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reidandweep · 4 years

Text

Stitching

Spencer Reid x Reader (female)

A/N- Much like Adam Driver, I have been a huge fan of Matthew Gray Gubler and criminal minds for years. With quarantine, I decided to re-watch the show from the beginning and I had some inspiration. My writing tends to take a while but if you have any requests or idea for Spencer Reid, please send them my way.

Word Count- 6286 words

Warning- Angst, mentions of violence and torture, fluff, tears, and the usual criminal minds details.

If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge? -William Shakespeare.

QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

“Good morning my lover and friends. As of 8:45 am, yesterday morning, four bodies have been found across the Washington State area. Locations confirmed to be Pomeroy, Baker City, Salem, and Mill Creek. All victims were very similar in physical appearance; Caucasian, red hair, brown eyes, approximately 5ft 4’.”

Garcia swiped her tablet to display family photographs of the victims on the screen. The team watched, in the debriefing room, as they scanned through their own tablets; reading through the details. Spencer’s eyes flittered over the images as his fingers scanned across the words in his paper file; still adamant on not working with technology like the rest of his team.

“What about the cause of death? How were they found?”

Garcia shivered at Rossi’s question.

“It’s not a pretty image. Each victim was dismembered at the elbows, knees, neck, and stomach. Further cuts were made vertically down the stomach and across the face, arms, and legs. Not deep enough to cut through bone, but deep enough to bleed out. Where the unsub cut our victims, he then sewed them back together.”

Emily looked up at Garcia.

“Are you saying the lacerations were made before the victim’s died?”

“Precisely. Each autopsy report came back the same with the cause of death pointing to the direction of blood loss; specifically, from the throat.”

The team looked at the new images before them. Multiple pictures appeared on the screen, showing the bodies of the victims. The pictures showing the women laid out in the same pose, thick thread holding together the pieces of their corpses. All had their eyes closed, except one.

“Garcia, the last victim, zoom into her face.”

Garcia did as Spencer asked.

“Her eyes are closed.”

Spencer nodded, glancing towards JJ as she spoke.

“Meaning that he felt remorse for this murder.”

Derek scrolled through the pictures on his tablet.

“The other three victim’s eyes are open, indicating that he wanted them to look. To watch what he was doing, whatever it may have been.”

Spencer looked across the table at the questioning faces.

“So, what changed between the third and the fourth victim?”

Hotch stood from his seat, indicating the others to grab their belonging.

“We can discuss further on jet. Wheels up in thirty.”

WASHINGTON STATE

Being greeted by the local police department in Clagstone, Spencer and the team began their investigation into the murders. Spencer did not know what it was, but the stitching on the bodies felt familiar. Like he had seen them before.

Looking up from his files, Spencer watched as Derek walked into the room, ending a call with who he could only presume to be Garcia.

“Garcia has just completed background checks on our latest victim. Lily Trent visited local film screenings at the Southview Centre religiously, to watch horror movies in particular. Seems like the girl loved anything horror and Halloween; according to her roommate and her computer history. It seems that are other victims did also.”

Spencer stood from his seat and walked towards the whiteboard at the back of the room. Writing down the details Derek stated, his brain began to filter through the relevant information needed.

“Halloween is ranked the ninth most celebrated holiday in the world. With different interpretations of the holiday occurring according to country and culture. Wearing costumes at Halloween did not even become an occurrence until 1585, with the first instance recorded in Scotland.”

Derek chuckled at Reid’s excitement. He knew the boy loved Halloween.

“Well it all looks like they were pretty huge fans of the holiday and horror films. Maybe our unsub was too.”

Spencer looked down at the photos in his hand, scanning his memory for any correlation.

“Maybe, it’s not just horror, but a particular film. If all the victims were presented in a certain way, maybe the unsub is trying to replicate what happened to a character in a particular film.”

Derek crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’ll call Garcia to search through all the victims search history to see if any particular horror films come up in each one. Do you know of any films that the unsub could have replicated?”

Spencer shook his head.

“I can collate his actions to hundreds of films but, the method of torture and look of the victims, I can’t think of one horror feature that pinpoints all that the unsub has done.”

A thought unexpectedly popped into Spencer’s mind. Derek cocked his head at the sudden halt from the resident genius.

“But I know someone who might.”

UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON

“The importance of genre in film alters many of the other aspects. The characters and their narrative arcs, the music score, cinematography, the edit, and so much more. Sometimes genre even dictates the director who signs onto the project. Dennis Dugan would not have a directing career if Adam Sandler stopped making comedy movies. Because that is what he directs. He doesn’t direct comedies; he directs Adam Sandler comedies. Which, in my opinion, are a whole genre on their own.”

The class chuckled.

“Genre plays a part in everyday life. Sometimes, your day will be led by romance, or grief, or action. There may be drama, or comedy, or even silence.”

The class looked on in concentration as Y/N walked across the floor. If someone who did not attend the college walked past the classroom, they could’ve presumed that she was a student. She looked young enough.

“It controls the way the characters talk, act, and move. How the plot thickens and pushes forward and…”

The doors at the back of the auditorium opened. Y/N looked up at the sound of the intrusion to see figures that she could not recognise, and one that she did.

Clearing her throat, she continued.

“And how it even ends. We shall leave it at that today. What I want you to do in the meantime is research a genre in particular and come up with examples that counteract the stereotypes that have been enforced upon the genre itself. Hand it in to your professor first thing Monday morning. Thank you.”

Y/N watched as the students collected their things and filtered out of the room. The figures waiting till she was only left before they walked down the steps.

Coming to a stop in front of her desk, Y/N crossed her arms and waited. Spencer stepped forward with a crooked smile on his face.

“Hi Y/N.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.

“Long time no see stranger.”

Spencer’s cheeks burned at Y/N’s words. The team shared looks between them at the unfamiliar display. They had seen Spencer blush at people before, but not for a long time.

Spencer cleared his throat, preparing himself to act professional.

“This is Dr Y/F/N Y/L/N. Y/N travels across the country to guest speak at different universities on her topic at hand. She specialises in film studies, more importantly the focus of characters and genres. If I can’t connect the unsub’s actions to a film, Y/N most definitely can.”

Y/N smiled at Spencer’s praise.

“Nice to meet you all. So, what are you here to talk to me about Doc? Obviously, you’re here on a case and if you are asking for my help, I’m guessing it’s going to be pretty gruesome.”

Spencer blushed at the nickname; caught off guard by the word slipping of her tongue.

Sending a raised look towards Reid, Hotch began to explain why they were there.

“Were looking into a case of connected murders. All victims were found to have been mutilated and tortured in the same way. As well as showing resemblances in their physical appearances. With research, we’ve found that each victim was particularly fond of horror films and Halloween. We would just like for you to take a look and see if you could recognise if the ways in which they were harmed stemmed from a film in particular.”

Y/N nodded her head.

“Of course, anything to help.”

She reached for the files from Spencer’s hands, ignoring the tablet pushed in her direction by JJ.

“Sorry, I prefer to use paper. I only really use technology for my lectures or to watch films if they cannot be purchased in physical form.”

Derek smirked, shooting looks to his team, as his eyes landed on Spencer. He never thought he would meet a technophobe like Reid.

Y/N scanned through the pictures and documents, looking in detail at the lacerations at hand. She identified the similarities between the victims, as her mind swirled through the images and characters from the films, she knew held similarities.

“What were the names of all the victims?”

Emily looked towards the woman.

“That information is classified.”

Y/N did not blink at her abrasiveness.

“Were any of them called Sally?”

The team looked perplexed at her question.

“No. Why that name in particular?”

Y/N continued to scan the pages as Rossi questioned her.

“Because the unsub isn’t replicating anything from a horror movie. The unsub is replicating the physical appearance and staging of a character from an animated movie. A Disney one to be more specific.”

A light bulb flickered in Spencer’s mind as he stared at Y/N in realisation. The hair colours. The stitches. It made sense now.

“The Nightmare Before Christmas.”

LOCAL POLICE DEPARTMENT

“The Nightmare Before Christmas is a 1993 American stop-motion animated musical Halloween-Christmas fantasy film directed by Henry Selick and produced and conceived by Tim Burton. It became a cult classic during the early 2000s with orchestral concerts occurring every year to celebrate the spectacle of the film.”

Spencer indicated for JJ to change the monitor as he and Y/N stood in front of the team to explain the information.

“Originally, the story began as a poem written by Tim Burton. Both narratives follow the protagonist, Jack Skellington, into his journey to Christmastown, and how he tries to make Christmas his own. The character in question that your unsub is replicating is the love interest of our protagonist. Created by Dr Finkelstein, Sally is a ragdoll-esque character whose body is covered with stitches to keep her together. The form in which all the women were found is identical to this scene in the movie.”

The screen changes to show the scene in question; paused at the precise moment to prover her point.

“All red haired, all Caucasian, all eerily the same. The stitches are exactly the same and the pose in which they are in the pictures are also.”

“We now know which film our unsub is mimicking, but how can we produce a distinguished profile of our unsub? All we can say is that between his third and fourth victim, he suddenly began to feel remorseful of his crimes.”

Y/N looked towards Spencer, waiting for him to speak as he knew more details about the case.

“Garcia checked into the victim’s computer histories and found that all four victims attended a horror convention in the Washington state area over the course of the past month. The convention in particular runs every other weekend, focusing on different horror films to highlight. However, they always make an exception for one film; The Nightmare Before Christmas. Whilst reviewing receipts for the tickets, they were all brought through the convention’s website, which is run by its board of organisation every year. Up until recently, the board has held the same members.”

Derek tapped on his tablet to the convention’s website.

“Last month, the website released details stating that a distinguish member was no longer part of the board due to unforeseen circumstances.”

It suddenly dawned on Y/N who Derek was talking about.

“Dean Faulkner.”

Spencer whipped around towards Y/N.

All eyes laid on her as her breath increased.

“You know him?”

Y/N nodded at Hotch.

“I guest spoke at a panel with him a few years back at a separate university. We were both there, amongst others, to talk about the works of a genre that are expertise were in. I was there to basically provide loose ends for what they could not answer. Dean’s specialised area was horror. The whole time he spoke about what he described as the true villains of horror and of the world.”

Y/N gulped, her mouth going dry.

“Women.”

The wheels began to turn in the team’s heads.

Spencer stepped closer towards Y/N in assurance, seeing that her thoughts were becoming overwhelmed. He quickly stepped back after he realised what he had done.

“He went on a raging tangent about the damsel in distress and the final girl. Going on and on and on about how women are weak and would never be the last one standing if faced against the monsters in real life. How they manipulated the men and made the monsters seem worse than they truly were. The only time he spoke positively about women was when we finally calmed him down and, during a Q&A session, a student asked him who the perfect horror movie character was. He said Sally because she was forgiving and would do anything for Jack; even if that meant falling apart and being sewn back together. I tried to justify that the film does not necessarily fall into the genre of horror. But he rebutted saying that it most definitely did, because of the fact that Jack’s dream did not come true.”

The room was silent for a second, taking in the information.

Suddenly, Y/N grasped the pen from Spencer’s hands. Her finger scribbling across the whiteboard.

“I need to know the names of the victims. Get Penelope on the phone and tell me the names.”

The team shocked at her erratic movements, sat in silence.

“Do you want to capture this guy?”

Spencer licked his lips and repeated the victim’s names.

“Susanna Cole, Alice Dawes, Liberty May, and Lily Trent.”

Y/N swiftly wrote the names on the boards. Each name below the other. Underneath the last name she wrote the letter Y.

“Can you ask Penelope to track any females with the first name beginning with Y who have purchased a ticket to the next convention?”

Derek quickly began to type to her. The rest of the team looking on in disbelief.

“There were twenty-three purchases, but with cross referencing with the similarities in the other victims, one matched. Her name is Yasmine Driver.”

Y/N wrote the name on the board. Circling all the first letters of each name, it became clear there was another connection with the victims.

“Their initials spell Sally.”

Y/N nodded at JJ’s disbelief.

“Reid, when is the next convention being held?”

Spencer diverted his attention to Emily.

“Their schedule every two weeks, so that would make it… tomorrow.”

The team swiftly moved into action.

“JJ bring together the police force for a debrief. Derek and Rossi, go to the convention centre and question the board about Dean. Ask them how often he visited and if they have any knowledge of the victims visits to the convention. Spencer and Emily, contact Penelope for Faulkner’s address. Once you have visited the home, if he is there, bring him in. We’re going to try and catch him before he gets close to his goal. I will locate Yasmine and bring her to the station for safety. We don’t know how far he is going to go and what the end goal of his fantasy is. But we are going to stop him.”

The team swiftly did as they were told, leaving the room with only Spencer and Y/N behind. Just before the door shot, Hotch leaned back in.

“Thank you, Dr Y/L/N, for all your help. If possible, could you stay here with JJ and look through the documents? You know this guy more than we do, so any more information that comes to mind, please let us know.”

Y/N and Spencer watched as Hotch left the room, the door shutting behind him.

As the silence engulfed them, Y/N and Spencer were hyper aware that they were now alone and had been for the first time in weeks.

Spencer swiftly walked towards Y/N and embraced her in a tight hold. Wrapping her arms around the slender man, Y/N breathed in his scent.

“I’ve missed you.”

Y/N chuckled at Spencer’s muffled words, as his head rested on top of her own. Pulling back, Y/N slowly released Spencer, letting her hands drop to her sides.

“I’ve missed you too Doc. We can catch up later, I will be waiting right here. Now, go and save the girl.”

Spencer chuckled at her words but did as Y/N said. Throwing her a smile, Spencer quickly walked out the room, leaving Y/N behind.

Y/N sat in the room, looking over the files as the time passed, waiting to see Spencer return with the rest of the team. A knock on the door startled her from her search.

Looking up at the door, Y/N saw JJ walk into the room with two cups of coffee in her hands. JJ outstretched the one hand, placing the cup in front of Y/N, as she took a seat and began to sip at her own.

“I didn’t know how many sugars you took so I estimated.”

Y/N smiled at the woman’s kindness.

“Thank you. Have you heard anything from the others?”

JJ sat up in her seat as she watched Y/N look over the documents. Her fingers moving across the pages ever so quickly. Her hand that wasn’t tapped continuously on the table in a rhythm.

“Spencer and Emily located Faulkner’s home, but it was vacant. They’re looking around the premises for clues for where he may be; as we speak. Hotch and Derek just called saying they are on their way down with Yasmine now.”

Y/N nodded at her words. Glad to hear that the girl was safe, but the main priority now would be to locate Faulkner. She wanted to truly help them, before anyone else could get hurt.

JJ grabbed her tablet and began to search through the files for any missed out information. Silence befell across the pair, until JJ could not help but ask what they had all been dying to know.

“How did you and Spencer meet?”

Y/N had been waiting for the question. She had seen the looks the team had shared throughout the day. The questioning gazes towards the pair.

“Spencer and I were both guests speaking at the University of California a few months ago. He must have finished his lecture early as he was wondering the halls when he came across the class I was teaching. I was stood on the desk, encouraging the students to do the same. Spencer thought I was a student causing trouble whilst the professor had left the room. He ran in sprouting facts about the percentage of people who fall and severely hurt themselves whilst standing on tables. Telling me that I should get down before he reports me to my professor.”

JJ chuckled at Y/N’s story.

“Sounds like Spence alright.”

Y/N giggled in agreement. As she spoke, Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the memory of their first encounter. JJ noticed the smile on the woman’s face. She knew what that smile meant.

“So, I told him that he better stay there to catch me, just in case I fell, as I was trying to teach my students about the importance of character actions, and how doing something as simple as standing on a desk can amplify the tone of the scene. Like in the film Dead Poet’s Society. Spencer finally realised that I was also a guest speaker and he actually stood there for the next 40 minutes of my lecture. I didn’t need to stand on the desk that long, but I wanted to see if he would stay. Once the lecture had finished, he apologised for jumping to conclusions. I apologised for making him wait for 40 minutes in case I fell. He told me I didn’t make him wait; he chose to. We’ve been in contact ever since.”

Just as Y/N finished her story, the door to the conference room opened once more. Looking towards the door, Y/N watched as Hotch entered, followed by Yasmine. The young woman looked scared, but unharmed.

Y/N stood from her seat, unsure of what to do as Hotch insisted for Yasmine to take a seat.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Hotch nodded his head.

“We shouldn’t be long. The rest of the team are outside in the bullpen. You can go ahead and join them. JJ and I will take it from here.”

Y/N nodded her head, leaving the room. She watched as Hotch and JJ questioned spoke to Yasmine through the glass, before she turned and walked down the corridor to find Spencer and his friends.

Turning the corner, Y/N failed to stop herself before bumping into a tall figure. Looking up to apologise, her eyes suddenly widened at the familiar face. Before a sound could leave her lips, a blunt force knocked her out cold.

Spencer and the team discussed where Faulkner could be when Hotch strode into the bull pen.

“How did it go?”

Hotch walked towards his team, ready to answer Derek’s question.

“It seems that Faulkner had been stalking the victims for some time. Yasmine detailed seeing him turn up at the conventions, even though he was no longer allowed. She had previously complained about his behaviour to the board before his dismissal. Stating that Faulkner had sexually harassed her. Rossi, did anyone at the convention mention anything about Faulkner that we don’t know?”

“It seems that Yasmine wasn’t the only one. The other board members went into detail about why he was fired. It turned out that all of our victims, including Yasmine, had filed lawsuits against Faulkner for sexual harassment. The charges were ultimately dropped and never recorded to keep the convention’s reputation clear. But they fired Faulkner and banned him from being able to attend any further conventions. Taking away the Nightmare Before Christmas dedicated stand was just a coincidence. They felt that the convention needed something new as they had been celebrating the film for over eight years.”

Just as Hotch was about to declare what the next step would be in finding Faulkner, JJ burst through the ball pen.

“Guys, you have to come quick.”

The team, in shock, watched as JJ ran back towards the conference room. All quickly on her heels. Entering the room, she took control of the laptop, streaming the image to the projector.

Spencer could no longer breathe as he looked at the image on the screen.

“Y/N.”

The screen showed Y/N tied to a chair and bent forward; clearly in pain. Her surroundings empty and dark.

Suddenly a voice was heard.

“I sense there's something in the wind. That seems like tragedy's at hand isn’t there Dr Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

The team watched in horror as Dean Faulkner yanked Y/N’s head back, her body letting out a strangled cry at the pain caused by his actions.

Spencer felt sick, he felt like he was watching himself when Tobias Hankel had held him captive.

“Emily, call Garcia to track his location. We don’t have much time.”

Emily did as Hotch told her to. Talking as quickly as she could on the phone.

“She can’t track it; he’s re-routing the IP address every thirty seconds.”

“She needs to track it. She needs to find her now!”

They all jumped at Spencer’s outburst, watching as tears filled his vision and his hands began to shake.

“Spencer, you need to calm down, we are going to find her. He can’t have taken her far.”

Spencer took in Derek’s words. Taking a breath, he looked back at the screen as he tried to distinguish any recognisable features of where she may be.

Faulkner moved his face to rest against Y/N’s hair, smelling the tresses. She tried to pull away only for him to yank her back again.

“Why did you kill them Dean?”

Faulkner let go of Y/N’s hair. Walking to her side, he grabbed her face in a vicious grip. Yanking her to look at him.

“Why? They ruined my life, everything I ever worked hard for. You all did.”

Y/N looked at him in confusion.

“I did nothing to you.”

Y/N’s breath increased at the vicious look he sent her way. Her eyes flickered to the camera, knowing that Faulkner was streaming what was happening to Spencer and his team. She had to find a way to tell them where she was.

“You made them question my authority. My position. My integrity as a member of the board. You ruined my reputation by belittling me in California.”.

“That’s because you know nothing about horror Dean. You think you know everything about it, but you don’t.”

Spencer couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Why was Y/N taunting him?

“Garcia’s looking to see if there’s any abandoned properties around the area that he could have taken her to.”

Spencer didn’t even acknowledge Emily’s words.

Faulkner reeled back at Y/N’s taunt.

“I know everything there is to know about horror. I’ve seen it all. I’ve lived it. I’ve created it. Ask me anything about it, I know the right answers.”

“But you don’t. You have an idea of horror, your own idea, that is wrong. You believe that women are the reason you lost your job and became the monster that you are. But they’re not. The reason you’re a monster is because of your sick and twisted fantasies. You made those girls feel small and weak, didn’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

The team watched in apprehension.

“Garcia, the location, we need it now.”

Rossi looked between the screen and the phone in Derek’s hand.

“I can get the area he’s holding her, but not the specific building. The whole town is basically abandoned. She could be anywhere from a shop to a house.”

“Keep looking.”

Spencer chewed on his lips. He had to think rationally. If the unsub was upset about the changes and losing his job, what could have been the last straw?

“Derek what was the film they replaced Nightmare Before Christmas with at the convention.”

Derek and Spencer shared a look.

“Cabin in the Woods.”

Spencer ran across the rooms to the files at hand.

“In the location that Garcia has tracked her too, there are three cabins, all within a walking distance of the other.”

The team began to rush out the room, transferring the livestream to a tablet so they could monitor Faulkner and Y/N.

“You’re weak Dean. You’re just like all the horror movie villains. Ghostface, pinhead, jigsaw, all of them. You feed of fear and feeling in control. But the only thing you have in common with them is that you’re not going to win.”

Faulkner scream in rage. Pulling Y/N’s head back, he punched her in the jaw. Striding to the camera, he pushed his face to the lens.

“The party’s over!”

Spencer watched in horror as the feed went off.

“Hotch we have to hurry!”

Hotch sped up the car. Quickly arriving to the location, the team split up into pairs, taking a cabin each to inspect. Hotch and Derek, Rossi and JJ, and Spencer and Emily veered off to their targeted locations. Spencer followed Emily, trying to stay calm, as he slowly walked into the cabin to find it empty, when suddenly a gun shot was heard. Looking in the direction, the pair ran to the cabin that Derek and Hotch had been assigned. The rest of the team already there, looking into the cabin in shock.

“No, no, no, no. Y/N.”

Spencer pushed in front of them, tears pooling in his eyes as he a waited to see the horror before him. He looked in disbelief as Y/N stood from her position on the floor, the gun dropping from her hand as they shook. Faulkner laid a few feet away, in a pool of blood, no longer breathing.

Y/N looked towards the team. Raising her shaking hands towards Spencer.

“I didn’t want to kill him but he was going to shoot whoever walked through the door.”

Spencer rushed forward, grabbing her in a bone crushing hug. His hands stroking her hair as he soother her cries. Leading her out of the cabin, he allowed his team to sort out the rest as he continued to calm Y/N down.

The movement of the team were a blur as ambulances and police cars came. Taking them to the hospital as they sat in the waiting room as Y/N was checked over.

Spencer sat in the waiting room, his leg bouncing up and down with nerves.

Derek excused himself from the groups conversation as he went and sat next to Spencer. Clapping him on the back, Derek squeezed Spencer’s shoulder in re-assurance.

“She’s going to be fine pretty boy.”

“Physically, she has a concussion, bruising along her jawline, and needs stitches on her forehead. Mentally, I don’t know how she is going to handle this. When I suggested asking for her help in the case, I didn’t presume the risk of her being hurt. I should have.”

“Spencer, listen to me. We would have done everything to make sure she lived okay. She not only saved herself but she also helped save Yasmine and this team. Any one of us could have been shot if she had not thought fast and got the gun out of his hands. You know, better than anyone, how to help her deal with this.”

Spencer took in Derek’s words, nodding his head in appreciation, as he leaned against his friend in a comforting hug.

“Probably wasn’t the ideal way to introduce your girlfriend to the team though.”

Spencer stuttered at Derek’s teasing.

“We’re profilers Spencer. We’ve all noticed how you’ve been happier these past few months and seeing how persistent you were for us to consult Y/N, it gave us all an idea why. Seeing you together only confirmed our suspicions. So, how long has pretty boy had his pretty girl?”

Spencer chuckled at Derek’s words. Ringing his hands together as he spoke to Derek.

“Tomorrow is actually our six-month anniversary. She was going to be flying back today so we could celebrate; unless I got called on a case.”

“We can still celebrate.”

Spencer looked up as Y/N walked through the waiting room, fresh stitches on her forehead and an ice pack resting in her hands.

“The nurse said that there was no internal damage. That my body will just be sore for a few weeks. My concussion is light, so I am alright to travel home.”

