#so i took it and put it in my glasses case (i use contacts now but still carry it just in case) careful not to hurt it

[gudakko]

did my good deed for the day :)

[strangemaleswaps]

Strange Roommate Swap

I started walking back to my dorm from the last class of the day. It was my second year of college and there was no doubt autumn was coming up fast with the amount of people wearing jackets outside. I was way ahead of them, as I was desperate for the weather to get colder so I could wear my leather jacket. I felt really cool with it on, even though I wasn't really a cool guy. I was kinda sensitive and geekish, but hey, if I can look the part then maybe people will think of me as cool.

I arrived at the dorm building, walked inside, and took the elevator to get to the 6th floor where my room was. I opened the door to find my roommate, Nathan, on his PC as usual. He was a pretty big guy, at least bigger than me. I've seen his clothing sizes from when his shirts were lying on the floor, and he wore size XL, and sometimes 2XL. But even though I was gay and we were roommates, he wasn't really my type.

When Nathan noticed me, he immediately got up and started heading towards the bathroom. We were the type of roommates that rarely spoke to each other, unless it was something chore related. We should've been friends because we both spent most of our freetime online, but I guess we're both too shy. But still, I wondered what was up so I broke the silence.

“Hey what's up?” I said.

“I got a date. I told myself I'd start to get ready around the time you got back.”

“Oh nice!” Woah, he didn't seem like the type anybody would be attracted to, but I guess there were plenty of fish in the sea. He grabbed some clothes and closed the bathroom door, so I began working on my homework. After awhile he walked back out in a shirt and tie, with his beard neatly trimmed.

“Looking good,” I blurted out. He didn't seem to care how awkward I sounded because he smiled.

“Thanks man.”

He did his hair a bit and was out the door in a flash. I wondered who he was going on a date with?

A few hours later I was doing homework on my bed when the door opened and Nathan walked in. He didn't look too happy so I'm guessing the date didn't go too well. Since I didn't know much about his personal life, I didn't want to say a word in case he was the type to lash out at others. So I just continued what I was doing.

He began taking off his formal clothes. Nathan was the type of guy that wasn't shy with undressing in front of people. The sight of him shirtless wasn't the prettiest sight though. When he untucked his shirt, his belly flopped back down, hanging over his belt.

People always warned me about eating habits in college and most get that Freshman 15, but from what I've seen with old photos of Nathan, he went way beyond 15. He was as skinny as I was now on some of his socials, so he must've really let himself go. Good thing I had a fast metabolism; I hadn't gained a pound since I got to college.

He didn't take off the rest of his clothes; he just plopped down onto his chair, turned on his PC, and started gaming. I finished up my homework and decided to do the same, opening up my laptop and spending the rest of the night online until I was ready to take my contacts out and head to bed.

The next morning I woke up to my alarm, that for some reason sounded much further away. I opened my eyes to find it actually wasn't next to me at all…and for some reason I was in Nathan's bed? I looked to the other side of the room and saw a lump in my bed - a sign that someone was underneath the covers. I reached around to find glasses…although they weren't mine, somehow I could see with them. When I tried to sit up, I found it way more difficult to do so. It felt like gravity was pushing down extra hard. Maybe the sheets were weighing me down? I threw them off to find I was shirtless…and fat! What the fuck! I put my hand over the round lump of flesh to confirm if it was real or not. It was soft to the touch and felt kinda squishy. I also had a good amount of chest hair, which was something I wasn't used to, being a hairless twink. But I definitely wasn't a twink anymore!

I got up off the bed and could feel my entire body jiggle. I looked down at my belly and although it was harder to see with my big gut in the way, I noticed I was wearing blue shorts - Nathan's blue shorts. Oh god. I began making my way towards the bathroom when the covers started moving from my bed. What must've been Nathan in my body pulled them off himself and stared at me for a few seconds until he found my glasses, put them on, and stared at me again, looking even more confused.

“Brent? What's going on? That IS you right?”

“I-uh don't even know.”

“Why is it like…I'm seeing myself?” He then glanced down at himself and squeezed his shirt… I mean my shirt. He then lifted it up and bit and touched my chest, rubbing his hand around.

“Are we…?”

“Each other…”

“Fuck”

I could tell this must've been as awkward for him as it was for me. “So uh…do you want to do the big reveal?”

“The what?”

“You know. Like in those movies where they both look in the mirror at themselves and scream or whatever.”

“Uh…sure.” He jumped out of bed, and power walked to the bathroom. It was so strange seeing myself walk around, like playing a 3rd person perspective game. Is that what I really looked like? When we got to the mirror, I understood what he meant. It really was like in those movies where they freak out at their new bodies.

It was crazy to gaze straight ahead at the mirror and see someone else's face. It was like wearing a mask or something, but I grazed my hands all over and assured myself that it was all real. I slowly moved my hand to my chest and felt the curves of my…man tits. I was grossed out and pulled my hand away.

“You don't have to do that. I mean it is your body now afterall…er right now anyway.”

It was kinda creepy, the idea of him allowing me to touch his body, especially since it was spoken with my voice. All of a sudden reality set in. I was so focused on how ugly I looked that I completely forgot we had no idea how this happened or how to change back!

“We need to figure this out soon. I have class today!”

“Can't you just skip?”

“No I can't. It's the kind of class that knocks down your grade if you don't attend.”

“Oh shit. Well I could go for you I guess.”

The idea of someone else going around looking like me in public was unsettling but I don't think I had a choice.

“Fine. But hurry up. I don't want to be late.”

Nathan got ready for me, putting on exactly what clothes I told him to wear, which included my leather jacket. Seeing myself from a different perspective made me realize how hot I actually was. I glanced down at my chubby belly as I hoped this curse would end soon. I told Nathan the details of getting to my class and everything, and as he closed the door behind him, I realized that I didn't know what I should do today. He didn't have any classes of his own and I really didn't want to go out in public like this.

I walked back into the bathroom and stared at my fat self as I touched Nathan's belly. I instinctively made my way down towards his dick and felt a bulge forming. Why was this happening? I definitely wasn't turned on by Nathan. Maybe it had something to do with the idea that I was technically grabbing someone else's dick. I didn't want to see his face so I took off my glasses. That way I could kinda see everything else, but not a clear identification. I then grabbed my belly as I stroked my dick and started jerking.

The fat slapped my arm with every movement, but I didn't care. I came all over the floor and after a bit, I got dressed and decided to go outside after all. Surprisingly the idea of walking around as a fat guy in public was turning me on once again. I really didn't even mind Nathan walking around in my body now if it meant I could walk around in his!

[navia3000]

a l l m y g h o s t s

Includes : Aaron Hotchner

Genre : Angst

Warnings : Crying, sadness, mentions of bombs and terrorists, typical Criminal Minds topics, Morgan’s kind of a dick, curse words

Based on : All My Ghosts by Lizzy McAlpine

Part one Part three

A/N : This is a part two to So Long, London. I’m trying something different with my writing style, and I don’t really know how I feel about this fic overall, so, let me know your thoughts. And, yes, there will be a part three.

The headquarters of the International Operation Division of the FBI was alive with the chatter of agents and the ringing of phones. The IOD had been investigating a major threat against the United States from a major terrorist group in Iraq. There had been two bombings connected to this group, and there were more to be expected. The case is so dire, the IOD decided to call in the Behavioral Analysis Unit to aid in catching the attackers, a fact Y/N wasn’t thrilled about.

It had been two years since Y/N had left the BAU. She hadn’t told anyone of her transfer, leaving without saying a word to the team. She had gone as far as ignoring their calls and texts, and, as time passed, she eventually stopped receiving them. It had pained her to leave her friends, no, her family in that way, but she couldn’t stand having to pretend everything was fine when it wasn’t. She couldn’t be around the source of her heartbreak any longer, or she would explode. So, she took matters into her own hands.

Y/N knew her and the BAU’s paths would eventually cross again, she just hoped it wouldn’t have been so soon.

As she walked through the bullpen, she felt her heart racing. She wasn’t nervous about seeing Hotch, well, she was, but, she was more nervous about seeing her old friends. She knew they would be angry at her for the way she up and left. She would’ve been too if it was someone else on the team who did what she had.

She finally reached the doors that would lead her to the moment she most dreaded; the Behavior Analysis team would be sitting there, going over details of their profile. And, since she used to be a part of said team, her boss thought it best for her to be the one assisting them.

As she walked through the doors into the room the team had set up, she heard them grow quiet. They stared at her in disbelief, each one of them, and she couldn’t help but take each one in. Morgan looked stronger than when she had last seen him, Emily looked even more beautiful, JJ had grown her hair out, Penelope had dyed her hair cherry red, Rossi had more gray hairs than before, Spencer got rid of his glasses, and Hotch, well, Hotch looked exactly as she remembered him. Tall, handsome, and utterly exhausted. She didn’t fail to notice the missing ring on his left hand.

“Hi,” she spoke after minutes of silence. When she received no answer, she continued, “I was sent by my boss to assist you with building the profile on these terrorists.” She could feel her heart racing as the minutes wore on, and the disbelief in their eyes turned into confusion and anger. “I know we haven’t spoke in a while, but-”

Morgan was quick with his anger in cutting her off, “and who’s fault is that?”

Taking a deep breath, she continued, “Please, Morgan. I hate how I left things with you guys, but, right now, my priority is this case. So, if you could all put your feelings about me aside for the sake of our jobs, that would be great.” Morgan let out a scoff at her words, rolling his eyes and turning back to the whiteboard at the end of the room.

She made eye contact with Hotch, her eyes becoming watery at Morgan’s reaction to her presence. He didn’t seem all too different in his sentiment towards her, making her feel even worse.

“Alright, here’s what we have so far,” Hotch said. It was going to be a long night.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

As the days wore on, the tension between her and the rest of the team grew. They kept things professional, and Penelope and Emily were nicer than the rest in accepting her back, but it was still a challenge. She understood why they felt how they felt, but, still, it broke her heart. Even worse, she tried being friendly with Hotch but he wouldn’t even acknowledge her outside of discussing the profile.

It was late at night, most of the team had gone back to their hotels, leaving Hotch and Y/N working by themselves. Her eyes kept wandering to him, her thoughts consumed by having him so close to her again. Yet, he continued to ignore her.

“How’s Jack?” She asked, attempting to make conversation whilst they went over old case files.

“He’s fine.”

“How’s the rest of the team? I’ve missed them a lot. And you, of course. But-”

“They’re doing alright.” The finality in his tone was making her hopes fall like the petals of a rose fall over time.

“That’s good. What about Haley? How’s she doing?”

“Haley’s dead. She was killed by an unsub.” At that, her head snapped up.

“Oh my God, Hotch, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

He still didn’t look up at her from the papers scattered on the table. “How could you have? You left.”

His words cut deep. Her eyes grew teary for what felt like the fifth time that day. “Hotch, I had to.”

At that, he finally looked up at her. His eyes were hard as stone as he said, “no, you didn’t. And even if you felt that way, you could have told us. I had to explain to everyone else that you left and weren’t coming back, Y/N. You were a part of this family and wouldn’t even answer our texts and calls.” No, his words didn’t just cut deep, they burned. Upon seeing her tears fall, he seemingly decided that was a conversation not worth having. “Let’s just focus on the case.” But, like that night in the restaurant, she stood up and left him at the table.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The next day was no different. Spencer and Morgan refused to talk to her, Hotch was cold as ice when addressing her, JJ was hesitant anytime she had to speak with her, and Emily and Penelope were trying their best to dissipate some of the tension in the room.

It all seemed to boil over when she suggested that her and Morgan go over to the last bombing site and see what they could find.

“No,” he said.

The room was so quiet, you could hear a hairpin drop. “What?” she asked, mostly because she couldn’t believe that he shut her down like that.

“No,” he repeated. At that point, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright, Morgan, I get you’re upset with me. But we’re here to do our jobs. And, you have zero right to treat me like I don’t matter just because you’re upset.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Y/N. You left us! You were a crucial part of this team and you left us. Without even an explanation. Nothing! So, don’t come in here expecting everything to be the same as it was because it’s not.”

“I had to leave!” She exclaimed. “I couldn’t take being around you guys after everything that happened!” Tears were streaming down her face. Her throat burned from the lump in it. Her heart sank with the weight of Morgan’s hatred for her.

“Nothing happened, Y/N!” He yelled as he stepped closer to her. “You just up and left!”

“Damn it, Morgan, I was in love! What was I supposed to do?” That grabbed the attention of the others. “You might not have known it, but… but, me and Hotch had just broken up, and I couldn’t be around him anymore. I just couldn’t.” Her sobs racked her body as she finally admitted what she couldn’t those two years ago. Morgan seemed to finally understand. And Hotch? Hotch just stood there, staring at her with the usual expression which occupies his face.

She hated it. She hated the pitiful stares from the team. She hated the way she cracked under the pressure. She hated the way she cried in front of them. But, most of all, she hated how all those feelings she had buried deep down in a dungeon of sadness had broken out and swam up to the surface.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

After everything blew over, Y/N decided enough is enough. She was done trying to work with the BAU, so, she went to investigate some tips on her own.

Her interest was piqued at an anonymous tip that claimed that the terrorist group’s leader was living in a house a few blocks over. She knew she shouldn’t go over there alone, but she it wasn’t like she could ask the team to go with her, they practically hated her for everything that went down.

The house was dark when she arrived. She knocked on the front door multiple times, and, after no answer, she found it to be unlocked. Drawing her gun, she went in. It was clear. As she suspected, it was a dummy tip. She let out a frustrated sigh as she stepped out of the house. They were no closer to catching the bombers than they were when they started. Walking down the front porch steps, she heard a loud boom, and everything went black.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Bridges to Belonging

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Six Part Seven

Summary: Spencer and Y/N go on their date!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: suggestive conversation, self doubt, glasses Spencer, reader wears glasses/contacts but other than that i'm trying not to give her a physical description, let me know if i do put her in a narrow category!! i know i said she had curves at rossi's dinner party but to be objectively fair every human has at least one curve lmao

Word count: 5.4k

a/n: i am really enjoying writing these two :') life has been so boring since i graduated. if you're wondering how i bust these out so fast, one -- i don't have a life, and two - i wrote all of my essays the night before or the day they were due hahah

main masterlist

It was Saturday morning, and the air held a crispness that hinted at the excitement of the day ahead. Y/N stood before her wardrobe, contemplating her outfit for the day. She opted for something comfortable yet dressy enough for wherever Spencer might be taking her. The outfit was stylish but not overly formal, perfect for a day that could involve a fair amount of walking yet elegant enough for an unexpected dinner venue. She chose layers—a practical choice that allowed for adjustments depending on whether the day turned warm or cool.

As she dressed, a flutter of excitement danced in her stomach, mixed with a tinge of anxiety that she couldn't shake off. Y/N was excited, truly, but she couldn’t help tempering her anticipation with a cautious restraint. Her past experiences with relationships and dates had taught her to guard her heart. More than once, she'd been let down, left to pick up the pieces after what she thought were promising beginnings fizzled into disappointment. These memories, still vivid, cast a shadow over her current excitement, reminding her to brace for any outcome.

Approaching her dresser, Y/N paused, her hand hovering over her contact lens case. Usually, she preferred contacts for a more put together look, especially when putting extra effort into her appearance. However, remembering the discomfort of her contacts drying out during unexpected long hours, she opted for her glasses instead. She hadn't worn them the first time she met Spencer, and a small part of her worried about what he'd think. Would he notice? Would he care?

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, now framed by the sleek lines of her glasses. Taking a deep breath, she told her reflection, "Just enjoy the day, no matter what comes," trying to bolster her spirits. She wanted to listen to that optimistic voice in her head telling her everything would be fine, that Spencer was different, that this time it wouldn't end in disappointment. Yet, she prepared herself mentally for any scenario, unwilling to let her guard down completely.

Y/N grabbed her essentials—phone, wallet, a light scarf—and slipped them into her bag. As she took one last look in the mirror, she practiced her smile, the one she’d use to mask her nerves when she met Spencer. She hoped the day would prove her fears unfounded, that it would be a turning point from her past experiences. But she kept her expectations in check, a self-protective measure honed by past heartaches.

—

As the morning sunlight streamed through the blinds of his apartment, Spencer Reid found himself standing before the bathroom mirror, his usual nerves mingling with a specific concern today. He adjusted his glasses, the frames unfamiliar against the bridge of his nose, as he leaned closer to examine his reflection. His contacts had dried out, an unfortunate oversight, leaving him no choice but to wear his glasses for the date with Y/N.

He studied himself critically. The glasses were practical, a necessity for his work, but he rarely wore them anymore. There was something about them that made him feel exposed, more like the bookish nerd he had always been, and who he had been made fun of for being, and less like the confident man he hoped to appear as today. What if she doesn’t like them? The question nagged at him, adding an extra layer of anxiety to his already jittery state.

