt like he was missing something, he wasn’t in on whatever Lewis found so funny.

“What’ve you noticed?” He asked.

Lewis nodded and he stopped walking. Lance did too and watched as Lewis tried to hide the faint smirk on his lips, tried, but failing 

“You do better when my sister’s around.” 

Again, Lance was unsure how to respond. This wasn’t something he could agree with or find an answer for, it honestly wasn’t even something he’d thought about. 

But Lewis’ face said it all.

He had noticed the way the Canadian driver worked his way up the grid faster if you were watching the race. He kept track of Lance’s starting positions when you were in attendance compared to when you weren’t. He saw the way Lance, all around, was in a better mood and had a better weekend, if you were there.

“I don’t-” Lance shook his head, thinking maybe he had done something wrong. He didn’t want to cross any lines, he respected Lewis, respected you, your whole family. Why was he suddenly nervous that Lewis had caught onto something that had gone right over his own head?

Lewis continued on, not giving Lance a chance to defend himself or argue that he was wrong, “So you like her?”

Again, Lance struggled to get a proper sentence out, “No, I mean- I do, but not like-” he ran a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t know what the right thing to say here is, man.”

Lewis found humour at how on edge Lance became all of a sudden. His intention was not to get in his head or make him stutter, but it was entertaining. 

“She’s-” Lance swallowed, “Nice. She’s nice.”

“Nice?” Lewis repeated, still stifling his laughter. “Yeah, tell her that mate, I’m sure that’ll win her over.”

“What, I’m not-” Lance shook his head again, that was all he could seem to do. He felt the need to defend himself, for something he had no control over, “I’m not trying to win her over.”

“Okay,” the older driver nodded, figuring now was probably the time to quit playing mind games. He patted Lance’s arm, “Just saying, if you did want to win her over, you probably wouldn’t have to try that hard. I think she likes you too.”

Lewis let those words sit with Lance as he turned and walked towards the gates of the paddock, leaving the Aston Martin driver standing in the middle of the walkway, repeating the sentence in his head over and over again. 

‘I think she likes you too.’ 

When Lewis returned to the hotel, you were in the lobby scrolling through your phone. Lewis plopped down next to you, arm resting over the back of the couch and when you eventually looked up, you noticed the devious little expression on his face.

“What?” You asked, eyes narrowing. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Lewis sighed, “I guess if you wanted, you could call me-” he raised his hands in front of him, mimicking the motion of shooting an arrow. “-cupid.” And then he looked at you, with that same mischievous grin.

Now you were really confused. 

“Who the fuck are you playing cupid for?”

Lewis hesitated, “Lance.”

That was certainly not the name you expected to hear. 

“Lance?” You repeated. “Lance and who?”

“Lance and that girl who always lingers in the paddock when he’s nearby and gives him a more genuine smile than she gives her own brother.”

It took a second for it to hit you and then you hit him, smacking your older brother in the chest as he just took the abuse and laughed. 

“Am I wrong?” Lewis asked, still unable to keep from grinning from ear to ear. Your reaction to your unrecognised feelings was so much better than Lance's. “Come on, Y/N, I’ve seen it for months now.”

“You haven’t seen anything,” you argued, crossing your arms over your chest in a very childlike form. Avoiding eye contact with Lewis made this conversation easier, but that didn’t mean he was about to let up. 

“So you’re telling me you don’t like him?” He questioned. “That you don’t have feelings for that pale Canadian?”

The thing was, you probably did. You just never let yourself think about it. You didn’t spend enough time around him or go to enough races to let yourself sit in those feelings or act on it. You exchanged a smile and kind words when you were around each other, but it never went any further than that and you never let yourself hope that it would.

There was no point, you’d both be gone after the race weekends, back to your lives, your respected homes. 

“I think you’re delusional,” you turned this around on Lewis instead of facing what was right in front of you. 

Quite literally, right in front of you.

You looked across the lobby right as Lance was walking inside, looking down at his phone as he lugged a backpack over his shoulder. You felt Lewis nudged your side and in response you hit his hand out of the way, inching closer to the corner of the couch.

And then Lance looked up, his eyes finding yours almost instantly. 

It was hard to put into words how you felt because up until now, you refused to admit you felt anything. You took the smiles and glances in the paddock as a sign of friendship, nothing more. 

All of a sudden, it was naive to think those moments were just friendly. 

You didn’t want to admit anything, you didn’t want to have feelings for a driver who lived on the other side of the world. You didn’t want to look at him and imagine a future where you’d be standing in his garage, attending events at his side, holding his hand when the pressure of the crowds and cameras became unbearable because as long as you could squeeze his fingers and let him know you were with him, it would be easier to breathe, for both of you to breathe.

Oh, you were fucked.

Because that was all you wanted.

You just didn't realise it until now.

Lance sent you a shy smile, purposely avoiding Lewis’ knowing stare and devious smirk as he walked towards the elevators. You felt yet another nudge in your side and it was at this moment, you couldn’t tell if you hated or loved having Lewis as your brother.

The teasing you could do without.

But if it weren’t for him, would you have ever let yourself accept that you did feel something for Lance? Or did it take Lewis pointing it out for you to realise it was impossible to ignore?

“So are you going to do anything?” Lewis asked and you really didn’t have an answer. 

All you could do was shrug and tell him that you’ll sleep on it. You told yourself that if you saw him in the paddock tomorrow and still felt that pull towards him, still thought about what it would be like to act on those feelings, then maybe, just maybe, you might do something.

But Monza ended up being a wild race to follow. You barely left the Mercedes motorhome in the morning, the race was littered with yellow flags and your focus was on Lewis and his fight rather than trying to find time to see the Aston Martin driver. 

In fact, your attention didn’t even go towards him until the end of the race neared and you noticed he was sitting in fourth place. In the back of your mind, you rooted that he would podium, but when Lewis finished second, you celebrated with him and his team. You didn’t give yourself a chance to think about Lance and his fourth place finish.

You didn’t see Lance in person at all on Sunday and you took that as a sign. 

A sign that whatever Lewis put in your head last night was not something you needed to act on.

You stayed in London during the next three races. While Lewis did invite you to come with, he always did, travelling from Singapore to Japan to Qatar seemed exhausting and you could support your brother from the comfort of your flat in London.

Lance noticed your lack of presence in the paddock though. 

He didn’t want Lewis’ words to get to him, but they did. He tried to perform his best during those races, but the most he could do was pull off a P5 finish in Japan. In Singapore he finished 7th and he had to retire in Qatar. 

Maybe he did do better when you were there.

Lance knew he should have acted on Lewis’ advice to make a move, win you over, when he had the chance to, when you were both in Monza, but you slipped right through his fingers. He saw you once in the morning, when you were walking into the Mercedes motorhome, but you were balancing a phone between your shoulder and cheek and Lance couldn’t bring himself to interrupt you. Not when he didn’t even have an idea as to what to say.

It was Monday morning in Qatar and Lance was at the airport when he pulled out his phone and mindlessly opened up Instagram. Was he hoping to see a new post from you? Yes, but he would never admit that out loud. 

But he saw it. A photo with a group of your friends at some restaurant in London. Your smile was illuminating, you were having fun, you were enjoying yourself. 

Lance was envious. Not because he wasn’t enjoying himself, but because he wanted to be there with you, he wanted to know what it was that made your head tilt back in laughter at the same time the photo was taken. 

“She’s going to New York.”

Lance looked up from where he sat in the secluded corner of the private lounge. It wasn’t uncommon to run into a driver or two in the airport the morning after a race, and it was more common to see them in the designated first-class lounges too. 

Lewis sat down across from him, eyeing the phone in his hands. He must have been behind lance when he was hovering his thumb over your photos, trying to decide if liking it crossed some sort of line. He was cautious. He didn’t want to overstep, especially with Lewis watching the two of you like you were some sort of blockbuster movie and he had front row seats.

“She’s going to New York,” Lewis repeated, doing his best to keep the sly grin off his face. “And then she’ll be in Austin for the race, but she’s going to New York first.”

Lance sighed, carefully treading the waters, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you didn’t do anything in Monza.”

“Do anything?” He asked, but the clarification was just for appearances. They both knew what Lewis was referring to. 

“She’s going to New York,” Lewis repeated for the final time, palms hitting his legs before he stood up. “Do whatever you want with that information.” He patted Lance on the shoulder as he walked towards the opposite end of the room, letting Lance sit there in tense uncertainty.

It would be stupid for Lance to go to New York, wouldn’t it? 

It would be stupid for Lance to go home to Montreal only to stare at his phone when you posted a photo of a restaurant in New York and then something on your story of the lobby of a hotel that Lance was fairly certain was the Mandarin Oriental in Manhattan because he had stayed there before and the walls looked horribly familiar.

It would be incredibly stupid of him to call up his friend who just so happened to live in Manhattan and make up some bullshit excuse that he was visiting the city and how it would be fun to catch a Rangers game, that way he had a reason to post New York on his story without it being too obvious that he was in New York the same time you were.

Lance knew that all of this was childish. Book a last minute trip to New York in hopes that it would get your attention? Who did that?

Lance, apparently.

You were in your hotel room on Saturday night when Lewis texted you. There were no words, just a screenshot of an instagram story that clearly showed Lance in attendance at a hockey game. You texted back saying ‘stop trying to play cupid’. 

But you had to admit, you were a little happy to hear that Lance was in the same city as you after not seeing him for over a month.  

You could have let it be, let fate decide whether or not you two would run into each other, but sometimes fate needed a little push.

So when you went out for drinks with a friend that night, you made sure to publicly post which lounge you were at. 

To anyone on the outside, you and Lance were sharing your personal lives on social media, something that you often did anyway, but Lance was an introvert, so this caught the curious eyes of a few of his friends and fans.

No one had an idea that this was the two of you communicating. That this was you saying I’m here, come find me, knowing that Lance would see and respond.  

His friend invited him to a bar after the hockey game, but Lance said he had other plans, which he did. He wanted to find you. He ordered a car to the restaurant you had posted on your story and it wasn’t long until he was wandering through the booths, keeping an eye out for you and your friends.

When he felt a tap on his shoulder, Lance got his hopes up. Thinking that finally timing would work out in his favour. 

But it was one of your friends. He recognised her from the pictures you shared. She had a glass and her phone balanced in one hand and she eyed up the Aston Martin driver with a bit of hesitation.

“Lance, right?” She asked, having recognised him as well. “I’m Y/N’s friend.”

“Is she-” he glanced up, one more look around the lounge. “Is she here?”

“She left about ten minutes ago,” your friend nodded, sounding about as disappointed as he felt. “She really thought you’d show up.”

“Yeah, fate’s not on our side I guess,” Lance tried to laugh it off, raising his hand up to scratch the hair on the back of his head. He then realised just how underdressed he was for this lounge, repping a Rangers jersey while everyone here was dressed with the intention of leaving a good impression. He didn't even think about changing first, he just wanted to find you.

Lance headed back to his hotel, trying to ignore the pitiful look from your friend. It seemed like a few people in your life wanted the two of you to finally connect outside the paddock. 

But it shouldn’t have been a shock to anyone when the paddock was what finally brought you together.

You left New York the next day, heading straight to Texas to meet Lewis. He had work to do aside from Formula 1 obligations, work that involved his charities and that also involved you. So while you went to the Southern state earlier than expected, Lance was stuck in New York, trying to figure out his next move. 

And you were also trying to piece together what was going to happen next.

Your friend had texted you, saying Lance did end up showing up after you left and you wanted to scream into the void, asking yourself why didn’t you just hold off a little longer. 

You could have taken it as a sign. Another reason why you should just push your feelings aside. You two just couldn’t seem to get it right. 

Lance entered the paddock on Friday morning, holding his card against the gate scanner. Sunglasses covered his face from the scolding sun, but there wasn’t much he could do to get away from the cameras that lined the walkway.

He waited until after the morning briefing to look for a hideout, something he did at most races. Just a place to breathe if he needed it and right now he did. 

Was he intentionally walking in the direction of the Mercedes motorhome in hopes that he would spot you? Lance would say no, but the all-knowing smirk Lewis gave him when they passed each other said otherwise. 

Lance had just walked past Mercedes when the doors to the motorhome opened and you stepped out, shielding your phone screen from the sun with your hand as you tried to read the text Lewis sent you. 

‘Come outside, turn right.’

You looked right, expecting to see Lewis, because why else would he tell you to go outside? 

But instead you recognized the green Aston Martin t-shirt in the soon to be growing crowd and you knew that, even though you had just missed each other once again, you couldn’t take this as a sign to go back inside and wait for the next chance encounter. 

You had to make your own fate.

You walked down the steps and picked up your pace until you reached Lance. He had one of his airpods in, so he didn’t hear you approach from behind but he did feel the faint touch of a hand on his arm, guiding him to stop walking. 

Lance took the airpod out and looked at you. Eyebrows slightly pinched together as he tried to figure out if now, here, in the paddock was the right time to do something, to finally let those feelings he had for you win. 

“Hi,” you breathed out. 

And then you smiled and Lance knew he was done for. 

He was tired of waiting too, tired of dancing around the idea of you and him. This is what he wanted and he knew now, this was what you wanted. 

“Hi,” he smiled back, absolutely glowing under the Austin sun, but he could say the same thing about you. Lance glanced down the paddock, “I was just going for a walk. Did you want to join me?”

“I’d love to.”

The lack of hesitation on your part gave Lance the confidence he needed to keep going, to not let this be restricted to just race weekends.

“What are you doing later?” He asked, and then laughed at the ridiculousness of his question. “I mean, after practice? Do you- do you have plans? Do you have dinner plans?”

You liked that he was a little awkward and a little unsure. He was cute, he was sweet, he was standing right in front of you after god knows how long you spent denying that he wasn’t anything more than someone you smiled at in passing. 

“Are you asking me out?” You asked, keeping the teasing tone to a minimum. You weren’t Lewis, you didn’t want him to overthink the idea of you two being together. 

Lance nodded, “I guess I am.”

Your smile grew, which was a response in itself. The two of you probably looked like young idiots as you stood in the paddock, both too giddy to get another word out. But that’s how it was supposed to be. You wanted to be with someone who made it hard for you to put together a sentence, you wanted to be with someone who made you smile so much you felt the discomfort in your cheeks. You wanted to be with someone who wanted you as much as you wanted them. 

And Lance was that someone.

---

ynhamilton

liked by lewishamilton, chloestroll and 65,827 others

tagged: lance_stroll

ynhamilton something about fate?

view all 6,182 comments

lance_stroll life is better with you in it

lewishamilton you are welcome

danielricciardo this was your doing? lewishamilton just call me cupid

chloestroll the cutesttt

tbh im not in love with this and there will probably be another lance one shot coming soon to make up for it

[sooniebby]

so.... ive read your izuku fanfic and damn they were sooo good i wanna cry t__t anywaaaays, idk if ur requests are open or nah so can i request puppy persona!m!reader x timeskip sakusa kiyoomi from haikyuu, whereas reader is sakusa's s/o and when sakusa publishes reader as his s/o on his insta (he posts their pic tgt) someone's commenting bad about reader and he saw it, what happens next is up to you :DDD stay healthy xoxo

ఌ 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈

❝ 𝘼𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙥𝙞𝙙? ❞

꧁ 𝙆𝙞𝙮𝙤𝙤𝙢𝙞 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡��� 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Word count › 1.9k

Rating › SFW

Warnings › minor homophobia

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＢＥＧＩＮＮＩＮＧ

Kiyoomi felt great. His team had just won a game and they were close to getting a spot in the semi finals. Pulling up his mask, he swiftly left the locker room, aiming the just shower at home. Still, even as he grew up, crowds bothered him. 