The team gathered around to check on her. But her eyes could not leave Spencer’s as he rose from his seat. Spencer walked forward slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. Carefully he cupped her face in his hands, and to the surprise of Y/N and his team, Spencer bowed his head and placed a careful kiss on Y/N’s lips. Slow, protective, and full of love.

Pulling back, Spencer wrapped his arms around her as he looked at the beaming smiles of his teammates. Y/N couldn’t help the blush across her cheeks or the giggle that followed. Soon, everyone was chuckling at the pair.

“I would like to thank you Y/N. From the entire team. Your actions saved a young woman’s life, and what could have been one of our own.”

Y/N smiled in appreciation at Rossi’s words.

“You’re Spencer’s family. I would do it all again if I had to.”

“Statistically speaking, around 2,000 people a day are reported missing in the US. Approximately, 600 of those would be reported or considered kidnappings. It is highly unlikely for you to be put in a situation like that again.”

Y/N looked up at her boyfriend.

“I never thought I would say this, but your talk about me being kidnapped again is really attractive.”

The team laughed at the girl’s statement, seeing Spencer become physically embarrassed.

“Just to inform everyone, the jet will be ready to depart in forty-five minutes. As I was informed that today you would have been heading home, Y/N we have sent for your belongings to be collected; you can fly back with us.”

Spencer smiled at Hotch in gratitude, the older man knowing he would have only worried if she had flown home alone.

“Thank you, Mr Hotchner.”

Hotch let out a brief smile.

“Call me Hotch. Your part of Spencer’s life, that means your part of this family.”

BAU JET

It had been an exhausting few days for the team, and it showed, as they all were sporadically asleep throughout the jet. Silence encompassed the steel capsule, with only the sound of sleep filled breaths being heard.

Y/N laid fast asleep, with her head on Spencer’s shoulder, as the boy genius sat up wide awake. Looking down at the woman next to him, all Spencer could imagine was what could have happened if they weren’t quick enough. How many days he would have lost with her. All the things he wanted to tell her.

As though she could sense his deep thoughts, Y/N slowly awoke, rubbing her eyes as a yawn escaped her mouth. Blinking her eyes rapidly, she waited till she was fully conscious before she spoke.

“What time is it Doc?”

Spencer jostled out of his thoughts to check the watch on his wrist.

“It’s 2:36 am. You’ve been asleep for approximately 3 hours and 22 minutes.”

Y/N quickly sat up in her seat, wide awake.

Spencer turned towards her in worry, wondering what had made her so alert.

“What wrong? Are you feeling nauseous? Do you need some painkillers, as your due to have…”

Y/N grabbed Spencer’s face and placed her lips flush against his own. Their mouths moved in unison, as Spencer’s own hands moved to circle around her waist, bringing their bodies as close as they could be in the small space they had. They hadn’t kissed since the hospital, and before then it had been weeks. Spencer never realised until then, how much he truly missed her touch, her taste, her as a whole.

Coming to a point where they both lacked breathe, the pair pulled apart. Their eyes fluttering open as Y/N’s hands caressed Spencer’s face. Her one hand travelled to his hair, feeling the tresses that had grown since she had last seen him. She looked at him in a way no one had before. Spencer shared the same expression.

“Happy six-month anniversary Spencer. I love you.”

Spencer looked at Y/N in disbelief.

“Before you start spouting of facts about transference and how I am probably only saying this because you saved my life, you’re wrong. Because then I would be telling Hotch and Morgan the same thing.”

Spencer couldn’t help the watery smile that graced his face. For the second time in the past day, his eyes filled with tears. But this time, they were good.

“I’ve known I have loved you for a long time. For five months actually. I knew I loved you when we made pizza in your apartment and we ended up burning it, so we ordered one instead.”

Spencer laughed at the memory. It was the first time Spencer had initiated their make out. He had watched her cooking, in his apartment, and he had never found her more attractive than he did seeing her in his home.

“I knew that whilst you were spouting of facts about the invention of the pizza that I loved you and that I could listen to you forever. I love you Spencer.”

Spencer pulled Y/N closer to him as he rested his forehead against her own. The pair basked in each other’s presence.

“Past surveys show that men wait just 88 days to say those three little words to their partner for the first time, and 39 percent say them within the first month. Women, on the other hand, take an average 134 days. You knew after 31 days that you loved me. I knew after our first date that the way I felt when I was with you is a feeling that I could not even describe with my vast vocabulary. I knew after 8 days that the way I felt was stronger than liking you and that was a frightening thought. But its scarier to think what could have happened to you yesterday. That I could have lost you without you ever knowing. I made that mistake before. I will never make it again. I love you too.”

Y/N couldn’t help the smile and giggle that overtook her. Spencer, feeling high of the serotonin that was coursing through his body, couldn’t help his laugh either. Soon the pair were a giggling mess, unaware of the team who had all begun to awaken whilst the pair were talking.

The team congregated to the back of the jet, allowing the couple to stay in their own bubble.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen him truly happy.”

The group nodded at Emily’s words.

JJ smiled as she watched her best friend rattle of the possible movies that he and his girlfriend could spend their anniversary watching as she recovered. Her smile growing even wider at Y/N’s enthusiasm to watch the film’s in their original language. None of them could miss the look of adoration beaming between the pair.

“Yeah, it really has.”

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. -Lao Tzu

A/N- It isn’t the best but I really enjoyed writing this one.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds imagine #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid imagines

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littlemixnet · 3 years

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To me, a good ally is someone who is consistent in their efforts – there’s a difference between popping on a pride playlist or sprinkling yourself in rainbow glitter once a year and actually defending LGBT+ people against discrimination. It means showing my LGBT+ fans that I support them wholeheartedly and am making a conscious effort to educate myself, raise awareness and show up whenever they need me to. It would be wrong of me to benefit from the community as a musician without actually standing up and doing what I can to support. As someone in the public eye, it’s important to make sure your efforts are not performative or opportunistic. I’m always working on my allyship and am very much aware that I’ve still got a lot of unlearning and learning to do. There are too many what I call ‘dormant allies’, believing in equality but not really doing more than liking or reposting your LGBT+ mate’s content now and again. Imagine if that friend then saw you at the next march, or signing your name on the next petition fighting for their rights? Being an ally is also about making a conscious effort to use the right language and pronouns, and I recently read a book by Glennon Doyle who spoke of her annoyance and disappointment of those who come out and are met with ‘We love you…no matter what’. I’d never thought of that expression like that before and it really struck a chord with me. ‘No matter what’ suggests you are flawed. Being LGBT+ is not a flaw. Altering your language and being conscious of creating a more comfortable environment for your LGBT+ family and friends is a good start. Nobody is expecting you to suddenly know it all, I don’t think there’s such a thing as a perfect ally. I’m still very much learning. Even recently, after our Confetti music video I was confronted with the fact that although we made sure our video was incredibly inclusive, we hadn’t brought in any actual drag kings. Some were frustrated, and they had every right to be. You can have the right intentions and still fall short. As an open ally I should have thought about that, and I hadn’t, and for that I apologise. Since then I’ve been doing more research on drag king culture, because it’s definitely something I didn’t know enough about, whether that was because it isn’t as mainstream yet mixed with my own ignorance. But the point is we mess up, we apologise, we learn from it and we move forward with that knowledge. Don’t let the fear of f**king up scare you off. And make sure you are speaking alongside the community, not for the community. Growing up in a small Northern working-class town, some views were, and probably still are, quite ‘old fashioned’ and small-minded. I witnessed homophobia at an early age. It was a common thought particularly among men that it was wrong to be anything but heterosexual. I knew very early on I didn’t agree with this, but wasn’t educated or aware enough on how to combat it. I did a lot of performing arts growing up and within that space I had many LGBT+ (mainly gay) friends. I’ve been a beard many a time let me tell you! But it was infuriating to see friends not feel like they could truly be themselves. When I moved to London I felt incredibly lonely and like I didn’t fit in. It was my gay friends (mainly my friend and hairstylist, Aaron Carlo) who took me under their wing and into their world. Walking into those gay bars or events like Sink The Pink, it was probably the first time I felt like I was in a space where everyone in that room was celebrated exactly as they are. It was like walking into a magical wonderland. I got it. I clicked with everyone. My whole life I struggled with identity – being mixed race for me meant not feeling white enough, or black enough, or Arab enough. I was a ‘tomboy’ and very nerdy. I suppose on a personal level that maybe played a part in why I felt such a connection or understanding of why those spaces for the LGBT+ community are so important. One of the most obvious examples of first realising Little Mix was having an effect in the community was that I couldn’t enter a gay bar without hearing a Little Mix song and watching numerous people break out into full choreo from our videos! I spent the first few years of our career seeing this unfold and knowing the LGBT+ fan base were there, but it wasn’t until I got my own Instagram or started properly going through Twitter DMs that I realised a lot of our LGBT+ fans were reaching out to us on a daily basis saying how much our music meant to them. I received a message from a boy in the Middle East who hadn’t come out because in his country homosexuality is illegal. His partner tragically took their own life and he said our music not only helped him get through it, but gave him the courage to start a new life somewhere else where he could be out and proud. There are countless other stories like theirs, which kind of kickstarted me into being a better ally. Another standout moment would be when we performed in Dubai in 2019. We were told numerous times to ‘abide by the rules’, which meant not promoting anything LGBT+ or too female-empowering (cut to us serving a four-part harmony to Salute). In my mind, we either didn’t go or we’d go and make a point. When Secret Love Song came on, we performed it with the LGBT+ flag taking up the whole screen behind us. The crowd went wild, I could see fans crying and singing along in the audience and when we returned it was everywhere in the press. I saw so many positive tweets and messages from the community. It made laying in our hotel rooms s**tting ourselves that we’d get arrested that night more than worth it. It was through our fans and through my friends I realised I need to be doing more in my allyship. One of the first steps in this was meeting with the team at Stonewall to help with my ally education and discussing how I could be using my platform to help them and in turn the community. Right now, and during lockdown, I’d say my ally journey has been a lot of reading on LGBT+ history, donating to the right charities and raising awareness on current issues such as the conversion therapy ban and the fight for equality of trans lives. Stonewall is facing media attacks for its trans-inclusive strategies and there is an alarming amount of seemingly increasing transphobia in the UK today and we need to be doing more to stand with the trans community. Still, there is definitely a pressure I feel as someone in the public eye to constantly be saying and doing the right things, especially with cancel culture becoming more popular. I s**t myself before most interviews now, on edge that the interviewer might be waiting for me to ‘slip up’ or I might say something that can be misconstrued. Sometimes what can be well understood talking to a journalist or a friend doesn’t always translate as well written down, which has definitely happened to me before. There’ve been moments where I’ve (though well intentioned) said the wrong thing and had an army of Twitter warriors come at me. Don’t get me wrong, there are obviously more serious levels of f**king up that are worthy of a cancelling. But it was quite daunting to me to think that all of my previous allyship could be forgotten for not getting something right once. When that’s happened to me before I’ve scared myself into thinking I should STFU and not say anything, but I have to remember that I am human, I’m going to f**k up now and again and as long as I’m continuing to educate myself to do better next time then that’s OK. I’m never going to stop being an ally so I need to accept that there’ll be trickier moments along the way. I think that might be how some people may feel, like they’re scared to speak up as an ally in case they say the wrong thing and face backlash. Just apologise to the people who need to be apologised to, and show that you’re doing what you can to do better and continue the good fight. Don’t burden the community with your guilt. When it comes to the music industry, I’m definitely seeing a lot more LGBT+ artists come through and thrive, which is amazing. Labels, managements, distributors and so forth need to make sure they’re not just benefiting from LGBT+ artists but show they’re doing more to actually stand with them and create environments where those artists and their fans feel safe. A lot of feedback I see from the community when coming to our shows is that they’re in a space where they feel completely free and accepted, which I love. I get offered so many opportunities to do with LGBT+ based shows or deals and while it’s obviously flattering, I turn most of them down and suggest they give the gig to someone more worthy of that role. But really, I shouldn’t have to say that in the first place. The fee for any job I do take that feels right for me but has come in as part of the community goes to LGBT+ charities. That’s not me blowing smoke up my own arse, I just think the more of us and big companies that do that, the better. We need more artists, more visibility, more LGBT+ mainstream shows, more shows on LGBT+ history and more artists standing up as allies. We have huge platforms and such an influence on our fans – show them you’re standing by them. I’ve seen insanely talented LGBT+ artist friends in the industry who are only recently getting the credit they deserve. It’s amazing but it’s telling that it takes so long. It’s almost expected that it will be a tougher ride. We also need more understanding and action on the intersectionality between being LGBT+ and BAME. Racism exists in and out of the community and it would be great to see more and more companies in the industry doing more to combat that. The more we see these shows like Drag Race on our screens, the more we can celebrate difference. Ever since I was a little girl, my family would go to Benidorm and we’d watch these glamorous, hilarious Queens onstage; I was hooked. I grew up listening to and loving the big divas – Diana Ross (my fave), Cher, Shirley Bassey, and all the queens would emulate them. I was amazed at their big wigs, glittery overdrawn make-up and fabulous outfits. They were like big dolls. Most importantly, they were unapologetically whoever the f**k they wanted to be. As a shy girl who didn’t really understand why the world was telling me all the things I should be, I almost envied the queens but more than anything I adored them. Drag truly is an art form, and how incredible that every queen is different; there are so many different styles of drag and to me they symbolise courage and freedom of expression. Everything you envisioned your imaginary best friend to be, but it’s always been you. There’s a reason why the younger generation are loving shows like Drag Race. These kids can watch this show and not only be thoroughly entertained, but be inspired by these incredible people who are unapologetically themselves, sharing their touching stories and who create their own support systems and drag families around them. Now and again I think of when I’d see those Queens in Benidorm, and at the end they’d always sing I Am What I Am as they removed their wigs and smudged their make up off, and all the dads would be up on their feet cheering for them, some emotional, like they were proud. But that love would stop when they’d go back home, back to their conditioned life where toxic heteronormative behaviour is the status quo. Maybe if those same men saw drag culture on their screens they’d be more open to it becoming a part of their everyday life. I’ll never forget marching with Stonewall at Manchester Pride. I joined them as part of their young campaigners programme, and beforehand we sat and talked about allyship and all the young people there asked me questions while sharing some of their stories. We then began the march and I can’t explain the feeling and emotion watching these young people with so much passion, chanting and being cheered by the people they passed. All of these kids had their own personal struggles and stories but in this environment, they felt safe and completely proud to just be them. I knew the history of Pride and why we were marching, but it was something else seeing what Pride really means first hand. My advice for those who want to use their voice but aren’t sure how is, just do it hun. It’s really not a difficult task to stand up for communities that need you. Change can happen quicker with allyship.

Jade Thirlwall on the power, and pressures, of being an LGBT ally: ‘I’m gonna f**k up now and again’

#jade thirlwall #lgbt

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alwaysmychoices · 3 years

Text

My Final Thoughts on OH3 - and Why it Felt “Off”

I was a little behind everyone else, but now that I’ve finished Open Heart 3, here are my final thoughts (though I’ll talk about the final chapter later).

Personally, I think the book was fine in isolation - not the best but not terrible. However, as the final book of a series, it failed to maintain characterization, illustrate character growth, and capture the sense of “finality” that you expect from a final installment.

Here are some reasons why I think that.

Up until the last few chapters, OH3 fails to recognize its own timing.

Other than few throw away lines, you’d have no idea that this was the last year of residency for these characters. There’s little talk about leaving residency and (until the finale) none about finding jobs, moving, or being separated. All of these things would be large part of the main character’s life during this time.

None of the characters show their growth from previous books in meaningful ways.

Relationships don’t progress. Behavior isn’t altered. There’s very little to show for the last two books worth of character development and growth. It is an Ethan-centric book, but even Ethan’s character fails to show his growth. He became a caricature of Book 1 Ethan instead of the more mature version that should have developed after Book 2. He’s repeating the same mistakes that he did in Book 1 - namely unnecessary self-sacrifice. Then there are times when the characters act completely contradictory to their previous characterization with no or insufficient explanation as to why.

Only Bloom and Ethan have significant storylines.

In Book 1 & 2, the other LIs barely got screen time, but at least they each had storylines that were significant and fit their character. In Book 3, I can’t say that they have that.

Raf started a new job, but they did nothing with that except for occasional sightings and a job offer at the end of the book. His job served more of an explanation for his presence in Edenbrook than a real plot. Plus, there’s the inaccuracies of how quickly he became a physical therapist, which shows a lack of research or interest in his story.

Jackie was Chief Resident, and all we got from that was a vague storyline - most of which happened off screen - of her not understanding a resident’s needs. Being Chief Resident should have been an incredible plot for Jackie and given her the screen time she deserves, but neither of those things happened.

Bryce’s storyline was more developed than Raf’s or Jackie’s, but it got little screen time. It also repeated some of his Book 2 story as we saw his skills falter with MC in Book 2.

Other characters like Kyra weren’t even around. Naveen only had a plot in the final chapter or so.

This is especially disappointing because the characters neglected were POC and/or LGBT+. After Pixelberry’s promises to create more inclusive stories and give more time to diverse characters, this is extremely disappointing.

Book 3 introduced plots and waited too long to resolve them - or forgot them entirely.

Book 3 was ambitious with introducing stories but lacked the necessary follow-through. Tobias should have been our main source of drama on the team, yet his characterization was so different from Book 2 that nothing really happened. Sienna demonstrated her desire to change her career path early in the book, yet it was not acknowledged until the finale. Nothing came from Baz’s departure, nor did Esme really return. We also abandoned the Harper jealousy plot, which was a relief. We didn’t even work on Bloom’s wife, which originally seemed to be the premise of this book.

MC’s actions did not matter to the storyline at all, and they had no significant story of their own.

Nothing MC did really mattered. They solved some cases, helped some friends, etc. but had no meaningful action in this story. Without them, it would have been the same. MC only really existed in context of other stories, not their own.

There were very few callbacks to the original books, which you expect in a finale.

Ethan’s lawsuit served as the only story echo. This was obviously supposed to emulate MC’s trial and reverse Ethan’s role in it, and while I appreciate that MC didn’t get in trouble just for the sake of a callback to a previous book, it still feels hollow. Not only did the Ethan’s trial not accurately capture the original meaning of the ethics trial, it was weak in that Ethan hadn’t even done what he was accused of. It returned to Ethan’s flaw of unnecessary self-sacrifice and enhanced sense of responsibility, which was a good plot device. But ultimately, Ethan’s trial read more as a familiar plot than a meaningful part of the story.

The ending was rushed.

Some books can get away with an abrupt ending, but when this is the culmination of a series, the ending is significant and needs the proper respect. Naveen’s reveal, Ethan’s trial, the change in leadership, and the career decisions of MC’s friends all came up suddenly. There was little resolution with Bloom, who was the villain of the whole book. Honestly, this didn’t feel like the planned ending of a series, so I wonder if the original plan was to continue the series.

Of course, these are just my thoughts, so if you disagree, that’s totally fine. And even though I wrote a whole essay here, I don’t hate the book. I just think it could have been much better.

#Open heart #open heart finale #choices #pixelberry #open heart 2 #open heart 3 #ethan ramsey #sienna trinh #Jackie Varma #bryce lahela #elijah greene

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falloutjay · 3 years

Text

Wait, you are my hero? - Kenny x Reader

This is my first ever published x Reader fanfiction ever and I tried my best.

Just as a disclaimer, its not fully proofread, so I am already sorry for that and English also isn’t my first language so sorry again. I hope you guys do enjoy it tho.

______________________________________

Kenny McCormick/Mysterion x Reader

You walked around South Parks nightlife district, the so called "SoDoSoPa" with your good friend Bebe, when you heard a loud sound from a few streets away. People were running and screaming, some were on their phone calling the police. Curiously, you ran towards the noise, like some others.

"YN, stay here! That's too dangerous!" Bebe called, while she sprinted after you. Coming closer to where fires were already rising, you saw him.

"It's me! Professor Chaos! Scream like the little ants you are!" Professor Chaos was a super villain that had been terrorizing the town for quite a while now. He and General Disarray were feared individuals that only cared about creating chaos and nothing more. But he was not the reason you and others remained here, while most people would leave. People like you stayed for the Professors sworn enemies. The superheroes that protected this town. There weren't many, especially good ones, but one in particular made your head spin, when you heard his name.

"YN please. Let us leave. It's dangerous!" Bebe pleaded looking around the street. Professor Chaos had blown up a construction side and the fires where ravaging among the building. He stood on top of it laughing like a maniac with Disarray be his side.

"We can't leave. I want to see him."

"You're insane!" Bebe said again and looked around, obviously distressed.

"Come on, where are you." You whispered and your hand clutched onto your phone.

You hope to finally snap a picture of him personally instead of always cutting out the imagines in the newspaper or magazines.

People were still screaming when a roaring sound broke through.

Your eyes grew wide and you pressed record on your phone, holding it in the direction of the sound. A purple motorbike came around the corner and the person on it looked just as amazing as you imagined. His purple cape moved beautifully behind him, when he pulled off a sick drift and stopped the bike.

Mysterion, the most badass and beloved hero arrived. You worshipped this man.

In your opinion he was simply amazing. He was strong, courageous, and not afraid to die. You were so busy drooling over this hero, that you didn't noticed Bebe shaking your arm and screaming about the fire. Then a second hero arrived.

The somewhat hated "Coon".

He stood there, somewhat out of breath while screaming at Mysterion. "Ah, Mysterion, my arch enemy." Professor Chaos laughed evilly and pointed at him from the top of the building.

"I'm here too Chaos!" The Coon screamed. Professor Chaos didn't even give him a glace and just waved his hand, while he laughed.

"Today, I will put an end to your hero career Mysterion." "Oh yeah? I'd love to see that." The purple clothed hero retorted cockily and laughed. “Stop ignoring me for fucks sake!” The Coon screamed angrily, stomping his foot on the ground.

"We will see who will be laughing at the end. Disarray!" Professor Chaos screamed and suddenly you felt yourself being pulled.

You screamed before a hand was put over your mouth. You managed to turn your head a little bit and catch a glimpse of the right-hand man of Professor Chaos, General Disarray. "I have someone, Professor!" He called out to the gigantic seeming blonde and he laughed evilly once more.

"I have a hostage, Mysterion. Now your chances are significantly smaller than ever!" He laughed again and thunder struck behind him.

"Mysterion?" He called out, after he noticed that the hero was nowhere to be seen. You felt yourself getting pushed around a lot and heard some fighting noises before strong hands grabbed you. You let out a quick scream, before you saw into deep blue eyes. You noticed immediately that Mysterion had saved you. You sadly had not seen much of the fight, like you wished you had. He must have looked amazing.

"Run. Now. Get out of here." He said in his extremely deep voice and you needed a second before you could process everything that had just happened, but you managed to nod hesitantly before you took off running. Running for your dear life. You kept a tight grip on your phone in your pocket and when you finally reached the street in which you lived, you took a short second to catch your breath. "What the..." You mumbled somewhat scared and giddy.

Hastily you took out your phone and looked through your gallery. Your heart started beating faster when you took a good look at the beautiful snapshot you took of Mysterion while he arrived on his motorcycle.

"That's so gonna be in my locker at work." You mumbled, smiling like an idiot and you probably were one. You barely managed to escape the sticky situation, but you felt like it was somewhat worth it.

For you it was worth it.

Your little obsession with Mysterion started back when you were in High School and he saved a little girl that was almost run over by a car. Back then he was not all that professional like he was today. He apparently received some funding by the government which allowed him to have that cool motorcycle and a little headquarters. No one knew who he was or where he stashed all of his belongings. But he was a hero. To the town and for you personally.

A little squeal escaped your lips, before you went to shower and then straight to bed. Mysterion was the only thing on your mind during all of this.

When your phone rang early in the morning, you were already up and going about your day. You had the picture you endangered yourself for yesterday already printed out and in your work bag.

You worked for a little company belonging to Eric Cartman. He founded it a few years back and it changed its focus ever so often.

Eric paid you well and that's what kept you in the job. When it was time to leave you simply got into your car and started driving to the outskirts of the town where Eric had his little company. You parked on your employee parking space and saw one of your close friends and also colleagues walk up.

Stan Marsh.

He was honestly better than this job, but he simply wanted to escape his father for some time, because he hated the weed farm he owned, and Eric promised him some good money.