Spencer took a deep breath, trying to center himself. He remembered reading that people often perceive glasses as a sign of intelligence and reliability, traits he hoped Y/N would appreciate. Still, he couldn't help but worry that perhaps she might prefer him without them, or that they might alter the way she saw him—literally and metaphorically.

As he turned away from the mirror, he made his way to his bedroom to choose his outfit. He opted for a smart-casual ensemble that felt comfortable yet presentable: a crisp button-down shirt paired with a well-fitted blazer, and his best jeans. The glasses, he decided, would just have to become part of his look for the day.

With his outfit sorted, Spencer paced his living room, every potential topic of conversation he had prepared buzzing through his mind. His thoughts were filled with bits of trivia about the latest exhibits at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, hoping these would spark engaging discussions between him and Y/N. He rehearsed some points in his head, mapping out how he might transition from discussing ancient artifacts to more personal subjects, like her interests and hobbies.

However, as much as he prepared, his thoughts kept drifting back to his glasses. He paused in his pacing, catching his reflection in the window. The morning light cast a soft glow that somehow made the glasses seem less obtrusive, more a part of him. "Maybe it's not so bad," Spencer muttered to himself, adjusting to his reflection.

He grabbed his notebook from the coffee table, a little ritual that always helped calm his nerves. Scribbling down some last-minute notes about things he wanted to remember—like asking Y/N about her recent projects and ensuring to mention a little-known fact about an art piece he thought she'd appreciate—helped him feel more in control.

Yet, beneath the surface of his meticulous preparations, there was an undercurrent of excitement. This wasn't just any date; it was a date with Y/N, someone who had sparked a level of interest in him that was rare and invigorating. The glasses, he realized, were just a minor detail in the grand scheme of things. What mattered was the connection they might deepen today.

Finally ready, Spencer took one last look around his apartment to ensure everything was in order before leaving. He grabbed his keys and his jacket, pushed up his glasses with a newfound sense of acceptance, and headed out the door. Today, he decided he would focus on the possibilities, not the insecurities. After all, if their connection was genuine, Y/N would see beyond the glasses to the person behind them. And perhaps, in those museum halls filled with timeless artifacts, they could find something just as enduring between them.

—

Y/N arrived at the coffee shop Spencer had texted her about, her heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and nerves. She spotted Spencer already there, waiting for her by the window, a steaming cup in front of him. He looked up as the bell above the door jingled, his face lighting up when he saw her. Despite her nervousness, Y/N felt a warm flutter in her chest at the sight of his welcoming smile.

"Hey, Y/N, over here!" Spencer called out softly, waving her over.

She walked towards him, her steps hesitant but eager. "Hey, Spencer," she greeted, her voice slightly quivering. As she sat down, she noticed his glasses and couldn't help but smile. "I like your glasses," she said, touching the frame of her own as if to point out the coincidence.

Spencer chuckled, a blush creeping up his cheeks. "Thanks, I usually wear contacts, but, you know, they dried out."

"Same here," Y/N admitted, feeling a connection over their shared minor dilemma. "It’s a glasses kind of day, I guess."

Internally, Y/N felt a surge of relief. Seeing Spencer in his glasses, looking unexpectedly handsome, eased her worries about her own appearance. My god, I didn’t think he could get anymore attractive, she thought, her initial anxiety about her own glasses fading away and being replaced with a warmth that couldn’t be helped by removing her scarf. Maybe all of her clothes. 

Spencer felt a similar relief, his earlier concerns about his glasses dissolving as he saw Y/N's reaction. She doesn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, she looks adorable in hers. Maybe this isn’t such a big deal after all, he reassured himself. His thoughts remained much more pure than Y/N’s, although he couldn’t help but think about how if he tried to kiss her today their glasses would clink together. The thought made a blush rise up his neck to his cheeks. 

There was a brief pause, an almost knowing silence, before Spencer leaned forward, his eyes bright with excitement. "So, I have something planned for us today. I hope you'll like it. We’re going to the Met. There’s a few exhibits I think you’d really enjoy, and then I thought we could grab dinner at a nice place nearby. How does that sound?"

Y/N's eyes widened, her earlier anxieties melting away into genuine excitement. "That sounds amazing, Spencer. I’ve always wanted to go to the Met! And dinner sounds perfect," she replied, her nervousness turning into anticipation.

Spencer seemed relieved by her enthusiasm. "Great! I wasn’t sure what you’d think. I mean, it’s a bit of a train ride, but I thought it might be fun to spend the day in New York."

"It’s more than fun, it’s perfect," Y/N assured him, her smile sincere. "I can’t think of a better way to spend the day." And she meant it, they could talk on the train ride there and back, maybe hold hands, brush thighs. It’s in the little things. 

They decided to take their coffee to go, stepping out together towards the train station. As they walked, the initial awkwardness began to fade. Spencer’s eyes occasionally met Y/N’s, each glance accompanied by a shy smile. "I’m really glad you’re here with me," Spencer confessed, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone.

"Me too," Y/N responded, her heart skipping a beat. "I’ve been looking forward to this all week."

Their conversation drifted to lighter topics, each shared laugh bringing them a little closer, building a bridge over their initial anxieties. As they boarded the train, Y/N felt a newfound optimism. Today was not just another date; it was the beginning of something special, she could feel it. And as they settled into their seats, watching the cityscape start to pass by, she believed, for the first time in a long time, that her hopes were well placed.

As the train clattered along the tracks toward New York, Y/N and Spencer found themselves in the comfortable cocoon of their shared booth. The cityscape blurred past, creating a serene backdrop for their burgeoning connection.

"So, Spencer," Y/N began, leaning forward with a playful glint in her eyes, "tell me about the most bizarre case you've ever worked on. I promise I can handle it."

Spencer chuckled, a blush already tinting his cheeks. "Well, there was this one time we dealt with a suspect who believed he was a 21st-century vampire..." As he recounted the peculiarities of the case, Y/N listened intently, occasionally brushing her foot against his under the table, sending a jolt through him each time. 

(Pretend this case happened earlier)

"Vampires, huh? Are you sure you aren't one?" Y/N teased, her tone light but suggestive. "You do have a certain... nocturnal charm."

Spencer's laugh was nervous, delighted. She's incredible, he thought. So bold and funny. It's utterly disarming. "I assure you, I'm not a vampire. Just a regular guy who happens to have naturally sunken eyes."

Y/N smiled and giggled, pleased with his playful response. "Good to know. I prefer my dates to be sunlight-friendly. Speaking of which, how do you usually spend your days off when you're not chasing fictional vampires or real criminals?"

Spencer found himself more relaxed as he shared more about his love for reading and rewatching sci-fi movies and TV. Y/N seemed genuinely interested, her responses peppered with witty remarks that kept him on his toes.

"Reading, huh? I should have guessed," she said, taking a sip of her coffee. "Next you'll be telling me you have a cat named Schrödinger."

"No cat," Spencer admitted, grinning. "But I wouldn't mind one. As long as it doesn't interfere with my reading."

Their conversation flowed effortlessly from books to favorite ways to spend a rainy day, each topic drawing them closer. Y/N's confidence and teasing made Spencer's heart race, but he found himself enjoying the thrill of it. She’s so refreshing, exciting even. I haven't felt this engaged in a long time.

As the train rolled closer to their destination, Spencer found himself wishing the ride wouldn't end. Y/N had the rare ability to make him blush and laugh in equal measure, a combination he found intoxicating.

"So, Spencer," Y/N leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper as the train noise crescendoed around them. "If today goes well... would you consider making our next date a night at the opera? I hear it's quite the experience."

Spencer's eyes widened, both at the suggestion and her proximity. "I'd like that," he managed to say, his voice steady despite the butterflies in his stomach. "I'd like that very much."

Y/N smiled, her gaze lingering on his for a moment longer than necessary before she leaned back in her seat, satisfied with his response. Spencer watched her, a smile tugging at his lips, his earlier nerves replaced by anticipation and hope. She’s already wanting another date? I’m still hoping I can work up the courage to kiss her, he thought as the skyline of New York City came into view.

As they stepped into the grandeur of The Metropolitan Museum of Art, the vast spaces filled with centuries of art and history, Y/N's excitement was palpable. Her eyes sparkled with each new room they entered, each piece they observed. Spencer, usually reserved, found himself drawn out by her enthusiasm, his voice animated as he shared insights and facts about the artworks around them.

They wandered through the exhibit "The Philippe de Montebello Years: Curators Celebrate Three Decades of Acquisitions," where Y/N's favorite pieces resided. Her gaze lingered on each work, genuinely appreciating the artistry and the stories Spencer told her about the origins and significance of each piece.

"Did you know this particular painting was considered lost for almost two centuries before it was found in a small, forgotten chapel in Italy?" Spencer pointed to an intricate Renaissance painting, its colors vibrant even after all these years.

Y/N listened intently, her interest deepening with each fact. "I had no idea," she responded, her tone full of genuine fascination. "You know so much about all of this, Spencer. It's incredibly... exciting."

Spencer, caught off guard by her candid compliment, blushed deeply but couldn't suppress the grin that spread across his face. "Really?" he asked, his voice a mix of surprise and delight.

"Yes, really," Y/N affirmed, stepping closer to him. "Your brain is the sexiest thing about you, Spencer. The way you know all these things, the way you're so passionate about sharing them—it’s captivating."

Encouraged by her words, Spencer found himself sharing even more. They stopped in front of a medieval tapestry, its threads telling tales of battles and legends. As he explained the symbolism woven into the fabric, Y/N's admiration only grew. She watched him, not just listening but truly seeing him—someone who had finally found a receptive audience for his wealth of knowledge.

Spencer felt a thrill unlike any other. For so long, he had been used to people tuning out his ramblings, to seeing eyes glaze over halfway through his explanations. But with Y/N, it was different. She hung on his every word, her curiosity feeding his own, her enthusiasm fueling a confidence he rarely felt in social settings.

As they moved through the museum, their conversation flowed effortlessly from art to personal anecdotes, each story Spencer shared bringing a new sparkle to Y/N's eyes. He talked about his mother, his childhood filled with books instead of playdates, and she listened, understanding and nodding, sharing bits of her own life in return.

The day at the Met became more than just a date; it was a revelation for both. For Y/N, it was discovering that someone could match her enthusiasm for learning and experiencing new things. For Spencer, it was the joy of finding someone who not only appreciated his intellect but was genuinely excited by it.

As the museum began to close, and they slowly made their way out, neither of them wanted the day to end. They were lost in a bubble where art and intellect intertwined, where every fact shared was a thread pulling them closer together.

As Spencer and Y/N stepped out of The Metropolitan Museum of Art, the energy of New York City enveloped them once again. The streets buzzed with the usual symphony of honking cars, chattering pedestrians, and the distant siren of an emergency vehicle. Spencer turned to Y/N, a thoughtful look on his face.

“There’s a restaurant not too far from here where the team and I ate after wrapping up a case once,” he suggested. “It’s really good, not too fancy but the food is excellent. It might be a bit of a walk, though, so we could grab a cab if you’re tired from all the museum walking.”

Y/N, reveling in the connection they had fostered throughout the day, shook her head with a smile. “I don’t mind the walk, actually. It’s a beautiful evening, and I’m enjoying spending time with you. Let’s walk.”

Spencer nodded, visibly pleased by her eagerness to extend their time together. They started down the sidewalk, navigating through the bustling crowd. The city seemed to glow with a warm, golden light as the sun began to set, casting long shadows on the pavement.

As they were walking, the crowd around them thickened momentarily as people hurried to cross the street before the light changed. In the midst of this, a passerby stumbled a bit too close to Y/N, jostling her slightly. Instantly, Spencer’s protective instincts kicked in. He placed his hand on her lower back, gently pulling her closer to his side, away from the rush of the crowd.

The contact sent an unexpected jolt through Y/N, a spark that felt electric. Surprised and thrilled by the sensation, she instinctively reached for his bicep, feeling the solid muscle under her hand, and linked her other arm around his. The gesture was intimate, natural, and it seemed to anchor them both amidst the sea of people.

Spencer, who was so often touch-starved and reserved in his physical interactions, felt a warm thrill at her touch. His heart raced slightly, a pleasant buzz of excitement coursing through him. The feeling of her hand on his arm, her body close to his, was unexpectedly comforting and exhilarating. It was a simple gesture, but to Spencer, it felt significant, a physical affirmation of the connection they’d been building all day.

As they walked on, navigating the streets of New York toward the restaurant, Spencer felt a sense of contentment wash over him. Y/N’s presence at his side, the way she fit naturally into his space, made the city around them fade into a soft background. He found himself hoping that the evening would stretch on, reluctant to let go of the moment.

The walk to the restaurant became a leisurely stroll, each step taking them deeper into a shared comfort. They talked easily, laughter mingling with the city sounds, the initial spark at their contact evolving into a steady, warm glow. By the time they reached the restaurant, Spencer and Y/N were closer than ever, both physically and emotionally, eager to continue their evening together.

At the restaurant, the atmosphere was imbued with a sense of romance and intimacy, exactly the kind of place Spencer remembered and hoped would impress Y/N. The lighting was low and warm, casting soft shadows around the room and illuminating the tables with a gentle glow from the candles placed on each one. These candles, unscented and subtle, added a touch of elegance without overwhelming the senses. In the background, a live band played soft, sensual music, their melodies weaving through the conversations and enhancing the romantic vibe of the evening.

They were seated in an intimate curved booth that offered both privacy and comfort, allowing them to share each other's space effortlessly. It was cozy but spacious enough to not feel crowded, perfect for leaning in close and sharing quiet conversations.

Following the waiter's prompt, both Spencer and Y/N opted for red wine, a decision made easier by the fact that neither of them needed to drive back. As they sipped their wine, the rich, bold flavors seemed to deepen the already warm atmosphere, loosening inhibitions slightly.

Y/N, feeling the effects of the wine which always tended to make her feel a bit more daring, turned her full attention to Spencer. She smiled at him, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous light. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” she began in a slightly lower, flirtatious tone, “about how someone as smart as you, with all those facts in his head, must have some hidden talents I’ve yet to discover.”

Spencer, usually more reserved, felt a rush of boldness fueled by the wine and the undeniable chemistry between them. He returned her smile with one of his own, this one tinged with a newfound confidence. “Well, I might have a few surprises left,” he replied, his voice deeper than usual. “But I’m more interested in exploring what makes you... you. Besides, I find myself wanting to know all about your talents, hidden or otherwise.”

Y/N was pleasantly surprised by his reciprocation, the boldness of his words matching her own flirtatious energy. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to match the intimacy of their booth. “Is that so? Well, I might just have to reveal a few secrets tonight,” she teased, her hand reaching under the table to lightly touch his leg.

The contact sent a thrill through Spencer, and he didn’t pull away. Instead, he welcomed it, letting her hand linger on him. The conversation shifted seamlessly from playful banter to deeper, more personal topics. They talked about their hopes, their fears, and the excitement of new experiences. Spencer found himself opening up more than he usually would, driven by the genuine interest Y/N showed in every word he said.

As the evening progressed, their connection deepened, bolstered by the wine and the enchanting setting. The music from the live band seemed to wrap around them, a soundtrack to the unfolding intimacy. Laughter and shared confidences filled their booth, the rest of the world fading into a distant murmur. For both Spencer and Y/N, the night was shaping up to be more enchanting than they had anticipated, each moment pulling them closer into a mutual fascination that promised only to grow.

As the train whisked them back towards home, the rhythm of the rails seemed to echo the residual buzz of the evening’s wine. Both Spencer and Y/N choose seats next to each other this time, their shoulders occasionally brushing in a comfortable, familiar manner. The closeness felt natural after the evening they had shared. They were both visibly tired, the excitement of the day and the indulgence in wine having drawn a gentle fatigue from them.

Despite the weariness, their conversation continued to flow smoothly, albeit with a quieter, more reflective tone than before. They leaned into each other slightly, the warmth between them palpable in the cool air of the train compartment.

“So, you’re a Doctor Who fan too?” Spencer asked, a hint of surprise and delight coloring his voice as they discovered yet another common interest.

“Yes, absolutely,” Y/N responded with a smile, her eyes lighting up. “I’ve been hooked since I was a kid. There’s just something about the Doctor’s adventures through time and space that’s captivating.”

Spencer nodded enthusiastically, his own fondness for the show sparking further attraction towards her. “I totally agree. It’s the blend of science fiction and deep moral questions that gets me. Plus, the Doctor is a great character—always changing, yet fundamentally the same.”