Most of his fans seemed to get the message by now as they mostly stayed at least five feet away from him. Though it took some screaming from his manager. 

“You did so good, Sakusa!!” A girl screamed. 

Kiyoomi simply gave her a curt nod, walking over to the car that his manager drove. He swore he could hear a loud shriek and then a thud. 

Weirdos. 

The drove home took longer as his manager made sure to take a long route so that no one would follow him. Kiyoomi wasn’t even sure why some fans wanted to know where he lived. He wasn’t going to invite them inside, are they stupid? 

“Thanks.” Kiyoomi’s word was muffled but his manager gave him a thumbs up. 

He got inside his apartment complex and punched in the code to his door—ready to get attacked by his overly excited boyfriend. 

Which he was. 

Kiyoomi being the taller one, and used to this, he easily caught his boyfriend and walked inside as if this was a normal thing. It technically was. He wasn’t sure if he hated it or loved it but he hasn’t asked (Name) to stop so it was borderline tolerable at the least. 

“How was the game?” (Name) asked, wrapping his legs around Kiyoomi waist as he shuffled around to take off his mask and shoes. 

“I’m sweaty.” 

“So?” 

“I wanna bathe.” 

(Name) smirked. “With me?” 

Kiyoomi pushed him off, with just enough force to not actually hurt him. “Absolutely not. I’m tired.” 

(Name) whined as he watched his boyfriend go off to their bedroom to take a bath. He pouted to himself as he went into the kitchen to take out Kiyoomi’s dish of curry. 

The two of them had met by chance, really. (Name) wasn’t into volleyball. In reality, he hated sports in general. He had gone to Karasuno so it’s a shock they had even met. It was honestly by luck when Kiyoomi went on a dating app under a fake name and ended up matching with him. 

It was a bit rocky at the start. Their vastly different personalities caused some clashes in the relationship. But it was better now, except (Name) had a problem. 

He wanted people to know that they were dating. But he knew why Kiyoomi didn’t tell his fans or anyone that wasn’t his family. 

Some fangirls had… problems with their faves dating. (Name) was always confused by this. Kiyoomi wasn’t an idol or anything. He was a volleyball player—who really thought they had a chance with him? 

Well, he randomly got a chance with him… 

(Name) brushed the thought away. He should be glad that Kiyoomi even told his parents about him. It was about a few minutes later when Kiyoomi joined him in the kitchen dressed in some pyjama bottoms. (Name) smirked at him, a playful look in his eyes as he looked him up and down. 

“No.” 

“I didn’t even say anything.” (Name) pouted, handing him the bowl of curry. 

“Didn’t have to.” 

ꕤ

Kiyoomi yawned as he laid down in bed, ready to sleep for over 12 hours after such a harsh game when his phone rang. He cursed as he reached over and answered it, knowing it was his manager. 

She’s the only one who’d dare to call him after a big game. 

“Sakusa! Sorry to bother you but you forgot to post a picture today!” She yelled, causing him to wince. 

It was a tradition that his manager came up with. After any game, especially if he won, to post a picture of him thanking anyone who came to the game. It was nice in theory because it made his account seem alive when he only posted like twice a year before this tradition. 

It also helped him go viral to gain no fans. But they weren’t really the fans he liked. They were the fans that liked him for his looks—not his skills as a player. He hated it but hey, ticket sales were higher each next game when he did this. 

Besides, his true fans seemed to also like the rare photos he did. Might as well reward them. 

“Alright,” he said before hanging up. 

A shirtless picture with only his lamp to illuminate him would certainly gain more attention then his usual covered up ones. He was in a semi good mood away. Kiyoomi positioned his phone upward to get mostly his face and bare shoulders, showing that he was indeed shirtless. 

He hit post and quickly went to sleep

What he didn’t know was that he forgot to angle (Name) out of the picture. (Name) was already asleep on the bed, facing towards Kiyoomi so his full face was in the photo. 

Anyone with eyes could tell he wasn’t a friend he’s ever posted before and that (Name) was shirtless as well. 

Yeah, Kiyoomi (really his manager) was screwed in the morning. 

ꕤ

(Name) woke up to Kiyoomi pressing a kiss on his neck before leaving for his workout of the day. He stayed in bed for a while before getting out, checking his phone for his account on social media. (Name) wasn’t famous by any means but he did have a decent 10k followers for just posting pictures of himself. 

He knew it was mainly people who thought he was cute but he didn’t mind. So many of his comments said he was like a puppy, looks and personality wise. He kinda led into it by this point—jokingly wearing dog ears in some pictures that his fans and friends loved. 

To anyone else, it’d look a bit weird but he didn’t care. 

(Name) frowned when he saw the amount of notifications he got. 

Weird, he usually didn’t get this much unless he posted something but he hasn’t in at least a week or two. He checked them out and he felt scared. The comments that mentioned his username was talking about him being a weirdo. 

And it was Kiyoomi’s fans. Their icons almost all had his face in it. 

(Name) checked Kiyoomi’s account and cursed when he saw the recent picture he posted last name. There he was in the background. If there wasn’t anyone practically attacking him right now, he’d say how handsome and sexy his boyfriend is but he couldn’t. 

Was this what his fans felt? 

Was he really that ugly? 

He shouldn’t have but he did. (Name) spent almost an hour just looking at all of the comments on Kiyoomi’s post and his own account. A few people were fighting back against the obsessed fans—stating how creepy they were acting. 

But it was like fighting against the ocean. It was too much. So many kept saying that he must’ve corrupted Kiyoomi into being a homosexual. 

Wow, Kiyoomi was right to hide their relationship. 

“(Name)?” 

Kiyoomi was in the bedroom suddenly. When did he get there? (Name) felt Kiyoomi wipe away his tears, a small frown on his lips. When did he start crying? 

“What happened?” 

(Name) opened his mouth but only a sob came out and his tackled Kiyoomi into a hug. He cried his heart out, not caring at how sweaty Kiyoomi was. Large arms held him tight, as Kiyoomi didn’t ask any questions. He just allowed him to cry out. 

It wasn’t until Kiyoomi’s phone rang that he pulled away, pressing a kiss on (Name)’s forehead. He reached over for his phone on the nightstand. He never took his phone with him on workouts. 

He just never saw the point in it. There was numerous miss calls from a few of his teammates and his manager. He called back his manager, Miss Watanabe, pulling (Name) back into his arms for some cuddling that he gladly returned. 

“Hello?” 

“Sakusa!! Finally, shit! If you wanted to come out you should’ve told me! We could’ve done it in a more less surprising way!” She cursed, sounding weirdly stressed out. 

“I haven’t come out… What are you talking about?” 

“The picture…” It was silent. “Oh no, Sakusa, was it by accident?! Shit, shit. It’s too late to delete. Oh god.” 

Kiyoomi put Ms. Watanabe on speaker and checked his account, seeing his picture certainly did went viral. 

And for all the wrong reason. He saw every comment that bashed (Name) and even checked his account to see them calling him a freak for wearing dog ears. Kiyoomi was angry. 

He wanted so desperately to just make them vanish out of thin air (kill them) but he knew he had to make sure (Name) was alright. 

“There’s a fan meet next week before the big game… I’ll come up with a speech for you to talk about it!” 

“Why would I need a speech? I’ll just saw he’s my boyfriend.” 

“Uh, are you sure…?” 

Kiyoomi hummed, glancing down at (Name) who had stopped crying by now and was actively listening to the conversation. “It’s time they knew.” 

“Ah,” Ms. Watanabe sounded as if she wanted to disagree but stopped herself. “Alright. I’ll stand by you. Do you want to delete the post still? It might not do much but it’ll delete the comments.” 

“No. I’m going to post something. Bye.” 

“Oh, uh, bye.” 

(Name) sighed. “You don’t think I’m weird right?” 

“No. You are a cute dog. My dog,” Kiyoomi said, a hint of teasing in his voice as he gently grasped (Name)’s neck. (Name), despite his puffy red eyes and teared stained face, smirked. 

“Need me to get my collar?” 

“Now you made it weird.” 

“Oh you’re no fun!” 

Kiyoomi simply smiled, as much as he did really, and stood up. “I’m going to take a shower. Get dressed, you have to look good for our picture.” 

“Our picture?” 

(Name) was honestly shocked. Kiyoomi was going to take a picture with him. He had made (Name) wear the dog ears (but not the collar) and dress in their matching sweaters that Kiyoomi didn’t even like wearing often. Just who was this man and where was his boyfriend? 

They were sitting on the couch as Kiyoomi pulled out his phone to take multiple photos—vastly different from his usual one. Each pose was different. One was just them leaning in close, another was Kiyoomi playfully biting his cheeks and a few was of them kissing. 

It was, in Kiyoomi’s word, a way for them to not deny it. 

He captioned it as a full sentence instead of his usual one word. 

My dog is better than yours. Love you, (Name).

(Name) giggled to himself ignoring the weird look Kiyoomi gave him. He tackled him into a hug, babbling on and on about how happy he was to have the world know he was his. 

It really took only two minutes before Kiyoomi’s phone began buzzing like crazy. He hesitated to grab it but knew he should at least see what they were saying. To his surprise, a lot of them were kind, a few shocked by the somewhat “kinky” display but happy for him none the less. 

Though there was one that caught his eye by a random model he noticed that always commented on his post as soon as possible. 

Seriously?! Why him?! With all the people in the world?! To think I thought you were hot. 

Kiyoomi never comments. But he did just this once. He wanted them to know that he’d never take any disrespect from his fans on his lover. 

Are you stupid?  

And that’s all was what needed to be said. He shut off his phone and pulled (Name) into a long cuddle on the couch. 

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＥＮＤ

Request number two!! I wasn’t sure what you meant by puppy persona so I just adapted it like that, hopefully it’s fine!

Requests are open!

The request for tomorrow is a threesome with characters from BNHA :)

[in1-nutshell]

Human Buddy from TFP Universe meeting MTMTE Ultra Magnus/Minimus Ambus

SFW, Platonic, slight angst, comfort, mention of Cliffjumper, Human reader

TFP/MTMTE

Buddy in the TFP universe was Ultra Magnus’s charge.

Buddy had known the Autobots a bit longer than the kids, having accidentally stumbled on Cliffjumper stretching in the middle of an empty ravine at 11:40 pm. It was a year before Cliffjumper’s death.

“…”--Buddy

“…”--Cliffjumper

“Hi?”--Buddy

“…Ratchet is not going to like this…”--Cliffjumper

Cliffjumper had originally been Buddy’s guardian.

The pair had truly made a wonderful team showcasing the beautiful nature between Bot and Human.

Buddy had been waiting for him back at the base on that day. He promised Buddy to take them out for some takeout then get back for a movie night in his habsuite.

Cliff even managed to rope in most of the team to watch it with them. They had been waiting patiently for everyone to come back.

Buddy spots Arcee coming back and runs up to the railing with a big smile on their face.

“Arcee! Arcee!”--Buddy

“Buddy?”--Arcee

“Hey what took you guys so long? I already have the movie set up and… where’s Cliff?”--Buddy

“Buddy… Cliff… Cliff’s not coming back.”—Arcee

Buddy’s smile drops.

“What do you mean ‘not coming back’?”—Buddy

The team looks sadly at Buddy.

“No… no… no… please. Please tell me he is just running late! He is just running the scenic route! No, he got caught with the boot again!”--Buddy

“Buddy he’s gone… I’m sorry… I need to go.”—Arcee

Arcee transforms and wheels out of the base.

“Wait! Arcee! Acree!”--Buddy

Beep. Beeeep. (I’ll keep an optic on her Buddy.)—Bumblebee

Bumblebee follows the blue motorcycle.

“I’ll make sure those two make it back.”--Bulkhead

“Wait--” –Buddy

Buddy’s eyes follow Bulkhead’s form leaving the base.

Optimus carefully approaches Buddy shaking form.

“Buddy—”--Optimus

Buddy jumps the railing straight into the Prime’s chassis.

Optimus quickly holds Buddy form as they rake up a sob.

Optimus and Ratchet are helpless in trying to soothe Buddy’s crying.

After meeting Jack, Miko, and Raf, Buddy never really had a permeant guardian.

They honestly were a bit grateful for that. The wound was still too fresh. Instead, they opted to do rotations in guardians.

Somedays they would be with Arcee.

Somedays they would hang out with Bumblebee.

Somedays they would hang out with Bulkhead.

Rare days they would have Optimus, Ratchet or Wheeljack.

“Arcee? What are you doing here?”--Bulkhead

“I could be asking the same to you too Bulkhead. It’s your turn to pick up Buddy.”--Arcee

“No, it’s your day.”--Bulkhead

“Beeep. Bep. (I thought it was Wheeljack’s turn)”—Bumblebee

“Nope. Its Sunshine’s turn today.”--Wheeljack

“Very funny Wheeljack. Don’t call me that. Anyways today its Optimus’s turn.”--Ratchet

“…I thought it was Bumblebee’s turn today…”--Optimus

“…”—All the Autobots

“Did anyone pick up Buddy today!?”--Ratchet

Meanwhile…

Buddy at the library looking down the empty street.

“I think they forgot again…”--Buddy

Even after time mostly healed the wounds, Buddy didn’t have a guardian assigned to them. When Smokescreen arrived, they volunteered to be his charge. That didn’t last too long though.

“Smokescreen! Slow down!”--Buddy

“Why? You scared of a bit of speed?”--Smokescreen

“No I’m afraid of the ravine up ahead!”--Buddy

“What rev—AHHHHHHH!”--Smokescreen

“AAAAAHHHHHH!”—Buddy

Smokescreen was ecstatic to have a human charge, but it was soon found out that he wouldn’t be much fit as a guardian.

Buddy was back to the rotation with Smokescreen added in the mix. It looked like that was how things were going to stay in the meantime.

Then Ultra Magnus came in.

Buddy had offered their help to get the Second in Command up to speed. It took some getting used to for both parties.

“Those humans are breaking the law.”—Ultra Magnus

“What? Oh no, those kids are just crossing the street.”--Buddy

“Without a crosswalk.”—Ultra Magnus

“Magnus no.”--Buddy

“That’s Ultra Magnus sir.”—Ultra Magnus

Buddy had to get used to Magnus being so by the book and strict behavior.

Magnus had to get used to the whole new culture around him and the responsibility of taking care of another member of the team.

But the two slowly began bonding over considering themselves as outsiders within the team.

“Buddy is starting to become a mini-Magnus.”--Wheeljack

“What makes you say that?”--Bulkhead

“Watch. Hey Magnus!”--Wheeljack

“It’s Ultra Magnus sir.”—Buddy and Ultra Magnus

“Oh Primus…”--Bulkhead

“It’s getting worse.”--Wheeljack

“Hey!”—Buddy and Ultra Magnus

“Run before it spreads!”--Miko

After a couple more patrols, Ultra Magnus officially asked Buddy and Optimus to be Buddy’s full-time guardian.