"Morning Stan!" You called out and waved towards the raven haired. He waved back and quickly jogged up to you.

"Hey, YN. Did you hear about the whole thing yesterday with Professor Chaos?" He asked and you showed your phone.

"Already read all the articles aaaand..." You quickly pulled up the snapshot you managed to sneak yesterday. Stans eyes grew wide.

"Woah! You were there?" "Yeah! And the girl that almost got kidnapped by Disarray? That was me." You smiled and Stan shook his head. "weren't you with Bebe yesterday?"

"Yeah." You began, as the two of you sat down at your desks. "She's somewhat pissed about me standing around in danger but she's happy I wasn't hurt." Stan smiled warmly at you and you guys talked for some more until Cartman strolled into your shared office.

"Okay. Okay. So... I want a new article about Coon for my blog and I need you, Stan, to please sort out the client data and phone anyone who hasn't bought our new merch." Eric said and pointed at the "Who is the Coon?"-T-Shits and Hoodies that hang on the wall.

"But no one likes the Coon?" Stan questioned and Erics face grew a little red. "Everyone loves the Coon. Mysterion is just some asshat who plays dress up and tries to mingle with the professionalism of the Coon." Eric said through gritted teeth and Stan and you rolled your eyes.

"Sure thing." Stan mumbled and started typing. "YN, for today, please research me some new money-making ideas." You nodded and went searching.

Hours went by in which Stan and you would love to just bang your head against the tables. "Why is he so obsessed with the Coon? You could almost think he is the Coon." Stan mumbled. "Almost but... You never know. I mean, we probably will never know who Mysterion is." You answered and filled out the papers needed for a new money-making idea. Last time you guys tried NSFW-Patreon drawings; the problem was though that none of you could produce enough hentai to keep up with the demand. You guys did not notice that you had been working for a while until two beautiful blonde-haired boys poked their head in.

"You guys coming for lunch?" Butters asked. "Yeah, haven't noticed it's lunchtime yet." You said and peeked at your watch. "Hardworking as always." Butters smiled and just now you noticed he had a black eye.

"Butters, what happened there?" Stan asked and he looked scared for a second. "Just some guy who beat me up at the bar, nothing to worry about fellas." He smiled and honest to God, he was just a little sunshine all around. Unlike the blonde next to him.

Kenny was more of a player and very down to earth. He was super charismatic and confident despite his troubled upbringing.

You packed your bag and followed the guys.

Kenny didn't work for Cartman. He worked in a small car shop just a few buildings away. You didn't know why he refused to work with Cartman, but you could guess it was maybe due to Cartman being a little shit sometimes and him telling the blond always "You're pooooor Kiiinny."

Maybe Cartman’s terrible attitude really was the reason the blonde refused to work for him and only came here to have lunch with you all. "Where are we eating?"

You asked and watched Stan and Butters discuss on where to go. "How about Cafe Monet?" Stan proposed and you all agreed. Well, not really, Kenny didn't agree, he just tagged along. Once you all arrived and you were seated you guys searched through the Menu.

Kenny didn't and you knew he wasn't going to order since he was adamant about saving everything he had.

You know that since he once told you that he was saving everything he had for his sister.

You had met Karen a few times and she was a pure little angle, so you felt hard for the blond.

It melted your heart that he was trying so hard to better himself and help his siblings. Feeling generous you slid your Menu over to the blonde and smiled. "Pick something. It's on me." You whispered and he eyed you confused.

"I don't need some charity shit or something. I'm fine with eating my lunch later." He said, his blond bangs framing his face elegantly. "I know. Just see it as a friend treating a friend." You whispered back and he gifted you a half smile and went to look what he would like. Finally, you decided on a nice Fav/Dish and Kenny picked a bit of fish with potatoes and greens.

"Eating all healthy?" You questioned when the waiter out down the plate in front of him. "Yes. Staying fit is important." He said and winked confidently. You were so busy talking to the blond next to you, you did not notice the topic of your other two friends. "No no, YN was the girl." You turned your head to look at Stan pointing at you. "Huh, sorry, what was that?" You asked and Stan laughed.

"You were the girl who got almost caught up in professor Chaos evil plan weren't you?" Butters looked at you with wide eyes. He seemed trembling.

"Oh yeah, that was me. General Disarray was about to take me somewhere, but I was saved."

"Why were you there anyway?" Kenny asked with a full mouth. "Snapping pics of her crush." You eyed Stan angrily.

"He's not my crush."

"Tell that to your locker." You rolled your eyes.

"I managed to snap some good pics of Mysterion. I mean.... look!"

You digged out your phone from your pockets and showed the pictures around. "You should be a photographer or something I mean, damn. His ass Looks amazing in this one." Kenny said and inspected the pictures intensely.

"Don't encourage her to endanger herself anymore. And besides that, I don't think Mysterion would want to bang your boney ass." Stan commented snarky.

"Still more ass than you, flat cake." The blonde retorted and you and Butters simply watched the small verbal fight between them, before the two of you talked about some fashion things you knew about.

After lunch it was all back to work. It was getting tiresome around the last hour and it felt like a horrible drag. But eventually, you were finally done. You walked outside, together with Stan and you stood there.

"You need a ride home?" You asked him and he shook his head.

"Nah, I'm eating out with my family today. Just a small way to walk." You nodded and the two of you bid your goodbyes.

You got into your car and let out a deep breath. Work was tiring today, and you felt like just relaxing at home. It would be nice to maybe fill your bathtub with some loving hot water, some candles would also be nice. And cake. Yes. A cake would be needed.

So, you decided to make a small stop at the bakery before you would go home. You left your parking space and began driving through the night as you noticed a special someone sitting at a bench at the bus stop. You pulled the car up to the bench and rolled down you window.

"Kenny, what are you doing here?"

The blonde looked up from his phone and seemed surprised that you stood or rather parked there.

"Oh, I'm just waiting for the bus, the usual." He said and looked around. "But I feel like it's not coming."

He shrugged and you leaned over to open your car door.

"Hop in, I'll bring you home." You said and he reluctantly got it.

"Stop being nice, I feel like I am taking advantage." He mumbled and closed the door.

"What happened to your truck?" You asked, wondering what must have happened that Kenny had to take the bus.

"Some stupid racoons infested it and bit through some cables. I can swap them, but I had to order them online and it takes a while until they arrive." He crossed his arms, thinking about how much he wanted to strangle those stupid racoons.

"Honestly, I'm starting to see a pattern on why Coon is a raccoon."

Kenny laughed wholeheartedly with you. "That's the best thing I heard about him." Kenny bit his lip and wondered if it was okay for him to ask what he had on his mind for a while.

"Now that you already picked me up and all that..." You stole a quick glance at him before your eyes went straight back to the road. You nodded to signal him to continue.

"Would you mind hanging out for the evening?" He asked, charming as ever.

You thought about it for a moment.

"Sure, why not. I'll still get me some cake though." You said and pointed at the approaching bakery.

"Why?" He questioned curiously as you parked swiftly in front of the store.

"I feel like taking a nice long bath later and maybe I'll relax with some cake."

"You don't need cake to relax when you can have me."

Kenny's smile was incredibly devious and playfully. Normally girls would probably freak out or something about this comment, but between you and Kenny it had become somewhat normal.

"No thanks. The cake won't disappoint me after thirty seconds." You said and got out.

Kenny wanted to protest but you simply smiled devilishly and went straight into the store. Kenny used this time he was given to think of some witty comebacks.

He was not gonna let you have the last word about this. When you came back to the car, and got in, you were told: "You don't need to hide that you just wanna masturbate and think about Mysterion while touching yourself.

Kenny sat there with a smug expression and you rolled your eyes. You placed the package in the back and then gave him a light punch onto the arm.

"That one was good, I'll admit that. But you know, I'd rather think about Mysterion than be touched by you." You said and laughed.

Kenny needed to laugh too, mainly because the whole topic was simply in his favor, even when you were not aware of that.

"Ah, I love our banter." Kenny said and got comfortable in the passenger seat while he watched you drive.

"So do I. Oh, by the way, I got you and Karen some cake too. You'll treat me another time."

"Treat you with my dick? Or would you like my tongue?"

"If your name isn't Mysterion, no chance."

It was more banter to you than actually real. You were not that horny for Mysterion.

Everyone just loved to make this shitty joke at your expense ever so often, but you honestly didn't mind.

"Ah come on. And if I get a costume like his and change my voice a little?"

"Still no chance. Sorry Ken."

That still was a stupid lie. You sure were attracted to Kenny, I mean, who wouldn't. He was a tall, dirty blonde, blue-eyed hard-working man, with a soft spot for his family and great humor. You weren't surprised when you learned how many girls had little crushes on him. He was good looking and even when he wasn't the wealthiest, he was a kindhearted soul.

When you finally reach your apartment complex the two of you got out and Kenny followed you patiently to the fourth floor. Inside your apartment he went straight for the couch and relaxed. You let him be but reminded him of the no shoes rule. He begrudgingly took of his heavy and run-down boots and put them aside. He also, to your surprise, took of his orange trademark parka and tossed it into a corner.

"You'll pick it up later." You remarked from the kitchen when you saw him do that.

"Yeah, Yeah, I will."

You knew full when that he just said that so you wouldn't start a discussion with him. You knew that but still let it slide. For now, at least. You prepared a little sandwich for yourself before you plopped down onto the couch next to the blond.

"So, what are we doing?" You asked with your mouth full and he shrugged.

"How about you take that bath you were talking about and I watch you do so."

Did this shit eating grin ever leave his face?

"Nah, I'm good." You said and smiled back.

"Ah come on." He whined but laughed immediately after.

"Let's just watch some TV." You proposed and snagged the remote to put something on.

You guys were just lazily watching some random show while also being on your phones. All that was on your mind was that bath though. You loved Kenny to death but right now you were just craving some hot warm water all around you.

"Would you mind if I take that bath I was talking about? I really feel like I need that."

You said and the blonde smiled without taking his eyes off the phone. "I'd need you naked too."

You threw one of the couch pillows at him and pretended to laugh.

"Ha ha ha. You're sooo funny, it almost hurts me." You said, got up and walked into your bathroom to start the water.

In the next minutes you were setting up the candles and got your cake ready. When the water was almost ready, Kenny leaned in the doorway and watched you ignite the last candles.

"Jeez, you're going all out. Looks nice though." He said and gave you a low whistle.

"You wanna have me join you sweetheart?" He said and walked over to your kneeling figure. Kenny also got down to one knee and basically massaged your shoulders. You let out a deep sigh and rolled your eyes.

"Hey, Ken, listen, I really appreciate you and love our jokes and shit, but I don't think we should bang. It would be like... I don't know, super awkward if we had something and then just keep being friends and all that. And You're a great friend and I don't want to lose you, you know."

Kenny's smile faded and he frowned a little. "YN, I fucked so many girls and guys and I'm friendly with most of them and even their old or new partners. I'm sure it won't change a thing." He said charmingly and turned your head towards his.

You stared deeply into his eyes and you inspected the beautiful bright blue spots that highlighted it and the dark blue edges, while your heads came closer. You had never seen Kenny’s eyes up close.

And suddenly it struck you.

It felt like an ice cube slide down your spine and you trembled. You pulled your head back and basically fell onto your ass. Kenny eyed you confused and offered you a hand to get back up.

"No, I'm fine... I-I'll just take the bath if you don't mind." You laughed nervously and still confused Kenny nodded and held up his hands in defense.

"I get it, I get it. You won't resist me forever." He smiled and walked out. You were left there, breathing away the strange feeling of panic.

You quickly undressed yourself and went into the hot water. It calmed your racing thoughts down for a little bit and you managed to order them.

The blue, the highlights, the dark edges that formed a beautiful circle. The few freckles underneath the eyes. Why did Mysterion and Kenny have identical eyes? What, How, why, just... Argh!

You began stuffing yourself with cake and tried your best to make any sense of the situation. Was Kenny Mysterion, or did they just have similar eyes?

Or... You thought about it long and hard and eventually.... It kind of just... Clicked?

It made sense.

Kenny was living alone, he was young, in shape, the piecing blue eyes, the need to protect others, some jokes he made... It... It just fitted together like a puzzle.

You quickly finished up your bath and went outside after blowing out the candles.

"What a view." Kenny joked from the couch and you just went straight into your bedroom.

This perverted guy you were close friends with was really the pure and kindhearted Mysterion? In your head it barely made any sense but you kind of just felt like your theory was correct.

You got dressed quickly and just sat on your bed, trying to picture the blond in the purple costume without the hood.

It just fit.

The height, the figure.

Everything.

After a few minutes you heard a knock on your door and carefully Kenny came in.

"Good, you're dressed. Even if I don't mind you in less clothes."

You didn't respond or gave him any attention.

"YN, is everything, all right? You're suddenly so wei- You're Mysterion, aren't you?" You interrupted him and looked straight at him.

He seemed surprised, taken back, unsure.

Everything, Kenny was normally not.

"Me? Mysterion? Sweetheart, was the water too hot?" He laughed when he collected himself again.

"No. Not at all. When Mysterion saved me, he starred straight into my eyes. You guys have the same eyes, freckles, skin tone." You said and waved your hands around.

"I guess no point in denying then. I should have been more careful." He said and sat down next to you.

"Please keep it to yourself. I'm sure if someone knows who I am, they will target the people I'm trying to protect." He said and his hand went through his hair.

"Does anyone else know?" You questioned and he shook his head.

"Nope. Not even Karen. It is dangerous if someone knows who I am. So, I always kept it a secret. I guess my only mistake was trying to fuck you after you were that close to Mysterion but..." He grinned evilly, "You said no one could fuck you except Mysterion. So... Here I am." His hand moved from his head to his knees, presenting himself.

"I wish I was as confident as you." You mumbled.

"I can't believe the hero I always looked up to is... You?" You said, raising and eyebrow and inspecting the blonde once more.

"Disappointed?" He questioned and tilted his head.

"I don't know."

"You wanna know what's funny to me?"

You looked at him, waiting for his reply, but as soon as you saw that shit eating grin on his face, you knew it'd be bad.

"That ass you admired and took pictures of was mine. The guy in your locker is me. It is so funny. You obsessed over me, without knowing it was me. That's so fucking funny, I wish I could tell someone."

He laughed his ass off and fell onto your bed. He just kept saying how funny it is and you felt more and more like a fool.

"Can you shut up, this is embarrassing and confusing you asshat." He finally got back up and held his hands up in a defensive manner.

"Woah, woah, no need to be so hostile." He spoke. You simply rolled your eyes.

"I love that I now have more material to make fun of you. But also, I feel flattered that you love me, without having seen this beautiful face."

"Someday you'll choke on that humongous ego of yours."

"I'd rather choke you."

You had a small starring contest and you lost when you just busted out laughing.

"So, now that you know my secret, I'm sure you will not say anything about it..." He asked and took your hand.

"I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Good, otherwise I'd have to kill you." He said in his Mysterion voice and the grip on your hand got stronger. You felt scared for a second, before he smiled again.

"Just a joke." You just nodded.

"Ahh, come on Sweetheart..." You looked at him again and he had this smug expression once more.

"Don't you love this." And he switched the voice again.

Still somewhat embarrassed and also confused because the guy you had a small crush on turned out to be a friend of yours, your cheeks heat up and immediately Kenny picked up on it.

"I can tell you like it." He whispered into your ear.

"Dude, this feels like some weird roleplay or something." You giggled.

"We can make it that. I still have some of my older costumes."

You laughed once more and bit your lip, while Kenny pushed you slowly onto your bed and got on top of you.

"Oh, shut up Mysteribitch."

"Oh, I'll make you my bitch."

He laughed, before he slowly pressed his lips onto yours. His lips felt somewhat rough and at the same time smooth, kind of just like you imagined what it'd be like.

And also, just like you imagined, his tongue found its way into your mouth rather quickly.

You continued making out for quite a while and honestly, to you it felt like heaven. But eventually you carefully pressed your hands against his chest after they had wandered down from his soft hair and you pressed him away.

"What... Don't tell me you're thinking about this staying friends shit again." He said somewhat aggravated. You shook your head.

"No, I just wanted to ask if you could bring one of those old costumes next weekend. Maybe we can pick up on that roleplay idea." You whispered against his lips and he smiled into the now following kiss.

"Good. I was just gonna say that I don't wanna be friends. I kinda wanna be more. I like you a lot YN." He whispered in-between the kisses.

"I'm fine with that." You whispered back and the two of you just smiled into the many kisses you now shared. And pretty much, just like you expected, it didn't take long for Kenny’s hands to roam around your body and finally wandered underneath your shirt.

You did not just make out that night.

It led to much more and you loved every second of it. When your alarm woke you up in the morning, it felt strange to feel these strong arms around you. You carefully woke Kenny up and told him it was time to get up.

"I don't wanna. It's so nice here. The view it to die for." He said as you got up.

"Go shower. I'll drop you off at work."

"Fine." He mumbled and walked past you, naked.

"The pure confidence of this man."

You got dressed and ready for work, as did Kenny begrudgingly. While you also made him a bit of lunch, he stole some kisses ever so often. You honestly were surprised at this, you imagined this part differently, but of course you did not complain. When you were finally in your car and on your way to work, he proposed an idea.

"Okay, so of you wanna do that roleplay shit, I'll Go the extra mile. Just for you, I'll surprise you with the whole thing. Just leave your window open next weekend and you might be visited by the hero with the great ass." He winked.

You bit your lip, feeling aroused just thinking about it.

"I will do so. Hope Mysterions dick is as good as my boyfriends." You teased and Kenny laughed rather hard.

"Feels strange hearing you say that, but I can get used to it."

"Good." You answered and you two smiled like idiots, thinking all about your crazy plans, while you pulled into your parking space.

"You walk over to your work?" You questioned as you saw Stan approaching from the corner of your eye.

"Yeah. See you at lunch, Babe." He pressed a final kiss onto your lips and took off to his own work.

Stan whistled as you caught up to him.

"I thought you were crushing on Mysterion?" Stan questioned with a smile on his thin lips.

"I kinda got over it. Kenny's a pretty good catch anyway, I think he's the closest to Mysterion that there is." You smiled and Stan laughed at your comment.

"If You say so."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it." You smiled, knowing this secret between you and Kenny will spice thing up in your relationship.

#kenny mccormick #south park #kenny x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #oc #mysterion

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kojinnie · 3 years

Text

AOT Characters’ Modern Jobs Headcanon; The Vets Edition!

The jobs that The Vets would have in modern!au, their workplace antics and their back story. There might be some inaccuracies when describing the job as obviously I don’t work at these industries to know its intricacies. Most of the jobs are office jobs. Enjoyyyy!

My Masterlist .::. Pt. II: Zeke Yeager’s Modern Jobs Headcanon

Most recent work: Dream Me Home (Before Shiganshina) | reader x erwin smith

A/N: I really need to finish a presentation deck due tonight for an early morning meeting tomorrow but of course, this comes first hahaha

erwin!

A/N: Basically lawyer!erwin is the way to go, innit?

He's in his 40s, so he may have a settled career

He came from a white-collar, middle-class family. So he wasn’t silverspoon-fed, but his parents had enough money to put him through good school

Got a scholarship to go to one of the nation’s finest law schools

Kept it lowkey in college’s social circle, graduated with summa cum laude, developed a strong academic relation with his professor, and got recommended for an internship at top law firm at the capital city

Starting his career as a corporate lawyer, but then built his expertise as white-collar crime attorney

In his early 30s, he represented a union suing against conglomerate corporation in a big case that had national coverage, from then on he began to know his calling

Expanding his portfolio and became well-known for defending workers, consumers and civilians against corporate fraud scheme

Currently doing a lot of pro-bono cases for deprived victims of big corporate fraud. You would see him frequently gracing your local newspaper we love us some socialist king

On the side, he often writes for law journal and fills in as guest professor at local universities for summer courses

Established his own law firm with some of his partners, specializing in white collar crime and labor & employment law

He’s damn accomplished, but never really had any time for self-indulgence. Even after he becomes a household name in the country, with tens of attorneys working under him, his employees would still see him working on New Year’s Eve

He was always attentive to his employees, though. Although he has a very strict, borderline no-life work ethics, he never forces his employees to follow his habit, in fact he despises when his employees works on holidays and can be seen blaming himself for it a bit of a hypocrite but thats ok

He still takes metro to work. He prefers a very lowkey, ordinary lifestyle because he fears if he shows any knack for indulgence, he will be susceptible to gratification from potential enemies or crooked politicians

Definitely a sight to see at the workplace, for he's tall and always oozes a sense of authority in the way he speaks and carries himself generally

His emotional intelligence is top-notch, you would never meet someone who is able to be very objective and calculating, while being kind and compassionate at the same time

His fellow attorneys put a lot for respect for him, and hundreds of applicants come to his considerably small firm every week, because a lot of aspiring attorney find him inspiring to work with

He wasn’t oblivious to his shiny reputation, but he’s trying his hardest to not let the compliments get to his head. Sometimes he doesn’t give himself enough credit for it

Was approached by one of the political party’s committee to run for local senate, but turned it down

basically he’s perfect if you like a man who’s never home for christmas

Hange!

A/N: Ok ok, I really wanna see Paleontologist!Hange because it has always been my fave dream job, but I want Hange to be out and about with people so here it is

Hange is the type to be incredibly good at one thing, that she will dedicate her whole life for that pursuit, but will be awfully oblivious to a whole lot of things (not intentional of course, they just have a very limited attention span) (they wouldn’t know who kanye west is or what tiktok is)

Like Erwin, they came from a middle-class family. While Erwin’s parents might have been teachers, accountants or other common profession, Hange came from a family of academician and researchers

Hange studied Human Geography at uni, but later found passion specifically in its relation to industrialization and urban development

Hange aims to advocate for a better living condition for workforce, and nearby inhabitants of industrialized city detroit would be a beautiful city if only they let hange designed it

Hange is a professor at university, where they also led a non-profit research think-thank that also serves as pressure group for better government policy.

The university that Hange teaches in, is also the uni where Erwin teaches in summer. They’re close-knitted colleagues as they share similar passion. Erwin relies on Hange a lot for some intellectual insights to help his cases

Hange is relentless in their cause, you may find Hange everywhere! From street protest to a hearing in the government court. They are passionate and will do anything for the cause they believe in

Hange was once hired by the government as an independent consultant for a new housing project, but left because they grew to be frustrated by the government’s bureaucracy and their outward reluctance to follow Hange's recommendation

Hange spends a lot of time overseas, consulting and advocating development in newly industrialized countries

On Hange’s birthday, her fellow researchers surprised them with a ‘pampering day’ where they took them to an optometrist because Hange had been complaining about their eyesight for a YEAR that gave them a lot of migraines, but was always either too busy or too lazy to go

Hange never really considers themselves as working, because they enjoy their job very much. Hange likes to spend months observing a community, talking to people for hours, and trying their best in understanding their problem

Out of so many great qualities that Hange has as a researcher that meets different set of people everyday, prejudice or preconceived judgment is completely absent in Hange’s demeanor and perspective

Hange doesn’t get a lot of free-time, even if they do, they’d wander around the city to do a little observation. But when the weather’s bad and they’re stuck at home with their pet lizard, they would logged into Quora to answer random internet questions

They’re an avid writer for National Geographic, and one time Hange won a pitch to make a documentary about an industrial city project they were working on

After the docu-series got broadcasted, Hange gained a small but passionate and loyal fans on the internet. You could even find a subreddit dedicated for Hange’s works

for real I want to be Hange. I want to have that kind of passion in life

levi!

A/N: I spent a lot of times thinking about Levi’s job in modern!au. Because here’s the thing, either we adopt his unfortunate childhood into its modern!au equivalent, or let’s just recreate his whole upbringing. But I think his personality stems from a specific things he experienced during childhood, so let’s not dismiss that.