Their shared enthusiasm for the show spun off into a deeper discussion about their favorite episodes and Doctors, each reference pulling them closer in mutual geekdom. It was during this exchange that Spencer found himself making a spontaneous invitation, surprising even himself with his forwardness.

“You know, if you’re up for it, maybe you could come over sometime and we could watch a few episodes together? I have a pretty decent setup for a Doctor Who marathon,” Spencer suggested, his voice a mix of casual and hopeful.

Y/N’s smile broadened, and she nodded, her heart warmed by the invitation. “I’d love that. It sounds like a perfect plan.”

The ease with which they continued to talk about everything from favorite books to music showed how compatible they were, not just on a surface level but in deeper, more meaningful ways. Their laughter and shared looks filled the space around them, creating an intimate bubble even in the public setting of the train.

As the train neared their destination, both Spencer and Y/N felt a reluctance for the night to end—a sign of the significant connection they had forged. They exchanged sleepy smiles and soft words as the city lights began to grow brighter outside the train windows.

By the time the train pulled into the station, Spencer felt a sense of anticipation for their next meeting. Having Y/N in his apartment, a space he had never shared with a romantic interest before, felt like a big step, but it was one he was now eagerly looking forward to. The night had started as a hopeful date and had blossomed into the beginning of something truly special. As they stepped off the train, their hands found each other almost instinctively, a fitting end to a perfect day and the promise of more to come.

After exiting the train station, Spencer insisted on walking Y/N back to her apartment, citing crime statistics that painted a stark picture of the risks women faced when walking alone at night. Though the mood was light and jovial from their shared experiences of the day, his protective nature was evident, and Y/N appreciated his concern. 

The walk to her apartment was filled with light conversation and reflective pauses, both savoring the last few moments together. The city at night provided a beautifully lit backdrop, with street lamps casting soft glows on the sidewalks and the distant sounds of the city nightlife buzzing around them. Their fingers slotted together providing enough warmth to keep fires blazing within them both.

Upon reaching her apartment building, a comfortable silence fell over them as they stood at her doorstep, reluctant to end the evening. "Thank you, Spencer," Y/N said, her voice warm and sincere. "Today was amazing. Truly."

Spencer, his hands now shoved awkwardly into his pockets, nodded, his face showing a mixture of happiness and the usual nervousness that came when he was unsure of what to do next. "I had a great time too, Y/N. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thank you for going with me."

Sensing his apprehension and wanting to ease his nerves, Y/N stepped closer and, on an impulse, kissed his cheek gently. "Goodnight, Spencer," she smiled, her eyes holding his gaze for a moment longer than necessary.

Spencer's face turned a deeper shade of red, his mouth gaping not unlike a fish before he managed a bashful, "Goodnight, Y/N." As she turned to enter her building, Spencer stood rooted to the spot for a few seconds, a hand reflexively touching the spot on his cheek where her lips had been.

He finally uprooted his feet and hailed a cab to take him home, his mind replaying every moment of the day and the evening, but especially that last, unexpected kiss on his cheek. He was absolutely buzzing with a mix of elation and disbelief. As the city lights passed by the cab's window, he couldn't keep the grin off his face, feeling an excitement he hadn't known in a long time.

Meanwhile, Y/N, after closing the door to her apartment, immediately dialed her mom. The time difference meant it was still early where her mom lived, and she knew she’d be awake. As soon as her mom answered, Y/N gushed, "Mom, I had the best date tonight. You remember I told you about Spencer from the FBI? It was with him."

Her mom's voice, hilarious and encouraging, came through the phone. "Tell me about it! But leave out the gory details."

“Mom!” Y/N whined petulantly but did as she asked anyway—she recounted every detail from the Met visit to the candlelit dinner and the casual yet intimate conversations they had shared. She described how considerate Spencer had been, walking her home and the protective reasons behind it, and she didn’t leave out the part about the kiss on the cheek that had left her feeling a pleasant flutter in her stomach.

"Mom, he’s different, really thoughtful and so smart. I think this could be something special," Y/N admitted, her voice a mixture of hope and a bit of wonder.

Her mom's reply was full of the usual maternal optimism and caution, "Just take it one step at a time. But he sounds wonderful. I’m happy for you."

Hanging up the phone, Y/N felt a contentment settle over her. The night had been perfect, and now, sharing it had made it feel even more real. As she got ready for bed, the memories of the evening played back in her mind, each one a promise of potential tomorrows.

— 

Sunday morning came too early for Y/N, her sleep interrupted by a loud banging on her apartment door. Disoriented and a bit alarmed, she pulled herself from the warmth of her bed, wondering who could be at her door at such an early hour. She wasn't expecting anyone, and the unexpected noise had her heart racing slightly as she approached the door.

Living in the city had taught Y/N to be cautious, but she also knew that only a select few knew her address—now Spencer and the Hotchners. With a mix of confusion and caution, she tiptoed to the door and peered through the peephole.

To her surprise and immediate relief, it was Penelope Garcia standing outside, her bright and colorful attire unmistakable even through the distorted view of the peephole. Penelope was holding a large carrier with what looked like coffee and pastries—a peace offering or perhaps a bribe for an early morning intrusion.

Y/N opened the door, her expression a mix of amusement and mock annoyance. "Penelope, what are you doing here this early?" she asked, though her tone was light and welcoming.

Penelope's face lit up with an excited grin, and she practically bounced on the spot. "Girl talk time! I brought reinforcements," she said, lifting the carrier slightly to emphasize the coffee and pastries. "I may or may not have used my magical database skills to find your address. I couldn't wait to hear all about your date with Spencer!"

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head as she stepped aside to let Penelope into her apartment. "You're impossible," she said fondly. "But since you come bearing caffeine and carbs, I suppose I can forgive you."

Once inside, Penelope set the treats on the kitchen counter and turned to Y/N with wide, expectant eyes. "So? Tell me everything! Was it as magical as you hoped? Give me all the details!"

As Y/N poured them both coffee, she started recounting the events of the previous evening—from the walk through the Met to the candlelit dinner and the charming walk home. Penelope listened intently, occasionally interjecting with excited squeals or empathetic nods.

Y/N shared how comfortable she felt with Spencer, how their conversations flowed naturally, and how he made her laugh. She even blushed a bit when mentioning the protective gesture he made and the cheek kiss that ended the night.

Penelope was thrilled with every detail, her enthusiasm making Y/N relive the joy of the date all over again. "Spencer really likes you, you know," Penelope said with a knowing smile. "He even texted me because he had to tell someone how great the date went."

Hearing this, Y/N felt a warmth spread through her, her smile broadening. That man is just too sweet, I want to eat him up. 

[ficsofabotchedmind]

What is lost, will always be found

Summary? No.

Warnings? Yes, but only a little; hurt/comfort, reader needing their moms, depression, feelings of abandonment, this was self indulgent.

Alex x Olivia x their kid!Reader

———————————————————————————

Things had been going ok, but at the same time things were also going to shit. 

Y/n had been exhausted every day, putting on a mask of happiness, lying their way through everything. 

They sighed and thought as they walked to Olivia’s door, “Why did I agree to this dinner with mom and Noah? All I want to do is go home, curl up and cry. Although I should be grateful, at least they remember me and include me.” 

Knocking and hearing a ‘hold on!’ coming from inside, Y/n took one last shuttering breath and prepared the mask that they wore so well. 

The door swung open and there stood Olivia, Y/n’s adopted mother and one of the only people to genuinely love and accept them, and with a wide smile, “Sweet baby come here! I’m glad you could make it, come in!” 

As soon as they entered a smaller body collided with their own, looking down they could see a head of unruly curls and a wide smile, “Y/n! I missed you!” 

For the first time in days, the smile on their face became real, “I missed you too, Bud! How was your day at school?” 

Noah grinned even harder and pulled back, “It was good! We did an art project in class; I get to bring it home Monday!” 

Olivia smiled as she watched the interaction between her two children and walked to where Alex was, “They don’t even notice you yet, let’s see how long this will continue before you’re noticed.” 

Alex laughed quietly, “Deal, but I’m sure Noah can keep them busy for a while.” 

Liv giggled quietly and looked to Alex, “Thank you for coming back, Alex. Speaking of, have you given any thought to- “ 

Alex gave Olivia a look, “I still have my license, I never lost them but Olivia, if I do come back, keep Elliot away from me. Got it?” 

Liv pulled a face, somewhere between shock and humor from the looks of it, but said, “I will try my best, but you know we work cases with Organized Crime.” 

Alex sighed and was about to grumble but the timer went off, it was time to eat. 

Olivia and Alex bought everything to the table before Liv called everyone to eat, “Alright you two, let’s go. Y/n, can you hand me the glasses please?” 

Y/n smiled but as they turned around, their jaw fell open and there stood Alex Cabot in the flesh wearing a wide grin. 

Y/n felt a tear slip down their cheek and as they dove into Alex’s arms, they spoke softly, “Mama! Wha-what are you doing here?” 

Alex smiled and held them tight, “I’m coming home, I got sick of Florida, and I wanted to be near some of my favorite people, so I decided to move back home.” 

Y/n pulled back with tears and a certain look in their eye but before Alex could ask them what was wrong, Y/n pulled away completely and said, “Let’s eat!” 

Alex watched them carefully and then turned to make eye contact with Olivia confirming if she saw it as well and once Alex saw the look, they knew something was going on and now both women were suspicious. 

They would leave it alone until later, for now it was time to have some family bonding. 

Talking amongst each other and going about how their days were and what they all did, dinner quickly ended. 

Liv smiled at Noah and told him it was bedtime and to say goodnight to everyone but of course he didn’t want to go to bed yet but with one look from his older sibling, he compiled and told everyone goodnight. 

Liv gave Alex a look that told her to get started and she’d be back soon, and Alex complied, “So let’s go ahead and dive in, no bullshitting. How are you really, sweetheart?” 

Y/n faltered slightly with the dish in their hand, “I-uh I’m fine, why?” 

Alex sighed and put everything down, “Listen to me, I know I haven’t been here like I should have for quite a few years but I’m coming back and I’m going to be here and around you quite a lot. So, tell me now and I won’t have to use my lawyer skills on you.” 

Y/n took a shaky breath, trying to speak the truth but the burning lump in their throat wouldn’t cooperate and all that came out was a broken sob, quickly covering their mouth and turning into the arms that came around them, they let all the pain out. 

Alex held Y/n tightly, one hand on the back of their head and the other rubbing their back, “Let it out, little bear. It’s ok, I’m here. It’s ok.” 

Y/n cried hard into Alex’s shoulder, holding themselves close to her and let out a few broken words, “I’m so tired, mama. It’s so fucking hard.” 

Olivia heard those words as she came around the corner and immediately wrapped her arms around the two and held them, letting a few tears at the obvious pain their little bear was in. 

After a while Y/n pulled back, Alex and Liv had more questions but kept quiet and led them into the living room. 

After a while longer, Liv spoke but kept a tight grip on Y/n’s hand, “What’s going on, sweetheart? Tell us, please.” 

As a hand went carding through Y/n’s hair, they broke again and spilled it all, “When is it going to be me? Everyone is leaving me behind, moms! All that happens in this life for me is I help people, but when it comes to getting help in return, I get ‘I’m sorry, I’m busy’! When am I going to be placed first!? When am I going to get helped in return!? When is it going to be ME?” 

Alex and Olivia both felt tears streaming down their faces at the obvious pain and turmoil in Y/n’s voice, they could see clearly in their body language and their face how tired they were. 

Olivia immediately drew her eldest in for a hug, squeezing them tight, cradling them. Alex immediately came in behind and wrapped herself around the two, holding both Olivia and Y/n, they cried with their child. 

While Alex wasn’t legally Y/n’s other mother, she sure as hell thought of Y/n as her child as well and damnit, she was going to help bring the light back to their eyes. 

Sitting on the couch for quite a while letting Y/n get some of their pain out, Olivia spoke, “Listen to me, we may not be your friends or your coworkers, but we are your mothers and as long as we are here, we will never forget you. Little bear, neither of us care what time it is, where we are, what we are doing, come and find us and we will be there. Ok?” 

Alex made a noise of agreement, placed a soft kiss upon the back of Y/n’s and said, “Listen to your mom, she’s a wise woman. We’re here, sweetheart. We are here, we always will be.” 

Y/n made a noise of acknowledgment and nodded against Olivia, and they said in a broken voice, “Thank you, please never leave me.” 

Alex squeezed harder and said, “Never, we will fight to be here by your side for the rest of our lives. You are our child, we will never forget, never leave, and will always make time for you.” 

They continued to stay in their little pile they made for a couple more hours, keeping their child sandwiched between them and cocooned in safety. 

With Y/n drifting to sleep, the last thing they heard and felt was Olivia’s voice and Alex squeezing tightly, “No matter how far you roam, we will always find you. What is lost, will always be found.” 

Alex chimed in, “If we even let you out of our sight, you are our baby, and we swore to protect you. We love you, Y/n. Please never forget.” 

Drifting to sleep within the warmth and safety of their mom’s arms, Y/n was finally at peace. 

——————————————————————————— 

Bonus: The next morning  

Y/n was groggy when they awoke, rubbing their eyes, raising up to find where the voices were coming from, they spotted their mothers locked in an embrace and made a slight face before speaking and scaring both women, “Ew but fucking finally, it’s about damn time and I would continue but I want more sleep, just don’t be too loud if you have sex. Two impressionable children in the apartment.” 

Both women gaped at Y/n and shook their heads while Y/n fell back asleep with a soft smile on their face and a soft huff of a laugh escaping their lips and thinking as they drifted even farther into sleep, “Fucking finally, it only took them 24 years.” 

[moralesmilesanhour]

teamwork (makes the dream work...?) pt. 4

Summary:

wc: 1k+

A/N: um hii sorry for updating a lil late 😅 but I got really into writing this esp at the end. We're almost done! As always feel free to comment your thoughts and reactions, or send them to my inbox! Thanks for reading :)

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Song: It's Only a Paper Moon - Ella Fitzgerald (totally optional to listen while you read, if you like that sort of thing)

The small plastic bag carrying your lunch swung from your wrist as you pushed the door to the counselor’s office open.

"Thanks again for helping me organize around here," said the woman standing beside you.

"No problem, Ms. Keene!"

By the time you stepped inside, Miles was already sitting at the round table in the middle of the room.

The boy spoke first as soon as your eyes met.

"Hey," he greeted you flatly. His stare wasn't too far off from the look of curiosity you get from a stray cat that isn't certain whether you're trying to give it food or not; neither malicious nor particularly excited.

You tilted your head in surprise.

"Hey, you in trouble or something?"

Miles shook his head.

"Ms. Keene lets me have lunch in here."

"You two know each other?" The tall, dark-skinned woman asked. Though she had asked you both, she beamed at Miles as she spoke. He glanced back and forth between you and the woman.

"Kinda."

She clasped her manicured hands together. 

"I'm glad you're starting to make friends again. That's progress. Enjoy your lunch," Ms. Keene said as she spun on her heel to leave, her short bob cut bouncing along with her.

"And put on those glasses!"

Miles rolled his eyes as the door shut with a click.

"Everybody's on your case about these glasses, dude. Just put 'em on," you said as you sat down next to him.

"Don't need 'em."

"Okay," you pointed to the analog clock hanging directly across from him, "tell me what time it is without using your phone."

He scoffed.

"Easy, it's…"

The boy stood, and squinted so hard that his nose scrunched. He heard you laughing through your nose behind him after a minute and soon dropped back down to his seat, hands raised in resignation.

"Alright, you got me. But who's looking at the damn clock all day?"

"Sitting in the back of the classroom with no glasses on is nuts, Miles. What's so bad about them?”

Miles pouted in indignation, "They make me look like Steve Urkel.”

“They can’t be that bad,” you said, grabbing the case from next to him and prying it open. “Lemme see.”

“Nope.”

“Just this once!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Please?”

The boy sighed, then took the glasses from you with a wary expression. He looked at them like they were a moldy piece of bread before finally putting them on.

“Happy?”

Neon green color aside, the glasses were truly not that bad. The thick lenses framed his face and made him look younger. The boy blinked, awaiting your verdict.

“Awww, you look like a little nerd!”

“Don't start with that,” Miles shook his head, a grin spreading across his face in spite of himself. He swiped them off of his face and took the case from you.

“It’s not a bad thing,” you said over a bite of your sandwich, “you look cute in them.”

He froze, a hand instinctively flying up to scratch the nape of his neck before turning his gaze in the other direction. You could still see the impression of his dimples peeking out from the side.

“Don’t get a big head over it, now,” you elbowed him gently. He quickly changed the subject.

“I’m finna tell Ms. Keene that you’re distracting me.”

Miles was now hunched over his notebook again. He had his homework sheet covering one page, but you could tell he was sketching. When you tried to look over his shoulder, he frantically shut it closed.