Buddy said yes and the rest was history.

Now Buddy is Magnus’s problem.

“Has anyone seen Buddy? I thought they were in the other room, but they are not there.”—Ultra Magnus

“Nope can’t say I have.”--Wheeljack

“Hey now that I think about it, I haven’t heard Miko in a couple of minutes.”--Bulkhead

“…”—All the Wreckers

Wreckers sprinting out the door.

Buddy is fiercely protective of their kind but strict guardian. Buddy hid along with Miko inside Wheeljack on their way to deal with the Predacons.

 Magnus nearly had a spark attack seeing Buddy sheepishly come out of the compartment.

“Hi Magnus…”--Buddy

“… I expected this from Miko! Not you!”—Ultra Magnus

“Wrecker charges solidarity Magnus.”--Miko

Buddy did not leave Magnus’s side in the medbay after he had gotten his servo crushed by Predaking.

Absolutely refused to leave.

They made sure to help Magnus out in any way they could as he healed from his injuries.

Buddy does open up to Magnus about the loss of their first guardian and does not want him to going anywhere.

What is he crying?

No, no he is not.

The others are glad that Buddy finally has a guardian and happy that Magnus has loosened up a bit. Maybe things were finally looking up for the pair.

Now in the present...

The team had recently discovered a new relic from patrol.

Ratchet and Wheeljack are inspecting the new relic, trying to see what it could do.

Optimus was trying to decode its scripture meanwhile Ultra Magnus watched from Ratchet’s side.

Arcee, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and Smokescreen are watching with some distance between them and the kids. They were all playing a game of catch near the groundbrigdes entrance.

Wheeljack touches one of the wires and Ratchet grazes over the machine.

The machine begins to light up and float.

“Woah!”--Ratchet

“You can say that again Doc-bot.”—Wheeljack

“Don’t call me—WOAH!”

Ratchet ducks as the relic flies over his helm.

The relic zoomed over past the team and kids towards the bridge stopping shortly after the arc entrance and turned off and dropped on the floor.

Buddy ran over to it despite the Autobots protest to get the machine for them.

“Don’t worry I got it!”--Buddy

“Buddy, I don’t—”—Ultra Magnus

“Wait, I want to see how far they try and carry it.”--Wheeljack

“Wheeljack—”—Ultra Magnus

“I bet a couple of feet.”--Bulkhead

“10 inches max.”--Smokescreen

“Smokescreen!”--Ultra Magnus

Magnus sighed a bit as he walked over to Buddy with the relic. Buddy managed to prop the machine up when it started glowing.

They just looked at the beautiful colors, completely oblivious to what was going to happen.

The next thing they remember was the swirling colors of the groundbrigde turning on and seeing Magnus’s servo brush their legs before blacking out.

The machine as it turned out had somehow activated the groundbridge remotely. The team was running towards the bridge, Magnus being the closest tried to reach out to grab Buddy.

He failed and fell flat on the concrete beneath him with no Buddy or machine to be seen.

Meanwhile on the Lost Light…

Rodimus, Magnus, and Megatron in a meeting discussing the latest reports.

A whirling portal suddenly shows up.

“What is that thing?!”--Rodimus

“How am I supposed to know?!”--Megatron

“If Brainstorm is doing another unauthorized experiment—”—Ultra Magnus

In a flash of green light, a small human and broken-looking machine fell rather ungracefully onto the table. Rodimus and Magnus immediately look at the human while Megatron comm in Ratchet to bring the med kit just in case.

“Which one is hurt this time?”--Ratchet

“Well… it’s not one of us exactly…”--Megatron

“Then who—”--Ratchet

“It’s a human.”--Megatron

“… what?”--Ratchet

“Ratchet—”--Megatron

Heavy footsteps get louder.

Buddy groans feeling a slight poke on their side and opens their eyes slowly.

They come face to face with a red, blue, and grey set of robots.

The grey one looked familiar, but Buddy couldn’t put their finger where they had seen him before.

The red one gave off Smokescreen and Bumblebee vibes for some reason.

But the Blue one...

Buddy only knew one Autobot with shoulder pads that tall.

“Magnus?”--Buddy

“Umm… yes? How do you know my designation?”—Ultra Magnus

“… Oh, Magnus is going to kill me.”--Buddy

“Wait why would I do that?!”—Ultra Magnus

“No, not you, My Magnus. I think I’m in some other dimension or I finally snapped and I’m hallucinating everything now...”—Buddy

“I assure you everything here is real.”—Ultra Magnus

“Hey better question. Who are you?”

“I’m Buddy. Apparently, I’m from another dimension. And you guys are…”--Buddy

“I’m Rodimus! You somehow know Magnus here and that’s Megatron.”--Rodimus

“…No offense but why hasn’t he—Is he wearing an Autobot badge?!”--Buddy

“Yes, it was given to me by Bumblebee.”—Megatron

“…I need to sit down…”—Buddy

When Ratchet opens the door, he nearly walks out.

Rodimus was trying to talk to a small human on the desk, Magnus was looking for any injuries while glancing at the strange machine while Megatron was inching his way further and further from the human.

Then the Human looked at him with wide eyes before fainting on the spot.

“Ratchet I think you killed them.”--Rodimus

“They’re not dead.”--Ratchet

“Maybe it was the stress of them being in another dimension.”—Ultra Magnus

“They’re from a what now?”--Ratchet

Ratchet sighs a bit and begins his inspection on them. They do wake up within a minute.

“Ratchet?”--Buddy

“Let me guess I’m from your dimension.”--Ratchet

“Yeah… it’s a good thing some things don’t change.”--Buddy

“What?”--Ratchet

“Nothing!”—Buddy

Buddy was scared. Not only had they managed to travel to an entirely different dimension, any bot they knew before didn’t even know who they were.

They had to befriend practically everyone they knew all over again. What was up with Buddy meeting new Cybertronians in weird ways?

The news about a human on board catches on to everyone like wildfire. Especially Brainstorm, Nautica and Perceptor.

After a bit of analyzing the remains of the relic, Brainstorm finally concludes that it would take some time to get something like the relic to work.

Buddy is fine with the arrangements if they do get back. They are worried for their family back home, especially for their Ultra Magnus.

Buddy stays by a hand full of bots after stopping to get their basic needs. They tend to be closer to Ratchet and Ultra Magnus, especially with Magnus.

“So, tell me who else is on your team?”--Rodimus

“Well we have Optimus.”--Buddy

“Naturally.”--Whirl

“Hush. Continue Buddy.”--Magnus

“We have Ratchet, Bulkhead, Wheeljack, Arcee, Ultra Magnus, Bumblebee, and Smokescreen.”--Buddy

“…And?”--Swerve

“And what? That’s the entire team.”--Buddy

“There’s no way—”—Skids

“Do you know if anyone else—”--Megatron

“I don’t know anyone else!”--Buddy

Which led to a funny moment when they found out about Minimus Ambus.

Buddy was taking a nap in his office after he said it was okay.

He had completely forgotten that Buddy was still in the room when he came out of the armor. That’s when he heard a shriek from Buddy.

“AAAHHHHHHH!”--Buddy

“What! What is it!?”—Minimus

“Who are you! What have you done to Ultra Magnus?!”--Buddy

“What are—Woah! Buddy put down the sword—wait where did you get--”—Minimus

Buddy missed another swing with their new sword, complimentary of Brainstorm, and held it high.

“All right shorty Pringle man, I’m only going to ask you one more time. What. Did. You. Do. To. Ultra Magnus?”—Buddy

It takes a bit for Minimus to explain his whole situation.

They do calm down after a while and want to get to know him better.

Minimus isn’t crying. What’s crying anyways?

Buddy does eventually befriend with more bots on board but is never too far from Minimus or Magnus.

Buddy becomes a temporary mascot at Swerve’s.

“Swerve, have you seen Buddy?”--Magnus

Swerve pointing across the room.

Buddy is on top of Ten with a speaker next to Whirl’s holoform.

“You know what to do Buddy!”--Whirl

Buddy nods and plays the speaker.

“WE DON’T NEED NO EDUCATION!—”—Buddy and Whirl

THUD!

“OH PRIMUS! SOMEONE GET RATCHET! MAGNUS DOWN! MAGNUS DOWN!”--Buddy

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”--Whirl

Eventually the day comes for Buddy to return.

Buddy has a tearful set of goodbyes to all their friends.

They give the biggest hug to Minimus as they race to the portal.

Minimus now has a subspace filled with photos of him and Buddy with their mini adventures on the Lost Light.

Meanwhile in TFP universe…

Everyone is on edge.

The team had even gone and infiltrated the Nemesis multiple times trying to see if Buddy was on board.

The kids are just worried about their friend.

Ratchet and Optimus keep searching through radar and trying to decode some encrypted information via Decepticon radio.

Arcee would come to the roof more to talk with Cliffjumper grave about Buddy trying to cope.

Bumblebee and Smokescreen try extending their patrols to search for Buddy.

Bulkhead and Wheeljack taking the Jackhammer out to widen the search a bit.

Magnus tried to keep himself busy as much as he could and tried to figure out where Buddy could have gone to.

He knows the grim possibility of Buddy’s survival after a few days of the search, but is in denial, he knows Buddy is out there and wants to bring them home.

Later that day…

Buddy gets flung into the hard floor of the base, nearly sticking the landing if they didn’t trip on their own foot.

They slowly got up and looked around realizing they were finally back on the base.

They were so happy that they began to run to the main room.

Miko is the first to see Buddy and scrambles out of her seat alerting Jack and Raf.

Miko throws herself at Buddy knocking the two of them to the floor.

The boys join in hugging Buddy.

Hearing the kids’ sudden movements and squeals Ratchet turns from his screen and nearly passes out gripping the railings.

Buddy was here.

Buddy was alive.

He is quick to get to Buddy picking them up and rushing to the medbay.

He is just focused on checking for any injuries.

Once he is satisfied, Ratchet will give Buddy a light scolding and hug.

Bumblebee then commed in for Ratchet to open the groundbridge.

He opens it leading Bumblebee, Smokescreen and Arcee into the base.

Bumblebee whirls in excitement seeing Buddy.

Smokescreen pauses with Arcee seeing Buddy but snaps out of it quick and races to Buddy with Bumblebee and Arcee hot on his tailpipe.

At the same time Bulkhead and Wheeljack had entered the base from their latest expedition on the Jackhammer.

They look over to see Buddy being nuzzled by Bumblebee and also go over to see how they are.

Wheeljack makes sure to at least ask Buddy a question only Buddy would know.

It wouldn’t have been the first time a member of team Prime was subjugated to mimics.

“Tell me something only the real Buddy would know.”--Wheeljack

“I know that Miko was the one who stole Jack’s last soda he was saving for finals.”--Buddy

“Wait that was you!?”—Jack

“I think we are not seeing the fact that this is the real Buddy!”--Bulkhead

“Yeah that’s great, awesome, but Miko—”--Jack

“Bloodshed later, Buddy hugs now.”--Miko

Finally, Optimus and Magnus enter the room.

They both freeze seeing Buddy.

Optimus is the first to welcome Buddy back.

Magnus was still in the same place.

Buddy walking to Magnus.

“Mags? You, okay?”--Buddy

Magnus drops to his knees in front of Buddy and scoops them in a hug close to his chassis.

Buddy does their best to hug back.

“I’m fine Mags. I’m here.”--Buddy

“…You’re here… you’re here…”--Magnus

[thewritersofdeceased]

Could you rank the TBP boys ( Ghost crew + Finney ) in a x render type of way , wich who will be more and less faster in proposing to their partner in a future ? Than you for reading, your writing inspires me <]

I’m so glad my writing inspires you!! This was absolutely a blast to write!! ‼️🫶 I did it as headcanons and x reader vibes!! It's a bit easier for me, but I will fix it when I get done with all my requests!! (I promise just pls remind me if I forget :( )

TBP BOYS AND WHO IS MORE OR LESS LIKELY TO PROPOSE IN A FUTURE!

BRUCE YAMADA

out of all the boys, I'd think Bruce would be the first one to propose to his partner!

He'd probably do it at once of his games after his team wins

Like those sappy marriage videos you'd see on your fyp

definitely made it a surprise for months.

Hell, he'd do it with a ring pop if it made you happy

literally asked you if you'd say yes if he married you one day

Silence lingered the field as Bruce and Y/N laid underneath the clouds. On a blanket that the ravenette had brought, a sudden questioned popped out of him. "Hey, Y/N? " He started, earning a hum in response from the other. "Do you think.. if one day in the future would you marry me? Or say yes?" He then asked, sitting up properly to face the other.

"Marriage? I never thought about it." Y/N responded, sitting up slightly, using their arms to hold themself up. It took them a couple seconds, but a smile formed on their face as they thought about it "I mean, yeah. You're sweet, kind, caring. Who wouldn't say yes to marrying you?" They then asked, tilting their head at Bruce.

Of course, Bruce smiled at the answer, nodding his head to it. Then it was official. He'd marry them one day. Whether with a ring pop or with an official ring. One day. He swore.

ROBIN ARELLANO

Robin, out of all the boys, was probably the 2nd one to even think of marriage.

Definetly plans it ahead with Finney or one of the other boys

no way did he plan it all on his own.

He'd be a bi nervous asking you about it, probably fidgeting or something

He knows his family isn't exactly on the richer side, so he's more nervous about getting an actual ring

since he wanted to join the war for his dad, he'd propose to you before he left for war.

Robin sat quietly in the park, tossing what looked like a ball in the air. He'd stole it from Bruce, well, more so found the ball near the baseball fields and claimed it as his own. Y/N Sat besides him, reading whatever sorts of book they had. Though they looked to Robin when hearing the boy speak to them.

"You ever think about marriage?" He'd ask them, no longer tossing the ball in the air and now looking to meet Y/N's eyes. He could see the slight look of confusion on their face, but tilted his head only. The gears were turning slowly in Y/N's mind as they fished for an answer.

Placing their book down into their lap and gently taking a hold of Robin's hands, they'd merely smile. "If this is your way of asking if we'll ever get married in the future, the answer's yes." Now that gave Robin the answer and motivation he needed to even think about the whole ring situation he'd been in.

BILLY SHOWALTER

Bily's a bit iffy on the whole marriage thing, but he'd eventually succumb to it!

He wants it to be perfect when he decides to marry you in the future

He'd try and ask earlier in the day, during one of the days he does his paper routes!

He writes the question down on a sticky note and puts said note in the paper

Look, he's nervous okay? he's trying his best.

Gets Griffin to try and help him out, when that don't work he goes to the others.

Placing his bike down gently on your yard, Billy made his way towards the comforting house you resigned in. He enjoyed it. Rover sat by the bike, waiting patiently as the dirty blonde made his way up to your steps. A small smile was on his face as he eventually knocked on the door, his smile widening more when you opened the door.

"Hey sunshine.” He’d greet. Sunshine was your nickname he’d given you after seeing you in the sunlight, specifically in his mother’s camera. So he stuck with the nickname Sunshine. Going into his bag and grabbing a newspaper, he held it out to you, smile remaining as he spoke again. “Here’s your pape for the day.” He spoke, faking a New York accent. Just for fun!!

He took a couple seconds before he would leave, smiling when he soon realized you had read exactly what he'd written on the sticky note. "Of course I'll marry you, Moonlight." You two were basically the sun and moon, and Billy knew exactly what kind of rings to get you two.