Levi came from a struggling working class family. I reckon his parents might have had worked multiple jobs to sustain their living expense. Unfortunately they both passed away when Levi was very little, and left little to no inheritance

Levi’s parents were not close to their extended family, so when they died, Levi was admitted to the system and had to brace several foster families who didn’t really pay attention to him

Little Levi had come to realize that life’s all about survival and so he had been able to fend on for himself since very young age, he never asked for things

His uncle, Kenny, finally won custody over Levi when he was in elementary. Kenny made money from small-scale racketeering here and there. Levi never asked what he did for living, as long as he got food to eat and tuition paid off

Kenny was emotionally absent, but he loved spending time with the oddly quiet little child, teaching him a lot of crafts, from carpentering to how to flay pig’s skin

Levi didn’t really care about getting into college, and thought that he’d probably end up working for his uncle, so he put his bare minimum throughout school, although he was really good with numbers, especially in math, accounting and finance

One time in high school, Levi’s teacher asked him to sign up for the olympiad team, Levi turned it down because he thought that was a rich kid thing

He didn’t even apply for college, and worked odd jobs after high school. Probably working as cashiers or assistant to retail shop’s owner for couple of years, enough for him to afford a cheap studio apartment on his own

One of his bosses came to acknowledge Levi’s talent, and trusted him to handle the company’s accounting

By sheer luck, the company hit it big, and Levi found himself running the day-to-day accounting of mid-sized business with over 300 employees

He made good money already without a college degree, but with a new-found confidence Levi applied for uni, where he chose to study accounting (of course)

Although he was confident with his skills, he understood he needed to widen his horizon and network -- thus uni

Levi was one of the oldest members of his cohort in uni, but graduated with highest distinction

After graduating, with his skills and experience, it wasn’t hard for Levi to score a job at top accounting firm

There, he discovered an interest for forensic accounting, where through audits, analysis and investigation, he basically finds out if a company is doing fraud and embezzlement or not

This is where he came to know and get acquainted with Erwin and Hange (yippie they’re together again)

The firm he works for was assigned to investigate the finances of a troublesome company that had been sued by its workers for a jeopardizing working condition. Erwin was on the case, and Levi helped him with evidences for legal proceeding.

By chance, Erwin introduced Levi to Hange. At first, Levi would find Hange annoying and overtly energized, but after learning the things they have done, Levi grew to appreciate Hange’s passion (and secretly wants to have more of his positive outlook)

Levi is fucking good his job. In short amount of time, he could get a really ideal position in the office. He was almost foolproof, finding even the tiniest bit of discrepancy in his audit. He’d get assigned to the big league case/project.

Although really good at his job, he’s not a social person, especially in his office. He couldn’t understand the lavish lifestyle that finance and banking people often lead. He will only show up to office party if it is really necessary for him to show up (usually to receive some kind of informal awards for, again, being so fucking good)

He leads a no-bullshit attitude at the office, largely because of his background. He is a self-made man, and is not easy to impress by some young executives from posh school that talk bigger than they can chew

His cold, seemingly dismissive attitude gained him a reputation of being scary, when actually he is very considerate

One of the things he enjoys doing is to actually teach, he really likes when a new kid at the office come to him with none of that pretentious, big talk, and really asks for his guidance. He would love to teach you a thing or two

He would frequently check on his mentee, just to keep up with their development

And he doesn’t take credit too. When his mentee makes a milestone, he believes it’s 100% your work

If you’re his mentee, he probably doesn’t give a crap about your personal life, so don’t expect him to make small talk about that (and don’t ask him about his personal life either). But he really cares about your skill and career development

Same with Erwin, he leads a very ordinary lifestyle. He doesn’t go out often and would rather reading detective novel with his cat on the couch

He likes to spend Sunday at Uncle Kenny’s house, because he finds himself worried about the old man very often. They became close as Levi grew

Overall, Levi is a really kind and caring person if you know how not to push his button

#aot #snk #aot headcanons #snk headcanons #aot modern au #levi ackerman #hange zoë #erwin smith #modern headcanon #lawyer erwin smith #professor hange zoe #accountant levi ackerman #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #kojin writes

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writing-with-olive · 3 years

Text

The Stonewall Riots of 1969

1) Current State of Being (it was not good, fam, not good)

To set the scene, we’re in the late sixties. We’ve won the second World War, and suddenly everyone’s dealing with the fact that the patriotic frenzy America has been whipped into isn’t really having the same purpose it used to. Thing is, everyone’s still really heated along the basic lines of DEATH TO COMMUNISM AND ALSO COMMUNISTS. During the war, this was helpful. It created a sense of unity. But once the war was over, attention turned inward.

At this time, there was also research that queer people were "sex perverts" and a government report even came out saying

"The lack of emotional stability which is found in most sex perverts and the weakness of their moral fiber, makes them susceptible to the blandishments of the foreign espionage agent [...] the pervert is easy prey to the blackmailer.

This same report also cited a case of a gay man "who's homosexuality was used by the Russians [who were communist] to recruit him as a double agent before world war 1." Basically, the overall gist was that gay people were believed to either be communists now, or they would become communists because their brains were weaker.

Alrighty, but why were they easy prey? First, when it came to communism, they were just as susceptible as anyone else, but after steep laws against queer people were passed, blackmail became pretty real.

So... yeah, let's talk about a couple laws that were in place in the late sixties, shall we?

For the crime of sleeping with a consenting partner in the privacy of your own home you could face anything from:

A light fine

Five, ten or twenty years in prison

A life sentence

Electrical shock therapy

Castration

In addition, to target trans people, police had also dug out a law from the nineteenth century that was originally passed to supress angry tenant farmers who would don disguises and demonstrate against their landlords (law found in subsection 4 of section 240.35 of the New York Penal Code). The law stated that individuals could not wear more than three items of clothing that did not match their assigned gender at birth.If an officer thought you were breaking this law, they could arrest you and take you to a bathroom or similarly private location and have an officer who matched your presented gender either do a strip search or pat you down there to see if things matched.

Things got especially bad when New York realized they’d have to “clean up the place” in preperation for hosting the World Fair. In part, this meant a heavy crackdown on the gay community, and by extention, gay bars.

2) The Genovese Crime Family and Stonewall

At around this time, the Mob was starting to notice that gay bars were an excelent source of profit - since the prohibition era (1920-1933), limited access bars and speakeasies had popped up everywhere and since the gay community already couldn’t be themselves on the streets, they retreated to these more sheltered locations.

Three mafia members decided to open a gay bar because ohhh boy could you rake in some serious profit. Combined, the three of them put up $3500 to “renovate” the Stonewall Inn (which had gone through itterations of being a straight nightclub, straight bar, and gay restaurant in a sort of irregular cycle).

Renovations included building a stage to dance on, painting the walls black, and getting a jukebox. No running water, no fire exit, just the bare minimum. It certainly wasn’t legal.

When they opened (as a bottle club to get around pesky liquor laws), the bouncer would look through a little slat in the door and if you had a codeword or looked sufficiently gay, he’d let you in. You then had to sign up to be a part of the club (about a dollar) and write your name down on a sheet of paper. Of course, no one wrote down their real names.

The liquor in question was stolen, to begin with, and then heavily watered down with... questionably clean water, and then sold at about three times the original price in half-cleaned glasses (glasses were dunked in a bucket and then reused). Since none of the patrons really had high expectations anyway, they went with it. Needless to say, however, Stonewall was not a particularly nice place to be.

With all the money the trio raked in, a cut had to go to the Mafia man who controlled the district, and another cut went to paying of the notoriously corrupt 6th Precinct, to avoid getting the whole place shut down.

Because they were payed off, the police would only conduct their mandated raids early in the night before things got going, and on weekdays - this was when there weren’t a ton of people there, and it was easy to make it look like nothing was amiss.

3) The Raid (this is where shit gets real)

First of all, the thing is - no one knows why it happened. It just.... did.

On June 28th, 1969, at about 2am, the night was in full swing. The bar was crammed full of people dancing and drinking. The air was stuffy as usual and quite dark.

Then the bright flourescent lights come on - the signal that there was a raid and to seperate and to look less gay. The police came through, and called that they were making arrests. Everyone needed to line up against the wall and have their ID’s ready. Of course this was an issue, because just about everyone was legally not supposed to be at stonewall.

As the police began taking people outside, a crowd was going - raids at this time were... unusual to say the least. Some of the queens went into the back of the police cars without much of a fight - obviously they were terrified, but it didn’t look like there was much they could do.

One of them, however, and no one knows who for sure, was having none of this. Though Marsha Johnson and Sylvia Rivera have both been suggested as the starter of the riot, both have denied it, saying it was someone else. Storme DeLarverie, however, has both accepted and denied it was her. In an interview where she confirmed herself as the starter, she described her reaction, saying:

“The cop said ‘Move f****t’, thinking that I was a gay guy. I said, ‘I will not! And, don’t you dare touch me.’ With that, the cop shoved me and I instinctively punched him right in the face. He bled! He was then dropping to the ground - not me!”

She then turned to the crowd and yelled “why don’t you all do something?”

This was when things transformed. Objects started to fly. It was like someone had just punched a hole through the dam holding back the collective anger of the queer community.

A lot of the queer street kids, homeless, desperate, and with nothing to lose, were at the forefront of the fight, throwing anything from stones to pennies to bottles. Here’s the thing: no one really liked Stonewall - it wasn’t particularly nice or inviting or anything like that, but it was THEIRS and they were going to fight like hell for it.

Those being pulled out of the Inn started fighting back too - throwing what they could, kicking, punching, pushing back against the police. Marsha Johnson, a woman some have referred to as “basically a lesbian superhero” even climbed a telephone pole and threw an unidentified heavy object at a police car, shattering the window.

It was chaos and the crowd was still building. The flying objects didn’t stop, and it wasn’t like anyone had great aim - they were just as likely to hit a fellow protester - but there was a sense of comraderie and it made the police nervous. They were calling for reinforcements, but none were coming.

Finally, one of the police chiefs decided they had to retreat into Stonewall. They grabbed a few people as hostages and dissapeared inside, and barricaded the door. The inside of the Stonewall Inn was a wreck. The jukebox had been smashed. Same with the stage, the bathroom mirrors, and the cash register. Broken furniture was strewn on the floor.

Outside, the rioters had yanked a parking meter out of the ground and were trying to bash their way through the door, using it like a battering ram. Each thud made the officers even more nervous, and the captain, realizing things could turn from bad to horrific and deadly commanded his officers not to shoot unless he shot first. He went up to each one, commanding them individually by name, saying that if they shot without his direct sayso, they would be spend the rest of their police careers with only the worst possible jobs. To their credit, no one shot.

Outside, reinforcements finally arrived, armed in full riot gear - helmets, plastic shields, those club/baton things. They came forward in a full on phalanx. Then it started getting really ugly. People ended up lying on the sidewalk with blood coming from their heads or injured in other ways. The crowd started falling back, step by step. Finally, many of them ran.

But not to flee. Instead, they went all the way around the block and came up behind the reinforcement officers. Surprised that there was a new attack coming from behind, it was the police that began to loose the ground, and were forced to retreat back, back, back.

It was into the late, late hours of the night when the riots finally died down to nothing, the last of the crowd finally dispersed, exhausted.

4) The Next Day (aka a giant middle finger to the cops)

The shattered glass sparkled in the morning light the next day - a tribute to what had gone down the night before.

That night, the crowds around stonewall were huge. And it wasn’t just the queer community - the anti-war protesters and Black Panthers had joined in, standing against the even larger ranks of officers. The night before was a tipping point, but if momentum was to keep going, there needed to be sustained effort.

Inside, the Inn was back to normal. The Mafia had repaired the stage, gotten a new cash register, and even replaced the jukebox. It was if the efforts of the police had never even happened. Throughout the night, the queer community went in and out as though everything were totally normal - as if the police didn’t matter.

The riots were even worse than the night before, but the police couldn’t gain any ground.

Despite what was happening and the triumphs of the queer community, the press was a little less enthusiastic, aiming to diminish what had happened, taking the viewpoint of the police, or claiming the riots happened because of a celebrity’s death, and not the decades upon decades of oppression.

5) The Impact (how we got to today)

A year later, a lot of the Stonewall participants gathered to commemorate the movement. There were now several activism groups that had grown since the riots, but there needed a way to keep it growing - keep the flame from dying out.

One woman proposed that they have a march like the Civil Rights movement and Anti-war protesters were having. As soon as the question filled the space, there was unanimous consensus. Yes - they were to march.

It was terrifying. One member remembered fearing that only ten or so people would show up - that it was only going to make them into a laughingstock and nothing more. Indeed, many people had shown up with popcorn to “watch the f*gs” - it was seen almost as a show or performance.

But the moment was anything but. When the member looked back, in apprehension, what he saw wasn’t ten or the anticipated couple hundred people. No more than two thousand people had joined the parade. And not just the queer community - straight New Yorkers were there too. It was a moment of solidarity, and a demand for justice.

Every year since, there have been pride marches around the country, memorium to the community, and to the fight we’ve been fighting for a very long time, and to the patrons of Stonewall Inn who finally decided enough was enough.

6) Sources (because apparently trusting an unsourced tumblr posts is seen as an academic no-no)

(all in MLA because I just copy/pasted them from my research notes and also MLA feels official and all that)

Yardley, William. "Stormy DeLarverie, Early Leader in the Gay Rights Movement, Dies at 93." The New York Times, 29 May 2014, www.nytimes.com/2014/05/30/nyregion/storme-delarverie-early-leader-in-the-gay-rights-movement-dies-at-93.html?_r=0. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

Brown, Dalvin. "Marsha P. Johnson: Transgender Hero of Stonewall Riots Finally Gets Her Due." USA Today, 27 Mar. 2019, www.usatoday.com/story/news/investigations/2019/03/27/black-history-marsha-johnson-and-stonewall-riots/2353538002/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

Burey, Jodi-Ann. "'It Wasn't No Damn Riot': Celebrating Stonewall Uprising Activist Storme DeLarverie." The Riveter, Feb. 2017, theriveter.co/voice/it-wasnt-no-damn-riot-celebrating-stonewall-uprising-activist-storme-delarverie/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

Carter, David. Stonewall: The Riots That Sparked the Gay Revolution. 2nd ed., New York, St. Martin's Griffin, 2010.

Duberman, Martin B. Stonewall. New York, Plume, 1993.

Edsall, Nicholas C. Toward Stonewall: Homosexuality and Society in the Modern Western World. Charlottesville [Va.], U of Virginia P, 2003.

Kristi K. "Something like a Super Lesbian: Storme DeLarverie (In Memoriam)." The K Word, edited by Kristi K, 28 May 2014, thekword.com/2014/05/28/something-like-a-super-lesbian-storme-delarverie-in-memoriam/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

---. "Something like a Super Lesbian: Storme DeLarverie (In Memoriam)." The K Word, edited by Kristi K, 28 May 2014, thekword.com/2014/05/28/something-like-a-super-lesbian-storme-delarverie-in-memoriam/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

"The Stonewall You Know Is a Myth. And That's O.K. | NYT Celebrating Pride." YouTube, uploaded by The New York Times, 31 May 2019, www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7jnzOMxb14. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

(not in mla sorry) - PBS’s Stonewall Uprising (documentary)

++++

tagging: @veryunoriginal and @doggo038 because yall seemed pretty interested. Also my usual taglist: @candlemouse @bookdragonfanish @book-limerence

If you want to be added/removed from any of my taglists, let me know! taglists found pinned to the top of my blog :D

#queer history #lgbtq #stonewall riots #greenwich #pride parades #sources are at the bottom :D #sixth precinct #storme delarverie #marsha johnson #sylvia rivera #black panthers #anti-war protesters #american history #gay history #olive's writing vibes #guys if you could reblog this that would be awesome more people need to know queer history #yall are the best!

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imgonnapanic · 3 years

Text

Third gym squad with a theater kid s/o:

Kuroo Tetsurou

Tbh, he knew what he was signing up for when he started dating you.

He’s just not used to it, because he doesn’t have many extroverted friends who aren’t annoying pieces of-

I can envision you both going on the hub to watch pirated musicals. Hamilton, Heathers, Dear Evan Hansen, you name it.

He loooves your singing voice, even if it’s your nervous purposely bad one.

You love the musicals that include allll the good stuff (trauma, death, tragedy, etc.)

Or the iconic ones. You can’t forget about those.

So you’re less-than-thrilled when your school chooses “Honk! The Musical” for this years play.

It’s a spin off of the ugly duckling that no one has heard of.

And when you come up to Kuroo sulking about this boring play you’re emotionally obliged to do, he can’t help but laugh a little.

But his laughter stops when he sees your eyes down at your shoes.

And then he shuts the fuck up because you’re actually upset.

After assuring that you will still be Broadway material even if you’re dressed up as a goose, you feel a little better.

In the two weeks leading up to auditions, Kuroo is starting to get caught humming “A Poultry Tale” at practice.

I mean, his Spotify feed went from Kendrick Lamar to Legally Blonde within one month of dating you, so cut the guy a break.

The day of auditions, you’re a bundle of nerves as you go over the dumb song again and again.

And Kuroo is like “calm down babe you’re gonna do great.”

That sure did a ton.

“Shut up Heather”

...

“Sorry Heather”

He’s also a bundle of nerves at practice, though. He just couldn’t let you see it.

By now, all of the Nekoma team knows you’re auditioning today, and the minute he walks in he just holds up a hand.

“They’re auditioning as we speak”

He’s not surprised when you get the lead.

He looks like the cat who ate the canary he’s a little amused when he figures out the lead is named “Ugly” but by now he has learned to keep it on the inside.

Your schedule is now jam packed, but that’s okay, because Nationals are also coming up for Kuroo and needs to put in some extra hours at the gym anyways.

You better believe two months later Kuroo is making his entire team buy a ticket.

Kuroo didn’t even get to see you on opening night because of dress rehearsals, but that’s okay.

He cleared his entire schedule that day and now has time to wallow in his own excitement and buy you some flowers.

He’s there with the squad team at 6PM sharp, dressed up, and trying to keep his dignity.

When you first walk on stage, the team snickers a little bit at your costume, but Kuroo was completely enraptured by your singing voice, your blocking, your makeup, everything.

This was much better than the demo CD that they had given you.

Afterwards, he gives you your flowers and is glued to your side for the rest of the night, babbling about how proud he was of you, and how talented you are, Nekoma team be damned.

Tsukishima Kei

Tsukki-poo already had a soft spot for the arts before he met you.

Not that he would tell anyone, ever.

When you started dating him though, it gave him an excuse to share his favorite soundtracks.

“you can hit that note, you know.”

*cue the arguing about how you aren’t Barbara Streisand*

When you two are walking through the hallway with him and you see the poster reading “Auditions for Karasuno High School’s ‘The Little Mermaid’ are open!” You start freaking out.

You love that movie! And Kei tolerates it!

Kei honestly thought you would be Ariel/Prince Eric when he first heard you singing “Part of Your World”

Like, you have the voice of a fucking lark. The directors have to be batshit crazy not to cast you.

In his humble opinion.

So he’s a bit taken aback when you get the role of Flounder, but he’s very proud anyways. Especially after you explain that there’s musical numbers that you’re in that aren’t in the movie.

He just hates your director for no reason now.

Practicing your lines with him in your free time becomes almost inevitable because you both have nothing else better to do.

And he can see how into it you are.

And let me just say that you are killing it.

Seriously. You have no problem getting into character, and Kei doesn’t say this much but-

It’s fucking adorable, okay? He has little goth moths in his stomach.

And he can’t wait to see the show, because then he can show you off.

That doesn’t mean he likes the other first years prying at your progress.

Hinata’s incessant questioning about theater anatomy and the memorization of your lines gets really annoying.

Even for someone with a normal temper like you-

“Yes it’s called the right wing. NOT wing spiker. Yes they’re off book. Now will you shut your trap already?”

Dress Rehearsals come, and you’re spinning around his room, face morphing from complete concentration to happy, go-lucky Flounder.

You, Kei, and Yamaguchi (your little third wheel-) all know the soundtrack pretty much up and down, left and right, backwards and inside out.

He still shivers remembering the time you just walked into his house not registering that Flounder’s makeup looks kind of scary up close-

All of his pride was sacrificed that day. All of it.

On the morning of opening night, Kei was walking you to the school, pretending to be bitchy about it being on a Saturday.

“C’mon, what am I supposed to do all day?”

As luck would have it, he’s stuck sitting next to one Hinata Shoyo. Lovely.

So he sat down next to him, and ignored him the whole show. I mean, it worked, he shut up after thirty seconds.

After the show, Kei has to wait a bit for you to take your makeup off, but when you come running out, he can’t hold back a tiny grin.

“That was good. I’m proud of you.”

And then he took you to dinner because singing makes a bad bleep hungry 😌

Bokuto Kotarou

Listen, you’re loud, Bokuto’s loud-

So basically you two are on a mission to not annoy Akaashi for as long as you can before inevitably getting yelled at for your affection and love and shit.

Now, both of you would love for this to be possible.

But the Frozen soundtrack makes it too difficult.

Especially when you can edit the lyrics just to piss off Konoha.

“Turn away and slAm the door *on Konoha”

“The wind is howling like the storm inside *of Konoha”

The possibilities are endless, really.

The game changer is when you two are belting out the song where Elsa and Anna are arguing.

And you accidentally hit the “I-i-I CANNNNT”

Akaashi is like for the love of GOD just audition for the play.

He quickly realizes that his suggestion was not a good idea.

Since guess what the musical is.

You’re auditioning as a joke, okay? You love Frozen, but this is a Fukurōdani Academy level play.

You didn’t expect to land the role of Olaf.

Your director sat you down and bluntly told you that he thought that you had the charisma and energy to be Olaf, but he knew that you were auditioning for a joke.

He needed you to be committed.

And hell yeah, you were gonna be committed.

At first, Bokuto was super proud of you! His s/o as a lead role? So impressive!

You even taught Bokuto your choreography for “In Summer”

He only retained half of it, but eh.

He’s a volleyball player. He tried.

As rehearsal times became longer and longer, Bokuto was a little upset at himself because he didn’t realize how committed you were until it hit him in the face.

Akaashi is there to get him out of his funk when you aren’t, though.

“They feel the same way when you need to be in the gym longer. It’s just a part of having a passion. Just utilize your time with them wisely.”

This bitch knows full well Bokuto doesn’t do ‘wise’ though, so he also sets to him a little more.

Dress rehearsals start, and Bokuto is always waiting for you to come out of the auditorium to ride the bus home.

You’re just bubbling over with stories about the magic of being on stage.

The lights, the microphones, the costumes, just talking about it makes you nostalgic already.

On opening night, Bokuto and Akaashi are there in the front row, going through the program.

“There’s y/n!!!!”

And you can’t see him because of the blinding spotlight, but you can hear Bokuto cheering for you after you finish “In Summer”

Afterwards he gives you a big hug, and you guys go home and watch Frozen.

Akaashi Keiji

When you start dating Akaashi in your second year at Fukurōdani, you’ve been on stage for the last ten years of your life.

Singing, acting, dancing, you love it all.

You’re even considering making it your career.

Akaashi doesn’t know much about theater at all, but he makes sure to do his research since it’s such a big part of your life.

The company you take acting classes with is having their winter show soon, and you couldn’t be happier when you figure out it’s ‘Into the Woods.’

Akaashi makes the mistake of asking the plot of the story.

“So basically there are these two infertile bakers with dead parents and there’s this witch that’s old and wrinkly and she comes to their house because fifty years ago the bakers dad stole her veggies and took the magic beans that made her look old and wrinkly-“

(A/n: this isn’t even half the plot)

He decides he’ll figure it out when he sees the play.

Akaashi knows that it’s a difficult one, though.

Sondheim doesn’t fuck around.

So you shouldn’t be beating yourself up about cracking on some of the high notes and screaming into your pillow.

He feels like an idiot every time you ask him to give you constructive criticism.

He doesn’t know what to say. “That was good” is obviously not what you want to hear.

When the date of your audition rolls around, he has early morning practice.

So he sends you a text saying how far you’ve come already and he’ll be proud even if you end up being a tree and break a leg (he’s very proud of that part. Theater lingo with Akaashi 101)

He’s very pleased to hear through your extremely fast and animated chattering that you killed it.

You were going to be Jack from “Jack and the Beanstalk.”

He’s still not sure how that correlates with infertile bakers, but he’ll go with it.

You also have a notoriously hard solo, “Giants in the sky.”

Akaashi is very impressed.

All you two do is practice that song, until Akaashi is half sure he could sing the song if he really gave an effort.

(He tries seriously one time. He can’t sing. To save his life. Sorry Keiji and RIP y/n’s ears.)

“Maybe you’re just not a soprano?”

“I’ll leave the limelight to you.”

Rehearsals always leave you drained. There are so many dance numbers in the play that you have to go over.

And songs, oh god, the songs are pieces of work.