“Can you not be nosy for five minutes?”

“My fault, bro, damn.”

Miles continued to draw quietly for almost the entirety of calculus, never once allowing you to peek at it. He didn’t pause until you lightly tapped his arm.

The boy flinched at the sudden contact, but you had his attention.

“I’m stuck on this problem you wrote, just this one. Help me out?”

He tapped his pen lightly on the desk in consideration. Finally, he shrugged, closing the notebook and sliding it to the side.

“Sure.”

You placed the worksheet between you and Miles, where your desks met.

“It’s this one. I’m not getting the solution you got,” you explained, placing a finger on the offending equation. 

Miles peered closely at it. His braids nearly brushed the desk as his head moved.

“You gettin’ it wrong because you forgot to distribute here,” he pointed. “Everything has to distribute.”

You nodded as the gears in your head got to turning again. “Thanks.”

-

“Ma!” Miles whined as he took his plate of yellow rice and peas from the table.

“I’m just saying! La chica es muy linda, sigues mirándola. Don’t do anything crazy up there, understand?”

You were far from fluent, but the first bit of the brown woman’s sentence made a shy smile grace your features.

“This looks so good, thanks Mrs. Morales.” you said as you grabbed your own plate, carefully carrying it with both hands. 

“No problem, baby,” the woman replied, gently smacking the back of her son’s head before sending you both upstairs. “Same time as usual.”

“Your mom’s nice,” you remarked once you entered Miles’ room.

“You just sayin’ that ‘cuz she gassed your head up,” Miles laughed.

“Whatever. I’m ‘bout to fuck this plate up!”

“Not on my bed, I hope.”

The boy gave you a warning glance.

“Relax, you see me sitting?” 

You blew on a spoonful of rice before trying it, and the flavor nearly made your eyes pop out of your skull.

“Your momma went crazy in that kitchen.”

“M-hm,” was all Miles could reply as he shoveled the rice into his mouth, already halfway through the plate.

Soon both of your plates had been scraped clean, and you started working after taking the dirty dishes downstairs to wash. All three calculus problems had been completed, but a small squabble broke out over the appearance of the slideshow that Miles had put together.

“It looks so boring,” you complained. “At least make the background a different color–”

“Uh-unh, you gon’ make it hard as fuck to read. I say we keep it simple,” the boy swatted your hand away from the keyboard.

“Make the title dark magenta, and you got a deal.”

He sighed, “Fine. It’s legible, I guess.”

It was still only 7:30 by the time the project was finished, and you didn’t feel like leaving behind the warmth of Miles’ home just yet.

“Can you play some music?” 

Miles spun around in his swivel chair.

“What kind?”

“I dunno, whatever you listen to,” you tilted your head at him quizzically. “What do you listen to?”

“Um,” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small Bluetooth speaker, setting it on his desk. “Just…whatever I feel like. Lots of stuff.”

He carefully laid down on his bed next to you, making sure to maintain at least a few inches of distance.

Old jazz music began to float through the air.

“You like Ella?”

“Yeah,” he said at a near-whisper. “...I do now. Forgot what this song was called.”

“‘It’s Only A Paper Moon,’” you answered. “From ‘The War Years’. Beautiful record.”

Miles snuck a glance at the side of your face while you stared up at the ceiling. He liked the dreamy, far-off way you’d said the title.

“You sound old as fuck right now,” he commented. “Record…”

This made you burst into laughter, and Miles decided that he didn’t mind that sound, either.

“My momma always calls ‘em ‘records’, so I picked up the habit.”

“I like how you talk.”

You finally turned your head and met the boy’s eyes. The small grin playing on his face wasn’t a teasing one.

“‘How I talk?’”

“When you’re not grilling me with questions like a cop? Yeah, it’s nice.”

Not sure what to do with this new information, you turn your gaze back up to the ceiling.

“You’re a strange one, Miles,” was all you could say.

There was a brief pause before you asked,“What did you mean by ‘now’?”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “What’d I say about complete sentences?”

“Sorry,” you rolled your eyes. “You said you liked this song now, you didn’t like it before?”

He was silent for a good, long, ten seconds before answering.

“I used to not be super into jazz. Dad used to play that shit on the radio, driving me to school. I hated having to hear it the entire ride,” he laughed. “I know he’s somewhere making fun of my ass now.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, wondering if you should offer comforting words, or your condolences. Knowing Miles – at least a little – you decided against it.

“I used to listen to Ella songs when the house got too loud, or while I was eating lunch.”

“They let you listen to music down there?”

“Nah, I was eating upstairs with the English teacher after she saw me sitting by myself.”

“You still sit by yourself?”

Shaking your head, you answered, “I usually sit with Tianna, she’s usually my calc partner. This week’s kind of an exception.”

“So if it wasn’t for her, I woulda finished this shit three days ago,” he joked.

You placed your hand over your heart and gasped dramatically. “You mean you don’t enjoy being graced by my presence?”

“Hm,” Miles conceded, “I enjoy it a little.”

“Is this your way of saying we besties now?”

“Whoah, never mind. You killed the moment.”

“That was a moment?”

“Nope, forget everything I just said.”

-

Fun trivia since we're almost at the end: what book do you think Miles and the MC are reading in English class? There's no prize for answering but i'll be really excited about it. Thanks again for reading!

Taglist:

@thisaccountisrandomsstuff

@sizeablysized

@itsnotino

@asteria33

@kissmxcheek

@urmotherswhor3

@mrs-morales

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[chiefdirector]

Remembering | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten

tw: some suicidal thoughts referenced (one sentence)

-----

“What do you know about your case worker, Kade Sullivan?” Grey said, still keeping his gaze on (Y/N) despite her looking away and back through the glass to watch Tim questioning Diaz. “We believe that he may have had some involvement into how Regina Diaz got to a position to leverage both you and the department.”

“Right. I never really saw Sullivan. He stayed away from me. I met him once, maybe twice. He likes to keep a professional distance.” She slowly answered. 

Grey lifted his coffee cup up and took a small sip. “You’re a good judge of character, (Y/N). Did anything seem off about him? I know it was a while back but anything helps.”

“He seemed a bit odd, nervous even. But I put it down to him being paranoid about the operation. I mean it can’t be easy for these caseworkers to not have consistent contact with their UC’s.”

“What do you mean? Did you not check in with him daily?”

“No.” (Y/N) said, looking down. Now that she said it out loud, it was strange that Kade never requested to check in with her and Williamson often. “He wanted weekly check-ups. He never said why though.”

“Is there anything else? At all because the more you can remember, the less leverage Regina will have to bargain with us.”

“I’m sorry, Wade. I really am. I can have a look through some of my journals from that time, I think Tim kept them.”

Grey nodded his head. “Please. I guess it’s now down to Tim.”

-----

“Hello Officer Bradford, I’m glad to see you back in here again after your break. You kept me waiting for longer than I had hoped.” Regina said, posed as a wall of confidence as she had done during every other talk with the detectives. “I found it rather rude.”

“Not my problem.” Tim retook his seat opposite her. He had stepped out when Regina had started to get irate with him, he needed her as calm and rational, well as rational as a drug queen-pin could be, before he could get anything viable from her. 

He remembered the day he had arrested her, how helpless and frightened she seemed. She was backed into a corner, but now she had a fighting chance and by God did she know it. “You wanted a deal. Let me say this one more time. Tell us about Kade Sullivan and I’m sure the District Attorney will be nicer to you.”

Regina smirked. “No. I have something you want. So I lay out the terms. You know what I want after our… exchange but I want something first. I think that is only fair, considering your situation.”

“My situation?”

“Oh you know. How (Y/N)‘s being back in LA will cause some problems for you and your colleagues.” Regina watched, laughing softly as Tim’s face twisted in confusion. “You really think that just because I’m sitting in handcuffs that I wouldn’t follow through on my threat.”

“Whatever it is, call it off. Now!”

“How about you do something for me first, Officer Bradford. Quid Pro Quo.”

“Fine. What do you want?”

“I want you to tell me how it felt two years ago when I forced (Y/N) to vanish. How it felt to lose your wife and not being good enough to find her.”

Of all the things he expected her to say, this was one of the last. He had thought that she would have asked to walk free, or a reduced sentence at the least, but she just wanted to relish in his pain. 

She wanted to know how numbing it felt for him to filter by day to day, his reason to carry on with each day painstakingly stolen from. She wanted to enjoy the powerlessness he had felt when each lead led to another heartbreaking dead end. She wanted him to be reminded of each day, and how they got more and more painful as time went past. Her demand was a reminder of the nights he would drink himself to sleep because that was the only way he could close his eyes and not see (Y/N) face in his mind.

It was a reminder of how he couldn’t look at daisies without crying, or enjoy music, or find a purpose. It was a reminder that he had become a hateful shell of who he used to be, and that even though she was back with him, he didn't know if he would ever get that piece of his former self back. It was a reminder of how he planned for an easy way out for himself if the grief got too bad.

Regina wanted to remind Tim that she had taken it all away before, and that she could take it all away again. And she wanted him to admit that.

“So, Officer Bradford. What will it be?”

Tim launched himself up so he could lean down on the table and over her, “You should know how I felt. It was probably the same way you did when your husband died when the LAPD raided one of his warehouses. I was there that day. I took him, so you took her. But I got my wife back, but your husband is still six feet under.”

“How dare you!” Regina screeched, as she rattled in the chains, trying to find her way out of the cuffs. For the first time since she had been arrested, she lost her well maintained composure.  

Tim took a step back from the table. “Thank you for cooperating. Prison transport will be here for you soon.”

“But what about our deal?! You won’t know what's coming without me.”

“I think we’ll be fine, Ms. Diaz,” Tim kept his back to her as he stopped at the door “because we now know that we were being hunted, so now we can prepare. So, thanks for the heads up. Enjoy prison.”

As soon as the door shut behind him, Tim leant against the door, trying to make sense of what had happened. Surely she was bluffing, they could monitor her calls and her visitation  to try to not allow her to give any command, but if she was as intelligent and conniving as she had presented herself to be, she would find a way around it. 

As he heard Grey and (Y/N) exit the observation room, he pushed himself off the door. Grey held himself strong, not showing any panic or concern at this stage, but his eyes darted in thought, clearly going over the possibilities of what could happen now. (Y/N) presented herself similarly, except her tell was the fiddling of her wedding band. She used to play with her engagement ring, but due to the dangers of the job and the possibility of it causing harm when in contact with a perp, she quickly replaced it with a plain wedding band, identical to Tim’s.

“So what now? You don’t really believe her, do you?”

(Y/N) moved to place her hand on Tim’s arm. “I wouldn’t put anything past her.”

“Then it’s settled,”  Grey said, “We hope for the best and plan for the worst.”

Part Ten | Part Twelve

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh  @kmc1989  @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e

Tags are open :)

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

King of My Heart | Spencer Reid

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (I think it's pretty GN, lemme know if it's not!)

Warnings: Curse words, fluff!

Author's note: Remember the 'untitled Spencer fic' in my ideas poll? This is the one! If you have 20/20 vision (fy, honestly), you probably won't relate to this, but indulge me, please? Thank you. Sincerely, a glasses/contact lenses-wearing gal.

Words: 2K

Nursing my cup of coffee in the break room, I read through the case file JJ had given us. We had been working on it for three days straight and were still so far from a solution. It had been hard to think without any sleep for thirty-six hours. And the humid San Francisco air didn’t help me much either. 

My eyes were as dry as a desert, making wearing contact lenses hurt like a bitch. 

I harshly squeezed my eyes as I looked at the file, in hopes to get them some moisture. Of course I had forgotten to pack my glasses. Most of the time, I don’t even need them. Without them, I could just see about enough to stumble from the bathroom to any bed. But I couldn’t take them out while working. 

“Hey,” the familiar voice of Spencer Reid captured my attention. 

Spencer and I had hit it off quite quickly when I joined the BAU one and a half years after he had. Mostly because we were the closest in age and our similar interests had drawn us together as well as the fact I had spilt coffee over him the first time we met. Now, one year later, the two of us were pretty much inseparable. Even our supervisor, Aaron Hotchner, barely dared to split us up. Put the two of us together and we’d come up with the best theory for the case we were working on. 

“Oh, hi, pretty boy,” I greeted back, smiling up at him with narrowed eyes. 

He offered me one of the pastries he and JJ went to get before they came into the precinct. “Here. You need some sugar,” he told me and I gladly accepted the sugary good. Spencer took a seat opposite of me, delving into his own pastry. 

“Oh, King of my heart,” I grumbled, enjoying the food a little too much. 

“Did you find anything in that code yet?” he asked instead, ignoring my food-orgasm. 

Shaking my head, I broke off a piece of the pastry and popped it into my mouth. “I thought it was the Caesar Shift first, but I can’t figure out what the shift would be…” I mumbled, furiously pressing my knuckle underneath my right eye. 

When Spencer didn’t react to my mumblings, I looked up to find him rummaging through his satchel. I furrowed my brows as he procured a rectangle-shaped box and out came his glasses. Confusion rose within me as he offered them to me, which I believed was apparent on my face as he explained himself. 

“Take out your contacts and put my glasses on,” he ordered in that honey-sweet voice he only ever used on me. “You’ve been squinting and blinking for about half an hour while going through that file and your eyes are bright red. So, unless you want to tell me you’re on drugs right now, take out your contacts and put these on.” 

Hesitantly, I reached for the frames. “Spence, do we even have the same prescription?” 

“You’re a -2 on both eyes, aren’t you?”

It surprised me a little that he knew that. More than it surprised me that he knew I was struggling. He was a profiler after all. 

“That’s what I thought,” Spencer said and took another bite of the pastry in his hand, watching me to make sure I’d put the glasses on. 

My eyes skidded from the glasses to Spencer and back. “I don’t have my little contact case with me here. It’s in the hotel.”

I shouldn’t be surprised when Spencer fished out a bottle of lens care solution and an exact replica of my contacts case, but somehow, I was. This guy kept on surprising me, no matter how well I thought I knew him. 

“Now, take out your contacts and put my glasses on.” 

Sometimes, Spencer would do these things, these tiny gestures that had my stomach fluttering in a way that a friend shouldn’t make you. It was often just him getting my coffee in the mornings or handing me a sweater when I shivered. He got me food before I even realized I was hungry or a glass of water before I realized I hadn’t even drank anything that day. 

He was simply marvelous and it was merely impossible not to fall for him. 

Once I had Spencer’s glasses on and looked at the code again, I finally deciphered it. Excitedly, I ran into the briefing room where Derek, Elle, Spencer and Hotch were gathered. I was too focused on explaining them the theory behind the code, that I had missed the exchange of glances between Derek and Elle until they voiced their thoughts.

“Are you wearing Reid’s glasses?” Morgan asked, a teasing smirk on his face. 

“Yes, my contacts were hurting me, but that’s not the point–” I said before lapsing back into my explanation. There was no time to stand still to explain to them why I was wearing Spencer’s glasses nor did we have time for them to tease me about it. 

 Though it wasn’t until two days after the case that Elle eventually spoke to me about it. The team had decided to go for drinks at O’Keefe’s and Spencer had handed me the back-up sweater he kept in his satchel for me. 

“So,” Elle started when she joined me at the bar to grab another drink. “When are you gonna admit you’re in love with him?” 

Though my cheeks felt hot, I scoffed. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” 

“You’re wearing his sweater,” she pointed out, bemused that I would even try and lie to her. 

I shook my head. “No, this is my sweater… Which he evidently keeps in his bag for me because he knows I always forget it and I… just… like… how it smells –” I groaned, rolling my eyes while Elle let out a loud cackle. “Fine! Fine. Okay?” I sneered. 

“Admit it.” 

“I admit it, okay? I am… in love with Spencer – But how could I not?” I hissed at her before turning my head to look over at our table where Spencer, Hotch and Derek were laughing at something Penelope had said. “He keeps doing these… gestures… Like, the other day, I was struggling because my eyes were hurting so much and he just handed me his glasses. He remembered my prescription and knew I was struggling before I could even tell him.” 

A smile landed on Elle’s lips as she nodded her head. “And he always brings you your coffee in the mornings.” 

“You noticed that too?” Elle nodded her head in response. “See, I couldn’t not fall in love with him. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose,” I said between gritted teeth as though I was actually mad at Spencer for making me fall for him. 

My coworker scoffed. “Almost like he’s in love with you, or something.” The sarcasm was dripping off her words, but I shook my head at her. 

“No, he’s not. He’s just… nice like that.” 

Glaring at me, Elle conveyed her message of, “Are you kidding me?” before the words actually left her mouth. 

Her words haunted me for a good week before I finally dared to ask Spencer about it. Though it was more snapping at him rather than actually asking him. During one particular case, I was getting frustrated by the way he was treating me and the way it was making me feel, I let those feelings take the better of me. 