FINNEY BLAKE

Finney's a bit more cautious to get married, but he really wants to

He's just super nervous about it and doesn't know the exact way to approach

He tries to use anything you've told him to his advantage

He's one of the boys who has to read off of something, he's that shaky and nervous.

But when it comes to asking you about it during childhood, he asks you in the confinement of his room

You and Finney were currently sitting together in his bedroom, doing different homework for different classes. He was doing work for science, you were doing work for {subject}. Out of nowhere, in what sounded like a shaky tone, Finney spoke up. "Y/N? If we're still together in the future, and I asked you to marry me, would you say yes?"

The question was sudden, but it made a small smile form on Y/N's face as they placed their pencil down and sat up properly to look at Finney. "Yes. Yes I would." They spoke softly, reassuring the brunette boy. Of course he was nervous, gently taking their parents hands into their own.

"Of course I'd marry you."

GRIFFIN STAGG

Griffin's seen what marriage can do to a person.

So he's actually really fucking nervous to marry anyone,

He doesn't want it to end up like his parents marriage so he's super cautious to even think about marriage

Though he uses words in books to ask you if you would one day

you just gotta give him the time to not be so nervous and think about it

The library was you and Griffin's favorite place to go, or the cafe just outside of Denver. Anyone who knew Griffin knew how much the kid loved to read. In his hands now was a normal sized book. It was paperback, not being hardcover. The name of the book was "Blackmoore", the artist being "Julianne Donaldson". He had a calm look on his face as you read whatever you had chosen to grab, whether it was horror, drama, romance, etc.

After a couple seconds, Griffin gently tapped the table, trying to get y/n attention, and when he did, he slid the book over, his index finger pointing to what he wanted y/n to pay attention to. A quote stated, "“You are brave and loyal and true. You have such a good heart." He held my hand close to his chest and covered it with his other hand. "It is only afraid. But I would take such good care of it, love, if you would give it to me."

Just seeing how he was hinting about something including marriage, it made y/n chuckle as they watched Griffin mess with his hands. Gently tapping the table and catching Griffin's attention, Y/N would sign(ASL) "I'd marry you if it meant you were always smiling."

VANCE HOPPER

Vance saw what marriage did to his parents, so he's not really excited to think about it

His parents aren't even divorced yet, but he still is nervous

He doesn't want his marriage to end up like his parents

he also doesn't trust his parents to show up if they ever got married

asks you while at the grab n'go

"Hey, babe." Vance was first to speak, even if all of his attention was focused on the pinball machine he'd love. A soft hum escaped Y/N as they looked at Vance, their brow raised and head tilted. "If I beat my high-score, you think one day you'd marry me?" He questioned.

Which resulted in soft chuckles escaping Y/N. They weren't laughing at Vance, no. They were laughing at the fact Vance was willing his high score for it. A soft hum escaped before they answered the blonde's question.

"If you can beat it by the time we're adults, babe." They replied, letting out even more soft laughs and nodding their head. "Then yeah, if you can, I'll say yes."

[hedghost]

maya le tissier | love languages

maya tells you she loves you in just about every way she can, all day, every day. she just doesn't say it in so many words. it takes you a while to catch on.

not enough maya appreciation on this app - enough is enough

word count: 8.7k

quality time

the empty bottle of wine stands sentry on the coffee table. you watch as the low glow of the tv reflects in the dregs left in your finished glasses. the volume is too low to hear what's being said, the show you were previously watching reduced to a steady background hum, but neither of you mind; you'd both stopped paying attention long ago.

you glance up from your book momentarily, your eyes flickering over the figure at the other end of the sofa. maya is similarly occupied; one hand softly tracing the words as she reads, the other absentmindedly tangling back and forth in mocha’s fur as he stretches across her feet. her hair hangs loose around her face, the lamp beside her casting her half in shadow and half in warm, orange light. mocha looks up at you, but maya doesn’t.

your attention shifts back to your book, and you settle back into familiarity. this nightly routine is one you love; the shared moment of respite from your busy schedules. it’s getting late though, and the words are starting to blur together on the page. you don’t want to disturb the peace just yet.

it’s only when you find your eyes running over the same sentence for the third time that you shift. the old sofa creaks a little as you stretch, and you let out an exaggerated groan to match it as you stand. maya laughs a little, but she doesn’t lift her gaze from the page. if she had she would have caught the way you poked your tongue out at her, and probably would have responded in kind.

maya cooked tonight, and so you begin to dutifully gather the empty dishes. it’s only when you’re arms deep in soapy water that you hear maya stand too. her book thuds against the coffee table, and mocha lets out a low bark.

“just taking the dog out,” maya calls, and you hum in response. the latch clicks. you reach a soapy hand out of the water to flick the kettle on. it’s all part of the routine.

they aren’t gone long, and their return is soon heralded by the gentle patter of mocha’s claws against the hardwood. maya pads into the kitchen, pulls two mugs and two teabags out of the cupboard, pours the water, now boiled, then hauls herself onto the worktop beside you.

“i was thinking of going on a dog walk in the woods tomorrow, you wanna come?”

“yeah sure, are the others coming?”

it’s a running joke that the 'unoffical manchester united dog walker's club' is the apex of the team’s social ladder. forget the coffee mornings, the brunches, the team nights out - if you wanted a way in for true bonding, you had to own a dog. it was common on days off for a group of the girls to get together to walk their dogs, with the intensity ranging from leisurely stroll to outright hike, depending on who had planned it. you’d learnt the hard way to politely decline when leah chose the route.

sure you didn’t technically own a dog, but having been roommates with maya for the best part of a year, and best friends for far longer, mocha was basically in shared custody. you regularly tagged along, as an honourary member of a tight-knit group.

it’s why you weren’t expecting maya to shrug and shake her head.

“i haven’t asked - i figured we could just go together. we haven’t hung out just us in a while.”

you chose not to mention that the two of you spent almost every night together in your flat, or that you’d gotten lunch together just two days ago. instead you grinned and nodded, drying your hands and taking the cup of tea that maya held out to you.

“sounds good,” you sip gently at your tea - before spitting it out with a yelp, “fuck, that’s hot!”

maya laughs brightly at you, even though you do this pretty much every day, “yeah no shit, i just made it - be patient for once!” you stick your tongue out at her, and this time she does see it, and she does return the gesture. it’s childish, sure, but your friendship had started in the youth age groups, and, although you were responsible adults now, some things never change.

you lean back against the counter as you wait for the tea to cool, and the two of you begin chatting a little while longer about not much at all. eventually maya jumps down, rinsing her mug and heading to her room, mocha in tow. you follow her, your own cup only half-drunk, flicking off the lights as you do so.

“night y/n,” maya says softly as she pushes her door open, lingering slightly in the doorway. she watches you clumsily shoulder open your own door, opposite hers, waiting for you to reply.

“goodnight maya.”

—-

maya was already up when you emerged the next morning, early mornings always coming to her more easily than they did to you. she always looked so put together when she woke up, a stark contrast to your disheveled appearance. not that either of you cared - those boundaries of self-consciousness had long been washed away between the two of you. it was only maya after all.

“there’s coffee in the pot,” she mumbled, chewing her words around her cereal.

“thanks, you’re an angel.”

“you ready to head out in a bit?” maya asked, having now swallowed her mouthful. you groaned a little in jest, but maya’s bright eyes shone with humour, and you nodded.

“sure, sure - although you know it’s called a day off for a reason?”

“you agreed to it, plus you’ve had like a two hour lie-in.”

“i know, i’m actually feeling very well-rested.” you placed your cereal down, seating yourself across from maya with a grin, “it’s just more fun to moan at you.”

“glad to hear it,” maya smirked, taking another spoonful. she knew you well enough to know that your moaning was only ever lighthearted, and she was perfectly happy to indulge you. you liked that about her, liked how easy it was to settle into that playful teasing whenever you were around each other, which in fairness, was most of the time.

---

you walked barely a half-step behind maya, eyes focused on the imprints her shoes left in the rain-softened ground, but ears firmly locked onto her latest anecdote. she turned slightly to look at you as she talked, and when you laughed, she did too. she looked so comfortable when she laughed, the way her eyes crinkled and her head tilted back. walking alongside her, you felt equally light. she paused to fall in step with you, still smiling. the two of you made eye contact, and you couldn't help the way your smile grew. maya looked away, fiddling with the dog lead she held in her hands.

"by the way, the girls were talking about having dinner tonight at millie's, do you wanna go?" maya asked, eyes flickering over the trees that surrounded you, before eventually landing back on you. you shrugged, giving maya a guilty smirk.

"is it bad that i can't really be bothered?" you scrunched your nose up, but maya smirked back again, shaking her head. maybe you were imagining it, but her posture almost seemed to loosen, as if she were relieved. you didn't ponder it long though, because the splitsecond thought faded as soon as maya spoke, and your attention diverted back to solely her.

"no, me too!" she grinned conspiratorially, "i'm glad it's not just me - i love them and everything, but we see them literally all the time, i kind of just want a quiet night in."

"well, you see me all the time - better not be getting sick of me now le tissier?" you raised an eyebrow playfully. with anyone else, maya's words might have worried you, might have played on your insecurites of being too much, too overbearing. with anyone else, your reply might've been edging on serious, might've taken every inch of your body not to let your worries seep into your voice, but this was maya. you didn't have to worry about that with her, and so your tone was light, purely joking. maya's reply confirmed as much.

"oh god, like you wouldn't believe," maya countered back with a grin, before she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out to the empty woods around you, "somebody help! this fucking stalker won't leave me alone!"

the sound echoed through the trees, and you nudged her with your shoulder, hard enough to send her stumbling, feet slipping off the path and into the muddy ditch. you laughed, before wrapping a hand around her bicep and pulling her back to walk beside you. all this time, maya's grin never wavered, and she looked up at you, eyes shining.

"you’re such a dickhead, these trainers were clean earlier."

"that's on you for wearing white shoes to the woods to be honest."

maya rolled her eyes, before calling for mocha to come out of the same mud she'd just stepped into. you loved days like this, so familiar, so comfortable, where you and maya just slipped into playful teasing. it was this easy banter, the kind that comes with years of friendship, that made hanging out with maya so, well, easy.

"seriously, though," maya's voice was softer as she looked over at you, a little shyer. "i could never get sick of you - you're different." this side of her you loved too, the warm, gentle soul, always willing to extend a hand of comfort, or an olive branch.

"i could never get sick of you either maya."

she smiled back at you, and it was like the sun got a little brighter.

---

the rest of your day off had passed similarly, with shared smiles, inside jokes, and teasing banter, until you and maya found yourself collapsed next to each other on your shared sofa. the same positions as always - you curled up against one arm, maya reclined comfortably against the other, legs outstretched.

maya picked up her book, immediately immersed, but yours remained closed on your lap. you snuck a look at her, chewing your lip in thought, replaying the day in your mind.

it had been nice - as it always was with maya. you appreciated it, the quiet time with her, where you never had to do much except exist. maya gave you that - the freedom to just be.

your musing was interrupted by the harsh buzz of maya's phone against the coffee table.

"pass me that?" maya murmured, too engrossed in her book to even look up. you reached over, not without an exaggerated groan to hint at your displeasure at being made to move. maya kicked you as you held out the phone to her.

"shut up - can you just read it to me?"

you groaned again at being given the laborious task of unlocking her phone. opening her messages though, your attention piqued a little. the text from mary was innocuous at best, but it was maya's earlier messages that caught your eye.

"well," maya looked up at you expectantly, cutting you off from your thoughts, "who was it?"

"oh uh," you internally shook yourself a little, still a little confused at the messages, "just mary, she said, uh, she'll see you tomorrow."

"oh cool, thanks y/n," maya turned back to her book with a smile, a preoccupied air clouding her words. silently, you clicked maya's phone shut and placed it down, thoughts firing. you were a little perplexed - maya was never one to turn down plans, and especially not with made up excuses. she loved getting coffee with mary; they did it all the time. or at least, you realised, they used to.

you tried to think back to the last time maya had met mary for coffee. now you thought about, it must have been a while. your schedules were jam packed, and you and maya had spent pretty much every day off recently together. first you wondered if they'd had a falling out, but from the way they were texting you dismissed it quickly.

then it occurred to you, just briefly, that maybe maya was one to turn to down plans, and maybe you just hadn't noticed it, because she never did it with you. you shook your head. that wouldn't have made any sense. the dog walk earlier had probably just been one of the errands maya had mentioned, and she'd just asked you along for company.

yeah, you thought, slowly picking up your book, that was probably it.

words of affirmation

the thoughts flickered in your head the next morning, as maya picked up an extra coffee on your way to training. they stirred a little more as you watched maya interact with mary, searching for any irregularites, but finding none. they resurfaced again over the course of several days, as you noticed maya turn down coffee, then lunch, then dinner with various teammates. all in favour of just hanging out at home.

but this was maya, you thought, so she was a homebody, so what? who were you to judge, given that usually you'd also gladly take a calm night in at your flat over a hectic night out with the girls. the thoughts faded pretty quickly after that, and by the time sunday rolled around, they were pretty much nonexistent.

your attention focused instead on the game ahead of you. as with every week, the nerves seemed to roll inside you like waves cresting over one another, instead of neatly against the shore. it was something you'd never quite managed to shake, the overwhelming feeling of stress before a match, leaving you feeling disjointed, all jagged around the edges. it was fine usually, something you'd come to deal with. you'd learnt to take those feelings and channel them into fire.

nobody's perfect though. sometimes, you needed a helping hand. and true to form, maya could always tell when. no man is an island, as they say, and there was maya, always ready to leap into those stormy waters, paddle in hand, lifejacket on.

"hey you."

"hey," you sighed, looking over at maya as she sat down heavily next to you. you could tell maya didn't need a second look to understand how you were feeling. you gave a half-heartened smile.

"sorry," you murmured, trying to shake yourself out of it, "i'm all-"

"jittery?" maya filled in, soft smile gracing her features, "yeah, i know."

you nodded begrudgingly, taking a deep breath in. you wanted to speak, to explain more, but it was as though maya sensed you couldn't quite do it. she stepped in.

"hey, you got this okay? you always do."

you opened your mouth, but maya's gaze found yours, and you found yourself believing her. you were never really one for eye contact, but something about maya made it easy. maybe it was how kind her eyes looked, how knowing; like every thought or worry you'd ever had was reflected back in them - broken down, understood, seen. maybe it was just because they were pretty.

"nerves are good, remember? they mean you want to do well," maya echoed your mantra back to you, and you listened. words always sounded better coming from her.

"i know you'll play well, because you always do. you're a great player, you're tough, you're smart, you're good. there's no one else i'd rather have next to me on the pitch. the team trusts you. i trust you."

you nodded, pulling maya in for a hug. you closed your eyes, breathing her in. her breath tickled your neck as she whispered, "and if it goes wrong, i've got your back. always."

"thanks," you smiled, though she couldn't see it, "love you."

maya nodded, pulling back with a smile. her hand lingered on your thigh as you met her eyes once again. "let's smash it."