But you wouldn’t trade it for the world, so Keiji stays close, and is endlessly supportive.

You sent him a picture of your Jack costume, and Keiji is like that is kind of adorable ngl-

He walks into the auditorium you’re performing in, and even he’s nervous to be in there. It’s huge.

But when you walk on the stage, and start belting, all the breath leaves his lungs.

Oh. Ohhhhhhh. He understands the plot now.

#kuroo #haikyuu headcannons #tsukishima #akaashi #bokuto #kuroo x reader #tsukishima x reader #akaashi x reader #bokuto x reader #kuroo headcanons #tsukishima headcanons #akaashi headcanons #bokuto headcannons #haikyuu

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hutchhitched · 3 years

Text

Walk Back

Written by: @hutchhitched

Prompt 143: The girl of my dreams asked me if I needed a ride home from campus so I obviously let her drive me home then walked back to campus a couple of hours later to get my car. [submitted by anonymous]

Ratings/Warnings: G

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic. This is the sixth of the nine. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays. Only three more to go!

Peeta Mellark knows he’s got it good compared to a lot of people. He really does, but that doesn’t stop him from wallowing in pity every once in a while. He’s in college, the first in his family, on a hefty scholarship; his grades are good; he has a lot of friends and a good work study job that actually does give him some time to study. Those are all good things. They really are, and he doesn’t dispute it, but…

He’s also had a rough home life with a mom who’s never satisfied with anything he does and a father who loves him but can’t stand up to his wife long enough to protect his three sons from her emotional abuse. He’s a first-generation college student who’s excelling in courses for his major but isn’t doing so great in all his other general education courses. He has to work a lot more than he should for someone with his course load. Worst of all, though, he’s madly in love with a woman who likely doesn’t know his name. Well, that’s probably not true, but still. She’s certainly not crazy about him the way he is mad for her.

There’s just no way Katniss Everdeen, fellow Panem University student and the smartest girl in his biology lab, would ever give him the time of day. Not when she already has a boyfriend, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Rugged, who’s about to graduate with a promising career. That’s unlike Peeta, an art major. He’ll never amount to anything, or so his mother likes to remind him every time he’s stupid enough to visit his family.

Besides, Katniss is beautiful and sassy and shy and so many other wonderful things. She has no idea the effect she has on him or any other male within a mile radius, including their biology professor who’s proclaimed her the most brilliant student he’s had in his twenty-two years of teaching. Peeta spends the better part of their class together watching her from across the room, which is probably why his lab partner hates him and his grade in that class absolutely sucks.

So, while Peeta knows he’s got some things going for him, it’s not surprising that he finds himself a little down in the dumps occasionally—especially on days when his crush shows up at his workplace. It’s even worse when his co-worker knows about his hopeless infatuation and has no shame. Johanna Mason may be his least favorite person on days like that. Today happens to be one of those days. He’s cursing his life when Jo comes up behind him and leans down to whisper in his ear.

“Oooooooooh ooooooh. Katniss is pretty, isn’t she? Look at her over there. So serious. What do you think she’s getting ready to check out, and is there any way to make it sexual when gets over here?”

“Shut up, Jo,” Peeta hisses as his cheeks flush, and he curls into himself, trying to hide behind the circulation desk so Katniss won’t see him.

The last thing he wants is for the girl he’s been crushing on for months to hear his co-worker tease him about his hopeless attraction. The problem is that he told Johanna in a fit of self-loathing, and she coached him through it, built him up so his ego was a little higher than the floor and prepared him some for what to say to a girl when he likes her. While it was very kind of Jo to offer, Peeta isn’t that hopeless. He’d had a number of girlfriends in high school, but none of them compare to Katniss Everdeen. She is a goddess.

“What time’s your shift done today, hot buns?”

“Don’t call me that! What is wrong with you?” he hisses. “Why are you so terrible?”

“Terrible? I’m trying to get you laid, buddy. It’s certainly never going to happen if I leave you to your own devices, although I’m sure you’re taking care of yourself plenty. You’re a guy, after all.”

Peeta’s face floods with heat, and he wants to slide onto the floor and hide behind the counter. She’s not wrong—he is a healthy, twenty-one-year-old man who hasn’t dated in a while—but Peeta doesn’t want his co-worker to know that. She’ll probably tell the whole world if he confirms what she suspects. Or say something to Katniss, which would be horrifying.

“Why do you want to know?” he asks, suspicious.

“Knowledge is power, my friend. Knowledge is power.”

Still not convinced, he welcomes a patron and scans the student ID he’s handed. “Exactly ten minutes,” he mutters as he types in the bar codes of the pile of library books in front of him before sliding them across the counter. It’s almost midterm, so everyone’s trying to finish projects and bibliographies for research papers before they leave for spring break. The library’s been slammed for days.

“She’s on her way over here,” Johanna nudges him.

He whips his head up, and his eyes widen as he realizes Jo’s right. Katniss pages through a book as she strides toward the circulation desk. Johanna turns to busy herself with a pile of returned books, and he squeezes his legs together under the desk. If he can just stop his hands from shaking, things will be great.

“Hi, Peeta,” she says with a guarded smile as she hands him her student ID. “How’s it going?”

“K-katniss! Hi!” His voice squeaks, and he cringes internally. He sounds like an idiot. “It’s good. I’m good. How are you?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” She hands him her student ID, and he glances down at the book she set on the counter.

“History of Sculpture? That’s…”

She laughs wryly and nods. “Yeah, I know. I’m not sure how I managed to get myself into it, but I signed up for an art appreciation class. I have zero artistic ability, so it’s painful.”

“Oh,” he says. “That’s…yeah.”

Johanna snorts behind him, and he tosses her a warning look. He should have known better. The woman doesn’t have a tactful bone in her body. Instead, she comes to stand behind Peeta and surveys Katniss.

“You know, Peeta here is an art major,” Jo announces with her hand on his shoulder. “I bet he could help you with your art appreciation class. He’s great at that kind of stuff.”

“Are you really?” Katniss asks, her eyes widening in pleased surprise. “I didn’t know that.”

“I am,” he confirms. “I’m more of a painter than anything else, but I know quite a bit about all the different media. It’s kind of in the curriculum for my major.”

She looks impressed, but she shakes her head as she picks up her book and tucks her ID into her pocket. “I couldn’t ask you to help, but that’s cool. I thought you were a biology major like me.”

Johanna smacks him on the back, and he glares at her before wiping his expression clean and flashing a closed mouth grin at Katniss. When nobody says anything, Katniss turns to go.

“Nonsense!” Jo cries. “Peeta’d be happy to help. I’m sure there’s something you could do for him to repay his generosity.”

He swears under his breath and elbows Jo in the gut.

“Oh, I don’t think there’s anything I have that Peeta wants—”

“A ride home?” Jo interrupts. “Peeta’s car’s in the shop. He asked me for a ride, but his shift is over now, and I’ve got another two hours before I can leave. Poor guy. He’d really appreciate the lift.”

Relief colors her face, and she nods. “I’d be happy to do that. My car’s on the street. I snagged one of those metered ones that are always full. Must be my lucky day.”

“Oh, I’d say it certainly is,” Jo says, a wide self-satisfied smile plastered on her face. She practically shoves him out of his chair and adds, “Peeta, why don’t you go clock out. I’ll finish this up for you.”

“I can—”

“No, you can’t. You’re too close to hours. Besides, you wouldn’t want to keep Katniss waiting, now would you?”

“You really are the devil, aren’t you?” he hisses as he grabs his stuff. “My car’s in the parking garage, not the shop. What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting you some time alone with the girl of your dreams,” she explains with a withering look. “Now, let her give you a ride home so you can schmooze her.”

Still disgruntled, he shuffles to the door and meets Katniss on the steps. She shifts uncomfortably, tugging on her braid and hunching her shoulders. He wonders if she’s trying to hide or if she’s cold in the chill of the early spring day.

“I really appreciate this,” he says.

She nods and leads him to her car. “No problem. It’s the least I can do.”

“You don’t have to do anything at all.”

She’s silent as she starts her car. Hesitating, she glances over at him and asks, “Does that mean you don’t want to tutor me? I understand if you don’t. It’s asking a lot for someone you barely know, especially since I can’t really afford to pay you.”

“Except in rides.”

“Well, yeah. I can do that.” She smiles at him tremulously and shifts the car into gear. Glancing over her shoulder, she signals and pulls out of the parking spot and onto the street.

“You could help me in bio,” he blurts and his cheeks heat.

“Really?”

He cringes and shrugs. “Yeah. I can’t seem to get the hang of it. I think I’m one of those people that understands it in theory but not in practicality. I’m doing fine in the lecture, but lab is really confusing.” He doesn’t add that most of that is her fault, but not really, because he can’t stop mooning over her.

“I can do that.”

He glances at the pleased curve of her lips and wonders how he can make it happen again. The joy of seeing her happy sinks into his bones and gives him life. It’s ridiculous, but it’s true. He has no reason to think he should except common human decency matched with his overwhelming crush. He feels like a middle school boy who’s just figured out that girls and boys have different parts.

Katniss stops at the intersection and glances over at him. Bashful, she admits, “I don’t know where I’m going.”

Peeta’s eyebrows furrow and he motions out the windshield. “South?”

“No,” she answers with a nervous laugh. “I mean, I don’t know where you live.”

He’s an idiot. Of course she doesn’t know where he lives. “Sorry! Sorry. Turn left here. I wasn’t thinking.”

“If you want…”

“If I want?” he prods.

“Well, maybe, if you don’t mind, that is.” She clears her throat and then words burst from her in a torrent. “I know a coffee shop that no one else really goes to. It’s quiet and the coffee’s good. They know me there, and I have a table they kind of save just for me. If you wanted to go over some of this sculpture stuff today, that’d be a good place.”

“Oh. Okay,” he answers, fighting to keep his face clear of the glee he feels. Katniss Everdeen just asked him to go out with her. Well, she asked him to go somewhere with her, but that was more than he’d dreamed would happen any time he imagined actually speaking to her. Not only is he going to sit at the same table with her in a public place, but he’s at her mercy with transportation. She’s got him captive, and he approves.

“Maybe I can take a look over your lab notes with you, too. You know, if you want.”

Oh, he wants. That’s never been in question. He absolutely wants when it comes to Katniss Everdeen.

“That’d be great. Really great.”

The place itself is an independent coffee shop in an older area of town called The Seam. The properties tend to be more run-down than those closer to campus, but the café is cozy and humble and has great choices in both coffee and tea. He chooses a black peppermint he’s loved since his father made it for him when he was sick. His father had also snuck cookies to Peeta despite the disapproval of his mom. He adds sugar before taking a sip that transports him back to childhood. He breathes in as he swallows and blows out a heavy sigh.

Amused, Katniss asks, “That good?”

Nodding, he inhales the aroma and smiles softly. “Yeah. It’s that good. Thanks for bringing me here.”

Pleased, Katniss drops her head and shuffles in her bag for the book on sculpture and her class notes. They work together for over an hour before reviewing information from their biology lab. He finds she’s a good tutor, knowledgeable and skilled at breaking down the concepts into sizable chunks that seemed overwhelming previously. When he compliments her on it, she waves him off but returns the sentiment.

“I already feel like I appreciate art more.”

“Glad I could help.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, though,” she teases. “I’ll still need you after break’s over, but I think I can pass the final now, anyway.”

He shivers at her claiming she’ll need him. It’s closer to genuine interest than anything he’s ever gotten from her, and it gives him a small thrill of hope.

Reluctantly, she packs up her bag and sighs. “I really need to get home, but this was fun.”

“Yeah, I should be getting back, too. Got a lot to do before bed.”

They’re quiet as they slide into the car. Contemplative, Peeta almost forgets to provide instructions so Katniss knows where to take him. As he guides her through unfamiliar streets that turn into those he sees every day, he sends silent thanks to Johanna for her brashness and refusal to let things go. He only hopes he doesn’t have a ticket on his car when he retrieves it—hopefully before it’s towed.

“This is it,” he says with a wave at his front door. None of his roommates are home, which means he’s stuck until they return. He doesn’t want to say goodbye, but she’s antsy, unsure what to do with her hands or where to look. “Thanks again for the ride. Come find me at the library after break, and we’ll do a repeat of tonight.”

“Sounds great,” she says warmly. “Hope you get your car back soon.”

“Yeah, me too,” he grumbles.

He watches her leave, lifting his hand in farewell until her car turns the corner and heads back the way she came. Fishing his cell out of his pocket, he sends his roommates a group text asking when they’ll be home and if one of them can give him a ride back to campus. As each of them gives a reason for their absence, he realizes he’s on his own. He does stow his bag inside and grab a drink before heading back outside. Squaring his shoulders, he shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and begins the walk back.

It takes an hour, and he does have a parking ticket. Still, Peeta has no regrets. The afternoon with Katniss was the best of the year with the promise of more to come. She’s worth the inconvenience.

#everlarkficexchange #springtime edition 2020 #prompt 143 #everlark #everlark fanfiction #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #walk back

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madamewriterofwrongs · 3 years

Note

I have thought long and hard about your AU prompt post and o have decided on bringing your attention to a Buddie singer/songwriter AU. Professional or amateur, either way, my soul aches for one of them seducing the other with a love song they made themselves. I am w e a k.

I knew instantly this was the scene I wanted to write and I finally got there.

Prompt Me with AUs

A Syncopated Heart

Read on Ao3

This was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea the moment it entered his head – as most of his ideas were what Hen called “too impulsive to be recorded, do you want to get me fired?” – and yet, nodded as the sound guy gave him his thumbs up. It was time.

If he were being truly honest with himself, ‘time’ was six months ago, when he met a prodigy of a guitar player wanting to join his band. ‘Time’ was five months and twenty-nine days ago, when he got over his own ego and realized that the player (though he had less experience in the industry) could definitely teach him a thing or two when it came to professionalism and technique.

‘Time’ was four months ago, when a bad case of bronchitis made him question whether he’d be able to sing again, but his new friend refused to look at him any differently. ‘Time’ was three months ago, when he was introduced to his best friend’s son by saving him from a falling stage light. ‘Time’ was two months ago when his producer told him to write a song to launch his solo career and he was faced with the notion that he would be leaving his family forever.

‘Time’ was one month ago, when he called Bobby in the middle of the night, frantic because he couldn’t figure out why the words wouldn’t come. ‘Time’ was two weeks ago, when he finally understood what his old mentor had meant when he told him that “he was missing what was right in front of him.”

‘Time’ was ten days ago, when his best friend informed him that he would be leaving to sign with another company who could “give him what he needed”. ‘Time’ was six days ago, when he’d shown up on his friend’s doorstep and begged him to stay – but when it came time to explain why, the words still wouldn’t come.

‘Time’ was two days ago, when his producer had asked him to perform his new song at a live event downtown, despite having never heard it. ‘Time’ was twelve hours ago when he’d finally put pen to paper and written the lyrics to his song – their song.

‘Time’ was sixty minutes ago, when his sister had asked him, for the fortieth time, if he was certain about his next move. ‘Time’ was two minutes ago, when he’d checked his phone, only to find no news of whether his best friend would be attending his final performance.

‘Time’ was now: stepping on stage with the first guitar he’d bought with his own money, and a head full of words he hoped would explain everything he wanted to convey.

The lights were blinding and the scent of stale beer and old plywood filled his nostrils. It was soothing, really, to be surrounding by such familiar sensations as he stepped over the precipice into the unknown. He had dreamed of the floodlights and the mumbling crowd since he was a kid (or, that was the story they’d told the media, but he hadn’t picked up a guitar until he was in his twenties). Regardless of when he’d discovered his love for music, it was the one thing that gave him joy. Whenever everything else was falling apart in his life, he could still feel a song sitting on his chest, just above his heart. Sometimes, it would press down until he could barely breathe; until the notes had to be played or he might burst. Other times, a melody would follow him for days. He liked to imagine a nymph floating beside him, whispering tunes into his ear to keep him occupied. His own personal muse.

He wouldn’t be using her tonight. He had new inspiration. And he prayed it would be enough.

“Hey folks.” He coughed into the microphone and it filled the bar. His eyes began to adjust under the lights, slowly revealing the audience to him, like a wave of vaguely buzzed shapes.

“You all know me as ‘Buck’ but that’s not my real name (obviously).” The few chuckles floating into the air were drowned out by the thrumming in his ears as he searched the crowd for a familiar face. “My real name is Evan Buckley. Before we get started on our set, I wanted to sing a song for you all. It’s a new song, actually, one I wrote for…” He cleared his throat when the words pressed harder on his chest, refusing to come. “For someone special.” Even over the pounding of his heart, he heard the murmurs of curious audience members, knowing the rumour mill was about to start spinning. But none of that mattered. No. The only thing that mattered was the next three minutes.

“Here it goes.”

The first strum of his guitar released the stranglehold the words had on his heart. In his more poetic moments, he would swear he could hear his muse gasp with the beauty – not of the notes, but of his intentions. In truth, he could barely feel his hands. They played of their own volition, moved to dance in a pattern they’d never rehearsed.

When the melody pulled so strongly, he would normally close his eyes and surrender to the music. But tonight, there was more than just him and the music. Though his eyes burned under the penetrating lights, he kept them trained on the audience, constantly looking for the one face he needed to see.

He had always been very proud of his singing voice. Though it was relatively untrained, he had done countless hours of research to make sure it was as healthy as possible. Like his guitar, he wanted to keep his voice finely tuned – lest someone realize he was merely a replaceable vessel on the ocean that was the music industry. After his bronchitis, he had taken extra care of his body but tonight, he felt like a novice – stepping out on stage for the first time, hoping his voice didn’t crack under the pressure.

The lyrics were the thing he held most precious in this journey. They contained within them the story of his life – of what he hoped would be his future. It was the story of a boy who wanted to make something of himself. He wanted to be somebody so badly that he made it to adulthood without becoming anything in particular. Then he picked up a guitar and thought he’d met the love of his life. All that changed when he met someone who made every note fall flat. And now, the boy finally realized how much he needs that person. How much he wants that person. How much he loves that person.

“And I will follow you around I will wander through the darkness that we made There is nothing else I want except for…”

His eyes connected with Eddie’s and the shock of it stole the words from his mouth. His fingers fell away from the strings and for the first time since they’d met: there was silence between them. Eddie’s expression was warm and open, looking up at Buck with what he hoped was affection and not pity.

In his mind, he watched Eddie shake his head and walk out the door at the back of the bar, the two of them never to meet again. Instead, he stood motionless as the man he’d wondered about for so many months slowly strode through the crowd towards him. With each step, he replaced the resignation in his mind with caution, and then, disbelief, and finally optimism of the smallest margin. Some peripheral awareness not centered on Eddie realized that people had noticed when the lead singer had stopped and all eyes were split between Buck and Eddie.

And why shouldn’t they be? Here were two souls meeting on the center of the stage, Buck making space for Eddie beside him without really thinking about it.

“You came.” He found himself speaking irreverently; a prayer he never believed would be answered.

“You invited me.” Eddie’s smile could still melt his heart in an instant.

“Yeah but… you came.”

“Of course I did.” As if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I thought you’d be in Texas by now.”

“I cancelled my flight.”

Buck blinked, if only to reassure himself that he was, in fact, still awake and staring at the man who was going to leave but chose to stay.

“Why?”

“Buck, you know why.”

Did he? Did he know the truth between them? Or was he simply hearing the words he hadn’t realized he needed to hear until it was too late?

“The song.” He swallowed his pride. “Did you like it?”

“You haven’t finished it yet.”

“I’m not sure if I should give it a happy ending.”

When Eddie grasped his fingers, slowly threading them together with his own, Buck couldn’t contain the gasp that left his mouth. The look in the other man’s eyes was so gentle and open, his heart burst with the hope he hadn’t let himself feel.

“It should definitely have a happy ending.”

When their lips met, a symphony erupted in his mind – he would realize later that it was, in fact, the noise of the crowd cheering them on. The kiss was electric, crowded, and utterly perfect. Buck’s smile nearly broke them apart but he kept their lips connected until he was overpowered with the need to breathe.

His lips tingled with the memory of their kiss and his chest hurt for the guitar pressed between their bodies, but his mind had dissolved into simply memorizing every sensation from the moment their eyes had met until their lips had parted. Over and over. There was nothing else.

“You came.”

Eddie’s chuckle was added to the lexicon of sounds Buck would replay for the rest of his life.

“I think we already established that.”

There was only one thing that Eddie still had to know. One thing that could sway the end of their song. “I’m staying.”

But then his partner smiled and whispered: “Me too.”

And Buck kissed him again with more fervor than before, the desperation and excitement of the moment finally seeping in. Eddie was staying here, with him, and their song would finally get a happy ending.

And if his manager forgave him for ending the concert early because their kiss went viral, all the better.

What mattered most was Buck, Eddie, and the music.

#911 on fox #911 fox #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fic #911 fic #musician au #alternative universe #getting together #cj writes things #cj answers things #florenceandthemachine #love flo

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fairylightsandchai · 4 years

Text

The Internship - Part 1

A/N: Hello! I know I usually don’t post fanfiction to this blog, but I really wanted to participate in @darkficsyouneveraskedfor‘s Pre-Code Challenge! Just ignore this if you follow me and you’re not interested.

Pairing: Dark!Professor!Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: >10K

Summary: You are a student in the former-Captain America’s American History class, and you soon notice that Professor Rogers has been paying more than a professional amount of attention to you. But when he approaches you with an internship opportunity that’s too good to be true, how can you say no?

(A/N: This fic contains non-con elements, stalking, and manipulation, and in later parts it will inclue rape, breeding kink, and kidnapping. It is also inspired by The Wild Party, a film from 1929. I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think.)

You had always wanted to be a writer. When you were a little girl, you’d spent most of your time with your nose in a book and your head in the clouds, dreaming of the day when you would tell stories of your own, stories that connected with people all over the globe.

And then the Battle of New York had happened.

You had been in high school during the attack, a shy freshman who had only wanted to blend in and disappear amongst the rest of your classmates. You’d still had your dreams of being a bestselling author someday.

But, like so many other things in your small, sheltered world, all of that changed the day the Chitauri invaded. You hadn’t been in the city at the time; you’d grown up in upstate New York, about an hour away from the busy metropolis, but it had still shaken your small town to its foundations. It was too close to home, too huge for you and your neighbors to comprehend.

After it had happened, you spent less time dwelling on fiction and more time focused on the truth; the nonfiction isles of your school’s library became your second home, and you were always the first one in your family to read the Sunday paper. You followed current events almost obsessively, imagining one day having your name printed on the New York Post under a ground-breaking story that would define the rest of your career – the rest of your life.

You had not, however, counted on having one of the Avengers as your professors in college, and yet here you were, stood outside the history building of Columbia University with binder in hand, a syllabus and class schedule tucked inside of it.

You hadn’t realized that you would need to take classes on subjects other than writing – you’d known about the needed electives for your course, obviously, but most of them were somehow linked to writing, be it creatively or informatively. Your required history credit had surprised you, though, and your surprise only doubled as you’d scrolled through the available history courses on your student Blackboard account and found a name that stood out amongst the rest. American History (157) – Professor Steven Grant Rogers.

At first you’d chuckled at the coincidence and signed up for it without thinking, but after you’d been accepted into the course, after you’d read and studied its syllabus, you’d started researching your various professors only to find that Professor Steven Grant Rogers…was actually THE Steven Grant Rogers. As in, Captain America himself. As in, one of the people who had fought against the Chitauri and inspired you to seek out journalism.

And now you were about to walk into his class.

Letting out a deep sigh, you pushed a strand of your hair out of your eyes and adjusted your cardigan before pushing open the door of the classroom and stepping inside. Looking around, you only noticed a handful of other students, but then again you had arrived fifteen minutes early for class. Your eyes scanned each of their faces before finally meandering to the front of the classroom, immediately picking out the shape of your professor sitting at his desk.

Even with him sitting behind his desk, you could tell that he was huge. His shoulders were broad, and the fabric of his light blue shirt strained against them as he hunched over, jotting something into a leather notebook. His hair was neat and trimmed, and he had grown out a beard since his retirement from the Avengers. It looked good on him, you mused, but in the middle of your thoughts he turned and looked at you, his piercing blue eyes looking directly into yours, and you froze where you stood.

You saw his eyes widen for a split second while he took you in, but before you could register the shift in his expression he had put on an easy smile, giving you a small nod.