For an entire day, I had been crabby and snapping at everyone who even dared to insinuate I was on my period. Of course, I was, inconveniently, on my period, but no man needed to tell me to calm down. Spencer must’ve noticed, because that night, he knocked on my hotel room door. 

“Hi,” he greeted with a soft smile. 

“Are you here to tell me I shouldn’t have been so snappy towards that captain? Because I know,” I told him immediately, not even giving him a ‘hi’ back. 

He shook his head and held up a tub of ice cream and a hot water bottle. “I got these from the reception.” 

Eyeing up the items in his hands, my insides went all mushy. But before I could allow myself to melt into putty, I groaned and turned on my heel, marching into the room and leaving the door open for Spencer to walk in. Confused, he followed behind me and closed the door behind him. 

“Are you okay, y/n?” 

“No! No, I’m not okay, Spencer.” 

He looked at me and seemed so lost. There was no reason for me to snap at him, but I couldn’t handle it anymore. I couldn’t handle this ball of feelings sitting in my chest. It was bound to explode at some point and that point was now. All it took was for him to knock on my door with ice cream and a hot water bottle. 

“Y/N? What’s wrong? What’d I do?” 

After rubbing my hands across my face, I tangled them into my hair, debating whether or not to tell him the truth. “How do you expect me not to fall in love with you when you keep doing shit like this?!” 

Spencer flinched slightly at the volume of my voice and the harshness of my words. Once it registered in that magnificent brain of his, he let out a chuckle. It surprised me a little that he found this so amusing. My anguish was amusing to him. 

“Do you think it was easy for me to try and not fall in love with you when you spilt coffee on me the first time we met and you were dabbing my chest with napkins?” 

The memory of meeting him in the coffee shop before either of us even knew we were going to be colleagues, flooded into my mind. I was nervous for my first day at the BAU when I smashed into him, coffee flying everywhere. He’d tried to calm me down, spewing facts about coffee and people wanting to outlaw it. 

“Do you think it was easy for me not to fall in love with you when you asked me to go and watch that French film about the choir without subtitles? Or when you call me ‘pretty boy’? Or when you get all clingy when you’re drunk?” he scoffed, his eyes trained on me whilst my insides turned to mush. 

“I’ve been trying to push these feelings away since we met at that coffee shop, y/n, but I realized that I couldn’t turn them off. I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love with you because you are quite literally the person of my dreams and I wanna continue to take care of you and make sure you feel loved because that’s what you deserve.” 

My eyes watered at his words, my brain registering that everything happening at that time was real and not a dream. As Spencer let out a relieved sigh, I knew that the waterfall of words coming out of him had been building up inside him until the dam finally broke. 

He stood there, a few feet away from me, staring at me with those puppy-dog eyes that I could never really resist. His lips looked so kissable. An urge I had been able to keep at bay for a while, though it became harder and harder the longer I didn’t give in. 

But right then and there, in a hotel room somewhere in Delaware, I had to give in. 

Within three big strides, I was in front of him and grabbed his face, bringing his lips down to mine. The kiss surprised him a little, but he quickly melted into it and melted into me the same way I melted into him. 

“The ice cream is melting,” Spencer mumbled against my lips and pecked a few short kisses to my mouth before grabbing my hand and guiding me towards the bed. 

As he opened the tub of ice cream, I let out a groan. He had picked out my favorite; cookie dough. Though that didn’t surprise me anymore. “Ugh, King of my heart,” I scoffed with a delighted roll of my eyes before digging in with him. 

And all at once, he was the once I had been waiting for. 

King of my heart, body and soul. 

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty @littlemissaddict @n0wornever @wanniiieeee @unnowhatthisistbh

Criminal Minds Taglist: @boimlers-gonna-boim @samsbirks @tinaasthings @dysphoricsanity @love4lando @elenamoncada-ibarra @r-3dlips @magstheslayer 

[im1hangry1pjo]

Fuck Foster care -Valgrace

TW: Scars, Past abuse, Leo being traumatized, Foster Homes

"No, no, no, no, no where is it where is it!?" Leo frantically searched through the bathroom cabinets. "They're going to find out no, no they can't know anything" he thankfullyfound his contact. He looked at himself in the mirror. Leo wanted to throw up just by the sight of himself. His right eye was milky white with pink scaring slowly becoming more white around the center of the scar. He quickly looked away and opened the contact case. It only had one contact in it but he really only needed one. He slowly took it and placed it on his right eye but instead it fell on the ground and was ruined. "SHIT!" He accidentally yelled at the top of his lungs. He prayed to every god he could think of that no one heard that. He continued to search for his foundation to cover up any scars he could. "SHIT!" He heard Leo scream; it sounded like it came from the bathroom. Jason was horrified just by the thought of what happened he immediately got up and headed towards the bathroom. Thankfully it was unlocked but what he saw behind the door shocked him. Leo was in front of the mirror with a bottle of foundation with his sleeves rolled up there were scars all over them some of them looked self inflicted others looked like someone hit them with a glass bottle but when Jason looked at Leo's face gods his face. His right eye was milky white with pink scaring slowly becoming more white around the center of the scar. It looked like someone exploded something in the face. He couldn't look for too long cause if he did he would vomit. Leo was the first one to speak "I-I can explain" Jason pulled Leo into a hug before Leo could say anything. Leo was just stiff in his arms like he's never been hugged but now that I think about it whenever I hug him or anyone hugs him for that matter he immediately pushed them away so Jason hugged him as tight as he could savoring the moment. It took a few minutes but eventually he let Leo go "You're... you're not scared or disgusted of me" Leo asked shakily the tone he used broke my heart. I gently held his face "No you could never scare me or disgust me Darling" Jason continued cupping Leo's face in his hands.

He still loved me. Jason still loved me even though he saw my scars. I put my hands over his and just stared into his eyes. He looked heart broken and worried and a little angry. Jason took a deep breath and asked me "Who dared to hurt you" he said in a low growl that had loving undertone (Jason being raised by wolves moment) "umm you know how I went to a lot of foster homes well most of them weren't the best or you know straight up abusive." Leo admitted quietly. Jason seemed pissed " I love you so much and would never dare hurt you in any shape or capacity." He again growled so low Leo could feel it. "I know you Jason and I know if you somehow hurt me it was on accident and you would go on your hands and knees and beg for my forgiveness cause you're a dork and you love me" Leo flicked Jason's nose at the end of his long ass sentence. "Now can I go back to my make-up?" I questioned. Jason looked at me for a few seconds and then said this "No, you look better like this without the make-up you just look more real if that makes sense" "This fucking dork" I thought. "I think you're forgetting that no one else knows about this besides Piper" Leo told him with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Wait Piper knows!?"

[bluecookies02]

Erwin X Reader X Miche NSFW

->anonymous commission

content warnings: dirty talk, dp, oral (f receiving), anal, some wine for liquid courage, poly relationship

word count:~ 2.5k

________________________________________

minors do not interact w my page, tnx💕

"Y/N, don't spill wine over my paperwork, please baby I spent two nights filling them out" Erwin warned from the couch and you gently grabbed the glass, placing it on the other side of you, away from anything that could get ruined.

You were sitting on top of the table, swaying your legs as all three of you enjoyed your night.

Using all of your vacation days for this prolonged weekend, you all hoped that there won't be an emergency since everything has been fairly quiet lately.

You decided to spend your anniversary in Erwin's office since it was more spacious than any of the bedrooms and going out also wasn't an option for you sadly. Miche mentioned once how he despised the fact that he can't take you out to fancy dinners, not without constantly being in a fight or flight mode, and Erwin commented on looking forward to the day when they can see you all dolled up and blushing as they drag you around for a dozen of already perfectly planned out dates.

You didn't dwell on it, instead, you all sneaked in some booze during your last long mission, from a faraway village that had big healthy grape fields that were lucky enough to go untouched after all of these scary years.

You weren't allowed to take gifts from the people, let alone if it's alcohol but you all proclaimed the rule stupid, hiding a bottle each as you returned to the base that month. They remained sealed for a special occasion.

"Sorry!" you tipsily replied an eternity later. You weren't really a lightweight but holy fuck...that wine is stronger than some whiskeys you tried. Maybe you're over exaggerating but the gentle burn of your throat as you took another sip could definitely support your case.

The room you were in was dimmed, curtains draped over the windows as a last effort to keep some of the scorching heat from entering it. The lights were off, save for a few candles scattered around.

Miche sat spread out on the couch, his shirt unbuttoned and his jacket long forgotten on the hanger. Erwin was sitting in his chair, wiping sweat off of his face with the back of his hand, his shirt damp and in your delusional horny mind, it was now almost see-through.

"I would think that they would fund the commanders with fans or something. Or at least an ice pack!" Miche complained, lowering his glass on the cupboard.

You made a small hum of agreement, gathering your hair up to put it in a ponytail, huffing when a significant amount of it still warmed your neck.

"At least we are all off duty, imagine working in that heat" you tried to brighten the mood.

"And it's also the reason I'm graced with such a nice view!" you gather the courage to be a little bold, crossing your legs.

Erwin adjusted in his chair, leaning back, a sly grin on his face. He would usually return your flirty-ness tenfold, but today he decided to enjoy as you blushed and writhed under their gazes.

You keep stealing glances at both of them, and your lips stay parted as you watch Erwin's hand slowly palm the growing bulge in his pants.

The tension was already thick, but the air has gotten heavier in the past hour, all three of you aware that after months of nonstop work, you could finally have a long night all for yourselves.

A low rumble crawls up your spine and up to your ears, and you turn to take a peek at Miche, who clicks his tongue as he stands up.

Your heart slams hard against your ribs and you are sure you can hear it as his hand makes contact with your cheek, softly but with an evident tremble.

"So bashful...You smell so fucking irresistible tonight sweetheart" The gruff of his voice sends goosebumps through your limbs and you crane your neck to the side, his nose finding home above your collarbone.

He fills his lungs with your smell, his other hand spreading out across your hip.

Your fingers come to thread in his hair, steadying yourself while he laps at your skin, eager open-mouthed kisses scattering wherever he can reach.

A speck of worry washes over you and you hope that Erwin doesn't feel left out, but the sound of a zipper and a deep groan were enough to ease your concern.

You can't help your curiosity, and with half-lidded eyes you stare at him, focusing on the heavy length that rested in his palm.

You might be shy but you're not stupid. This whole night you felt like a pray being carefully watched, danced around until you were carefully backed up into a wall. A wall you willingly leaned yourself against.

Pent up wouldn't begin to describe how awfully eager the three of you felt.

"Yeah, she smells nice? Where?" it's not like Miche needed a push but the question prompts him, and he slips his large hand to your thigh, sneaking it under your skirt to rub firm strokes across your panties.

You whine, spreading your legs and the man watching seems to appreciate it, judging by the leisurely timed slick strokes that fill the otherwise quiet room.

You feel hypnotized and if that's not the biggest compliment a man can get...Erwin spreads his own legs a little further, cupping his hefty sack in his free hand.

"You're drooling baby, are you really such a whore?" Miche hushes in your ear, slipping your panties to the side and hissing at the wetness that spreads across his fingers.

"Hold your skirt up for me will you? I know you love it when I look..." and you do so in a heartbeat, crumpling up the fabric and holding it close to your chest.

"Please..." as if you're sane enough to know what you're begging for. Being on display is embarrassing but the rough hand which slowly works you open doesn't leave much room for you to *think*.

Watching a 6-foot-something man fall to his knees would send an average woman into a coma, and you feel the heat radiating to the tips of your ears and nose.

The larger man grabs handfuls of your thighs, pushing them as far as they can go and then later pulling you closer to the edge of the table.

Miche noses against your clit first, teasing your spit-covered bud as he wastes no time to tongue your greedy cunt. Each swallow is followed by a guttural groan and he manages to delve deeper with each lick, all up until his face is full with the fat of your pussy.

Erwin is not as patient today as he thought he would be, that's why soon enough he kicks off his pants and underwear from his ankles and he takes slow steps towards you. He leans down to kiss you deeply first, just in time as Miche licks a particularly bold, flat stripe across your pussy. His moan spreads through your tummy and you gasp into Erwin's mouth.

He slips an arm behind your back, holding you steady so that you don't tumble backwards. His other hand spreads across your neck, pressing just enough so that he can hold your face still. He feels each swallow of your throat, your pulse pushing against his fingertips ever so slightly.

Minutes later you're fully relaxed, eagerly grinding against Miche as the other soldier loosens the first few buttons of your button-up shirt, just enough so that he can slip his hand inside. His fingers expertly twirl your nipples, pinching and squeezing at your breasts as he sucks on your lolled-out tongue.

You flinch in surprise when you feel Miche's tongue travel lower and your heart skips a beat once he spits onto your hole, gracing it with a few hearty licks before his thumb dips inside the puckered muscle.

Once your tits feel sore under Erwin's palms, he gives you mercy, only so that he can dip his hand between your legs and circle your aching clit with his fingers.

It's messy...the way Miche was back to licking at your folds and the quick flicks of the other man's skillful hand.

Drool leaks between your legs, and soon enough your ass is being split open by two thick fingers.

You feel overwhelmed, and as they pump deeper inside you, you taste the first drops of your high.

You know you won't reach it, not now, not unless they want you to. And you'd be a fool to not know how much pleasure they take in torturing you.

They push you right to the edge until you're hanging from it by a thread, quickening their pace and abruptly stopping, just in time.

"Pretty girl...breathe..." Erwin coos, leaving your throbbing clit and Miche moves his face away from your heat with a load *pop*.

You're crying, ever so quietly as you calm down, whining at the loss.

Gently, Miche slips his fingers out, getting back up to his feet. In the rush of everything you didn't notice that his cock was now exposed, lathered in pre as he gave it a few final tugs before leaving it alone to throb.

"Cruel." you manage to whisper out. You slip your panties off, leaving them forgotten on the table.

Erwin picks you up gently and you wrap your arms around his neck, your feet locking behind his back.

You can feel his length sliding between your bodies, and he props you up just a little, angling his hips so that his tip hooks at the entrance of your cunt.

"We are, aren't we?" Miche answers, pressing flush against your back. Their strong arms hold you up, Erwin's wrapped around your waist, making it seem so fucking tiny compared to his large palms. Miche's find purchase on your ass, and he slips his salivating dick in between your cheeks, rutting against your backside.

They hike your skirt back up, trapping it between them.

Miche leans down to rest his head on your shoulder, the strands that escaped your ponytail tickling his face.

"You're gonna be good, will you?" Erwin asks, experimentally rolling his hips to stuff the first wide inch inside your pussy. You just nod, taking a deep breath.

Miche waits patiently as you fully sink on the first length, your heat hungrily swallowing it. He's wide, and you're sure you'll feel so sore in the morning, but right now, you open up easily, letting it fill you until it bumps against the end of the tight tunnel.

"Shit..." only God knows who said it, but Miche kisses your cheek before he uses one hand to guide his cock barely inside.

That stretch is different, knocking the air from your lungs because as he rocks his hips to get it all to fit, it rubs against the shared wall and it's all too much. You cry out silently, your hands slipping under the collar of Erwin’s shirt, your nails digging into his back as he shushes you, words of affirmation soothing your mind.

"Fuck, such a tight little girl, you're doing so good. How does it feel?" Miche's gravelly voice grounds you as well, and you swallow the small lump in your throat before speaking up.

"Good...So fucking good" his foul mouth is rubbing off on you because as you say that you can only whisper out another string of curses.

They both hum in response, and Erwin starts to slowly bounce you on top of them.

Unhurriedly, the pace picks up over time, causing the knot in your stomach to build back up from where it left off minutes ago. The uncomfortable feeling was gone as fast as it came, making the fullness feel welcome.

Slow and steady, they set a rhythm of never leaving you empty, each stroke more intoxicating than the other.

The room grows quiet, only filled with deep breaths and moans and the filthy wet plapping of skin. You can feel them in your guts, and as the angle becomes just right, both of their cocks reach the furthest parts of you at the same time. You babble, incoherent as you try to leverage yourself off of Erwin's shoulders, slamming down against them.

Your toes are numb, curling and uncurling with every pleasure-filled push of their dicks.

Squeezing around them, you make their lives a living hell, and the grips on your hips and ass tighten, leaving small bruises in their wake.

You can't keep your eyes open, squeezing them shut while your body runs out of strength to hold itself up. The change in your weight doesn't startle them, instead, they just readjust quickly, working your pliant body as they now more hurriedly fuck into you.

"You gotta let us know when you're close princess, c'mon" Your throat is dry, but you manage to rush out a quick raspy 'yeah' before your head gently falls on top of Miche's shoulder.