---

you did, in fact, smash it. the game went well, a perfect result - clean sheet and a win - and right at the heart of it, was you and maya. maya and you, ever solid, ever present. she was right, as she always was.

your defensive partnership had seeded itself from the early ages, when the two of you were young, shy kids in the england youth groups. it had blossomed and strengthened through your brazen teens, and now, finally together at club level, it was a force to be reckoned with.

you were both good players individually, but your closeness off the pitch was what cemented it as brilliant. you read each other so well, it was honestly sometimes scary. sometimes it felt like maya knew what you were going to do before you did. you often didn't even have to speak, but you did anyway, because it was maya, and you liked speaking to her. any excuse for a chat.

"see? told you you'd be fine," said maya as she sidled up next to you when you left the pitch. you elbowed her side and laughed.

"just fine? did you see that sick tackle i did?"

"hmm, mine was better," maya winked, and you rolled your eyes, pushing her into the changing rooms with a loud laugh.

---

the day ended as it always did: you and maya (and mocha) on the sofa, too worn out to do much else. today though, the tv was blaring, its sounds interspersed with your laughter and commentary of the godawful show maya had turned on.

"can you believe this shit?" you laughed, turning to look at maya, "why are we watching it?" she rolled her eyes.

"because its funny, shut up."

"and because you fancy the main character." you gave maya a sly smirk, which she returned with an eyeroll.

"maybe..." then she grinned widely, "can you blame me?"

"nah, i get it."

you laughed, reclining back into the sofa. mocha gave you a disgruntled look as you pulled your feet up to rest in maya's lap, nudging him from where he lay. you turned back to the show. okay so maybe you were a little invested now. feeling eyes on you though, you looked back to realise maya hadn't done the same.

"what?" you smiled.

"nothing," if you didn't know better, you'd say maya looked a little sheepish. you weren't sure why. you gave her a questioning look, complete with raised eyebrow, "just zoned out a little."

you shrugged and nodded, half turning back to the tv. maya, however, seemed to want to say more.

"your, uh, your hair looks nice like that," she said. you tried to meet her eyes, but her gaze was back fixed on the tv.

"oh, thanks," you murmured, a little surprised. not at the compliment - maya gave you them all the time - but more at her tone. it was soft, borderline shy. you weren't sure why she was being weird.

"you should wear it down more often," maya looked back at you, and just like that her usual easy smile back, her brief awkwardness now dissipated.

"i mean i would if i could - having it up for training all the time kills my head."

"god same," maya gave an exaggerated whine, and the laughter was back, "i'm not going to have a hairline by the time i'm 25."

---

by the next morning, you barely remembered the compliment, having gone on to spend the rest of the night fixated on that stupid tv show, admittedly only to loudly debate the attractiveness of each character with maya.

it was only when you reflexively went to put your hair up that it crossed your mind again. you made pensive eye contact with yourself in the mirror, before gently placing the hairband down. no particular reason.

it seemed mary had finally managed to corral maya into getting coffee, and so she was nearly out the door by the time you headed into the kitchen for breakfast. digging around in her bag for her car keys, she looked up at you briefly, smiling in small greeting.

"you doing anything today?" she asked, and you shook your head, fully intent on just relaxing on your day off, "i'll be back in a couple hours, shall i pick up a few bits for lunch?"

"sounds good," you nodded, although your attention was very much focused on finding yourself some breakfast first.

"cool," maya shrugged on her jacket hurriedly, only pausing at the door to call back over her shoulder, "that outfit looks really good on you by the way!"

you barely even had time to look up before she was gone.

---

you'd be lying if you said the compliment didn't put a little spring in your step for the rest of the morning. you told yourself it was just the same as any old compliment, but there was a niggling feeling that it was made that much sweeter just because it came from maya. two compliments in two days - you were being spoiled.

although now you thought about it, maybe it wasn't that out of the ordinary. you'd intended to spend your free morning slothing out on the sofa, maybe catching up on the shows you'd missed, or finishing the book you'd been neglecting of late. instead, you found yourself thinking back on your many interactions with maya.

the more you thought, the more you realised just how often maya said nice things to you. for all the two of you teased and joked, you could pick out a dozen examples just this week of maya complimenting you - superficial things like your hair, your clothes, your make-up, but not just that.

on the pitch, you realised, she would frequently offer words of appreciation, calling out that you'd done well in a drill as she ran past you, patting you on the back as she congratulated you on a tackle, a block, a pass. even beyond that, just yesterday in an interview she'd said you were her favourite person to play with. the day before that she'd mentioned how much she loved being around you.

the moments, all seemingly inocuous at the time, now seemed to pile up before your eyes. linking them all together was the warm feeling you felt whenever she'd say something, and the soft smile she'd offer in return. you sipped your coffee slowly, a startling thought dawning on you - were you a compliment whore?

with this newfound information about yourself, you tried to think of compliments you'd been given by others, but surprisingly came up short. with a jolt, you realised you didn't remember because in all honesty, you didn't really care. it was only maya's opinion that mattered.

this realisation was somewhat startling, and you didn't quite know what to do with it. you knew from past experience that you often had a tendency to come up with wild fantasies, to see things that weren't quite there when it came to romance. you shut down the thoughts, refused to think about what it might mean. maya was your best friend, of course you wanted her to think highly of you. it didn't mean anything.

you pushed the thoughts away, locking them up for a rainy day. this is why you shouldn't be left alone - you started thinking. as maya had joked to you many times before; that was dangerous.

the door opened, and maya appeared, laden with bags.

"this doesn't look like just 'a few bits', maya," you grinned, watching her struggle for a second before standing to help.

"shut up," she said, watching as you took the, admittedly heavy, bags and placed them on the counter. she walked past you, squeezing your upper arm in the process, "nice biceps."

you made a playful show of flexing them, and tried not to think about the warm feeling that swelled up inside you. the realisation that you'd do pretty much anything to get her to compliment you again hit you like a slap to the face.

physical touch

thoughts and feelings continued to rattle around inside you for the next few days. now that you'd opened the floodgates, it was getting harder and harder to deny the brewing thoughts that accompanied every single thing maya did. you tried endlessly to push them back down, adamant that you just saw her as a friend. and it worked, if only for a little while.

the thing is, the harder you tried, the more you denied it, maya had this uncanny way of worming her way back into your heart. you supposed it was a side effect of her being just so, well, perfect.

you told yourself it was only because she was your best friend, your, strictly platonic, soulmate. these past few weeks however, try as you might, you couldn't deny that, just maybe, you were developing a crush.

maybe you had been for a while.

you tried to ignore it, but every day you registered a new thing that dragged you down a little deeper. maya could make you smile by just being around you. maya could say exactly what you needed to hear. every word was like a breath of fresh air, every look was warm sunlight, and every touch was a spark of electricity.

and, as you'd recently realised, there was a lot of touching. you and maya were touchy friends, the kind who had no qualms about casual embraces or friendly physicality. you'd never noticed it before, probably because it had never meant anything before, but lately you noticed just how frequently maya sought out your touch.

the first time you'd really registered it, you'd been out at a bar with the girls, celebrating the latest win. you hadn't quite realised the extent of your feelings, still in the early phases of filtering through what they all meant, and steadfastly denying most of them.

the air was warm and stuffy, contributing to that heady feeling of the alcohol catching up with you. you leant against the bar, watching the girls gathered together in a booth, their raucous laughter audible even from where you stood. you tried to ignore how your eyes unconsciously shifted back over to maya, or how her laughter seemed to stand out as louder than the rest.

your thoughts were cut off by a rough hand grazing your waist. you shifted out of the stranger's grasp, but there wasn't much leeway at the packed bar.

"you here alone, sweetheart?" you took another small step back as the man turned to you. his heavy scent of beer and sweat clung in the air, almost suffocating.

"no, i'm with friends, thanks," you muttered, trying to make eye contact with the bartender so you could get your drinks and go.

"i'm sure they wouldn't mind if you found some other company..." his rough hand reached out to touch your hand, and you grimaced, pulling away.

"i'm okay thanks."

"at least let a guy buy a pretty girl a drink."

you were just considering leaving the bar altogether when you felt another arm slink around your waist. this one, however, was soft and slight, and welcome. you sank backwards, letting the familiar smell of vanilla shampoo envelope you.

"she's already got one, thank you." maya's voice was firm, and you let her drag you away, back to the table. she passed you a drink, her arm still comfortably tight around your waist.

"you okay?" she asked, voice low and concerned, as you both sank into your seats. you nodded, trying to regain a bit of clarity.

"yeah thanks, fucking creep," you shot a quick glance over to the bar, where the guy still remained, before looking back into maya's concerned eyes and nodding again, "thanks for the drink."

"no problem - just, stay with me for the rest of the night, yeah?" you nodded, having no intention of doing any different. maya's expression flickered protectively, making her eyes look several shades darker.

it was only a little later, when you were halfway through your drink and had all but forgotten your vile encounter, that you registered that maya still hadn't moved her arm. you were unaware if she even knew herself, the both of you now comfortably drunk. the two of you were pressed up against one another in the booth, her fingers stroking absentmindedly at where your shirt had ridden up. an unbidden shiver ran through you, your sudden awareness making each touch feel like a static shock.

"you okay?" maya must have noticed the way you tensed up, because she turned to you, lazy smile clouded with inebriety. you could only nod. shaking yourself internally, you resolved yourself to dealing with your feelings tomorrow, and sank back into her. you leant heavily into her, missing the way her soft smile grew as you did. maya didn't move her hand all night.

when you woke the next morning, it was to a headache and hazy memories of the early hours. you dragged yourself to lie on the sofa, only after downing some water and painkillers.

maya joined you some time later, looking equally worse for wear. she sluggishly filled her water bottle, before trudging over to the sofa.

"i knew those jagers were a bad move," she groaned.

"i distinctly remember you saying the complete opposite last night," you laughed, opening your arms for her. you didn't think much of it as you did, but when maya collapsed on top of you for a hug, the memories of last night flooded back. you couldn't argue with the warmth that flooded your body as maya nestled on top of you. it was time to accept that you felt more for her than any friend should.

"you should've stopped me," she groaned into your chest, her arms wriggling their way around your back. you swallowed, before deciding, perhaps stupidly, to just give into it. you'd deal with the consequences of falling for her later.

"i tried! you called me boring then bought another round," you laughed, your hand coming up to rest on her back.

"oops," you felt maya grin into your chest, "what are you watching?"

"just shitty tv," you replied, "wanna change it?"

"nah, i'm okay," her reply was muffled, and you nodded, stroking her back softly. as you felt maya's breathing even out, you had a sinking feeling that there was no going back now.

---

from then, it was like a switch had been flicked. whereas before, you'd barely noticed all maya's hugs and touches, now, each one seared itself permanently into your brain - and your skin.

some of the touches were accidental, you assumed, maya brushing up against you as she walked past, or her thigh pressed up against yours as you sat together in the changing room.

others were obviously intentional - maya playing with your hair as you lay on the sofa, or placing a casual arm around your shoulder during training, maya leaning her head on your shoulder during team talks, or taking your hand to drag you around behind her. and of course, the most frequent of all, the hugs that punctuated pretty much every single interaction you had.

it would be a lie to say you didn't enjoy it, but now that you'd had to accept why each touch meant a little more, sometimes it bordered on some kind of glorious torture.

there were also other instances, where you were unsure if maya even meant the touches or not, her actions hanging precariously in the balance between conscious and absentminded. as her hand grazed the small of your back for the countless time that morning though, you were starting to suspect it wasn't all entirely accidental.

this gave way to another problem though, in that it was getting harder and harder for you to deal with, without melting each time she so much as touched you, or breathed in your direction.

it didn't help that you were starting to notice how naturally flirtatious maya could be. if you weren't certain that maya didn't have an evil bone in her body, you'd almost believe she was doing it on purpose. luckily, you knew maya was absolutely unaware of her nature, and this was just something she did with everyone. sucks for you.

the unfortunate thing about having a crush on your best friend is that you find yourself accidentally staring at them far too often. it was no surprise, then, that a lot of your free time was allocated to observing maya. any time you weren't sneaking glances at her you spent thinking of ways to make it not obvious that you were sneaking glances at her.

okay, so yes, you definitely needed to get over her, but you could allow yourself some indugences, right?

the thing was, you were starting to observe new things about maya. firstly, the way she always threw her head back when she laughed, properly laughed. secondly, the way she'd play with her ring whenever she was either nervous, or bored. and thirdly, that maya was not actually a naturally flirtatious person.

contrary to what you'd been firmly telling yourself, maya was not like this with everyone. sure she was still touchy, but the longer you watched, the more you noticed the differences in how she acted with the others, and how she acted with you.

---

the uncharacteristic spring heat clung in the afternoon air around you, disturbed only by the occasional breeze. you paused your run down the field, sensing that maya had the play under control, and had gone herself. you dropped back slightly to cover her, watching her recieve the ball and expertly pass it on to lucia, who was straight through on goal. you didn't need to hear the way the crowd exploded to know she'd scored.

you pumped your fist and watched as the girls further upfield swarmed one another, but even from where you stood you could pick out maya amongst them. you took note of the way she hugged lucia, the way she clapped the other girls on the back, filed the images away in your mind.

maya jogged back towards you, so you grinned and held out a hand to congratulate her on the assist. you noted the way her smooth palm clasped yours, and the firmness of her grasp as she pulled you into her. you'd seen how she'd hugged the others, firm and fast, clapping them twice on the back before pulling away.

the way she hugged you, the way your body slid into hers, just seemed different. this was steady, grounding. her arms seemed to envelope you, slotting you gently into place, and when she pulled away her hands lingered, fingers smoothing out your shirt collar, her touch feather-soft. it seemed like more.

you tried to ignore it, really you did, but when the final whistle blew and her hand found yours, you couldn't help but wonder. you compared the way she congratulated the others on the win, all friendly grins and joking pushes. sure, she did that with you too, but with you it always seemed a little softer, a little longer. you started to wonder if all those casual touches you'd labelled as accidental were anything but. maya didn't seem to do that with anyone else.

you must've been reading too much into it, you eventually decided. maya was probably just more relaxed around you since you were best friends. you were just getting ahead of yourself, thoughts clouded by your unhelpful crush, seeing things you wanted to see. surely.

that's what you told yourself as maya sat next to you in the changing room, her fingers brushing your thigh.

gift giving

you sighed, running your hand down your face. your thoughts had been running hard and fast since the game yesterday, and you were desperate to think of anything else. you'd spent the day trying to busy yourself, but it was a difficult feat given that you and maya had still spent the day joined at the hip.

it had been hard to not think about it when you walked the dog together and her arm kept bumping up against yours. it had been hard when you'd gone out for lunch and she'd loaded you with covert compliments. it had been even harder when she'd bought you a coffee, completely unprompted, your order memorised to a tee.

as much as you loved spending time with maya, you were somewhat grateful that she'd since headed to the shops alone, giving you a slight reprieve. it couldn't be healthy, reading far too much into situations that were clearly just based off years of friendship.

"i'm home!" the shout echoed around the flat, and you swivelled in your seat with a smile that you just couldn't help. maya dumped the bags then padded towards you. "close your eyes, i got you a present."

"should i be worried?" knowing maya she was probably about to put something absolutely ridiculous in your hands, but you dutifully did as she asked anyway.

you felt the crinkle of packaging as your hands closed around the mystery item. you opened your eyes cautiously, but your heart melted a little as you saw a packet of your favourite sweets.