“Welcome,” Professor Rogers spoke, his voice warm and genuine.

You, for your part, answered with an incredibly smooth and well-thought-out response.

“U-um…” you stammered, shifting on your feet. “Hello.”

Feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, you ducked your head and darted to the first row of desks and sank into one, willing your heart to stop its infernal pounding. As you silently cursed yourself for being so nervous, you opened your binder and pulled out the only two sheets of paper in it along with your spiral bound notebook before reaching into your backpack and rooting around for a pen.

He’s just a person, you lectured yourself internally. A person who has saved the world on more than one occasion, but a person, nonetheless. He probably gets tired of people acting differently around him just because he’s- “Do you need a copy of the syllabus?”

The voice came from in front of you, and your head popped up to see Professor Rogers standing in front of your desk holding a stack of papers. He held one out to you, but you quickly smiled and picked your syllabus off of your desk.

“Oh, no, thanks! I printed one off last night,” you explained. “But thank you.”

His smile grew, and he walked back to his desk, setting the papers back down.

“You’re prepared; I’m glad to hear it.”

The minutes ticked by after that, a slow but steady line of students filing into the class as its start time grew nearer. You gauged your peers’ reactions curiously, observing as some hardly seemed to recognize your professor while a few others stopped to ask for a selfie with him. The first time that happened, your eyes had widened their bold question, but the former Avenger bared it gracefully, simply shaking his head and giving them a smile.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to hold off on that till the end of class,” he’d say. “If you still want one after we’re all done then just stay behind for a few minutes.”

Finally the clock read 10:30 and Professor Rogers made his way to the front of the desk, right in front of the empty, clean whiteboard. He took a few moments to look out over the full classroom, taking in all of the students before him. When his eyes landed on you, you swore that you saw him linger for a moment, a curious gleam resting in his eyes before he looked away and opened his mouth to speak.

“Well, everyone, it’s time to get started,” he began. “As you probably know by now, my name is Steve Rogers, and this class is dedicated to American History from 1914 to 1939. I’d like to just say right off the bat that I’m happy to have all of you in my class, and I hope that this course is informative and helpful to each of your personal fields of study.

“Now to address the elephant in the room,” he said, starting to pace slowly, “yes, I was alive during most of that period of time, and I did use to be known as Captain America. But I hung up that hat a few years ago, and I’d appreciate it if you showed me the same courtesy and respect that you show your other professors. That being said, I don’t want you to hesitate to ask me any personal questions you may have as long as they relate to what we’re discussing in class. Any off topic questions should be kept to yourselves or saved for after we are finished for the day.

“Any questions?”

There was a moment of silence as he searched for any raised hands.

“Is the shield as heavy as it looks?” someone called from the back row, and a few snickers could be heard from around the room.

Professor Rogers let out a chuckle of his own and pointed to the student who’d asked.

“That is a great example of a question that should be saved for after class.”

____________

Steve waved goodbye to the last of his students, only minorly annoyed at how many had stayed late to take a picture with him. As he packed up his things and prepared to head to his office for the rest of the day, he mused that he should have been used to it by now. With social media so prominent in society these days, he’d been hounded for selfies ever since 2012, but they were still (and probably would always be) aggravating to him.

He didn’t linger on that today, though; he had so many other important things to think about, after all. And most of them revolved around you.

A smile twisted his features as he remembered how you’d looked when you’d first walked into his class – so shy and hesitant but just as gorgeous as always. He’d been so pleased to see you wearing your long green cardigan today; it was one of his favorites. Mostly because of that time he’d seen you walking around your little apartment wearing nothing but your bra and panties under it, but he had to admit that you’d looked almost just as sexy wearing it with those brown leggings you’d had on today.

As he made his way across campus to the building his office was in, he didn’t even try to hide the smirk on his face; he finally had accomplished the first part of his plan. He’d hoped to have you in his class sooner, but it had been hard finding someone to hack into the school records to add that history credit to your list of prerequisites. Well, rather, it had been hard finding someone discreet enough to get the job done. Plenty of his friends would have been able to do it without any problem; hell, Tony probably had done that exact same thing in the past. But they would have asked questions, and he couldn’t afford to have people poking around in something that didn’t concern them.

A part of Steve knew that this wasn’t the right way of going about having you; the Steve from before Thanos would have been disgusted with his actions, absolutely repulsed at what he was planning to do. But after the snap, after he’d watched so many people he’d cared about turn to dust, something in him had changed. He’d tried so hard, so goddamn hard, to do the right thing, but in the end it hadn’t been good enough to stop everything from happening. And even now, after Thanos was dead and the fallen had been brought back, he was still different than before. He’d done the right thing his entire life, and all he’d gotten from it was heartache.

But now he would finally claim what he deserved. He would claim you.

The first time he’d seen you, it had been in the campus coffee shop. He had only been teaching for a year at the time, and he hadn’t foreseen how overwhelming it could be. While the students were cramming and stressing over finals, he was clamoring to compile the perfect exam for his class, the perfectionist in him never fully satisfied and constantly worrying if he had enough questions, if they were balanced enough, if they were too easy or too hard or irrelevant to the course.

Basically, he had been frazzled, and all he’d wanted was a small black coffee and a corner booth at the café to work on his laptop in. But then he’d seen you.

You were sitting at a table with a girl around your age, and the two of you were laughing about something; it must have been hilarious, because your head was thrown back and your eyes were closed as your laugh bubbled out of your smiling lips. It was in that moment that he knew that love at first sight existed. Every love song he’d ever heard had suddenly sounded in his ears, and he stood there as if frozen as he watched you, his eyes already straining to remember every little detail about your face.

After that day, he’d started seeing you on campus more and more often, though that might have been because he was following you. In his mind, though, it wasn’t following. It was…researching. He had to know if he’d been mistaken, if that electric feeling he’d felt upon seeing you had somehow been something other than love at first sight.

But as days turned to weeks turned to months of him following you, of him watching you while you were none the wiser, he knew that he hadn’t been mistaken. It seemed fell for you more and more with everything he learned about you and your life. Your body, your mind, your very soul seemed to be meant for him.

There was a problem, though. On the third day of him watching you, you and your friend from the café (he’d learned that her name was Tina) had gone to the library to study together, and he’d overheard you telling her something that made his heart sink. “So… You’ve been in college for a year now,” Tina had started, and you’d groaned, knowing where she was going even before she said anything else.

“No, Tina,” you sighed.

“What! I’m just wondering when you’re planning on finding yourself a man,” your friend insisted as you rolled your eyes.

“Is never a viable answer?”

“No – you and I both know it’s not. C’mon, you’ve talked about wanting to meet your dream man since high school!”

“Well, yeah, I’ve talked about it,” you’d said. “Talking about something and actually doing it are two different things, babe.”

“I knowww,” Tina had sighed. “But c’mon, now is the time to be looking for people to share a future with.”

You’d snorted a bark of laughter at that.

“It most certainly is not,” you’d countered. “I need to focus on my career right now, Tina. Even IF I met Mr. Right, I’m not gonna start a serious relationship until after college. I gotta put myself first right now.”

“I guess I see where you’re coming from,” she’d huffed. “I get it. But you could just, you know…fool around, right? College is the time for experimentation! Don’t you wanna get that cherry popped before you graduate?”

“TINA!”

“What!” your friend had laughed. “I know you’re dying to turn in that v-card of yours.”

Steve had had to stop listening at that point. With a muffled curse, he’d turned on his heel and all but fled from the library, feeling his heart soar and shatter all at once. On one hand, that same sick part of him that was driving his actions was all but singing; if your friend had been telling the truth, then you were a virgin. His (Y/N) really was a good girl – something that was rare to find these days, especially in young college girls. A sweet, innocent girl just like he’d always dreamed about starting a family with.

But, on the other hand, you were determined to hold off on relationships until the end of college. And even if you’d be willing to let Steve be the exception to that rule, that still didn’t change the fact that you were a student and he was a member of the faculty; he would not only lose his job if the two of you were found out, but he was sure that reporters and journalists would jump at the opportunity to write an exposé about Captain America taking advantage of a student at the university he taught at.

No, he would have to be smart about this. He knew he didn’t want to wait for you to finish your four-year degree, but he also couldn’t risk either of your reputations with some kind of forbidden relationship, if you’d even have him. He would have to think this through. He would have to come up with a plan.

___________

You were surprised at how quickly you got used to having Captain America as a teacher. You would still get nervous when he spoke directly to you, of course, but the insight he had to offer was priceless. It was one thing to learn about a period of history from a textbook, but it was another thing entirely to learn about it from someone who was actually there.

Professor Rogers was knowledgeable and kind to all of his students, and your favorite parts of his lectures were when your classmates would raise their hands and ask him about what it was like to live during whatever part of history you were learning about. You’d learned about Captain America and his backstory in high school history classes, of course, but the way he would answer those personal questions showed a whole different side of him. But you were starting to wonder if that new side of him was as golden as his status as a hero made him out to be.

Recently, something seemed a little bit off about him, as much as you hated to admit it. It only would happen in brief little flashes, so brief that immediately after you would find yourself questioning whether or not it had actually happened, but you could swear that he’d been…staring a lot recently. Specifically, he would be staring at you.

More and more often in class, you would start to feel like you were being watched; it was if you could sense eyes on you just out of the corner of your vision, and it would make your hairs stand on end. Usually, you would turn and see nothing out of the ordinary, and you would be able to chalk it up to an overactive imagination. But every now and then, you would turn and see Professor Rogers staring at you, his jaw clenched and his eyes dark.

As soon as it would happen, his expression would clear into a neutrally polite smile, and you always tried to return it to the best of your ability. But as the weeks went by, it was happening more and more frequently. And then there were the touches.

Mr. Rogers never touched you in an inappropriate way; you were almost certain that he never would. But whenever he would collect your papers, or whenever he would pass out assignments, his hand would always seem to linger. Sometimes, he would let his fingertips drag against yours as he took whatever you were handing to him; sometimes, he would set his hand on your shoulder for the briefest of moments when you dropped an assignment off with him before leaving class.

He’d also started commenting about your appearance at the beginning of class. From the moment you walked in the door to the moment you sat down in your seat, he’d manage to make some comment on your outfit. The first time he’d said something was on one of the many occasions where you were wearing your favorite cardigan.

“You look very nice today, (Y/N),” he’d mentioned in passing, almost making you stumble on your way to your seat. You’d barely managed to stutter out a ‘thank you’. After that, it happened every time you saw him, and some part of your mind whispered that he never complimented your classmates the way he would compliment you.

“I like how you did your hair this morning,” he’d said the next time.

“Like the new jeans, (Y/N),” the week after. (How had he even known those jeans were new?)

“That’s a nice color on you.”

“Looking lovely as always.”

You did love having Professor Rogers as your teacher, but each class with him made you feel increasingly uncomfortable despite your best efforts. In your mind, you knew that you were reading too much into it, but that was never able to stop you from feeling a cold shiver run up your back when you’d see him glaring at you from behind his desk.

Despite your growing anxiety about your history professor, though, you were settling in quite nicely to your day to day routine. Your favorite days were Fridays, though; you spent your afternoons right before the weekend with your best friend, Tina. She had been your friend since junior year of high school, and while the two of you were opposites when it came to most things, the bond you shared was strong and deep.

This Friday, however, she’d had to cancel your weekly study session; Tina was in Columbia’s dental department, and every now and then her and the other aspiring dentists would do volunteer events to help people in the surrounding area get free dental care. You were always proud of her when she took part in events like those, but you always felt a little lonelier on Friday afternoons.

After spending the morning sleeping in and meal prepping for the week, you set out on your way to the library without your best friend in tow; you would just have to study on your own that week, especially with the first test of the semester looming over you in Mr. Roger’s class. He was kind to his students, yes, but he was also demanding. He’d made it abundantly clear that he expected quality work out of his students.

“This is an advanced class,” he would say. “I expect you to be advanced learners.”

Pulling your heavy wool jacket tighter around your body, you trudged into the library and sat at yours and Tina’s regular table towards the back, opening your history textbook and busting out your favorite blue highlighter; this would be a study session of the ages, not interrupted by anything or anybody-

“(Y/N), is that you?”

…Maybe you’d spoken too soon.

Looking up, you saw none other than the man whose class you were about to be studying for. Professor Rogers was walking over to you with one hand in his pocket; in his other rested a copy of The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, and you smiled as you read its title.

“Hi, Professor,” you greeted him. You made to stand up out of your chair, but before you could he took his hand out of his pocket and set it on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“Oh, no, don’t get up on my account. What brings you here today? Got a big test coming up or something?”

You forced a weak smile to your lips, acutely aware that his hand was still on your shoulder.

“Oh, yeah,” you managed to joke. “One of my pesky teachers is giving us a test next Thursday.”

“Who does he think he is?” your teacher chuckled. Finally, he let his hand slide off of your shoulder, and you once again looked at the book he was holding.

“The Book Thief?” you asked, nodding to it. “Are you checking it out?”

“Oh! Yeah. For the second time, actually. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Really? It’s one of my favorites too!”

Steve grinned, even though he’d already known that. He’d read most of the books you had on your shelf at home; at first, he’d done it to try and draw closer to you, to see what kind of stories you liked. But after a while he just did it because you had good taste; the only book of yours that had disappointed him was a cheesy teenager romance you’d had since high school, but even then he thought it was adorable that you found enjoyment in such things.

“It sure is a small world, huh?” he drawled, pulling out the chair across the table from yours. “Do you mind if I join you for a little while?”

You hesitated, looking between the chair he was already half sitting in and the charming smile he had on his face. Something about the whole thing seemed off to you, but you shook away that feeling and nodded your head.

“Be my guest,” you finally said, and your professor didn’t hesitate to sink into his seat.

“Thanks, doll.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at that and quickly gave him what you hoped was more of a convincing smile.

“N-no problem, Mr. Rogers,” you hurriedly assured him. A smirk stretched across his lips as he reached across the table, letting his hand rest on the back of yours.

“I’ll never get used to people calling me that,” he chuckled. “How about you just call me Steve when we’re not in class?”

Your eyes widened and you gulped, eyes flickering between his face and his hand, so warm against yours.

“Wouldn’t that be, uh… unprofessional?” Your voice was higher pitched than usual as you said it, and it only made his smile grow.

“Not if we kept it our little secret. You wouldn’t tell anyone, would you?”

He arched his eyebrows questioningly at you, and for some reason you immediately shook your head.

“No, I… I wouldn’t tell anyone, Prof- Steve.”

Steve tried his best to keep his face neutral, but on the inside, he felt like fire works were going off in his head upon hearing you say his name. He knew it would sound sweet in your soft voice, and if it sounded good now, he couldn’t imagine how nice it would be to hear you moan it. One day, he promised himself. One day.

You squirmed in your seat as Professor Ro- Steve, you told yourself, Steve – watched you. After a few seconds of silence you hesitantly leaned forward.

“Steve?”

He seemed to snap back to reality, and once more his ever-present smile was carefully arranged on his face.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “I, uh… Zoned out there for a second.”

“It’s ok,” you assured him. “I do that in your class all the time.”

“Hey,” he laughed, “C’mon, that’s not nice.”

You chuckled at your own joke and shrugged.

“I’m just joking,” you assured him.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he grinned. “Maybe that’s why you and Tina are always studying together.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but something stopped you from saying anything. Something about what he’d just said didn’t quite make sense, you told yourself.

Steve furrowed his brows at the look on your face.

“You ok over there, doll?”

“Y-yeah,” you nodded rapidly, turning to collect your things as alarm bells kept going off in your head. “I’m fine. I actually just remembered something; I have to go.”

“Go? So soon? I didn’t chase you off, did I?” His lips were lifted into a half-smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes as he watched you pack up your books.

“Oh, no!” you were quick to exclaim. “No, not at all! I just… I just left one of my textbooks at home. I’m so stupid.”

You finally slung your bag over your shoulder and made to leave, but all of a sudden there was an iron-like grip encircling your upper arm. You whipped your head around so quickly that for a moment your hair obscured your vision. When you shook it away, you saw Steve watching you with slightly narrowed eyes, his smirk still on his lips.

For a moment, you just stared at him, feeling your heartbeat quicken as his thumb idly rubbed circles against your bicep.

“Don’t call yourself stupid,” he finally muttered, letting his hand fall. “You’re a smart girl, (Y/N). I’m sure you’re just feeling a little…overwhelmed. From your classes, that is.”

You nodded numbly, taking a small step backwards, taking yourself out of arm’s reach.

“Y-yeah… That must be it. Sorry, Steve.”

You turned and walked away, just barely catching his next few words.

“No problem, hon.”

You felt his eyes on you all the way out of the library, and the feeling didn’t go away until you fell asleep that night, the sound of his voice echoing in your ears and the line of his smile still etched behind your eyelids. Just before you drifted off, it suddenly came to you, the reason why you’d felt such a sudden need to leave him.

How had he known that you were friends with Tina?

_____

Steve sighed as he sank into his armchair, watching you fall asleep through his telescope; one day he would really have to talk to you about leaving your blinds open.

Once he was sure you were asleep for the night, he looked around his small apartment, thinking about your little study session in the library. When you’d left in such a hurry, he’d felt angry at first, just barely able to keep himself from snapping at you to sit back down. It was rude to just run off like that, after all.

But then he’d heard your heartbeat, pounding away in your soft, sweet chest, and he’d understood: you were nervous around him. The fact had made him so giddy that he’d excused your impolite behavior this time, letting you go and waiting a few minutes before following you back to your apartment. You were nervous around him, and he was willing to bet it was because of your feelings. He’d been watching you even closer than usual for the past month, watching how you’d squirm in your seat in class when your eyes met his, feeling your quickening pulse anytime his hand lingered on yours.

You were starting to fall for him, he just knew it.

He stood up from his armchair, wandering over to his tiny kitchen and grabbing a beer for himself. It would all be worth it someday – the tiny apartment he’d bought just to be closer to you, the time he’d dedicated to watching you each day, the expensive hidden bugs he’d planted in your house so he could listen in on your life. One day, when you were well and truly his, he would move out of this apartment and buy a home for the two of you, one big enough for the family you would have.

He could see it even now as he settled back into his favorite chair, peeking through the telescope to glance at your sleeping form. One day, you would be able to quit your silly dream of journalism and be his wife, focusing on him and the children you would have. Oftentimes, Steve would imagine five or six little kids running around the house, even though he knew it was unreasonable to think of such things.

You guys would stop at four, he’d decided.

His cock twitched in his sweatpants at the idea of you round and swollen with his child. You would be such a good mother, such a good wife. You would be everything he’d ever wanted.

With a sigh, he took his cock out, stroking it leisurely as he kept your eyes on your face, peaceful and oblivious as you slept on. He hoped you were dreaming about him, fantasizing about him the way he was fantasizing about you right now.

He let out a soft moan at the idea of what your first time together would be like. You would lead him into your bedroom, hand in his as your hips swayed with your stride. He would sit on the edge of the bed as you stripped, watching as each delicious inch of your skin was slowly revealed to him. You would be wearing white, lacy lingerie, as pure and unsullied as your body.

His hand moved faster on his cock as he imagined what you’d taste like, what it would be like to have his face buried between your legs, his tongue delving into your tight, wet heat as you bucked and squirmed against him. You’d pull his hair and moan his name, your voice getting higher and breathier the closer you got to your release.

But he wouldn’t give it to you, oh no. Not with his tongue at least. He would pull away at the last second and hold you in his arms, his eyes not leaving yours for a second as he pushed his cock into you. He would go slow, at first. He knew it would be your first time, and the last thing he ever, ever wanted was to hurt you. A small part of him still wondered, though, what noise you would make as he pressed into you for the first time, how his cock would look coated in your cum and blood, how your face would contort in that strange mix of pleasure and pain as he took your innocence.

All too soon, though, he was brought back to reality when he felt his cum coat the back of his hand, and as he came down from his release, he felt a familiar surge of disappointment that it wasn’t your pussy that was making him cum, that his were the only moans to be heard in his lonely apartment.

He shoved his cock back into his pants and took one last look at you before standing up to go clean himself off. You were still sleeping, innocent and unaware of all the plans he had in store for you.

_______

You debated skipping your next class with Steve. As each day went by, you got more and more paranoid. Whether you were at work, walking from class to class, or even at the grocery store, you kept thinking you saw Steve. You would catch a glimpse of blonde hair or broad shoulders and do a double-take, but every time you saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Part of you still thought you were overreacting. He was your teacher, for god’s sake. And he was a former Avenger; if anything, you should’ve felt safer in his presence.

When Thursday came around, you pushed down your desire to skip class and soldiered on, stopping for a coffee on the way and taking your seats just a few minutes before class began. The teacher you’d been so paranoid about was seated behind his desk, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he stared at his laptop.

As you passed him on the way to your seat, his bright blue eyes darted upwards, and he gave you a soft smile like he always did when you walked into his classroom.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” he greeted you. “That’s a nice sweater you got on today.”

“Good morning, professor,” you’d murmured back, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Thank you.”

You scurried over to your seat and plopped down into it. With all of your nerves, you’d almost forgotten to study for the test today. You’d only managed to cram in about half an hour last night; all of your other attempts at studying had found you without the ability to focus on the textbooks in front of you, mind wandering distractedly.

“Alright, guys,” your professor finally sighed, standing up from his desk and grabbing a stack of papers off of it. “Before we get started with this test, do any of you have any questions?”

When no one raised their hand, he nodded and started passing them out. As he set your test on your desk, you looked to see him wink at you, his lips curving upwards.

“Good luck,” he whispered, and your cheeks heated as you slid the paper closer to yourself.

After that, you made a decided effort not to make any more eye contact with your teacher as you started writing out your answers. Mr. Rogers had only ever given you guys essay questions, encouraging his students to write out their thought processes behind each of their answers. You kind of resented him for it; essay questions were always, without fail, tedious.

The minutes ticked by slowly, the only sounds in the room behind the scratches of pens and pencils against papers and the occasional rustle when someone would flip their page over. You were amongst the first ones to finish, and when you dropped your test off with Steve at his desk, his hand once again found a way to linger against your own.

Biting your lip, you drew your hand back quicker than usual, scurrying back to your desk and pulling a book out of your bag to read. Not that you actually read it; your eyes stayed steadily on one sentence for the next several minutes. When they finally did lift off of the page, they immediately found your teacher’s eyes, boring into you with that same dark intensity. You shivered as you snapped your gaze back to the page in front of you.

When everyone had finished with their tests, Professor Rogers stood from his desk chair and cleared his throat, drawing all attention to himself.

“Alright, good job guys. Feeling good about how you did?” There were a few grumbles and murmurings heard throughout the room; apparently you weren’t alone in your dislike of essay questions. “I’ll take that as a yes.

“So I thought that I would cut today’s class short this week,” he went on, and all of you perked up at the idea of leaving early. “Before you all head out, though, I wanted to tell you about a new internship opportunity I’m spearheading.

“For the time being, the details of the internship are being kept under wraps, but I can say that it involves travelling to New York City for a week and keeping a field journal while you’re there. What you’ll be doing in New York, unfortunately, can’t be disclosed right now.”

You sat up straighter in your seat, interest piqued. A field journal? It sounded like whatever the internship was involved journalism skills. (Or scientific skills – you were pretty sure scientists kept field journals, at least. You shrugged that idea off pretty quickly, though; why would a history professor be in charge of a scientific internship?)

“If you’re interested in applying for it, you’ll need to write an essay and turn it in to me at the beginning of next week’s class. The essay needs to be about a historic event that has somehow impacted your personal life, and it can be from any era of history, not just the one we’re learning about in class… Oh, and make it over 1,500 words in length. Any questions?”

A few students raised their hands, but you tuned them out as you thought over what you would write about. That is, if you decided to apply for it. You still had no idea what the internship was for, after all. But, you reasoned, if it didn’t turn out to be something you were interested in, you could always say no, right?

“…Alright, guys, you’re free to go. Email me if you have any questions about your test grades once they’re posted,” Steve finally said, and you distractedly started putting your things away, still thinking about what you would write about.

When you finally stood up from your desk, you went to sling your backpack over your shoulder only to feel it hit against something. Or, if the small “oof” that had sounded upon impact was anything to go by, someone.

Your hand flew up to your mouth when you turned and saw none other than your teacher standing there, having just been hit in the stomach by your bag – your very heavy bag, which contained no less than three textbooks inside of it.