Erwin looks down to where the three of you connect, and he watches with drunken eyes as your pussy gushes around him.

The gentlemen that they are, they hold on until they feel your body shake, your walls tightening and gripping them until they can barely move, eagerly humping into you.

"Such a pretty girl, that's it" You're sure you're already cumming, so so fast, but Miche slips one of his hands between yours and Erwin's chests, finding the small flower of your pussy and he strokes, fast and hard and filthy until your nerves feel like they're on fire.

You release with a loud scream, throbbing *everywhere* and you mewl at the warmth filling you up, flooding you until you're about to burst.

"It's all for you, take it- fuck, you can take it-..." You hear Miche groan through gritted teeth and Erwin loses it, his voice breaking as he repeats the chant.

"There you go, holy shit..." he manages a handful more of harsh strokes, fucking the last scream out of you before they both still, humming in bliss as spend spreads across every curve and bump inside your holes.

Their legs falter a bit, knees going weak as both of their cocks slowly stop jerking, getting milked dry by your spasming muscles.

Slipping out carefully, they help you down to your feet, watching in awe as seed dribbles down your legs.

They guide you to the couch, patiently as you take what feels like an eternity to bend your legs.

They sit next to you, not leaving your side with their hands wandering over your skin in soothing patterns, only stopping once you sigh in relief, stretching your legs out.

"Everything is sticky..." you complain halfheartedly, so terribly exhausted.

"You're younger." Miche insists and he gets a death stare in return. "I’m sure I can find a way to make you resign" is the only response he gets.

It's an empty threat because they both get up soon after, cleaning everything up and blowing out the candles.

Is this the first aot fic on this account? methinks it is👁

tip-yar : Ko-Fi 💕

commission info

status: open (2/4 slots left at this time)

[elisysd]

17. I was tame, I was gentle til the circus life made me mean

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? - Taylor Swift

It hadn’t been easy to contact Jean without you knowing, but he had managed. That’s the reason why he was sitting at the terrace of a parisian cafe, waiting for your colleague and mentor to appear. It didn’t take long before the man with glasses that he had seen countless of times before, finally showed up in front of him. 

“I can’t say I’m surprised to hear from you,” Jean said, taking place in front of him while a waiter appeared to take his order. 

“So I suppose you know why I asked if we could meet.”

“It’s about Y/N, right?”

“She doesn’t admit it but she misses working with you.”

“And she is missed by the whole team. She was doing an amazing job but it’s not that easy, believe me. We tried to talk to our boss, we tried to contact the trade union to see if there was something we could do, we negotiated… but it is out of our hands. From what I gathered, the sport service would be ready to have her back and pushed in that direction but it is the higher ups who don’t want to hear anything. They are scared for the reputation of the channel,” Jean explained as Charles huffed. 

“Bullshit. Complete bullshit. So they have no intention to give her job back despite what they told her?” Jean’s face dropped down and Charles instantly knew there was something that he wasn’t saying. “What?” he asked. 

“I know they sent an official contract termination letter to her. She is going to receive it anytime.”

“She moved out, she lives at my place now.”

“Yeah, she communicated the address change. Congratulations, by the way. Treat her well, she needs you. Now more than ever,” Jean sadly smiled, patting Charles’ back as he got up and prepared himself to leave. Charles just nodded, unsure of what to add. The only thing he knew was that you would be devastated once you would get the letter. 

He arrived in a silenced apartment, curtains closed and without any sound that could lead him to you. He checked his phone twice, in case he had missed a text from you, but nothing. He called your name but only silence answered him. He tried to call your phone and finally heard a distant buzzing coming from his office and a voice, your voice, swearing, followed by muffled sounds. His feet carried him to the door where he attempted to open it, without any success. You had barricaded yourself inside, which worried him. 

“Y/N… baby, open please, I know you’re in here.”

It took him a few minutes to convince you to unlock the office but when he saw your glossy eyes, he knew. And the letter lying on the floor only confirmed his instincts. 

“They… they fi… fired… me,” you stuttered in disbelief.

“Come here,” Charles opened his arms wide, letting you fall into them as he pulled you strongly against his chest. “I’m here. I’m right there.”

Your sobs broke his heart as you broke down and soaked his shirt. 

“So, this is all over, then? With a letter? Something so… informal. I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting. It’s just… I don’t know.”

“You’re in shock.”

“All my blood, sweat and literal tears went into this job. For Luc, my grandpa…me. And for what? Look where I end up. With nothing besides broken dreams and shattered hopes,” you nervously laughed and Charles fidgeted. He was scared to ask but he had to.

“Does.. it change anything… for us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Listen, I want you happy, I want you thriving and if I’m holding you back… no matter how much I love you, I don’t want to stand between your dreams and yourself.”

You stared at him and sighed. 

“You’re the only constant in my life, right now. The only light in my life. If you leave me…  I don’t know what I will do. I love you. You’re my happiness,” you reassured him, putting a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at you. He nodded, shyly.

“Maybe… I could offer you something. I need someone who knows the media inside out to help me build my brand. And listen to me fully before you turn it down. You could work from home, you wouldn’t have to follow me everywhere. You could have your own office. And Lorenzo is working with me on this and he, we, could use your input. You would be a great asset.”

“I’m not sure mixing business with pleasure is a good idea.”

“Think it through before giving me an answer, alright?”

“Would you hate me if I wasn’t following you for the next races? I need to sort everything out. And I need to think it through.”

After Monza, Singapore came rather quickly and Charles would never admit it out loud, but he hated the distance between you. At least physical because if the timezone and his schedule would allow it, he was finding himself chatting and texting on the phone with you. It had earned him a few jokes here and there from his team and from Pierre, but he had just shrugged them off. You seemed to be fine which, instead of reassuring him, was worrying him. He started to know you well by now and he knew you were one to keep everything for yourself because that’s how you had always moved through your life. You weren’t used to having someone to rely on and it would keep on taking a little more time for you to finally understand that it was okay to lean on him when times were rough. But you would get there, Charles was sure of it. 

Meanwhile on the other side of the world, in Monaco, you hadn’t taken a day off despite being currently unemployed. You had wrapped up any loose ends you still had in Paris and made sure your whole life had been transferred to Monaco. Sure, it seemed precocious to take such a big step in your very new relationship with the Ferrari driver but it felt right. And you always trusted your gut feeling. If it seemed right, then it was right. As for your work situation, it was a simple conversation with your best friend that had struck a new frightening but oh so exciting idea. 

“And what are you going to do, now? You’ve never been one to stay on the sideline,” she had asked you. 

“I don’t know… to be honest, I’m lost at the moment. My whole life is in shambles and just the idea of trying to think of the next step is giving me anxiety attacks.”

“So… that means no more motorsport action for you, then? As a media person, I mean.”

“I don’t want to give up on that but I don’t know how to go back to it,” you had admitted.

“Freelance journalist? I know it doesn’t pay much but at least you could choose for whom you would work…”

You had stayed silent, completely frozen for what seemed to be minutes for your best friend, as the wheels started to turn in your mind and a newly found excitement made its way in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re a genius, you know that?” you had smirked. 

“That’s what people usually say of me. But seriously, what are you thinking of?”

“Something big.”

Following the conversation you had worked on your plan, on your own, without talking about it to anyone. You wanted it to be bulletproof before starting any conversations. So you had kept it to yourself until it was finally ready to be talked about. You knew Singapore was a busy weekend for everyone and it would have been the GP you had been the most excited about to cover. But you weren’t there and you had to deal with it. Charles had a lot of work and your exchanges were fewer and fewer, both of you being busy. So the only person you contacted ahead of the weekend to have an opinion on your project was Jean. 

“Y/N… what a surprise. How are you holding up?” he asked.

“Good. Better than I imagined I would be. I’m not calling for chit-chatting.”

“I thought so. What do you need?” you could hear the smile in his voice.

“I have an idea, a project. But I don’t know where to begin to make it happen. I thought you could help me.”

“I have a few minutes to spare. Lance Stroll canceled our interview last minute.”

“It’s always fun,” you sarcastically commented. “I wanna launch an independent media. More like, I want to interview people from behind the scene in motorsport. I was thinking of people like Hannah Schmitz or Susie Wolff. Not drivers. People that make the sport. I was thinking of a podcast. Something independent. Something that is me. I know that I could sell the idea to some media and maybe some of them would be willing to pay me for broadcasting it but I don’t want to work under someone anymore. If working alongside people like you and Marion, if dating Charles taught me something, it’s that I’m more than just capable of doing my job. I’m good at what I do, I have ideas,  have experience, I have passion. I’m just not sure where to begin,” you explained in one breath until the line was silent, making you wonder if Jean was still here. 

“Where do I sign up for this?” Jean finally said. 

You smiled. It was all you needed to confirm that you were on the right path. 

If all seemed to go well for you, it wasn’t the case for Charles. Singapore had been a mess. He was happy for Ferrari but it was a bittersweet feeling. He had tremendously helped Carlos to win and if he wasn’t expecting from his teammate a profusion of gratitude, he was still expecting at least a word from him. Instead, he had been thrown to the wolves as soon as the race had ended and the comments about him being a washed up driver hurt. Especially when his teammate wasn’t saying anything to try to appease the situation. 

The only thing that made him feel slightly better was hearing your voice, filled with anger, when he came back to his room, completely exhausted. 

“If he won it’s because you decided to sacrifice your race! You made the call! Ferrari’s strategists weren’t smart enough to think about it! And you only missed the podium because they fucked up your pitstop! Again. If they hadn’t, it would have been a 1-2 for Ferrari. And the fact that Carlos prefers to praise Lando… it pisses me off! Lando isn’t his teammate. He should go back to McLaren if he prefers to work with him, then. Seriously. You don’t know how much self-control it takes me to not hop on the platforms and tell people who insult you to go fuck themselves. I’m proud of you, for what it is worth. And I love you. And I miss you.”

“You know it is sexy when you defend me like that.”

You laughed. 

“You’re delirious.”

“Maybe a little. I’m exhausted and hot. But I do know that I have a sexy and brave and smart girlfriend. I'm very serious and clear-minded when it comes to this topic. Enough about me, I want to forget this race. How have you been?  We haven't talked much lately.”

“Well… I’ve been busy.”

“Busy with?”

“Creating my own media.” you stated, proud of yourself. 

“Oh… wow… well. You haven’t told me, I didn’t know that was something you had in mind.”

“ I wanted to plan everything first and go through the administrative documentation. What do you think?”

“I think that I support you at one hundred percent. If you need anything, just tell me.”

“Thanks Charles. You know, it’s you who gives me the strength to achieve that. If I hadn’t met you, I don’t think I would have ever been brave enough to try something like that.”

“You would have been. You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re amazing and I don’t think there is anything you can’t do.”

“There is one thing I can’t do and that I need you for.” you chuckled, always feeling a little awkward when he was putting you on a pedestal you didn’t think you were deserving. 

“Ask away.”

“Do you think I could come with you for the Austin GP and stay until the end of the season?”

Author's note: I wish I could have managed to release this chapter sooner but I went to see The Eras Tour in Wembley (and it was amazing omg take me back) and then spent some time with my boyfriend so I yeah, writing has not really been possible and I'm so sorry. Bu the good thing is, I have so many ideas for this story and I'm very excited to write and share them. So it means that updates should be more frequent now!!!

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @thirstylion @cmleitora @charizznorizz @sltwins @boherahpsody @herondalism @roseamongthorns13 @aundercover @snowflakesfluff @fictional-l0v3r @queensassybitchsworld @jehun @reengard @valntynebaby

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[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Cooking Up Love, Chapter 3

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: T (for now, might change, might not)

Story Summary: Here

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, more tags to come as the story develops

Word Count: ~2500

A/N: Thanks again to everyone who has liked/commented on/reblogged this so far! Enjoy this next installment!

(And extra thanks to @theradioactivespidergwen for the divider!)

(Also cross-posted to AO3.)

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705 @chezagnes @shouldbestudying41

You were in the break room at the Bulletin the next day brewing your morning coffee and wondering how you were going to tell Ellison that you had bombed the interview with Chef Murdock when Skyler, your work BFF who handled the Lifestyle section of the paper, poked her head in. "There's this incredibly hot guy out front asking for you," she said excitedly. "Do you have a secret boyfriend you haven't told me about?"

You shook your head with a light laugh, wondering who it was that had come to see you. "No, definitely not. Bring whoever it is to the conference room and tell them that I'll be there in a second, will you, please?"

"Sure thing!"

After Skyler left you finished making your coffee then headed to the conference room, freezing in the doorway as you spotted the absolute last person you had ever expected to see again. "Chef Murdock."

Chef Murdock's head turned towards you, the red lenses of his glasses reflecting your look of shock at seeing him. Today he was wearing jeans and a light gray T-shirt, which made him seem vastly more approachable than the red chef's coat and black pants of the previous afternoon… and inexplicably even hotter.

"Um, hi," he said. "May we talk?"

You nodded warily. "Sure."

You shut the door behind you, purposely not asking him to sit. "So, come to berate me some more?"

Chef Murdock had the decency to look chagrined. "Actually, I came to apologize for my behavior towards you yesterday and ask if you'd be willing to reschedule our interview."

Your eyebrows raised. "You came to apologize ?"

Chef Murdock nodded and held a covered container out towards you. "This is for you."

You took the container and peeked inside. "You brought me tiramisu?"

Chef Murdock shrugged, a shy smile forming on his face. "I was kind of hoping you'd accept it as a peace offering."

"It's not poisoned, is it?"

Chef Murdock chuckled. "Let me just say that I'm pretty sure I didn't accidentally dust the top with cyanide instead of cocoa powder when I made it this morning."

You couldn't help but smile at Chef Murdock's joke. "Well I'm no expert on poisons, but I'm pretty sure cyanide isn't supposed to be brown."

Chef Murdock's expression grew serious as he said your name. "I was extremely rude yesterday and my actions towards you were uncalled for, and for that I am very deeply sorry and hope you'll forgive me."

You studied him for a moment. He seemed genuinely contrite, despite you not being able to see his eyes.

Finally you sighed and set the container on the conference room table. "In that case, I accept your apology… and your 'sorry for being a pompous asshole' tiramisu."

Chef Murdock huffed out a laugh. "Thank you."

"Will this afternoon work for you for our interview? Same time as yesterday?" 

Chef Murdock nodded. "Yeah, that'll work."

"Great." That would actually give you time to prepare.

Chef Murdock hesitated. "So I'll… see you this afternoon, then?"

You nodded. "Here, I'll walk you out. Let me just put this in the refrigerator first."

You quickly went to the break room before returning to escort Chef Murdock back to the elevator. "Want me to just call the restaurant when I get there?"

"Oh, actually, let me give you my cell number," Chef Murdock replied. "You can text me when you're nearby."

"Okay." You pulled out your phone and added Chef Murdock as a contact, typing in his number as he recited it to you. "I'll see you this afternoon, then."

Chef Murdock nodded. "Thank you again."

"No problem."

You waited until Chef Murdock left then went back to your desk to begin your research. 

Skyler immediately ran over to you. "So who was the hottie?"

You glanced up at her. "Oh, that was the chef Ellison asked me to interview yesterday. Something had come up so he needed to reschedule."

Skyler huffed out a laugh. "I wouldn't mind sampling his cuisine, if you know what I mean."

You shook your head with a smile. "I've gotta get some research done for my article, so I'll talk to you later, 'kay?"

"Yeah, I've gotta run anyway. I'm covering some fancy meeting that some rich old ladies' society is holding this morning and I don't want to be late."

As Skyler went to grab her purse from her own desk you ran another internet search on Chef Murdock, scrolling through the search results and pausing as you found a link to an old Bulletin article.

Local Boy, 9, Seriously Injured in Heroic Rescue Attempt

An attempt at saving a life changed another forever yesterday when Matthew Murdock, age 9 of Hell's Kitchen, was seriously injured after he prevented another person from being hit by a vehicle. Witnesses say that the boy came to the rescue of a man when a chemical truck overturned, causing an as-yet-identified substance to splash into the boy's eyes.

"He's a hero," said one eyewitness. "Didn't even hesitate, just jumped right into action to push that man out of the way."

"He should be commended," said another, "and his parents applauded for raising such a brave young man."

The boy's father, local boxing legend 'Battlin' Jack Murdock, declined to comment other than to say that his son is in critical, but stable, condition. 

You remembered Chef Murdock saying that his father had passed shortly after his accident, so next you looked up Jack Murdock, sucking in a breath at the news headline on your computer screen.

Local Boxing Legend Killed In Apparent Mob Hit

You quickly scanned the article -- apparently Chef Murdock's father had been beaten and shot after a boxing match against Carl 'Crusher' Creel and his murder never officially solved, although it was suspected that mob boss Roscoe Sweeney had been behind the hit.