"for me?" you asked, slightly confused. maya nodded, eyes sparkling, "aw thanks," your voice was genuine, if a little perplexed, "uh, why?"

maya shrugged, flopping down onto the sofa next to you, "why not?"

you smiled, glad maya couldn't see you blush. pulling the packet open, you held it out to maya, who popped one into her mouth, then leant her head against your shoulder.

---

it was a few days later that you realised the sweets weren't an isolated incident. in the past week alone she'd brought home coffee for you (three times), some chocolate you liked (twice), a new waterbottle (yours was always leaking and it was apparently 'doing her head in'), a mug that she thought you'd like, and a small stuffed crab that she said reminded her of you (that one had definitely been a dig, but you chose to ignore it). for a second you had a worry that you'd forgotten your own birthday.

it seemed like every time maya left the house, she came back with some little snack that she knew you liked, or some trinket that 'made her think of you'. she was like a fucking magpie.

you said as much to mary at lunch, maya having just deposited her protein bar that she 'didn't want' in your lap. it just so happened to be your favourite flavour.

"sorry, am i hearing things, or are you complaining about getting free food?"

"i'm not complaining! i'm just... confused," in fairness, you weren't even sure what you were confused about. mostly you just wanted to vent about your crush - without actually having to own up to the whole crush thing. "and it's not just food! yesterday we walked the dog on the beach and she kept collecting pretty stones for me,"

"well, you know, it's maya, she's not much of a talker."

"what? maya talks all the time," you looked at mary incredulously. maya had literally just been chatting her ear off.

"no, i mean she's not much of a talker," she gave you a knowing look, and you just stared back, even more confused now. mary rolled her eyes, "about her feelings, idiot."

"what's that got to do with anything?"

"god, the pair of you are as thick as each other." mary slapped your shoulder and then rose from her seat, leaving you staring after her, more lost than ever.

---

it was only when maya tried to pay for your dinner the next day, that you wondered if mary was suggesting that maya had feelings for you. you tried not to even entertain the thought, because regardless of how much you wanted it to be true, you knew it couldn't, wouldn't end well.

the smallest part of you, the sensible part, the part not yet utterly consumed by all things maya, knew that you'd only be getting your hopes up. as much as it hurt to pine after maya like this, any sort of rejection would hurt far, far more. and so, you ignored and dismissed it. there was no way that someone like maya could ever fall for someone like you.

maya's actions were purely platonic, you decided. she was a good friend, and that was the end of it. that was what you convinced yourself, that was what you repeated as a mantra every time you looked at the little crab toy that maya had placed beside your bed, 'to keep you company'.

that was what you tried your best to believe when maya came into the kitchen the next day, hands behind her back. you looked up from cooking with a soft smile and a raised eyebrow. she looked back at you, almost shyly.

"i, uh, i thought you might like these," maya didn't make eye contact with you as she thrust a modest, yet beautiful, bunch of daffodils towards you. your heart melted, and you tried desperately to not let your mind run away with itself. still though, you couldn't help it. maybe, just maybe, maya felt something for you too.

your mind lit up with possibilities, with fantasies, with dreams. maybe this was the moment you'd dreamed of. maybe she was about to confess, to ask you on a date, maybe-

"you know, for the flat," maya said hurriedly. maybe not, "the shop was uh, they were going to bin them so they were on clearance, they might be a bit manky," maya trailed off, still avoiding eye contact.

you tried not to let yourself get disappointed. this was exactly why you shouldn't get head of yourself. reaching out to take them, you smiled and inspected them. there didn't seem anything wrong with them at all.

"no, they're lovely," the emotion crept into your voice despite yourself, and you had to clear your throat, "uh, for the flat - they'll look lovely in the flat."

maya smiled and met your eyes, properly this time. for a split second the shyness was gone, just pure, honest maya. then she swallowed, turned, and hurried out the room.

acts of service

the thing about trying to get over maya, was that she made it so fucking difficult. how were you meant to forget about someone who treated you so perfectly, who could do no wrong, who regularly went out of their way to do things for you? how were you supposed to do anything other than fall in love?

so you stopped denying it, and instead you justified it. you let the full delusion of falling for your best friend overtake you, and let maya's endless perfection drag you deeper and deeper each day.

now that you'd accepted maya didn't see you like that, every day felt like a constant bombardment of kind gestures. the worst part was, you could never ever hate it. that was the thing with maya - she didn't even realise how good she was.

and so, you did the only thing you knew how to. you started to withdraw from maya. not majorly, not enough that she would notice, of course, just enough distance to give yourself a little time to get your head straight.

distance had never really factored into your close friendship before though, and maya was unwavering in her presence. it was like she had a sixth sense for when there was something weighing on you, and she made it her mission to help ease that load.

"hey, i made you a cuppa," maya knocked lightly on your open door and poked her head around. you couldn't help but smile genuinely at the gesture, "i'm doing some washing, you want me to do yours too?"

"oh, thank you, is that okay?" you asked hesitantly, and maya nodded. you slid off your bed and began to gather the dirty washing that lay strewn across your floor. you were never too great at keeping your room tidy on the best of days, but whenever your mind ran away from you, it was always the first thing to deteriorate. of course, maya knew this.

"yeah course," maya placed the tea down on your bedside table, then perched in her usual position on your bed to watch you. "you okay?"

there was a slight waver in her voice, and you could read her so well that you immediately recognised it as concern, laced with a tiny bit of anxiety. you knew maya, knew her mind would worry. you didn't want her to blame herself, and instantly you felt bad.

arms now laden with clothes, you straightened and nodded, "yeah sorry, just tired." then, seeing the soft smile on maya's face, you couldn't keep it up much longer, "i'm coming in now anyway, you want to watch something?"

maya smiled, taking the clothes from you, "sounds good, give me five minutes!"

sighing, you watched her leave. well, your plan didn't last long. picking up the tea, you followed her into the living room. distance clearly wasn't going to work.

---

"hey, maya?" you called hurriedly, rummaging through your cupboard. she hummed in response, "have you seen my-"

"your boots?" maya appeared in the doorway, holding out your shoes with a smirk, "they were dirty as hell so i cleaned them for you."

"oh," you blushed, "thank you," you took them from her, almost reverently. she was just too good for you.

"now let's go - we're gonna be late!"

you followed her out the door, taking a deep breath in. you were already stressed, you had so much to do, and if maya was going to be this sweet to you all day, you were worried you might just keel over and die.

---

"i'll make dinner tonight, okay?"

you nodded, peeling off your soaked through socks with a wince. maya sat next to you in the changing room, already showered and dressed, her hand placed comfortingly on your thigh. training, as expected, had been awful, it was cold, wet, and your mind had been occupied. you knew you'd played crap, but coach had so kindly reminded you multiple times, leaving you to run an extra few laps once training was done.

you only had yourself to blame. things with maya were just piling up, everything else seemed to be going wrong, and it was taking all your effort to keep yourself sane without upsetting her. distance might've been the easy way out, but there wasn't a chance in hell that you'd do anything to make maya feel guilty, or worried.

all you wanted was to have a warm shower, go home and collapse on the sofa, preferably next to maya. unfortunately, your agent had other plans, and you were required at some media thing before you could relax. you sighed at the thought. you had so much to do this weekend too, plus your room needed cleaning, the mess having steadily piled up from the stress of it all.

and now here was maya, ever thoughtful, offering to cook dinner, even though it was your turn tonight. she was so sweet, you could almost cry. you took a deep breath, turning to look at her.

"you're the best maya." she smiled in response, and squeezed your thigh, before standing.

"i know, now go shower, you look like shit."

only maya could pull a laugh out of you at times like this. you nodded, and dragged yourself dutifully to the shower, wishing you could fast forward the next two hours so you could just go home.

---

the media stuff, as expected, had been shit. sure, some people enjoyed that kind of thing, but to you it felt like being paraded around like a dancing bear, just being poked and prodded with sticks. okay, maybe you were exagerrating, but today had just been really, really shitty, and you wanted to go home.

you fumbled with your keys, fingers numb from the rain, before finally, thankfully, managing to push the door open. you stepped inside, soaking in the warmth, and the smell of maya's cooking. your eyes adjusted to the low, orange light, and you felt yourself relax almost immediately.

there was low music coming from the kitchen, and you could hear maya humming gently along. hoisting your heavy bag a little further up your shoulder, you elbowed open your bedroom door, before stopping in your tracks.

your eyes widened as you took in your room - what had earlier resembled a bomb site now looked cleaner than you'd ever seen it. there were even candles lit on the desk, filling the room with flickering shadow and the comforting smell of vanilla. maya's vanilla.

you heard hurried footsteps behind you, before you felt maya come to a stop behind you. you couldn't quite bring yourself to turn around, for fear of her seeing the emotion threatening to spill out of your eyes at such a small, but meaningful, gesture.

"i, um, i tidied your room for you," maya sounded tentative, nervous even. she rushed to continue. "i just knew you'd had a rough day and i know your room gets messy when you're stressed so i just wanted to help, i hope you don't mind," you didn't know what to say, it was so small, but it felt like the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for you.

when you didn't reply maya spoke again, quieter this time, "i'm sorry, did i do the wrong thing?"

at maya's apology, you spun to face her, rapidly shaking your head.

"no, maya, i- thank you," you rushed to placate her, not wanting her to worry. your voice was choked, full of feeling. you pulled her into a hug, and she breathed an audible sigh of relief, as though she had been expecting you to be angry.

you held on tighter than you should've. you couldn't think of any other way to convey your thanks. it was such a tiny gesture, but to you, it meant everything. after such an awful day, maya had gone out of her way just to make things a little lighter. something she knew you struggled with when you were stressed, and she'd just helped you like it was nothing. you couldn't put it into words.

you'd never felt so loved.

you paused, pulling out of the hug, deep in thought, because that was exactly it. you thought back to why you were so desperate to get over maya, driven by fear of repeating the past, full of failed relationships and heartbreak.

before, in relationships, you'd always been filled with doubt. they'd said the words, sure, but how were you ever meant to be certain that they meant them? you'd keep yourself awake at night, worrying if they were serious, until either they proved you right, or your insecurites drove them away.

but here, with maya, it felt different. all that doubt, all that insecurity, you realised you've never felt like that with maya. all of a sudden, and with some certainty, you realised you've known for quite some time.

you think back to all the gifts, all the touches, all the time and the looks, the actions and the words, and you realise there's never been any lingering doubt. maya has shown you time and time again that she loves you. now you had some catching up to do.

"hey maya?" she hums, already moving to leave your room. ordinarily, you would never have been this bold, this confident. ordinarily, you would've been twisting your fingers in anxiety, stuttering out the words. right now, however, you had never been so sure.

"i love you too."

you've said those words countless times to her, but you know it's different now. you can tell maya can tell from the tone of your voice too, because when she looks up at you there's no confusion, only eyes swimming with hope, and pure, deep, boundless affection.

you reach out and pull her towards you, so your faces are barely inches apart. her eyes flicker down to your lips, then back to your eyes.

"i um, i didn't say-" her voice is low and hoarse, and she cuts herself off, because you both know its not true. tension ripples around you, until you can't stand it. when her eyes flicker down a second time, you close the gap. her lips are soft, and she lets out a pleased little gasp as you kiss her softly.

"yeah, you did," you smile, and maya returns it, "you say it everyday."

this is actually so shit i'm sorry, the idea's been in my drafts for literal months, i wanted to do it justice bc mlt deserves all the love but i hate like at least half of this lmao it got so repetitive i'm sorry

all love, soph xx

[midnight-bay-if]

Hey! I didn't have time before, so I've only now read the newest chapter, and damn... it was my first time meeting Umbra in the story (as I didn't take the path allowing that in the previous content), and I loved that scene so much! I never expected the "book reveal" at the end. It's interesting how despite me not realizing it before, Umbra seems to be the exact kind of character I usually like to romance in games. To be honest, if Taj wasn't so amazing, I could have been tempted to go for Umbra. Though to be fair, I love all the ROs (I'm a "one canon playthrough" player, so I normally don't go for more than one "route" in IF, hence me actually having to commit to a choice).

Also, Rain and S teasing Taj about their "crush" was so unexpected and funny to me.

That aside, I have two pretty random questions. - First one is, how much would Alek approve of each of the ROs? Either his opinion on each or just a ranking, I'm fine with both. Assuming Alek is like a second father to the MC when it comes to their relationship, if it changes things. - Second is a bit longer… What do the ROs think of a very nice and sweet MC who is an ultimate people-pleaser (as per that one choice at the beginning, about a flaw the MC has)? Like for example, my MC was dead tired but still went to the diner just cause Rue asked. And then he agreed to the "date" with Hunter (what could go wrong?…) just because he clearly can't help himself from caving when someone asks him basically anything, even if he doesn't want to do it. Which is obviously bad when it reaches such levels.

Hi! I’m glad you enjoyed that scene with Umbra. I tried to make it a good scene regardless of whether it was the first time you met Umbra or the second. With my indecisive mind being the way it is, my mind will probably change about another ten times before the end, but I will just keep rolling with it, haha. If it’s any consolation, you could always buddy up with Umbra instead.

I had great fun writing the scene with the team from their POV. It makes me excited to get them all in one room and let chaos commence.

As for your questions… well…

To be honest, Alek isn’t going to approve of any of the ROs for a long time. Alek really wants MC to lead a normal, with a reasonable level of excitement, life. All of the ROs are dangerous and lead dangerous lives. Alek would much prefer they all kept their distance. However, when things start happening, and the danger levels rise, Alek’s opinion may shift. Some shift quicker than others.

Overall, Alek will probably approve of S the most. For obvious reasons. They are human, for a start. They are also smart, and they can rely on S to navigate any given situation, putting you in the most advantageous position.

Next would be Rain. On the surface level, they seem to be well put together, kind, generous… all good traits. Probably not as strong as Alek would like (Rain is somewhat deceptive in this way. They look and act weaker than they), but Alek feels they could trust Rain to protect you emotionally, at least.

Taj and Umbra are pretty close. Alek’s first impression of Taj was less than favourable, and that is a difficult image to wipe away. He also witnessed Taj’s harshness towards you in particular, so his hackles are well and truly up. Umbra’s is a little more personal, and I can’t really say more without spoilers, but obviously, both Alek and Umbra have been around since MC’s childhood, so that should provide some clue.

N is last, and this should come as a surprise to nobody, lol. N is going to have to grovel at Alek’s feet to ever get him to approve of the relationship.

As for the second question…

S: They think it’s a trait deserving of nurture. They want you to keep your kindness since it’s much more valuable than people give credit for, whilst also giving you permission to find your assertiveness. There are people who would take advantage of such a trait if exposed, and S has no qualms about backing you up when this happens. If you can’t stand up for yourself, they at least want you to trust them enough to do it for you.

Rain: You might find that you have more in common with Rain than you think. Rain has a hard time saying “no” to anything. Their fear of conflict in others leads them to go to extreme lengths to maintain the peace and keep people happy. Maybe together, you could agree to be the other one's advocate if you can’t find it in yourself to be your own.

Taj: At first, Taj doesn’t trust it. They have this image in their head of what humans should be like, what they are always like. S has already tested the bounds of their preconceptions, but since S is just one person, it was easy enough to rule them an outlier. Once Taj realises this is real and you have gained their trust, they become fiercely protective. They will still rib you repeatedly, coaxing you to stand up for yourself. But when push comes to shove, they will be the first to stand in front of you if someone goes too far.