“Professor Rogers! Oh my god, I am so sorry-“ you started, but he waved it off with a good-natured grin.

“Don’t worry about it, (Y/N),” he insisted, waving off your concern. “I’ve survived much worse, believe me.”

You smiled a little at that and finished putting your bookbag over your shoulders.

“Still, I’m sorry. I promise I’ve never assaulted any of my professors before.”

“A likely story, Miss (Y/L/N),” he joked. “A likely story.”

The two of you were silent for a beat before he cleared his throat and gestured to you.

“I was just wanting to ask if you were planning on applying for that internship I mentioned.”

“Oh, uh… Yeah, I was, actually. Why do you ask?”

“Well… I know that I said I couldn’t go into what exactly the internship entails, but I did want to mention to you that it involves some journalism. That’s what you’re majoring in, right?”

You nodded, feeling excited about your suspicions being correct.

“It is, yeah! I thought it might have something to do with it when you mentioned field journaling,” you said. “Could I ask what the journaling would be about, or would that give too much away?”

“It would give way too much away,” your teacher confirmed. “But trust me, I think it’ll be up your alley.”

Your mind turned it over, taking in Steve’s raised eyebrows and expectant smile. He seemed even more eager than you were about the internship.

“Well, I’ll make sure to write my essay for it,” you assured him. “Just gotta think of what I’ll be writing about.” Your brain had already pondered writing about the Battle of New York; sure, it hadn’t even been ten years since it happened, but it was a historical event. And it was the main reason you’d wanted to pursue journalism, of course. But you almost died with embarrassment at the idea of writing an essay about something Captain America was involved in and then letting it be read by Captain America himself.

As if reading your thoughts, Steve asked, “Any idea about what your subject will be on?”

“Oh, uh…” you muttered, “I-I had one idea, but I don’t think I’m gonna go with it.”

“Why not?”

“Well…” You sighed, not able to meet his eyes as you confessed, “My immediate thought was the Battle of New York. I know you probably don’t like being reminded of it, but it just… It changed my world, the entire way I view things – it’s what made me want to be a journalist. After the invasion, the world – the universe, really – seemed so much bigger, and it made me want to tell stories about the reality we live in now rather than telling stories that are fiction.”

You trailed off, looking back up at him sheepishly when you realized you were rambling. He was watching you with an intent look on his face, and for a second you were worried that the memory had upset him.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t mean-“

“No, no,” he interrupted, shaking his head, “don’t be. I understand; it kinda turned my world upside down, too. I’d thought that waking up from the 40’s had been disorienting enough, but… When I saw aliens on the streets of the city I grew up in, it really made me feel like I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.”

Your lips twitched into a half-smile.

“Was that a Wizard of Oz reference?”

“…It sure was,” Steve grinned. “Old fashioned, I know, but it was one of my favorites growing up.”

“Me too,” you nodded. The man in front of you chuckled at that and you arched an eyebrow questioningly.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Nothing, it’s just…not too often that I have something from my childhood in common with someone else these days,” he answered.

Your heart squeezed with compassion for the soldier in front of you, and without realizing what you were doing, you’d rested your hand on his shoulder. You didn’t know what to say, but you knew what you wanted to; you wanted to tell him that you were sorry for what he went through, that you would never be able to understand what it had been like for him but that you knew it had to have been hard. For a second, you regretted ever feeling uncomfortable around him; hadn’t he proven his entire life that he just wanted to do what was right?

You said none of that, though, and after a second you let your hand slide down to your side.

“I’ll have that essay ready for you next week,” you promised him, and with that you turned and left the room, not even feeling the weight of his stare on your back as you retreated.

For several moments, Steve just stood there, glaring at the spot you’d been standing in and feeling himself fall for you even more. Because even though you hadn’t said any of what you’d been thinking, he was able to read it all in your eyes.

______

You’d missed your study session with Tina that week again; for the next several days, when you weren’t working on homework for your other classes, you were working on your essay. You didn’t know why you felt such a sudden need to do well on it; something in you just couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing Steve. Plus, you’d never before written about your feelings on the Battle of New York and what it had meant to you.

Even though Steve had said the word limit was 1,500, your final essay clocked in over 3,000 words, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to shorten it. You’d dedicated an entire week to making it perfect, and you finally got to the point where you didn’t want to change a single word.

When that fateful Thursday came around, you gave Steve a bright smile as you set your stapled essay onto his desk. Judging from the pile of papers resting on it, you hadn’t been the only one to apply for the internship, but you didn’t feel nervous about your odds; either you got in or you didn’t. You were content knowing you’d done your best.

“You seem like you’re in a good mood,” Steve noticed, and you winked, actually fucking winked, at him, wondering a second later why you’d even done such a thing.

“I’m just happy to be done with that essay,” you confessed, continuing on to your seat. “I spent all week perfecting it.”

Steve grinned, knowing for a fact that you were telling the truth. He’d kept an ever-so-diligent eye on you since your last conversation, watching as you typed away on your laptop ceaselessly, feeling satisfied to know that all your work was for him. His heart soared this morning to see you so happy, and he’d felt butterflies, actual goddamn butterflies, in his chest when you’d winked at him.

Class went by as usual, closing off with a list of chapters to be read and homework to be completed before the next class. In fact, the rest of your day went by uneventfully, and the only thing out of the ordinary came in the form of an email on Friday morning.

You were standing in your kitchen, just wearing your most comfy pair of sweatpants and a tank top, sipping some coffee when you heard your phone ding with a notification. Opening up the email, you felt yourself gulp so fast that your coffee burned your throat as you read it.

Dear (Y/N),

Good morning! I know that this is last minute, but would you be willing to come see me in my office today at 11 am? I would like to discuss your essay with you. I’m in the C Building, third floor, Room 212.

Sincerely,

Steve Rogers

You looked up to the clock on your microwave and cursed when you saw what time it was – 10:34. You set your coffee down so quickly that some of it spilled on your pants as you rushed to your room, throwing on some jeans and a cream cable knit sweater before rushing to gather your phone, keys, and wallet. It usually only took you ten minutes to get to campus from your apartment, but the C Building was basically on the other side of the continent from student parking.

You sped in your tiny, beat up car all the way to your college, power walking to the administrative building while huffing and puffing; this was the most exercise you’d gotten in a while, what with your busy schedule.

After an agonizingly slow elevator ride, you reached the third floor and glanced at your phone as you passed by several offices – it was 10:58. You felt your lips spread into a grin.

When you finally reached room 212, you hesitantly rose your fist to knock on its door, but before you could make contact it was opened from the inside. Steve looked down at you with a smile as you jumped.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to surprise you,” he said sheepishly. “I heard you walking up the hall.”

“…Super hearing?” you guessed, and he nodded bashfully.

He gestured for you to follow him into the room, your nose immediately flooded with the scent of something delicious. Your eyes fell on two bags from your favorite café on campus, and you could distinctly make out the smell of their turkey bacon wafting up from within.

“I hope you don’t mind that I got some food for us,” he said, settling into the cushy office chair placed on the side of the desk opposite to you. “I know you haven’t eaten yet, and all I’ve had was coffee-“

“How?” you interrupted him, feeling that old coil of unease wrap itself around you. “How did you know I haven’t eaten yet, that is?”

Steve’s lips parted and his eyes widened for a split second after you’d asked, but he quickly schooled his features back into something more neutral.

“Oh, sorry,” he chuckled. “I shouldn’t have said that I knew you hadn’t eaten; it was just a guess. I’m assuming I was right?”

You warily nodded, slowly walking over to the chair he had situated in front of his desk. The door behind you was still cracked open, something that helped comfort you enough to reach into the nearest bag and pull out a to-go box.

“I got you some turkey bacon and a cheese biscuit,” he said as you opened the package up. “And there’s some blueberry muffins in the other bag if you’d like any.”

Your hands trembled as you took a bite of your bacon; it was the exact same order you usually got for breakfast.

You were so focused on swallowing your bite of food that you jolted when you heard the man in front of you clear his throat. Your head popped up to see him watching you with an expectant face, tapping his fingertips on the desk beneath him.

“U-um…” you stuttered, not sure of what he was expecting you to do or say.

“It probably shouldn’t bother me, but… Back in my day, we thanked people when they got us something,” Steve shrugged, trying to pass off his words as nonchalant. You could see the way his fists were clenched, though, and it made your heartbeat quicken.

“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry,” you exclaimed. “I, um… Thank you, Steve. For breakfast.”

Your cheeks were on fire, and you felt your palms getting sweaty as you set down your piece of bacon; maybe you weren’t so hungry after all.

Steve, though, just smiled gently and dug into the matching box of food he had placed before himself.

“It’s ok, doll,” he hummed. “Bad manners are just a pet peeve of mine. Go ahead and eat.”

The food felt like cardboard against your teeth as you hesitantly obeyed, still uncomfortable from how Steve had just spoken to you. You began to squirm in your chair as the minutes ticked on, the only sounds in his office coming from your quiet eating. Finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, you cleared your throat and spoke so quietly that Steve probably wouldn’t have been able to hear you if not for his advanced hearing.

“So, um… In your email you mentioned my essay?” you asked, sitting up straighter. “Did you want to talk with me about it today?”

He smiled and set down the muffin he’d been working on, leaning his elbows against his desk and looking at you with a gleam in his eyes.

“That’s right, (Y/N),” he answered, his face so bright and excited that it was almost easy to forget how harsh his tone had been just a minute ago. “I wanted you to be the first to know that you got the internship.”

You blinked a few times, feeling surprised despite how hard you’d worked on your essay.

“Really?” you asked, slowly starting to smile again. “I did?”

“Of course,” Steve insisted. “Your essay was the best out of the bunch; it’s obvious that you want to be a writer.”

“Thank you so much, sir,” you said, hurrying to say so after what had happened the last time you hadn’t been grateful for his kindness. “That…means a lot.”

“Well, it’s true,” he assured you. “And now you get to know what the internship actually is; I know you were curious about it yesterday.”

You nodded eagerly, watching as he leaned back in his chair.

“A few months ago, I decided that I wanted to write an autobiography,” he began, thumbs twiddling in his lap. “I’ve never been much of a writer, but I figured that it would be nice to try and put my story down on paper. And I thought that it would be a great idea to go back to Brooklyn, where I grew up, and write down what’s changed about it and what’s the same as a sort of opening for the first chapter of my book.

“That’s where you come in,” he added, pointing to you before setting his hands on his desk. “I wanted to go back to Brooklyn with someone who grew up in this century, someone who could help me take notes on that part of the city and who I could bounce ideas off of. After all, most of my readers would be people who have no clue about what the 40’s were like. I’d need someone to hear my ideas and tell me if they’re relevant and if they’d appeal to folks these days.”

Your head was already turning with ideas on how he could link his past to his present in the beginning of his novel; the writer in you was salivating that the idea of this project, and you opened your mouth to tell Steve that you’d take the position.

But then you hesitated, slowly closing your mouth again as you looked at the man seated across from you. You remembered every time he’d made you uncomfortable, every doubt you’d had about him, every time he’d made you squirm under his penetrative gaze. Would you be able to work with him one on one without feeling so nervous around him?

“I’m…flattered that you think I’m a good fit for the job,” you started out, “And this is such an amazing opportunity, but… Um, would we the alone in Brooklyn or would there be other people with us?”

Steve’s brows furrowed; clearly, he hadn’t expected that question.

“Why would it matter?” he asked, voice hard as steel.

“Well, I just… I wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong i-idea, you know?” you stammered. “I wouldn’t want them to think-“

“No one would know,” he interrupted. “For obvious reasons, this project is being kept strictly confidential. You would have to sign a non-disclosure agreement before we left.”

Your doubt must have read on your face, because Steve’s face softened, and he slowly stood up, walking around to stand in front of your chair.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he said softly. “You know you don’t have to worry about me, right? I understand that you can be…shy, but think of this as a week off! I’ve already talked to the school board, and your absences with your other classes won’t be counted against you. We’ll go to the city, take our notes, maybe even have a little fun.

“Whatya say?”

You sighed and let your head droop, looking down to your clenched hands as they rested in your lap. You liked his words; they were kind and considerate, but they didn’t reach his eyes. No, they were dark, a stormy gray-ish blue as he watched you intently.

“I… I’m still not sure,” you murmured weakly. “Could I have some time to-“

“It’s a paid internship,” Steve interrupted you, his voice just barely edging to desperate. “And I would let you write the Forward to my novel. Think about it, (Y/N) – your name on the cover of ‘Captain America’s’,” he rolled his eyes at the name, “autobiography. You’ll be able to have any job you want when you graduate. A guaranteed successful start to your career.”

You paused at that, eyes widening at the thought; he had a point. You’d be a famous writer even before the beginning of your writing career. And your bank account was laughable at the moment; you only had a part-time job at the college library, and it definitely didn’t pay much.

Your head tilted up and your eyes met Steve’s, and he was wearing a smile that spoke volumes; he knew what you were going to say even before you said it.

“I’ll do it.”

_______

Steve let out a soft grunt as he came, his hand finally stilling on his cock before he tucked it back into his pants. You’d left his office hours ago, but his mind hadn’t stopped thinking of you since you’d said those three little words. He was coming close to the end of his plan; his reward was so close now. He could practically taste it – taste you.

He wasn’t happy that he’d had to bribe you, of course. He hated the idea that you were just saying yes because of the money and success he could offer you. But if that’s what it took to make you his, then he would do it. It was worth it for your future children, for your future life.

Letting out a soft sigh, he stood up, putting in his airpods and selecting his favorite app on his phone. With a press of a button, he could hear the sound of your soft humming as you turned the pages of your textbook. The camera in your living room showed you curled up on your couch, studying like the good little student you were. Soon you wouldn’t have to work so hard; Steve would give you everything you could ever want or need – a family, a house, a ring on your finger… He smiled at the thought.

He shoved his phone into his back pocket, keeping his airpods in so he could listen to the sound of your humming as background noise. He grabbed his keys and headed out, tucking his laptop under his arm as he started walking out of the building. The two of you would leave for New York in a week, and he had so many preparations to make. His back-up plan still needed to be put in order, though he hoped he wouldn’t have to use it with you.

You were different from all the others – sweet, obedient, smart… Whatever ended up happening, Steve knew that you would see things his way eventually. The two of you were meant to be, after all.

#precodechallenge #steve rogers #captain america imagine #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #professor!steve #professor!steve rogers #non-con #stalking #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine

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fcbayern · 4 years

Note

Hallo! Hope you are well! I love your blog and it’s made me really want to understand and get into Bundesliga. How can I know everything I need to know about Bayern so I’m up to date and understand what’s happening within the team? I hope this makes sense? Danke!

hi anon! i’m so sorry it took me so long to reply to this. this week’s been so busy already.

i guess the internet is a good place to start for your research :) of course wikipedia itself is not a bad source, but if you really want to get information, look at the bottom of the wikipedia page for all the teams in the bundesliga, and get the info from the sources there. that’s what wikipedia uses to write their articles, so that should give you even more insight into the bundesliga and its teams, and rules, etc than you already get from the wikipedia article itself.

i’ll try and sum up the most basic info for you - that i know - and if you have any other questions, feel free to send me another message and maybe we can get into more detail:

bundesliga is the highest “class” / tier that you can play in, in germany. it is divided into 2 different tiers: 1. bundesliga and 2. bundesliga.

1. bundesliga consists of 18 teams.

for the upcoming seasons - currently in alphabetical order because the new season doesn’t start until the 18th of September - these are the teams:

DSC Arminia Bielefeld

FC Augsburg

Bayer Leverkusen

FC Bayern München

Borussia Dortmund

Borussia Mönchengladbach

Eintracht Frankfurt

1. SC Freiburg

Hertha BSC Berlin

TSG Hoffenheim

1. FC Köln

1. FSV Main 05

Red Bull Leipzig

FC Schalke 04

VfB Stuttgart

Union Berlin

Werder Bremen

VfL Wolfsburg

Arminia Bielefeld were promoted from 2nd league, where they ended up in first place in the season of 2019/2020. The second team that was promoted is VfB Stuttgart. In exchange for these two teams being promoted, two teams have to be relegated. In the season of 2019/2020 those two teams were SC Paderborn 07 and Fortuna Düsseldorf.

Back to the Bundesliga Basics:

The Bundesliga stands under the umbrella of “DFB”, or Deutscher Fußball Bund (German Football Association), which was founded in 1900. In 1904 the FIFA (Fédération Internationale de Football Association) was founded, which is basically the big boss of football. They keep an eye on a number of football associations across the world and also set up the Men’s and Women’s World Cup. DFB joined the FIFA right away in 1904, and in 1954 DFB also joined the UEFA, which is an acronym for Union des Associations Européennes de Football and therefor takes care of all things football in Europe. Self-explanatory.

UEFA wasn’t founded until 1954 because... things happened in Europe in the 30s and 40s.

During the time of the Nazi regime the DFB was dismantled in 1940 and it didn’t pick up again until 1950, when the Federal German Republic was reformed, and the West German football associations decided to get the DFB back up and running. They re-joined FIFA in 1954, and, as mentioned before, also joined UEFA that same year.

The Bundesliga how we know it, however, was not actually a thing until 28. Juli 1962, starting with the season of 1963/1964. Before that there were a number of clubs and associations throughout Germany who all kind of played side by side, and eventually in the 30s the idea of a “Reichsliga” (league of the German Reich) was brought up, where a certain number of teams would play and one would end up winning the title. Kind of what we do now.

And then the war happened.

And in between the end of that and the 60s, obviously they had brought some ideas back to the table, had tried to figure out a more competitive way and to bring football closer to the people.

In 1962 the idea of the Bundesliga was founded. 16 teams were to play each other in one league, competing against each other. 5 from “Oberliga Süd”, 5 from “Oberliga West”, 3 from “Oberliga Nord”, 2 from “Oberliga Südwest” and one from the Berlin City League - the Western part of Berlin, of course.

They had a super complicated system in place to figure out which teams would eventually be allowed to be the “founding fathers” of the Bundesliga. It had to do with economics, they ended up coming up with a weird system for who gets how many points for winning their own league, adding those up, multiplying, and then somehow they ended up with 16 teams... don’t ask me how, I have dyscalculia, I don’t understand their way of thinking at all. Maybe there was some voodoo involved, God knows, honestly.

Eventually they had their 16 winners from the aforementioned leagues:

Oberliga Süd: Eintracht Frankfurt, Karlsruher SC, 1. FC Nürnberg, TSV 1860 München, VfB Stuttgart Oberliga Nord: Eintracht Braunschweig, Werder Bremen, Hamburger SV Oberliga West: Borussia Dortmund, 1. FC Köln, Meidericher SV, Preußen Münster, FC Schalke 04 Oberliga Südwest: 1. FC Kaiserslautern, 1. FC Saarbrücken Stadtliga Berlin: Hertha BSC Berlin

In 1963 this “Bundesliga” wasn’t a pro-league, though. And there were a ton of rules in place that would probably make you go “huh?” these days... or maybe you’d think they are great rules and they need to make a comeback. A transfer, for example, could only cost up to 50.000 German Mark (roughly 25.564,50€ / $30.149,62).

Until 1967 you also weren’t allowed to sign more than three players from another team for the upcoming season.

At some point it was decided that football players would also have the benefits of a full-time worker, if they decided on football as a career, and not just something they did on the side.

When East and West Germany were reunited in 1989 / the early 90s, that’s when the Bundesliga really became more of a commercial success not just in Germany, but also throughout non-German Europe and the rest of the world. Which is also largely due to Germany winning the World Cup in 1990, and the European title in 1996, but the Bundesliga was also specifically marketed to popular media. In 1991 the German Football Association of the German Democratic Republic (Deutsche Fußball-Verband der DDR) - the East German football association - joined DFB. Thus Germany was one again, not just on paper, but also in football.

Another thing that helped the popularity of the Bundesliga was the fact that in the 90s at least one Bundesliga club reached a European championship semi-final. In 1997 Borussia Dortmund won the Champions League, in 1996 Bayern München won the Europapokal, in 1997 Schalke 04 won the UEFA-Pokal. And in the following championships at least one German team reached the final of said competitions.

Let’s jump to the 2000s!

Since 2000 FC Bayern München has won the Bundesliga 13 times. The other winners were: Borussia Dortmund (2002, 2011, 2012), Werder Bremen (2004), VfB Stuttgart (2007) and VfL Wolfsburg (2009). Bayern München is also the only Bundesliga team in the 2000s to win the Champions League: 2013 and 2020.

After all that knowledge, here’s some random facts and numbers that you might find interesting:

- since it was founded in 1963, a total of 56 teams have played in Germany’s highest league - until the season of 2017/2018 Hamburger SV was part of the 1. Bundesliga for 55 seasons, which was a record. Now Werder Bremen holds this record, with 56 seasons to their name - Bayer Leverkusen holds the nickname of “Vizekusen” (Vice-Kusen), and they were at one point regarded as the “ever-second”, always getting close to the top, but never reaching it - Karl-Heinz Körbel has the most Bundesliga appearances: 602 - for Eintracht Frankfurt. He never lost a final with Frankfurt and was never relegated. - Bernd Stöber was the youngest coach in the season of 1976/1977 a t just 24 years, 1 month and 17 days old. - Brazil is the best-represented nation after Germany, with 159 Bundesliga exports (159), followed by Denmark (129), Austria (119), Croatia (118) and Poland (109). - in the season of 2019/2020 Thomas Müller had the most assists: 21. - retired football player Gerd Müller, whose active career was between 1965-1979, holds the record for the most goals: 365. - Otto Rehhagel holds the record for most matches as a manager: 832.

Now let’s go back to where we started: the season of 2020/2021.

As mentioned above, the 1. Bundesliga has 18 teams. To get you up-to-date I’ll give you some more info on each team, that you might find useful!

DSC Arminia Bielefeld: - founded: May 3rd 1905 - manager: Uwe Neuhaus - stadium: SchücoArena

FC Augsburg: - founded: August 8th 1907 - manager: Heiko Herrlich - stadium: WWK Arena

Bayer 04 Leverkusen: - founded: July 1st 1904 -> rebranded to current name on April 1st 1999 - manager: Peter Bosz - stadium: BayArena

FC Bayern München: - founded: February 27th 1900 - manager: Hansi Flick - stadium: Allianz Arena

Borussia Dortmund: - founded: December 19th 1909 - manager: Lucien Favre - stadium: Signal Iduna Park

Borussia Mönchengladbach: - founded: August 1st 1900 - manager: Marco Rose - stadium: BORUSSIA-PARK

Eintracht Frankfurt: - founded: March 8th 1899 - manager: Adi Hütter - stadium: Deutsche Bank Park

SC Freiburg: - founded: May 30th 1904 - manager: Christian Streich - stadium: Schwarzwald-Stadion

Hertha BSC Berlin: - founded: July 25th 1892 - manager: Bruno Labbadia - stadium: Olympiastadion Berlin

TSG 1899 Hoffenheim: - founded: July 1st 1899 - manager: Sebastian Hoeneß - stadium: Prezero-Arena

1. FC Köln: - founded: February 13th 1948 - manager: Markus Gisdol - RheinEnergieSTADION

1. FSV Mainz 05: - founded: March 16th 1905 - manager: Achim Beierlorzer - stadium: OPEL ARENA

Red Bull Leipzig: - founded: May 19th 2009 - manager: Julian Nagelsmann - Red Bull Arena

FC Schalke 04: - founded: May 4th 1904 - manager: David Wagner - stadium: VELTINS-Arena

VfB Stuttgart: - founded: September 9th 1893 - manager: Pellegrino Matarazzo - Mercedes-Benz Arena

1. FC Union Berlin: - founded: January 20th 1966 (originally 1906) - manager: Urs Fischer - stadium: Stadion An der Alten Försterei

SV Werder Bremen: - founded: February 4th 1899 - manager: Florian Kohfeldt - stadium: Weserstadion

VfL Wolfsburg: - fonded: September 12th 1945 -> rebranded to current name on January 16th 2001 - manager: Oliver Glasner - stadium: Volkswagen Arena

Maybe, to get a feeling for each club, you can check out each club’s YouTube account. Through that you should be able to find their other social media, or just by simply googling the team name:

Arminia Bielefeld ● FC Augsburg ● Bayer 04 Leverkusen ● FC Bayern München ● Borussia Dortmund ● Borussia Mönchengladbach ● Eintracht Frankfurt ● 1. SC Freiburg ● Hertha BSC Berlin ● TSG Hoffenheim ● 1. FC Köln ● 1. FSV Main 05 ● Red Bull Leipzig ● FC Schalke 04 ● VfB Stuttgart ● Union Berlin ● Werder Bremen ● VfL Wolfsburg

Each football team has 11 players on the pitch. For the new season in 2019 it was decided that instead of 18 players, each team would be allowed to have 20 players in total - which means 9 substitute players on the bench.