You huffed out a breath. How awful. It was no wonder that your statement about how proud Chef Murdock's parents must have been of him had touched a nerve.

You made a few more notes and wrote down some other questions to ask Chef Murdock, looking up as Ellison stopped by your desk. 

"How'd the interview go yesterday?" he asked.

"Actually, something came up while I was there and Chef Murdock asked me to reschedule," you replied, deciding to leave out the details of what exactly had happened. "I'm meeting with him this afternoon instead."

Ellison nodded. "Okay, excellent. Let me know how it goes."

"Will do."

You finished up some other articles that you had due so you could focus your attention on Chef Murdock, completing the last one right as it was time to leave.

You grabbed your tiramisu out of the staff refrigerator and told Ellison you were leaving to go to Daredevil. 

You made a quick stop at home to drop off your dessert since it was on your way then headed to the restaurant, feeling much more prepared than you had the previous day. 

"So how'd it go?" Foggy asked as Matt entered the kitchen at Daredevil. "Were you able to reschedule the interview?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah, we're meeting this afternoon. Same time as yesterday."

Foggy huffed out a relieved breath. "So how much did you have to grovel?"

Matt chuckled. "I made tiramisu for her this morning."

Foggy whistled. "Wow, pulling out the big guns."

Matt moved to wash his hands and put on an apron. "Come on, we've got a lot of prep to do for tonight's service."

He and Foggy set to work prepping ingredients for that night's dinner service, Matt's mind occasionally wandering to you and his upcoming interview. 

He had spent a few hours after dinner service the night before listening to transcripts of previous articles you had written, and he could tell that his initial assessment of you had been completely wrong. Your attention to detail in your articles showed that you clearly took pride in your work and had painstakingly researched each and every subject you had written about.

"...If you keep cutting up that basil you're going to get pesto," Foggy said suddenly.

Matt stopped cutting, realizing that the basil he was supposed to be chiffonading was now pretty much macerated. "Shit. "

Foggy chuckled. "You okay, buddy?"

Matt shook his head, trying to clear it. "I'm fine, I'm just…"

"Nervous?"

Matt remained silent.

Foggy patted him on the shoulder. "Just turn on that Murdock charm of yours and you'll be fine."

Matt's phone chimed in his pocket. "New text message."

Matt fished his phone out and tapped at the notification.

"Hi, Chef Murdock, just letting you know that I'll be by the restaurant in about 5 minutes, " his phone read out to him.

"I'll finish up here," Foggy said. "You got this, Matty." 

Matt huffed out a breath. "I hope so."

He took his apron off and went to wash his hands again, then headed up front right as you were walking up.

He unlocked the door and let you in, noticing your heartbeat pick up nervously. "Hi, thanks for coming."

"Hi," you replied.

Matt gestured to a nearby table. "Here, have a seat. Would you like something to drink?"

"Um, some water would be nice, please."

Matt nodded. "Sure thing. Just a second."

He returned to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of water glasses and a bottle of cold, filtered water before returning to you.

He poured some water into one of the glasses before setting it in front of you. "Here you go."

"Thank you," you replied.

Matt poured himself some water before setting the bottle down on the table and taking the seat across from you.

He could hear you tapping at your phone screen. "Um, do you mind if I record this? It helps me with direct quotes and stuff."

Matt shook his head. "No, that's fine."

"Okay, great." You tapped at your phone screen and stated your name, the date, and the time. "Interviewing Chef Matthew Murdock at Daredevil, take 1."

You cleared your throat. "Chef Murdock, thank you for taking the time to meet with me."

"It's my pleasure," Matt replied.

"So to start, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself."

"Well, I was born and raised by my dad here in Hell's Kitchen," Matt said.

"He was a boxer, right?" you asked. 

Aha. Definitely did her research today. "That's right, 'Battlin Jack Murdock'. He didn't have the best fight record, but to me he was the greatest boxer of all time."

"So what made you want to be a chef?"

"I was in an accident when I was 9," Matt said. He wasn't sure how much you knew about the details of it but decided to just go ahead and give you the full story -- well, almost the full story. "A chemical truck collided with a car and overturned, and there was this old man who would have been crushed if I hadn't pushed him out of the way. Unfortunately while I was pushing him out of the way I fell and some of the chemicals got into my eyes, which blinded me."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," you said sympathetically.

Matt shook his head. "My palate became very… sensitive after that and nothing anyone else ever made tasted right."

His other remaining senses had also become extremely sensitive, but that wasn't relevant to the current conversation. "Anyway, my father died when I was 11 and I was sent to live in an orphanage run by the local diocese." He smiled wryly. "You can imagine how the food was there."

You let out a light laugh. "Oh I can guess, especially for a picky eater."

"Well the nuns quickly got tired of dealing with my dietary needs, but then again they weren't going to let me starve so eventually they hired someone to teach me how to make my own meals."

Stick had taught Matt how to cook using his instincts and use his remaining senses to identify the freshness of ingredients but had abruptly quit when Matt had made him a cake as a thank-you. Clearly you're not learning, he had said after tasting it, in which case I have nothing more to teach you.

Matt shook his head. "I started developing my own recipes after that, then after I graduated high school I decided to enter culinary school, where I met my business partner.

"After we graduated we were both offered positions as line cooks at Landman & Zack over in Manhattan, but we decided to open a restaurant together instead. We stayed open a few years then closed it and reopened as Daredevil."

What he didn't say was that Nelson and Murdock had been a mild success until one bad review had nearly tanked both Matt's reputation and his friendship with Foggy. 

"Daredevil is a very interesting name for a restaurant. How did you come up with that?"

"One of my college professors referred to me as a 'daredevil' chef once, and it kind of stuck with me." Matt's lips quirked up into a smile as he waved a hand around. "And after all, we are in Hell's Kitchen…"

You huffed out a light laugh, your demeanor becoming more relaxed. "That's very true."

You continued asking him questions, both of you relaxing more as the interview went on.

Matt was telling you a story about the time one of his culinary school classmates almost set their hair on fire while trying to flambé some bananas for a bananas foster cheesecake when he heard Karen walk up.

"Hey, Matt," Karen said. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but we're opening in 10 minutes."

You let out a slight gasp. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize how long we had been talking. I didn't mean to take up so much of your time, Chef Murdock."

Matt shook his head. "It's quite alright, I finished most of my prep work before you arrived." 

You stopped your recording and gathered your things. "Thank you for your time."

"It was my pleasure," Matt replied honestly. "Let me know if you need anything else from me for your article."

"Okay, I'll be in touch if I do."

"Have a good evening."

"You too."

Matt waited as you left, your heartbeat growing fainter the further you got from the restaurant.

Karen turned to him. "Now, was that so bad?"

Matt shook his head. You had been professional, yet warm and welcoming -- which he still wasn't sure he deserved after the way he had treated you the previous afternoon. "No, actually, it wasn't."

Karen nudged him with her elbow. "See? I told you. Now come on, let's get ready to open."

[coupleoffanfics]

A Sample

[Post-Spray Jeremiah x Batsis Reader]

It's always been a pain to drive out to Jeremiah. Just outside of Gotham and in the woods where the roads get muddy and bumpy. Though y/n finds that getting to see her boyfriend is rewarding enough to take that two-and-a-half-hour drive three times a week. She got out of the car and pulled a leather suitcase out. After the road, she has to deal with the maze. The maze is arguably worse than the road.

Not living in Gotham, but still being near it isn't enough. So he has to make a maze just in case Jerome finds out his location. As much as she wants to hate the maze, she understands the paranoia and can't fault him for that. However, the mental image of Jerome running around the maze like a rat looking for cheese is funny.

Making it through y/n was greeted by Ecco's blank face. "Good afternoon, Ecco." y/n's light voice and energy bounced off the blonde woman. Her voice was calm and collected, "Hello, Ms. l/n." It felt good to be called Ms. l/n than Ms. Wayne. Though she's sure Mrs. Valeska would sound better.

"Is he in…"

"In his study." y/n flashed a grateful smile as she said thank you. Walking down the cold hallway. The soles of her shoes made satisfying clacking sounds with each step. Stopping at the wooden door, she knocked rhythmically. A response didn't take long and she opened the door.

Jeremiah was sitting at his desk with a thing of alcohol next to him. He's been drinking a lot more lately. Disregarding the half bottle of whisky y/n smiled at fondly him, "How are you doing today." He watched her sit down, curious to see what was in the leather suitcase. "Fine," He said with a quick and almost forced smile, "What did you bring with you?" She suddenly felt nervous by how he went straight into pointing it out with no beating around the bush. She was hoping that she'd be able to ease him into what she needed.

He took note of that nervous smile creeping up on her face. She put the suitcase on her lap. "This has things for a," She stops and lets out a sigh. Her eyes look down at her hands before back at her boyfriend, "I need a blood sample." The rise of his eyebrow made her nervous. They've had this conversation a few times now.

That he was fine now. That the toxin was completely out of his system. The mind-changing effect was only temporary and only caused physical change. That if he wasn't okay then why'd they let him walk right out of the psychiatric hospital? It didn't make any sense, but he's always been such a good actor. So good that y/n almost believed him for a moment.

She never explained that she thought he was lying, just saying that she was worried that it could have done unknown harm to him. But neither could fully get away with lying to each other. So when Jeremiah agreed to it, y/n was surprised by the lack of resistance. She foolishly thought that it must have been the whisky making him agreeable.

"That's great, but we're going to have to reschedule since you've…" It felt weird, almost wrong to point to his sudden use of alcohol. It was so much easier to ignore it and run away from the thought of it. Thankful they didn't have to open that can of worms as he knew what she was pointing at. "Yes, we can do it tomorrow. You don't have any classes from what I remember." He takes another sip from his glass while staring her in the eye.

The sudden eye contact made her shiver and deviate her eyes back down to her hands for a second. "Yeah, we can do that. You'll need to drink a lot of water though." While saying that she tries to smile as if it were some sort of joke. His lack of a reaction made her drop her forced smile.

"I noticed you've been out a lot longer this week. What have you been up to lately?" He speaks like he's going to accuse her of something. What exactly, she isn't sure, but it put her on edge. "I've been visiting my family a little more." She watched his eyes harden at her words. Almost scowling at the mental image of her going back to the family that neglected her for half of her life.

y/n would have been better off cutting them out of her life after high school, but she always had an excuse. That they were far too busy to put up with her. Painting herself as a nuisance. Not explicitly saying that she was too needy, but hitting at it. Never once has he seen them attend her art galleries or even her graduation. Jeremiah knows their sudden change of heart must have been the shit show that was Jerome. His brother's childish and ignorant attempts to woo her.

The whole thing was very infuriating for Jeremiah on many levels, but he could never be mad at her for this.

His sweet little dimwitted y/n.

"Why?"

"What?"

The simple question caught her off guard. "Why would you visit them?" There was a venomous undertone to his question that confused her. "Because..." Was she going to tell him that she went to them for help? That she was starting to fear him? No of course not. "Because my little brother, he's been trying to I don't know. Just connect with me, try to have me in his life."

It was an unsatisfying answer and a fucking lie, but Jeremiah would let this go because she wasn't getting out any time soon. "Oh, your little brother," He says with a slightly mocking tone. Signifying that he was going to play along with what tale she was going to spin. "Damian."

He hums, "And he just suddenly cares about you now?" At this point, y/n wasn't sure how to respond and she wasn't going to because this wasn't something she wanted to tango with. Not today. "It doesn't matter." Before he could ask anything else she swiftly changed the subject. "How have you been?"

That's when their conversation starts becoming less intense. Any tension that was there dissolved gradually. It was like everything was normal. Chatting for a good while when all of a sudden he got up, "Come on I have something to show you something." Of course, she followed him into the living room. Showing off the vintage record player and putting on a vinyl. Music filled the room and he held out his hand.

y/n became giddy from this simple action. She tries repressing the urge to squeal and to stop her smile from growing. Wordlessly she took his hand and they glided around the room.

She always had to beg him to dance with her. Not dance to music that you'd hear at a club, just slow waltzing music while no one was around. Being one of Bruce Wayne's adopted children she took a few dance lessons. Never cared for it until she found someone whom she wanted to share it with. Someone she wanted to hold close and move together with.

It felt like they hadn't been on the same page for a while, so this was nice. A quiet moment together to take a break from everything wrong. Just the two of them dancing in the living room that they'd call their ballroom. Nice things were always followed behind something else.

She started having a coughing fit ruining that nice moment. Jeremiah had her sit on the couch. Ecco silently walked in a glass of water, but she did not approach no matter how much she'd liked to provide some type of comfort. She had to wait for him to allow her to step close to y/n. She had no choice, but to watch.

y/n's cough was dry and her face became slightly flustered from the intensity of the coughing. She could feel one of Jeremiah's hands on her back and the other on her shoulder. Giving her a slight squeeze, it's unknown if it was for his or her comfort. After she calmed down and began catching her breath he silently signaled Ecco to come over. The blond woman handed y/n the glass and she gratefully accepted it. Once the cup was out of Ecco's hand she smoothly backed away from them. She was standing on the sidelines waiting for her next order.

"I'm sorry for ruining everything. This cold just won't go away." y/n's voice was apologetic, but there was a melancholic look in her [eye color] eyes.

"Did you plan on never telling me?" She was startled by how cold he sounded. "You keep lying to me, but I've seen your medical record. It's been nearly six months since you've found out and not once did you say anything. Does anyone know about this?" She couldn't look at him. Of course, she knew it was wrong to keep everyone in the dark, but she thought would be better this way. Maybe not for them, but for her.

Her voice was a bit shaky, "No. I haven't." Jeremiah was almost satisfied hearing this because the idea of her confiding in someone was bothersome. "What did you plan on doing, y/n? Did you plan on giving up? Killing yourself?" Panic set in her. No question as to why or how he saw her medical record. She was too occupied with damage control. "No! Miah, I wouldn't! I haven't even thought of it in a few years-"

He clenched his jaw and held up his hand making her shut her mouth. This wasn't what he planned to talk about tonight, but maybe the whisky had made him forget that there was a plan. Bringing up her condition was certainly not a part of it. Everything was getting to him a bit. He stood up from the sofa and began pacing trying to collect his thoughts. He didn't want to implode, not when y/n was frozen out of fear.

At this point why even bother?

"Ecco, take y/n to her room."

"No, I think I should get going. We'll talk about this later, but think I we should step away from each other before anything else." Despite saying this Ecco wasn't deterred. Jeremiah started to walk away, "I think so too. That's why you're going to your room." y/n got up and was just about to start leaving when Ecco grabbed her arm.

"Please let me go." She didn't realize that Ecco planned on fulfilling her order until she tried to pull herself out of Ecco's grip. This causes Ecco to tighten her grip and slightly dig her nails into y/n's skin.

Jeremiah commented from behind, "You used to be so obedient, y/n. I think your family is a bad influence, so just stay here and take a short nap." Before she could even process what was going on, there was a sudden pain in the back of her head and everything went dark.

Masterlist Part 2 Here

[unreadpoppy]

Plus One - chapter 1

Read on AO3

Raphael x Fem!Tav; Modern AU

Summary: Raphael and Tav are lawyers with a messy history. When both need the others help, they'll have to overcome their past.

Or, in which Raphael and Tav are messy exes.

A/N: I've been watching too many crime and law shows with my dad so this has been stuck in my head for some time. That said, I know nothing of the law world, I did some research but still, don't come for me if stuff is innacurate.

The sound of heels clacking on the floor alerted everyone that Tav had arrived. 

People greeted her with ‘good mornings’ and ‘how are you doings’, which were replied with a cold glare. Tav didn’t like small talk nor wasting time on pleasantries. She made her way to her desk, without speaking to anyone.

Tav was one of the senior associates at the Advocate Diabolis, a law firm which specializes in infernal contracts, representing the mortals who were tricked into selling their souls. A few years ago, they had gained more recognition after Tav represented Wyll Ravengard, ending his contract with the she-devil Mizora. 

As of now, she was trying to help the vampire spawn Astarion free himself from his old master, Cazador. They had made a breakthrough after translating the scars on his back, discovering it was an infernal contract. The problem was that she struggled to find a way to work with it. Without the full picture, Tav couldn’t think of a way to save Astarion. 

She sighed, removing her reading glasses and rubbing her forehead. Just then, Shadowheart, her secretary, passed by.

“Any luck with the Astarion case?” She asked, crossing her arms. Shadowheart was one of the few people who Tav spoke with, considering her akin to a friend. 

Tav shook her head. “I have researched everywhere, he even used some of his old contacts to try and help, but we still haven’t found the full contract.” Tav put her glasses on again. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You know…” Shadowheart took in a breath. “You could always try and talk to -”

“Absolutely not.” Tav cut her off before she could say the name out loud. “You know how things are between the two of us.”