N: N doesn’t understand it at first. They think it is a weakness to exploit. If you can’t say “no”, you certainly won’t say “no” to them. But later, when they see how it affects you, the strain it places on you, they feel something close to regret. Eventually, they come to the conclusion that, actually, you might just be the strongest person they have ever met.

Umbra: There isn’t a single version of MC Umbra doesn’t love (whether platonic or romantic). However, an MC who struggles to navigate their own agency will find Umbra hovering a little closer. Words are difficult, but they are pretty good at looking ominous or menacing when required.

[generalllimaginesss]

"Who are you again?" with Nico. I have this thought that he wants to talk to her at a bar and gets nervous and is cocky when he approaches her. And obviously she knows who he is because his face is plastered all over the city. But she can’t stand when men are arrogant so she pretends not to know him and sends him back to his table. Then maybe he sees her at a coffee shop a few days later and he approaches her there too but in a more chill way. And she continues the “who are you again” joke but actually has a conversation with him.

Just like fluffy Nico being awkward and kind of being awful but only bc he’s nervous around the pretty girl.

Honestly I feel like Nico would be the most precious boyfriend ever. Whoever gets him wins in life. But anyways….here ya go! I kind of went a slightly different route with Nico not being very nervous, but I feel like this flows ok. Thank you for requesting! Keep them coming!

••

The bar that you were currently in was loud and slightly obnoxious. Because it was later in the night, the crowd was more rowdy than you cared for, causing you to become irritable with everything.

So here you were, sitting with a friend of yours at a table in the corner, trying to avoid people at all costs, when a group of guys walk through the door, some laughing, some heading to the bar, but one in particular caught your eye.

He was tall, had brown hair that was a little messy, but his smile was hard to miss. It lit up the whole room, a refresher from the scene that had been playing before his presence.

"Is that who I think it is?" Your friend elbowed you, pointing to where the guy was propping himself up against the wall talking to somebody.

As you sat there looking at him longer, trying to place his face, the realization that the guy is Nico Hischier hits you. He's practically the face of hockey in New Jersey, how could you miss that?

You watch as somebody hands him a beer and he takes a sip, his head tipping back slightly and his eyes beginning to take in the people around him. A couple of girls ask to take pictures with him, so he obliges. Some guys go over and talk to him about the game that night, but nothing really caught his attention until he glanced around the room and saw you sitting at a corner table, already looking at him.

Immediately, you break the eye contact, hoping that maybe he wasn't actually looking at you, but he pushes off of the wall and begins to walk in your direction.

"Holy shit he's coming over here," Your friend squeals, adjusting her hair so that she looks presentable.

"Shut up," You hiss, not wanting to seem like a crazy fangirl.

Nico gets intercepted by a guy with a Devils jersey on asking for a picture, but he immediately comes to your table afterwards, pulling a chair out and taking a seat.

Something about how he didn't ask if he could sit with you hit you wrong. Sure, he was famous and good looking, but that didn't mean that he got to do whatever he wanted.

You shifted your weight in your chair, eyebrows knitting together trying to figure the guy out.

"I saw you looking at me over there," Nico nodded his head to the spot where he was at earlier.

"And what about it?" You deadpan, your friend glancing between the two of you.

"I thought you would be interested, but apparently I thought wrong," Nico chuckled, putting his hands on his knees and pushing himself out of the chair to walk off. He took a few steps and stopped, turning towards you once more.

"I'm sorry..." He chuckled, running his fingers through his locks that hung just above his eyes, "...you now who I am, right?"

And that was the icing on the cake for you. You don't typically judge a person by the first couple of things they say to you, but he was so unbearably arrogant that it made your skin crawl. He might have been the captain of a successful NHL team, but the fact that he expected you to know who he was was gross. He was a human. He wasn't some god that graced you with his presence like he thought he was apparently.

"Hm, no I don't think so. Who are you again?" You chuckled, but it held zero emotion behind it. The audacity of this guy completely baffled you.

Nico bit his lip, realizing that he somehow struck a nerve within you. "Oh, I'm sorry, I just assumed-" He started, but was cut off by your harsh tone, "Well you know what they say about assuming? It makes an ass out of you."

You collected your purse and your friend as you left a dumbfounded Nico behind at the table, scratching his neck trying to figure out what just happened.

"What was that about?" Your friend nudged you as you made your way out of the bar and down the street.

"He acted like a pretentious bitch, that's what," Pulling your coat tighter around you, you arranged for an uber to pick you and your friend up and take you home, deciding that it was time to call it a night.

-----

A few weeks passed after the encounter with Nico at the bar. It never really crossed your mind much, other than the fact that you roll your eyes every time he was shown during a game that you watched. The whole ordeal just really disappointed you because he was very attractive and seemed to be sweet in all of his interviews and moments with his team, but actions speak louder than words and his actions at the bar were loud and clear.

You were currently walking into a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop that was near your apartment, preparing to have an intense study session since finals were approaching soon. The cozy ambience felt warm and welcoming, the perfect combination for you.

As you were beginning to zone in on the material before you, the bell from the door sounded, signaling a new person in the shop. Out of habit, you glance up and notice a familiar person making his way to the counter. He didn't seem to notice you at first, so you debated on gathering your stuff and leaving. However, nobody was going to have that kind of hold on you. If you wanted to study in this coffee shop, then that is what was going to happen. Even if there was a douche hockey guy.

You watched as he ordered and gave the barista his card to pay. Since he still hadn't seen you, you decided to shift your attention back to your notes, seeing that's the whole reason you were here.

You thought you got off without having to interact with him, but quickly realized that was not the case when the sound of somebody clearing their throat near you interrupted you studying.

"It's a small world, isn't it?" He flashed an innocent smile, watching as your cheeks heated, much to your displeasure.

"Seems to be," Your answer was short and to the point, hoping he'd get the hint that you were busy.

"Um, is this seat taken?" He motioned toward the seat across the table from you. Maybe he learned his lesson from last time?

"Nope," You moved your bag out of the seat so that he could sit there.

There was a few moments of awkward silence before Nico decided to speak up.

"I'm sorry about the other night. My name is Nico," His outstretched hand hovered above the table, waiting for yours to meet it.

You could have been rude and just ignored him, but there was something about the way that his little dimple indented and the softness of his eyes. He was just a beautiful person.

"Who?" You joked, causing Nico to laugh, his whole body shaking with him.

"I'm teasing, it's nice to formally meet you," Your hand connected with his and you could have swore there were butterflies going rampant in your belly.

"The other night...I don't want to make an excuse for being an ass, but it was right after a win and I still had an adrenaline rush, the boys were around, and I honestly didn't realize how rude it was until I was trying to go to sleep that night. I don't want you to think that the fame went to my head or anything. That couldn't be far from the truth," He fidgeted with the rubber bracelet that decorated his hand, making eye contact with you a few times.

"Hey, we all have our moments. You happened to catch me out of my element. Bars are not quite my scene," You giggled, recalling the nightmare that was the bar that night.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you the other night, ha, but you're beautiful. Like wow," He sat back in his chair, sipping his coffee as he grinned at you trying to control your blush.

"Why thank you," Your laugh caused a train reaction from him.

The two of you talked about so many different things. The topic of how he got into hockey came up, and then what brought you into the bar that night, the conversation just flowing effortlessly. There was never another an awkward moment after that initial one.

Before either of you knew it, 2 hours had passed. Although you should have been studying, the time spent with Nico was nice, something that you could get used to.

"I've really enjoyed this," Nico nudged your leg with his, causing tingles to erupt from the spot where he touched you.

"Me too. You definitely made up for what happened at the bar," You winked, causing him to chuckle in response.

"The team has a Christmas party coming up and I happen to be dateless right now," A cheeky grin formed as he began to gain the courage to ask you on a date.

"Well that's quite the predicament, isn't it?" You knew where he was going with it, but you decided to play along with him.

"Yeah, it is. You wouldn't know how to fix that, would you?" He licked his bottom lip before taking it between his teeth.

"I mean, there's dating apps, fangirls, I'm sure you can find somebody who would love to go with you," Smirking, you finished the last bit of your coffee that was now cold.

"There's also girls that you meet in bars who happen to go to the same coffee shop as you..." Nico trailed off as he watched your response.

"Mr. Hischier, are you asking me to be your date?" You feigned shock, covering your mouth with your hand in attempt to hide your smile.

"Wait, who are you again?" His eyes squinted mischeviously as you rolled your eyes and handed him your phone so that he could put his phone number in.

"I would love to be your date," He punched in his number and felt his phone vibrate in his pocking, signaling that you had texted his phone.

"I've got to go study for my final, so I will see you later," You announced as the two of you gathered your things and walked out together.

Nico gave you a tight side hug, one that was unexpected, but definitely wanted. His cologne was magical and he was just cozy. You walked towards your apartment, a smile etched onto your face as you immediately recall the whole conversation.

Nico glanced at his phone as he headed to his car, deciding to read the text that you had sent him:

"You're pretty cute yourself. Like wow," It read and Nico couldn't help but giggle and smile as he climbed into the driver's side of his car, shaking his head and thanking God that he was able to impress you this time.

*

*

*

*

[lucid-loves]

Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 5

Pairing: Ghost x assassin!reader (fem!reader, no use of y/n, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 3.6k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to lovers trope, slow burn, fluff, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After Makarov gets away once again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you in each interaction. 

Chapter Synopsis: After days of inactivity, you finally managed to pick up some key information that could lead to Makarov’s downfall. Your proceeding plan, however, makes Ghost incredibly upset. He decides to pick a fight about it on the hotel roof.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10

The following days were quiet as everyone was focused solely on listening in on conversations. The men rotated in shifts, not one of them able to stand the boring lack of information for too long. You, on the other hand, were able to sit for hours listening and watching basically nothing. Your training had you comfortable with nothing remarkable happening for days. You didn’t even fidget as you sat at the desk, waiting for one of Makarov’s men to slip.

Soap’s leg was bouncing up and down as he sat on the edge of the bed, getting impatient. He wished they went with the original plan. At least that one had some more action. Ghost sitting beside him smacked his knee. “Knock it off. You’re shaking the bed.”

“Sorry, Lt. I’m just bored. We’ve been listening to nothing for days. Is it too late to go with the original plan?” He whined, taking off his headphones to ease the ache on his ears. Ghost would be lying if he said he wasn’t growing antsy too. He wasn’t used to inaction during missions. Who knew when someone would talk as well? They didn’t have time to wait it out for much longer.

Simon looked to the back of your head, your complete focus on listening to passing conversations. You had been quiet ever since you got back from tapping the building. Distant. You have taken extra care to evade the team’s attempts at inclusion. You’ve dodged their meal invites, removed yourself from small talk, and altered your routes to avoid them. Simon was especially missing your attention, your eyes having refused to meet his for days.

It wasn’t like you were blocking out the entire world, though. You still listened in on their comments. Their questioning of your plan. You just haven’t cared enough to respond back. The desire to keep your distance has been stronger than ever, especially since your mind tended to wander towards the night you were on top of Ghost when you didn’t want to. You still remembered the look in his eyes. Passionate. Aching. Feverish. Just thinking about how he looked at you when he was so close to death by your hand made you tremble.

God, and his growing erection? You’ve attempted to make excuses for him. Perhaps it was just something in his pocket. Perhaps it has just been a while for him too. It was just the adrenaline of facing death in the face. It was just him imagining someone else for a second. Someone much prettier. Someone more delicate. 

You knew it wasn’t true, though. He was turned on by you. And you were turned on by him. You couldn’t forget how your own heart was shuttering for him as he wanted you after you bested him. 

This was why it was important to keep your distance. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t get wrapped up in his stupid games again.

There was a knock on the door before Price and Gaz entered, ready to take over for their shift. As soon as Soap noticed his captain, he got up to stretch his legs. Price looked over at you, wondering if you were going to finally take a break after outlasting four shift changes. You didn’t even look in his direction.

“Men, could you give me and Hex some privacy?” John asked. The team knew it was actually an order, so they nodded and left the two of you. As soon as the door closed once again, you turned around and faced the captain, not bothering to take your headphones off. He seemed tense as he took a spot on the edge of the bed. While the stay in Italy has been a refreshing experience compared to the dangerous environments he was often sent to, he felt like it was time to take initiative. 

“Hex, we haven’t gotten any key information in days. We are running out of time. I think it’s about time we go back to the intended plan.” Price delicately explained, not wanting to trigger any anger from you. 

You knew that the 141 was cracking. They weren’t built for things like this. You understood their need to spring into action. However, you still rejected the idea. “We need to be patient. I never promised that information would come overnight.”

“We understand that. We jus-”

You held your hand up swiftly as voices flooded into your ears. Just as quickly, you swiveled around in your chair to face the monitors. A pen was taken up in your hand, prepared to jot down notes on a piece of paper. Price’s brows shot up, adrenaline pumping as it seemed you finally were getting a lead. He rushed to the door and opened it, inviting the men to hurry back in. “She’s got something!”

Before you knew it, you had four large men surrounding you, watching you write down choppy notes that they could barely read. In order to get everything down, you excluded certain letters in your spelling. It was the best way to ensure you didn’t miss anything.

“Holy hell, this is-” Kyle began, utterly shocked over what he was reading. 

“The shipment route.” Ghost finished for him. The 141 now knew how Makarov was moving dangerous weapons across Europe without getting flagged. Where he was probably hiding many of his dealers too.

Just as fast as how the conversation started, it ended. You took off your headphones and brushed out your hair with your fingers. “Paris Catacombs. Nearly 2,000 acres. Only a tiny fraction is available to the public for tourism. Many parts of it are still unexplored.”

You swiveled back around in your chair to look at Price. There was some bite in your question for him. “You still want to switch plans?”

Instead of being annoyed by your dig, he was relieved. Happy, even. He met your cocky smile with a genuine one. “What’s the plan now, Hex?”

“Follow shipment. Makarov’s men are getting ready to move their shipment at three in the morning. We’ll follow them there, dressed as tourists taking a train to Paris. On said train, we’ll plant a tracking device on a few of them. They should lead us right to their catacombs entrance and straight to the supply.” You began to plan out, the men following your every word like you were a preacher.

“Saves us time from searching 2,000 acres in the dark.” Gaz deduced as he mulled the plan over in his head. Good. He really didn’t want to be stuck in such a large labyrinth surrounded by bones. The one that Ghost sewed onto his mask sometimes creeped him out enough.

“Correct. We’ll find whatever else we can silently and discreetly. If we’re lucky, Makarov will come for a surprise inspection. If not. . .” You continued, the gears in your brain turning as you thought of something creative.

They waited for you to continue, knowing that you were calculating this all in your head on the fly. Giving you a minute to think it over was something they were willing to give you. Finally, you finished your plan. “If not, we bring him to us. Makarov isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty if he wants something done. That something will be an interview.”

“An interview?” Price questioned. 

You took a deep breath. You weren’t afraid to get your hands dirty too if you wanted something done. “An interview with an assassin. One unknown to the world looking to join his cause. One that would be willing to kill off the 141.”

Eyes went wide at your proposed idea. Simon was the first to object, his tone dangerously low and warning. “No.”