“Well, not really, since you never told me everything but -” She paused momentarily, raising a brow “he might be the only one to give you some insight.” Saying that, Shadowheart left. 

Tav sighed and bit her lip. She hated when others were right, but the half elf did have a point. If there was one person who would know more than her about this sort of dealings, it would be the devil himself - Raphael. 

He was the senior partner at the House of Hope, a law firm that usually represented fiends. Raphael was older than Tav, but their paths had crossed a long time ago, when Tav was fresh out of college. They had gotten close, even becoming lovers. 

It all ended seven years ago, when the two of them went head to head in court in the Ravengard case - Tav representing Wyll and Raphael representing Mizora. Losing the case had been a great injury to Raphael’s ego and pride.

The fight they had that night was devastating and they had not spoken since. 

But Astarion was a close friend, and if talking with Raphael was the only way for her to figure things out, she would do so. 

‘It’s only for business.’ She thought to herself as she picked her phone and typed his number. Even after all that time, Tav still remembered it. 

After three rings, he picked up. 

…

It was a quiet day in the House of Hope. 

Raphael had no meetings until much later, everyone was working diligently and no one had come to bother him. He opened a bottle of red wine and served himself one glass, while looking out the windows of his office. 

Suddenly, there was a knock on his door, followed by a voice. “Sir, your father is here.” Korrilla, his assistant, said. 

Raphael downed the rest of his glass, and hid the wine. Mephistopheles was not one to make surprise appearances so whatever this was, it had to be important. He walked to the door, opening it. He flashed one of charming smiles. 

“My dear father, come in.” Raphael motioned to the inside of the room. Mephisto did not address him, walking in and taking a seat. 

The cambion didn’t sit, choosing to stay up while picking up a bottle of wyvern whiskey, pouring one glass for himself. He offered his father but was declined. 

“I don’t intend on staying here for long.” Mephistopheles said. 

“Then what is it that you require?” 

“Baalphegor and I are getting married and she insisted you attend.”  

Raphael took a large gulp from his drink. “And when is it happening?”

“This weekend. I’ll email you the details.” Mephistopheles stood up. “You’ll bring that girl of yours, won’t you?” 

Raphael furrowed his brows. “Whom?” 

“The little mortal one, I don’t remember her name but you introduced us a long time ago.” He cleared his throat. “Because this is a last minute invitation, we already reserved a seat for your plus one.” 

“Father, I-”

“Everyone else has confirmed their attendance. Do not make us look bad by leaving a sit empty.” With that said, Mephistopheles left in a puff of smoke. 

Raphael began thinking about who his father was speaking of until he remembered. There had only been one person whom the cambion introduced to the archdevil. The one person whom he almost took the next step with. 

Tav.

On cue, his phone rang, the name ‘Little Mouse’ flashing before his eyes. After three rings, he picked it up. 

…

“What do you want?” Raphael demanded. 

“Hello to you too, Raphael.” Tav said sarcastically. “Are you free tonight?”

“Why do you ask?” He asked in a dry tone. 

She sighed, swallowing her pride. “I’m having a hard time with a case and I believe you’re the only one that can help.”

“Oh? You want my help? I thought you were a grown woman who didn’t need me to help her. Wasn’t that what you said last time we spoke?” 

Tav rolled her eyes. Of course he would bring that up. “Can you put that behind us for one minute? It’s been seven years.” She couldn’t help but add “And I thought you were supposed to be the wise and mature one.” 

Two could play the game of quoting their past fight. 

She heard him sigh but he didn’t say anything. Tav spoke up. “Listen, it will just be a business meeting, nothing more nothing less and then we won’t have to see each other again.” 

“Fine. But, I will need something from you in return.” 

“Obviously.” Raphael never gave anything freely. “At what time are you free?”

“7 pm. Meet me in the Devil’s Den.” And with that, he finished the call. 

Tav sighed, putting her phone down. She looked at the clock on the wall. There were still five hours until they had to meet. 

‘It’s gonna be fine, Tav.’ She thought. ‘You do what he wants and then you won’t have to think of him ever again.’ 

[mykingdomforapen]

more adventures of Frog Guang

(a drabble from the universe of my fic, courage of stars)

-

Lu Guang had proudly named his pet frog Milk Toast. He cultivated a comfortably damp environment for him in his enormous tank and added new leaves almost daily for wont of something to do to spoil his new friend. 

The first day he went to school after his birthday was the most he ever spoken since the beginning of the school year. He told everyone who was willing to listen that he had a new pet frog. The girls shivered until he told them that the frog’s name was Milk Toast, which made them coo. The boys demanded proof of the frog’s existence, and then bombarded him with so many questions that he almost regretted telling them anything. What color was his webbed feet? How long was his tongue? Does he eat flies? Does he ribbit? How high can he jump? Ten centimeters? Fifty? 

He rushed home from school every day to spend time with Milk Toast, which usually took the form of reading books out loud to him. Lu Guang read his frog books out loud, in case Milk Toast was curious what humans liked to say about his kind. He charged Yeye and Maamaa to let him do all the feeding, so that he could choose the best-looking crickets to set into the tank. The crickets were a considerable match for Milk Toast, and Lu Guang stared approvingly as his tiny frog hunted viciously for the insect larger than the size of his head. 

During art class, Lu Guang drew pictures of Milk Toast every time. Whether they used crayons, marker, colored pencils, watercolor, or cut-out pieces of colored paper, Lu Guang created rendition after rendition of Milk Toast. Even when the art teacher asked if Lu Guang would draw flowers, he added Milk Toast on a leaf. When tasked to draw a portrait of little Mei, his desk mate, Lu Guang snuck Milk Toast onto her shoulder, which she did not appreciate as much as he thought she would. 

After school, Lu Guang showed the drawings to Milk Toast through the glass of the tank, as he was fairly certain that at least Milk Toast would appreciate the effort he put into his art pieces. 

“That’s you,” Lu Guang said helpfully as he pointed to the blueish blob with bulging eyes. Milk Toast stared ahead, his little throat puffing rhythmically. 

“This is you too,” Lu Guang said, showing another drawing. “And this is me.”

He pointed to a drawing of himself, who was roughly the same size as the frog and with skinny lines as limbs. Milk Toast shifted in his place, which Lu Guang took as interest. He propped it against the glass so that Milk Toast could continue to admire it.

“This is you with Qi Mei,” said Lu Guang, showing him the portrait of his classmate. “I asked her if she wanted to keep it and she said no, so I think you should have it instead.” 

“Guangguang, it’s dinner!” Maamaa called out. “Hurry and wash your hands.” 

Lu Guang added another new leaf into the tank as a treat before shuffling off to dutifully wash his hands while his grandmother set the table. He toddled to his usual place, next to Yeye, and saw that the table was set for three. 

“What about Ma and Ba?” Lu Guang asked. 

“Ma and Ba are very busy at the library right now,” Maamaa said. “They’ll eat dinner later.” 

“Can I eat dinner with them?” Lu Guang asked. 

Maamaa pursed her lips as she scooped a mound of rice into Lu Guang’s bowl. 

“They won’t be back until you’re getting ready for bed,” she said with a sigh. “Come on, before it gets cold. I worked hard to cook you a good dinner.” 

Lu Guang hid his disappointment by shoveling rice into his mouth. Yeye stroked the back of his head, his hand strong and ticklish. 

“Come on, have some fish,” said Yeye. 

He scooped a large portion of fish onto Lu Guang’s bowl, and a healthy helping of garlic pea sprouts. He tactfully did not offer the frog legs that Maamaa had cooked for the grown-ups, and Lu Guang avoided eye contact with them. He was convinced that Milk Toast would be able to see whatever Lu Guang saw through his eyes, and he would be sorely disappointed if he knew what was going on in the dining room. 

“When will Ma and Ba be done going to the library every day?” Lu Guang asked. 

Maamaa’s eyes flashed with pity. 

“When you go into the fourth grade, little one,” she said.

Lu Guang’s shoulders sank lower. Fourth grade felt like an eternity. The fourth graders towered over him in the playground at school. They were so big and mature and they knew what fractions were. Lu Guang was right now in the first grade. Was he never going to have dinner with Ma and Ba again? 

Maamaa, snapped her chopsticks as she added tomato egg to Lu Guang’s bowl. 

“Eat more, Guangguang,” she ordered. 

He obeyed. After eating more than his fill in dinner, Lu Guang sat at his desk to finish his homework while Yeye walked him through the mathematics. Milk Toast had changed positions during dinner time, which cheered Lu Guang up. He spied on Milk Toast while the frog basked in low light. For the rest of the night, he rested his head in his arms as he watched Milk Toast up close, starry-eyed.

Even when Maamaa ushered him to bed and switched off his lights, Lu Guang crept back to the tank and spied on Milk Toast, watching the frog breathe, sit, and occasionally swim. By the time Ma and Ba came home, and Ma peeped open his bedroom door to spy on him, she found Lu Guang fast asleep at his desk, cheek pressed up against the glass. 

[zaceouiswriting]

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.32

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: None

(Riven)

(Brandon | if you know, you know)

I walk around the building for some time, my head full of conflicting thoughts. This is the case until I return to my shared room in the evening. The second I get there, I'm confronted with all three other boys sitting in the living room in front of the TV. There is a football game playing on it. My father loves this sport too, as it is as popular as Fairy Three-Ball or Sky Disc, only for those who don't have fairy wings or spells. Magical fairies are in the minority, even though almost half the world's populations of all planets are made up of fairies, but the vast majority cannot use magic nor have wings.

“Who’s playing?” Somehow the question feels strange, even though it’s so normal.

Riven is the only one looking back, a predatory grin on his lips, looking me up and down like a piece of meat, making the blood rush to my head. He looks so hot in the pale light, with his violet eyes sparkling at me lustfully. "The Eraklyon national team against Solarias; they are bitter rivals," he mentioned, not looking at Sky, but I could feel the room growing colder.

While I wait for an answer, I look around, hoping to make eye contact with the two Eraklyans, but both Sky and Brandon are visibly angrily staring at Riven, who in turn only has eyes for me. "Why is everyone so tense about this?" I question with a raised eyebrow.

Riven, clearly amused by the topic, chuckles mischievously, only to be met with dirty looks. He puts his glass to his lips, and his gaze springs back to me. "Because Eraklyon has never won against Solaria," he mumbles over the rim of his drink. The reaction is immediate; two pillows fly directly at his face with force. At which he giggles even louder, almost like a drunk would.

I nod and make a noise of understanding as I move closer to them. But as my gaze darts between them, I quickly decide to sit down next to Sky on the couch, far away from the other two, who are still secretly staring at me and almost look like they're about to pounce on me at any moment. All the while Sky seems completely oblivious, his eyes fixed on the TV.

"What about Gyonos?" Suddenly I feel everyone's eyes on me. Feeling a strange kind of pressure put on me, I don't even dare to look back. "Did I say something wrong?"

Brandon, however, has become serious, turned down the volume on the television, put both feet on the floor, put his arms on his thighs, and leaned forward. It almost feels like I'm being interrogated by the authorities.

"The Gyonos national team has withdrawn from this year's Magical World Grand Cup. There are many rumors about it, but from the few news reports from the world itself, the team seems to have disappeared," Brandon explained, eyeing me suspiciously. "Are you from Gyonos?"

Brandon's words make my stomach sink. Until now, I never thought about it, but it's possible. I often wondered why some faces seemed so familiar. Before I know it, I'm holding my right hand over my mouth in a desperate attempt to suppress the shock that's building up inside me.

"That's because they're all dead," I hear myself saying. But the next moment I'm already standing. I apologize, say I need some fresh air, and before anyone can say anything, I run, almost ripping the door off its hinges, straight to the front door of the school, and from there left past the windows of our dorm and straight into the woods.

Although the memories are not as overwhelming as they were when they were still in my mind, the pain is still there. I watched them die, and even though I had nothing to do with most of their deaths, it will always hurt, with each memory of their faces as they took their last breath. Most of the men who died were so young, barely older than me. They all had their lives ahead of them, and what were they dying for? That we reconcile with those who tried to invade our world for hundreds, no, thousands of years? I don't even want to imagine having to coexist with those creatures.

They may believe they can live like us because they can look like us, but they are nothing more than reptiles who sometimes hide in the skin of others as they have the magical ability to fill out any skin they can get their hands on. However, if the outer stolen skin is removed, they return to their original shape. It is disgusting to watch, but convenient, although they cannot do the same to magical fairies, as our skin and bodies are special. Although they cannot steal our skins, they still seem to have a way of defeating us, for I once heard of an entire troop of magical fairies being wiped out by these monsters by having something planted in their heads that forced them to fight the others.

I didn't even know that many of these men had prominent roles in the magical dimension, mostly because I never really cared about the status of those under me as long as they treated me like everyone else—except, of course, the additional respect I expected for my many years on the battlefield.

At this point, most of the anger has turned to sadness. Why has a guardian fairy like me the blood of so many on his hands? Shouldn't I be saving people?

Suddenly I feel something at my feet. I can barely look down when I feel the ground beneath my feet disappear, and before I know it, I'm back on the ground, this time without a muscular body to stop my fall. Instead, something snakes around my leg. Before I can do anything, I feel a jolt, a scream escapes my lips as I'm dragged across the rocky, wooded ground—down a side path into the forest—and a second later I'm hanging upside down in the air.

I don't see anyone around, and screaming for help isn't really my thing. But when I look up, I see a root as the culprit of my current predicament. Can this day get any worse?

"By the golden leaves, are you alright?" A voice vaguely familiar calls out to me. Looking down, I see the girl who helped me heal the forest after my disastrous battle with Stella.

“Oh, it’s you,” I say quietly, smiling sheepishly and trying to downplay what happened.

"I'm so sorry, if I had known that the tree meant something like that, I would have stopped him!" she shouts back.

Her panic makes me smile because none of this is her fault. "You don't have to apologize for anything, but I would appreciate it if you could help me get down because I've had a crappy day already and I don't want to have to hurt the tree to get free."

She mumbles a few words and runs off, leaving me hanging. Has she just abandoned me? I mean, she wouldn't be the first and surely not the last. It leaves me wondering if I should just cut the root off and be done with it. Forming a knife out of stone, ready to do just that, I suddenly fall. I hit the ground with a few groans and immediately feel that there are bones where they don't belong. Fortunately, the girl is soon back. She is breathing heavily, and her big, round, brown eyes are constantly apologizing.

"Let me lie here for a moment. I think some of my bones are broken," I say, smiling warmly at her, hoping it will calm her down. But it doesn't. I'm not surprised; she's probably never experienced anything like this before, but for men like our soldiers, it's normal. They don't want to show pain, nor do they want others to see their injuries.

But the girl doesn't seem unwilling to leave; she quickly falls to her knees and tries to heal my wounds. Even though I try to get her to give up, she screams at me in panic. All I can do is stare at her, frowning. I never thought she was someone who screams.

But despite all her attempts, she couldn't heal me; her powers were not strong enough. If she had let me talk, I would have told her that. I roll my eyes and gently push her away from me with a quickly summoned stone pillar. Her eyes are focused on me; pain is visible in them. But I keep smiling. "Topsoil Grave," I say my spell.

Once the spell is cast, dirt quickly covers my body, only to harden until everything except my face is covered by a thin layer of topsoil. Feeling the coolness of the ground all over me, a sigh of relief escapes my lips. I slowly feel my bones regenerate, healing the cracks and fractures I suffered from my fall. It will take some time to heal completely, as it is not a small flesh wound like the one I gave Cory. Magic may be useful, but it is not a miracle.

I almost forgot that I wasn't alone if the girl next to me hadn't found her voice and asked me if there was anything she could do for me. I think about it for a moment, but I don't really see the reason she stayed. It would be tomorrow when I was finally healed enough to break free. Although it's more of a hunch that this spell would work to this extent, I'm glad I don't have to go to the infirmary.

"Not really," I say, smiling. But a moment later, something occurred to me. "Could you go to my roommates and tell them I'm not coming back tonight? It would only get complicated if they turned the whole school upside down to find me."

She sits there uncertainly, playing with her fingers. Somehow I sense that she feels guilty about what happened. I'm about to tell her again that I deserved it, which I did, but her face suddenly lights up, and before I know it, she runs away, telling me to wait there and she'll be back.

Dumbfounded, I can only watch her go. Does she think I can just run away with both my legs broken? Some people! Still, I can't help but smile again, only this time much more sincerely. When I realized that I was starting to like her as a friend, I could only groan in annoyance. Friendships are way too complicated. I haven't even managed to talk to my best friend, even though I see him every day, because he always ignores me for some reason I don't know. Maybe Corey can shed some light on his idiot brother?

[Masterlist]