Your gaze snapped to him, a scowl instantly forming on your face. “I didn’t ask for your permission or opinion. This is the plan going forward. If you hate it, keep it to yourself.”

Price cleared his throat, the days spent with you making him a little more comfortable at attempting to calm you down. “I think what Ghost meant to say is that we’re just worried about you. There’s no telling what he may do to you if you two are alone or if he suspects anything. Do you think you would be able to assassinate him before he gets wise?”

A confident nod made most of their shoulders relax save for one which didn’t surprise you in the least. He looked ready to punch something. For now, you ignored his obvious stewing. “I can do it. Once Makarov is confirmed dead, we can call in for a mass arrest of the rest of his men as well as confiscate all of the weapons. The confiscated weapons could help you figure out where they came from if you trace them back too. That should lead you to the other heads of the hydra to take care of.”

The team gave it some thought before nodding in approval. You’ve earned their trust on this. However, you did feel the need to warn them about how you were going to earn Makarov’s good graces. “In order for him to trust me enough to get close, I’m gonna need to reveal some of your information. Names, dates, reports. Anything to make sure I can slide my knife across his neck.”

They shifted uncomfortably from your transparency. They didn’t like the idea of you handing over their information on a silver platter. However, if it would lead to the success of the mission, they would suck it up. Hopefully Makarov wouldn’t live for too long with it. Price gave his final approval before telling his men to pack up so they can move right on time.

You didn’t join them. Instead, you left the room and headed up to the space you have been retreating to to decompress alone. This time, though, Simon watched you leave with the intention to follow.

~

The sky was painted with beautiful hues of pink, orange, purple, and blue as the sun began to set. The streets were full of people from shoppers to diners. For everyone else, today was just another beautiful day in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. It was crazy to you how so many people could live such normal lives. How you weren’t born into it. How you may never be a part of it. Your time at the cabin didn’t count. Nothing counted when you didn’t exist.

You heard the rooftop door open, no gentleness in how it creaked open. Harsh footsteps broke your peace, the steps getting louder as they approached you. When they stopped, you turned around to face Ghost who was still steaming. He was so close to you that you could smell his soap. It wasn’t the hotel soap that was provided to every guest. It was his own that he must’ve brought with him. It was a rich, spiced scent. Like spiced apples and hot rum. 

“Congratulations, you have convinced everyone else that what you’re planning isn’t absolutely fuckin’ crazy. Are you fuckin’ proud of yourself?” He growled, his hands landing on the stone wall on either side of you, pinning you in place. Nowhere to escape this time. Not unless you used force again. 

“What’s your fucking problem, Simon?! Why have you insisted on picking a fight with me on every single fucking thing that I do?!” You spat back, feeding off of his anger.

Every muscle in his body was tense with rage. He wanted to shake your shoulders, yell at you, talk some sense into you. Makarov was a dangerous man with dangerous thoughts. Who knew what could happen to you behind a closed door alone with him. Or worse, lost in the catacombs. It was a risk he didn’t want to take, despite his team already approving the plan. “You have no idea what you are getting into, Hex. This is a man that took down a plane. A man that organized acts of terrorism around the world. All while trying to pin it on another country. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants!”

God, he was so stupid! His inability to see the forest through the trees was beyond infuriating to deal with. “That’s what we’re exploiting, you fucking jackass! He wants information. He wants you dead! All of you!”

“When you walk into his space and offer your services, he’s gonna want you too. Not just your abilities and empty promises. All of you. Why can’t you understand that?” He coldly explained, his face inching closer to yours as an attempt to intimidate you. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t work. You were just confused followed by incredulous. “Are you implying that he may become attracted to me? Trust me, Simon that isn’t happening. It’s not going to happen.”

Your inability to take the situation more seriously had him burning. It was like his blood was boiling his insides. He was so upset with you. Ghost grabbed both of your wrists and held them tight against his broad chest. He knew he shouldn’t grab you so suddenly, but he needed you to get it. “It is going to happen, Hex! He’s going to want you! Open your fuckin’ eyes to that very real, very likely possibility.”

“How do you know?! How the hell do you know that?!” You screamed as you tried to pull your hands away from his grasp, but to no avail. Being pinned against the wall didn’t help give you more flexible space either. He was just too strong. Too caught up in his whirlwind of emotion, something he has never lost control of until he met you.

“Because I want you!” He finally blurted out, his own breath gasping at his confession. The furious expression you wore melted into pure shock. That was the last thing you expected to hear from him. You almost thought that you misheard him. However, his reaction to his own words indicated that you didn’t mishear or misunderstand. He said he wanted you.

Your heart was beating faster than ever as you processed his words. Was that what his problem was this entire time? He couldn’t handle having a crush on you? You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or scream at him. 

His gaze darkened as he steeled his expression, trying to salvage the situation. He tried to make his tone more soft, but it just came out even deeper than before in a way that seemed sensual. “I want you to be part of this team. I want you to finally learn how to trust us. Rely on us. You don’t have to do everything alone, Hex. You don’t have to put yourself in such a dangerous situation where Makarov may have the advantage. We just want you to be safe. I want you to be safe.”

His eyes searched yours for any ounce of understanding. Any ounce of surrender. Anything to indicate that you may change your mind about sealing yourself away with Makarov. 

You averted your eyes away from his, breaking his heart painfully. The truth was you didn’t know how to react. You’ve never been cared about this deeply before. Sure, Kate cared, but you two came to an understanding. Kate always lets you do your thing. If you were to die while doing it, then she would retrieve your body to burn and scatter your ashes to the creek behind your cabin. No regrets. No remorse. No worries.

You weren’t sure if hearing Simon establish that it was your safety he wanted instead of yourself made you relieved or disappointed either.

The sick feeling in your stomach when the team praised you for your work came back. Your brows furrowed as you contemplated making your own confession. “I’m not used to people worrying about me, you know? I’m not used to relying on other people either.”

Ghost gave a sigh of relief. So, that’s what you’ve been thinking. For a moment, he thought that you were going to reject him again. Perhaps you were going to reject him soon, but your lack of immediate rejection was promising. “We’ve noticed. It’s something we can work on.”

You shook your head and gave a fake laugh, feeling like a complete idiot. It was a new feeling for you. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“We can start with little things. If you’re uncomfortable with a personal question, just say ‘pass’ and we can focus on a new one. Together.” He reassured, his grip on your wrists loosening. A free hand gingerly took your chin to guide your gaze back on him. Burning with anger, smoldering with victory, or wavering with compassion, he missed your gaze. 

As you looked up at him, you felt your stomach do flips. Ghost’s blue eyes sucked you right in, drowning you in a way that you were both scared of and didn’t mind. Now more than ever, you wanted to know the face behind the mask. Perhaps with time, you would. That was, until the mission was over. Finally, after all of this fighting, you conceded. “Fine. I’ll try.”

Simon bit back his smile under the fabric, trying to hide his joy. “Good. First question; What’s your favorite song?”

“Pass.” You answered quickly, his eyes still pouring into you. 

“Alright. What is your favorite food?” He tried again, his smile slowly evaporating.

“Pass.” You repeated your first answer.

“Favorite drink?” 

“Pass.”

“Favorite color?”

“Pass.”

He huffed in annoyance, the grip on your chin just getting slightly firmer. How were you still frustrating to deal with after you just said you would comply? “You know, you have to answer at least a couple of them.”

You cursed, clearly not being able to help it. “I fucking know that! Just. . . Just give me a minute.”

The sun was setting deeper, some stars gracing the inky black that was making its way across the palate of the sunset. The hum of people on the streets below had quieted down. Live music began to play from one of the nearby restaurants, a soft, romantic melody drifting up to your ears. It calmed you. Allow you to settle down your mind and your heart.

You closed your eyes and finally answered his questions, one by one. Some of them amused him. Some of them were of no surprise. Yet, it all seemed befitting of you. While you kept your eyes closed, taking deep breaths, he answered the questions himself. What finally made you open your eyes was his drink of choice.

Hearing your genuine laugh was real music to his ears. Even if you were making fun of him. “Kentucky bourbon? You mean piss-flavored rubbing alcohol?”

“Hey, I didn’t make fun of your favorites.” He defended, holding back some chuckles himself. That was the usual response to his admittance of enjoying Kentucky Bourbon above all else. He was used to it.

“Alright, alright. My bad.” You continued to snicker. 

A moment of comfortable silence passed between the two of you followed by a magnetic pull. His eyes scanned your face. Your eyes, your nose, your lips. Your lips looked so soft. So. . . kissable.

Your hand slowly went up to tug the edge of his balaclava between your fingers. Now, it was your turn to ask him a personal question. It was only fair. “Why the mask?”

Ghost’s collarbone tingled as your skin grazed his. He gave a light shrug, shaking off the electric current running through him. “Same reason why you keep yourself hidden. Easier to be unknown.”

“I see. . .” You simply acknowledged, your fingers still toying with his mask. They ached to pull it up and see the face that has dared to get close to you. To see if his blonde lashes matched his hair. To see if his lips were as kissable as you imagined. 

His other hand went up and grabbed your hand, stopping you from toying around with it any further. You quirked a brow and smirked. “Let me guess. Pass?”

Your cheekiness was such a turn on. Everything about you was. The more he found out about you, the more he wanted you. Not just wanted you to be part of the team or wanted you to be safe like he told you. He genuinely wanted you. All of you. “Hex. . .”

The door creaked open, causing the both of you to jump away from each other. You turned around, sharing your blush with the sunset instead of Simon and whoever just entered the rooftop. Simon rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat, also flustered. Thankfully, Kyle didn’t notice anything amiss. “Sorry. Been looking for you guys everywhere. Just wanted to extend a dinner invitation. It’s our last night in Italy. It could be nice eating together. You in, Ghost?”

Ghost crossed his arms over his chest, resisting the urge to strangle Kyle for breaking the moment he shared with you. Much to his and Kyle’s surprise, you spoke up. “Does that invitation extend to me too?”

“O-Oh! Yeah, of course! We can all eat together.” Gaz happily responded, over the moon that you were finally going to join them in a meal. Your progress seems to be going well.

You turned after your blush died down and headed to the door, preparing yourself for what was to come. You haven’t shared a meal with someone since you were a teenager. Simon followed right behind you, both proud of you for putting yourself out there, and also jealous that your attention that was on him just a few seconds ago was now going to be shared amongst his team.

To rectify this, we would be sure to be the one to sit next to you while you ate. 

-

Taglist: @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @dory-98 @cum-tea-and-towels @completelymarveltrash @watersquirtpewpewboomm @thychuvaluswife @sweetheart-im-the-boss @anotherrickinthewall @bluewinter39 @fortunatelydecadentstudent @transparentsheepsheep @rhaenryawhore @randomlyblues @issssawrap @lachimolalaa3 @callsign-pyro @corruptcrybaby

[ghostif1ed]

Hi honey! I don't know if u r taking requests right now but if you do I have one. Can you make a standalone where Ghost and F/reader are together for like 1/2 year(s) and she is always like really nervous around Ghost and can't look him in the eye for too long because she is really shy and Ghost kind of like the effect he has on her. Something along that way :)

Thank you so much and have a great day!!🤍

ɞ - 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑠

𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑛 "𝑔𝚑𝑜𝑠𝑡" 𝑟𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑦 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠- 𝚑𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑎𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔

𝑤𝑎���𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑? 𝑔𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ( 𝑖 𝑡𝚑𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑚𝑏 𝑖𝑓 𝑛𝑜𝑡) 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑎?? 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑙

𝑤𝑐: 830

𝑎/𝑛: 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑞!!!! 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝚑𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑜𝑙 𝑖 𝑎𝑚 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑏𝑚𝑏. 𝚑𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡𝚑𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𖠌 𝑏𝑡𝑤 𝑚𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑟 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑠𝑘!!

anyone would be nervous if a 6’4 buff military man locked eyes with you. right? possibly- but does knowing him for 4 years make it any better? does dating for two of those years help? nope. looking this hunk of a guy in the eyes didn’t get any less nerving, even after knowing him for so long.

the way he trapped you under your gaze made you nervous. it made your fingers drum against your cargo pants -it made your heavy boots tap on the concrete. he must know, he gave it away by the way he held his stare- not daring to look away. he knew it made you nervous- he knew it made you weak in the knees. maybe if you could look him in the eyes for longer, you’d see the glimmer in them when your eyes drifted down and your face went hot.

the first time he noticed- it was a team briefing. you were sat across from him, he was looking at you- as always- and he began to zone out. he admired your face- your beauty. the way you chewed on your cheek in concentration as you listened carefully to the orders price was giving out . he was lucky to have someone like you in his life. someone to trust, someone to kiss, someone to hug.

at first- he didn’t notice he was staring at you. but when price slammed something onto the table - most likely harder than he intended to - it snapped him out of his trace. he was confused- to say the least- he didn’t understand the ways your eyes were darting all over the place… until he did.

your fingers - which were resting against the table - were fighting against each other and your knee was bouncing at a particular pace. he knew it was yours- the table was rocking and soap - who was sitting on his right -  was completely still. as for gaz, he was sat, on a chair, away from the table, why? god knows - but that left you.

 he understood now- you were nervous. why? because you were caught under his gaze.

that moment, he was thankful for the mask. it hid the smirk on his face. well- not that you could look for long enough to see it. he was still staring at you- he realised. maybe he should stop. let you focus. so he, thoughtfully, looked away- though not before taking one last glance, just for fun.

the second time, he’d actually forgotten. you were all cramped into a little plane, on the route to a mission. soap was squashed up beside you, practically locking you into the wall. ghost, however, was facing you, the tip of his boots pressed against yours. he was looking at soap, who was waffling about god knows what- it was always hard to keep up with what the scot was saying.

you- were also listening. just not so intensely. you didn’t bother to turn your body to look at soap, you couldn’t, he had you trapped against the wall. so, you had to look straight ahead. right at ghost.

you did your best to avoid his eyes. you stared at the wall of the plane, his vest, the badge on his jacket - hell even his gun. but you found yourself staring back into his eyes. you loved his eyes- you did, even if it didn’t seem like it. you loved the way they sparkled in the sunlight- the way they lit up when you walked into a room. but you just couldn’t maintain eye contact.

he tried to listen to soap- for a change - he really did, but eventually, the man became a buzzing in his ears. so he turned his attention back to you. as soon as his eyes began to move, so did yours. you looked away as quickly as possible- deciding the marks on the floor were much more interesting to look at.

ghost, although hidden by the mask, raised an eyebrow at this. again, he didn’t understand why. he racked his brain for the memory or the reason. oh. right.

the corners of his lips perked up, and he kicked his foot against your boot. he watched your eyebrows furrow, and your teeth gnaw at your bottom lip. he kicked again, and again until you were forced to look at him. he was having far too much fun for a man about to head onto the battlefield.

you- on the other hand. god, this was the furthest thing from fun you could imagine. he was your boyfriend for christ’s sake. you hoped he would never notice. the height difference between you two always meant you stared directly at his chest and you almost always sat next to him. maybe you cold try look at him, just once more.

so the next minute- you were staring right into his eyes. maybe a couple of seconds passed, you could already feel your face getting hot, your fingers start to twitch against your knee. fuck sake. you caved in again, looking away. 

and you swear you heard the faintest sound of a deep chuckle come from him.

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