During each season a team can win three main cups (the ones that everyone cares about the most, let’s be real): DFB-Pokal, Meistertitel (Bundesliga winner) and Champions League trophy. The last of which is not a German tournament / cup to be won, so I’ll leave that out for now.

DFB Pokal:

The DFB-Pokal is a German knockout competition, starting out with 64 teams. 36 teams are from the Bundesliga and 2. Bundesliga, the top four finishers of the third league are automatically added to the list. 21 slots are given to the cup winners of regional football associations, and the remaining 3 slots are given to the regional associations with the most men’s teams.

Direct quote from Wikipedia, which in turn got their information from here: for the first round, the 64 teams are split into two pots of 32. One pot contains the 18 teams from the previous season of the Bundesliga and the top 14 teams from the previous season of the 2. Bundesliga. The other pot contains the bottom 4 teams from the previous season of the 2. Bundesliga, the top 4 teams from the previous season of the 3. Liga and the 24 amateur teams that qualified through regional football tournaments. Teams from one pot are drawn against teams from the other pot. Since 1982, teams from the pot containing amateur teams have played the game at home.For the second round, the teams are again divided into two pots according to the same principles. Depending on the results of the first round, the pots might not be equal in terms of number. Teams from one pot are drawn against teams from the other pot until one pot is empty. The remaining teams are then drawn against each other with the team first drawn playing the game at home.For the remaining rounds, other than the final, the teams are drawn from one pot. Since 1985 the final has been held in the Olympic Stadium in Berlin.

Meistertitel:

The Meistertitel is rewarded to the team that comes out on top on the last match-day of the season. Of course it can be calculated whether other teams can still catch up - points-wise - but the Meisterschale is not rewarded until the season is over. The current record-holder of most Bundesliga wins is FC Bayern München (29), followed by Borussia Dortmund and Borussia Mönchengladbach (5) and Werder Bremen (4) in second and third place.

With the first three Bundesliga wins a team gets a gold star to put on their jersey, with five wins they get a second, ten wins is a third, twenty wins is a forth star. On top of that, the reigning Bundesliga champion gets to wear the Bundesliga logo in gold color on their sleeve.

And that’s that on that.

I don’t know what language you’re fluent in, but here are some football apps that you might enjoy using, to be on track with the upcoming season:

OneFootball

Kicker App

Bundesliga App

11 Freunde App

Amazon Bundesliga Radio

each team’s individual app for updates and news

You can also check out @bundesliga_en on Instagram and Twitter.

One last info for you, so you can jump right into it on the first day of the new Bundesliga season (fixtures are never really 100% until a day or two before the match is supposed to be, so this is preliminary): here is the link for the schedule of the upcoming 1. Bundesliga season.

You can also check out the 2. Bundesliga schedule, because it’s super interesting down there in the second league as well! I highly recommend it (keep your fingers crossed for Paderborn for me!).

I think that’s about everything I can tell you. This reply is already faaaaaaaaar too long, and I apologize! If you have any questions or want me to elaborate, feel free to send me another message.

Have the best time getting used to the Bundesliga, and welcome to the family!

Sources - with more info - under the cut:

fun facts: https://www.bundesliga.com/en/bundesliga/news/easter-eggs-surprising-facts-and-figures-you-may-not-know-3798

team information / schedule: https://www.dfb.de/bundesliga/spieltagtabelle/

team information / schedule (2nd source): https://www.kicker.de/dfb-pokal/spieltag

general information: https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fu%C3%9Fball-Bundesliga

app suggestions: https://www.smartmobil.de/magazin/fussball-apps

explanation for how the DFB-Pokal: https://web.archive.org/web/20090609211623/https://www.dfb.de/index.php?id=460546

#Bundesliga #football #elle.reply #beantwortet #september 2020 #this took me like 8 hours to write up because I started while I was still working lmfao #anyway #feel free to block me for making a post this long omg #Anonymous #long post

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goldnratio · 4 years

Note

Hey, could I request one where Y/N and Matthew are shopping in IKEA for their first flat? & Another where it is Y/N's time of the month, and she has an awful day at work, unaware Matthew has come home early to look after her. 💕 Xoxo

Matthew and IKEA meatballs (MGG x reader)

Description: You and Matthew are shopping at IKEA for your new house together

Warnings: jar jar binks mention and talk, sorry y’all-

Word Count: 1,082

A/N: my first request im-🥺 anyways this was fun to write and I realized I literally knew nothing about IKEA and this was not proofread,,,but thanks for reading! also the next fic should be up sometime this week :)

—

“Shopping for our first place together! (Y/N), is it weird that I’m really, really excited?” Matthew said as your car pulled into the IKEA parking lot.

“Of course not, because I’m just as excited. We get to buy a bunch of things that’ll help make our place more like a home to us,” you smile at him.

Recently, your boyfriend brought up the idea of getting your own place together. Despite the relationship being serious, you hadn’t officially moved into his place and he hadn’t moved into your place either. Sure, you had a lot of your things at Matthew’s and he had his share of things at your place, but since he traveled a lot for certain roles and your career had you local, you both agreed it’d be best to keep your own places to make things easier. Knowing you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, you were more than happy and willing to finally move into a house together.

You and Matthew had done extensive research to find the best place to accommodate both of your lives, and it took a few months, but you both eventually found the perfect place.

You’d spent the last few weeks moving what you could from your separate places into the new house, but there were still things you needed to buy.

As you both made your way into the home and furniture store, Matthew grabbed a cart and you discussed what else you needed for the new place.

“For reasons I can’t say out loud, a new bed is a top priority,” Matthew playfully winked at you.

“Obviously,” you say through giggles.

“Shall we, princess?” Matthew dramatically extends his arm for you to hold as he begins to push the shopping cart.

You two make small talk as you roam around the large store; discussing possible color choices for the walls, bathroom towel patterns, how many rugs you think you’ll need.

While in the bathroom section, you two struggle with what you think would look best in your shared bathroom, and even more with how to pronounce the names of the items.

“How about the...uhhh…” you squint at the name of the trashcan, “me-yosa?”

Mjösa, it says.

“It’s got the pedal-thing that opens up the lid,” you continued.

“(Y/N), what about this one?” Matthew points a similar but smaller can, “the Ekoln.”

“Sounds like you’re saying ‘e-colon,’” you joked.

Matthew playfully pinches your side, “Right, and you sounded like Jar Jar Binks trying to pronounce ‘Mjösa.’”

“Maybe, but yousa love me,” you say in your best attempt to impersonate the Star Wars character.

Laughing, Matthew wraps his arms around you and kisses your forehead.

“Dat meesa do,” he mimics before leaning to properly kiss you.

Giggling as you both pull away, your attention turns back to the trash cans.

“So, which one do you want to take?”

“How about the Ekoln?” Matthew suggests, “It’s easier to pronounce.”

“Then we have a winner,” you say while putting the item in the shopping cart.

Within a few hours, your cart is full of things for the new house. You and Matthew grew a little tired, and wanted to take a short break from shopping, and luckily you were in the mattress section.

“God, I could really go for a nap right now,” Matthew exhales as he sits on the nearest made bed.

“Hold on, baby, we’re almost done,” you take a seat next to him and realize it’s comfortable, “While we’re here, Gube, what do you think of this one?”

You look over at Matthew and he’s already laying down and his eyes are closed.

He must like it, you think.

“It’s good,” he mumbles.

Deciding to let him rest for a few minutes, you take a look at other mattresses and take note of the names of which you liked. Making your way back to Matthew, you hear your stomach lightly growl.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you say, poking Matthew’s ribs, “You wanna pick the bed now, or come back another day?”

“Mmm, I know I said a bed was a priority but can we come back another day?”

“Of course,” you peck his cheek, “we can just use one of our mattresses for now.”

Matthew sits up, “Perfect, I just want to go home and nap.”

“Alright,” you say as you’re getting in line at the nearest checkout, “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Should we grab dinner on the way home?”

“We’re already at IKEA-“

“Meatballs?” you grin.

“You read my mind, pumpkin. You wanna go order those while I pay for these?” Matthew gestures to the cart.

“Yeah, I’ll meet you back here or just meet me over there if you’re done first,” you give Matthew a quick kiss before making your way towards the in-store restaurant.

Luckily the line isn’t long, and you see Matthew entering a few minutes after you placed your orders to-go. Once he sees you waving him down, he parks the cart next to the table you’re sitting at and joins you. You’re only waiting for a little while before you hear your name and order being called.

As you and your boyfriend were leaving the store and loading everything you bought into the trunk of your car, you couldn’t help but notice how many times Matthew had yawned.

“Gube, you tired?” You brush a bit of hair out of his face.

He nods, “Just a little,” and closes the trunk of your car.

“Here, give me the keys, I’ll drive.”

He hands them over and thanks you after settling in the passenger’s seat.

“You know, all that shopping really did a number on me today,” Matthew yawns, “but I had fun.”

“Me too,” you reach for his hand as you drive out of the parking lot, “we got meatballs and we’re in the process of setting up our new place.”

Matthew smiles and brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to it, “And there’s no one else I’d rather do that with, I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Matthew. Now take a little nap, I’ll wake you up when we get to your place.”

While you looked at him, with his head occasionally lulling forward, you knew you really hit the jackpot, because there was no one you’d rather drive home while smelling fresh, Swedish meatballs in the backseat with home and kitchen accessories in the trunk, than Matthew.

#matthew gray gubler #mgg #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg x reader #mgg imagine #criminal minds #spencer reid #mgg oneshot #gublernation #alexis writes

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eleanorbloom · 4 years

Text

When You’re Ready Ch. 09

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f! MC (Eleanor Bloom) x Ethan Ramsey.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warning: Angst? And Ethan kinda psyco 🤣

A/N: It took me ages to finish this chapter because, to me, the plot is kind of boring and it was made just for story progression (and I just couldn’t leave it behind nor reducing it to a paragraph for the next chapter), but I have to admit that with the adjustments that I made yesterday, it’s now pretty decent. Fortunately, next chapter is way more interesting.

A/N2: Special thanks to @aylamwrites for helping me with some of my writing/translation issues and for her advices. Gracias gurrrl 💜💜💜

Hope you enjoy it!

Taglist @utterlyinevitable @shanzay44 @choicesficwriterscreations @laiba-the-person @starrystarrytrouble @lahellacute @lucy-268 @aylamreads @binny1985 @romewritingshop @cinnamonspongecake

Let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist!

________________

Chapter 9. The Less I Know The Better.

Then I heard they slept together

Oh, the less I know the better.

Eleanor made her entrance into Edenbrook with confidence she never felt before. Not even last year, when she was starting the residency program of her dreams at Edenbrook, she had felt this proud of herself. It was her first day both as a second-year resident and as Junior Fellow Member in the Diagnostics Team, directed by her medical hero, Dr. Ethan Ramsey. And well, yes. The person she had feelings for.

But today was also the first day where she would leave all that in the past, to truly be over him. She would face him, talk to him, and make his presence something so usual in her life that after a few weeks he wouldn’t mean anything but a mentor, a colleague, and hopefully, one day, a friend. But not more than that.

She knew it would be difficult. The night before had been hard enough not falling into his spell again. Her lips were thirsty for his kisses, her skin aching for his touch and her mind only wanted to float into the sky of his eyes once more. But she wasn’t blind anymore. She knew it wouldn’t do her any good.

Bryce had opened her eyes. Even if Ethan had the most selfless intentions pulling away from her to not jeopardize her career, he had hurt her consciously. He had ignored her even when she was drowning. And what Bryce had done just in a few weeks? He treated her like the most precious thing in the world. Like a queen. In the way she always wanted to be treated by someone, but she thought it was just stupid ideas romantic love had put in her head. He had listened to her, respected her space, consoled her when she needed it, and even when she didn’t think she needed it. He had made her his priority. The less she could do at that moment was putting him as her priority over anything she might be feeling for Ethan.

And now, there she was, facing her first obstacle, standing outside the Department of Diagnostics. Big glass walls, and a sliding door before her. She took a deep breath and with a smile on her face entered as the doors slid softly to let her in.

The office was quiet and illuminated by the natural lighting of that summer morning. There was the faintest scent of bergamot and mandarin in the air, probably traces of Ethan’s perfume left early in the morning.

She observed the place taking short steps around. A big desk in front of the entry, a circular table on the right side with a big whiteboard behind…

“I’m here, I’m really here”

“Hey, me too.”

…And a couch between the table and the entry, where it was a man reclined, reading a medical journal.

A tanned man with tiny eyes and a grown beard stood up and approached her. He seemed familiar, but the big smile on her face made her think she might be wrong.

“Um, Zaid? You’re on the diagnostics team?”

“Ah, I take it you’re one of my twin brother’s residents.”—He answered extending his hand to the confused resident.—“Baz Mirani’s the name, immunology’s the game. Game-slash-specialty.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even know Zaid had a twin brother.”

After a few moments talking, her mind raced to the smirk Ethan had given her the night before. That’s why he didn’t want to talk about the team members. It wasn’t about bias, he just wanted to keep it a surprise the fact that Zaid Mirani had a super friendly twin brother that made them look the personification of the yin and yang in terms of niceness and well, in term of twins. While Zaid was King of Sarcasm, Baz had no ability to perceive it. While Zaid was grumpy and serious, Baz was amicable and talkative.

Then it was the time to meet the last member of the team, June Hirata. June was a very intense-looking woman with a British accent and a self-assurance that exuded from her pores.

Eleanor felt a little intimidated by the way the attending was scrutinizing her, but she thought it was normal for a neurologist and psychologist to examine a new colleague not only on a physical level but in terms of corporal language too, just like she was doing it.

After a few minutes of chatting with her new colleagues, Ethan appeared through the sliding doors.

“Introductions done? Great. We’ve got work to do”—He said, while the three took a seat in the table.

She couldn’t help but feel a little twist of nervousness inside her stomach, but she tried hard to suppress any emotions she might feel, and just focused on trying to be just as stoic as her mentor always appears. She put her best professional face and started to observe how the team worked and took notes of all the things they were saying.

June and Baz started asking questions to Ethan, who had all the information about the new patient. Eleanor remained silent, witnessing the exchange, trying to absorb all the information possible. She was a bit intimidated because that level of confidence and questioning was really out of her league, but she tried to convince herself that it was a normal response for a first day.

The team divagated through some symptoms, theories, and diseases until June gave the final idea: Cutaneous Kikuchi disease. With that, Ethan asked her to run a biopsy on the patient's rash to confirm the diagnosis.

Once the team was dismissed, both attendings returned to their other duties, leaving Eleanor and Ethan alone.

“After you’re done with our patient, you can see Ines and Zaid for further assignments.”—He said as he was taking a seat by his desk—"You’ll be balancing your work here with your usual resident duties. Now that you’re a second-year, that will include rotations at the free clinic.”

“Yes Dr. Ramsey”— She replied standing up from the chair—“We will always diagnose patients without seeing them?”

“No, but we’re often asked for help by hospitals all over the country, so it’s a good habit to keep our blind diagnosis skills sharp.”

Eleanor was about to reach the door when she stops in her tracks, hesitating.

“Is everything alright, Eleanor?”

“Actually, could we talk?”

Ethan gazed at her for a few moments before answering.

“About the job or about us?”

“The job. That’s why we are here.”—Eleanor replied with obviousness, but it sounded harsher than she intended. As if it would never cross her mind talking about them.

His eyes betrayed him for a split of a second as he addressed the coldness in her response, but then he just got up from his desk and moved to the circular table. Eleanor sat beside him a moment later.

“I’m all yours”

She couldn't help but shook her head to herself, not missing the ulterior motives in Ethan’s words for the second time straight.

“I’m just surprised how well and how quickly you worked that out. How are you sure you made the right diagnosis?”

Ethan took his time to explain to Eleanor how the team proceeded, the normal way they work, and gave her some tips to be more involved next time. He assured her that it was normal that the first days she would be feeling lost and ignorant, but once she started to obtain more knowledge from medical journals and research, she would improve her involvement in the team.

She nodded at every advice, and when he was done, she kept staring at him inquisitively.

“What is it?”

“Your glasses, I’m not used to see you with those on.”

“Oh, yes. I use them when I work on the computer. Now that you’ll come to the office frequently, you’ll see me a lot like this.”

“They make you look smart”—She teased, trying to diffuse the tension she still sensed on Ethan after her cold response.

“You've caught me. The illusion behind my status. Without these, I’m a simpering moron.”

That seemed to relax his shoulders a bit. They both laughed for the first time without the tension of their actual status, where recriminations wouldn’t be involved this time. Her eyes shined, happy for sharing that moment after so much discomfort.

“So, Zaid had a twin brother and you dared to not tell me.”

Ethan chuckled

“I wish I was there when you saw him for the first time. I can only imagine your face.”

“Haha, very funny. You’re such a trickster, Ethan.”

They had lean close to each other without noticing, their knees touching, and his fingers just an inch away from hers. Her composure stiffed, her will power was once again being challenged.

She couldn’t give in. She had to keep playing the cold Eleanor that didn’t feel a thing about his mentor.

She swallowed hard.

“Well, I should get those test run.”—She informed, taking the notebook in her hand, and then standing up in one swift motion—"Thank you for your advice, Ethan.”

“You’re welcome, Eleanor. Anytime.”—He responded, caught off guard by the abruptness of her reaction.

Eleanor left the office quickly, sensing how his eyes were following her as she passed through the door. She released the breath that had been holding a few steps away from the office.

She had made it.

The interactions during the day weren’t any different. She ran the tests, informed her discoveries to the team (with the help of her intern, Esme Ortega), and then she made quite an impression with the Governor by diagnosing her son was sick; which granted her an invitation to have dinner with Naveen, Harper, Ethan, the Governor, and her staff that night. She had become the best card Edenbrook had to secure important funds to keep the hospital afloat.

After dropping Harper home after the dinner, Eleanor couldn’t suppress the memories of the last time she was alone with him in that car. The night before he left. The night of their last kiss, of the last time they made love. The last time they consciously and voluntarily stared at each other as lovers.

She was in the exact same place where everything had ended and after two months it still hurt.

Eleanor turned to her left, wondering if Ethan might be thinking the same, but his face was serious, without traces of knitted brows or troubled eyes. The streetlights were framing his features in different shapes as the car moved down the streets. She fixated her eyes in his grown beard, which still felt a bit odd to her, but to some extent, it would be useful as a fresh start. He wasn’t the Ethan she knew and wanted. He was the Ethan that left for two months to start over and be the boss and colleague she needed.

Then she looked away, coming back into her senses. She clenched the silk material of her pine dress in her fists until her knuckles were white

“What. Are. You. Doing?” —She asked herself, pressing her fists into her knees harder at every word she said on her mind.

The car stopped before the red traffic lights and she felt Ethan was turning to her, staring.

“Don’t look at him. Don’t.”—She ordered in her head, her composure tensing even more.

But after a few moments, she gives up.

Amber connects with the sky and the earth stopped spinning. She was so lost in him that didn’t notice he had brought his right hand to hers, taking it gently.

“We’ll be okay.”

His thumb caressed the knuckle of her middle finger, and that’s what it took to feel a shiver down her spine. He knew what she was thinking. He was touching her. No. It wasn’t anything. It didn’t mean anything.

She had to look away, but if the first time had been hard, now it would be impossible while he was staring at her. She couldn’t just look away. She wasn’t that brave, at least for now.

From the corner of her eye, she perceived a change in the lights. Her way out.

“It’s… It’s green now”—She said in a tiny voice, his eyes desperate for a moment.

Ethan glanced back to the street, clearing his throat. The air returned to her lungs.

He drove the rest journey in complete silence and he barely looked at her when she got off the car outside her apartment.

“Thanks for the ride Ethan, see you tomorrow”

“Goodnight, Eleanor.”

She had made it again.

The next day, Ethan and Naveen were sharing their remarks about the dinner the night before when they spotted Eleanor, Bryce, and Sienna entering the hospital after their lunch break. Ethan tried to avoid looking at her, not wanting to expose his mixed feelings about her in front of Naveen, but the old had mastered at reading him after so many years.

“Rumors says Dr. Bloom has been doing good these past weeks”—Naveen said as he finds Ethan following her, reluctantly.

“Mmmh?”

“In the company of a surgical resident”

“You mean with that scalpel jockey?”—He inquired, pointing out the resident who was walking beside Eleanor with a brief motion of his head.

“Yes, precisely”

“I doubt it. They are just friends. Besides, I don’t think she’d like someone like him.”

Naveen didn’t miss the bitterness in his last words.

“What do you mean? Just because he is a surgeon?”

“Yes. He is arrogant and shallow.”

“Shallow? To me is quite interesting. I’ve heard plenty of praises from Harper. Very promising, bold, intelligent, and ahead of most of his fellow second-year residents, even some third-years.”

“Hmmm, well, the point is I don’t think Bloom would have that bad taste dating a jock like him.”

“Well, they have been seen pretty cozy. I, personally, have seen them while having lunch or going t-.”

“I’ve seen them too.”—Ethan interrupted—"You say cozy, I would say he’s a harasser who likes to touch women, that’s why he might have his hands all over Eleanor. I don’t know why she lets him.”

“Am I sensing jealousy in your tone, my friend?”

“Jealousy? For Christ’s sake Naveen. Why would I be jealous of a scalpel jockey? And there’s nothing between Eleanor and me to have the right to feel jealous.”

Naveen chuckled.

“Whatever you say, my friend. But to me, they make a nice couple, she looks very happy around him.”—The Chief commented with a smirk full of malice, waiting for his reaction.

“Of course she’s happy around him, he acts like a goddamn clown all the time.”

Ethan turned around and left with his head steaming with anger.

He didn’t believe Naveen’s words. He didn't want to believe his words. He was convinced that Bryce and Eleanor were just friends, or maybe they were having a fling as all resident do, but nothing more than that.

But he couldn’t ignore such information much longer and against all his self-control and dignity, he started paying attention to her interactions with the surgical resident. However, at first, he didn’t find anything extraordinary. They would have lunch with her roommates as usual, hang out at Donahue’s like always, and chat through the hallways of the hospital as all colleagues do. Maybe Bryce acted flirtily and a bit handsy with her, but it wasn’t different from what he has always been with her.

The idea of them having a fling made him feel a pit in his stomach, but at the same time, it relieved him that it was just that. She was sleeping with Lahela so she could to move on. And he couldn’t blame her. But a relationship? Love? With that jock? That was beyond his comprehension.

While he was observing him, Ethan wondered what Eleanor would see in him. He had listened, without no other option, that many residents, even nurses, found him very attractive— ‘hot” was the most used word in fact—, while other residents, mostly men, would say he was cocky and arrogant, but Ethan was sure that even when he agreed he had a cocky way to conduct himself all over the hospital—all over the world— he wasn’t arrogant without fundaments.

He indeed was an outstanding surgical resident, he had heard many praises from Harper the last few months, so he just knew his worth and how to use it, and Ethan couldn’t condemn him for that. And if he was honest about it, he also had to be honest about the fact that he was an outstanding doctor too. He was always kind and nice to patients, always on time to prep them for surgeries, and always had the time and patience to explain for the umpteenth time how would be the procedure to any patient or family who would ask to him. And that was actually an important trait. That said, Bryce Lahela wasn’t so despicable after all, but he was a scalpel jockey and probably was sleeping with Eleanor, and that was enough to Ethan to despise him.

A few days later, th attending was accompanying a patient before her heart valve replacement when Bryce came into the room to prepare her for the surgery.

“Good morning Mrs. Montero, how are you today?”—He greeted in a joyful voice and then he nodded to the attending—"Dr. Ramsey”

“Dr. Lahela”

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m scared.”

“You have nothing to be scared for.”—He assured—"Dr. Tanaka is the best doctor you could have to repair anything that involves your heart, so everything will be fine.”

“That means he could fix how broke my heart is after my husband passed away?”

Bryce stared at her with a sad smile.

“I’m afraid not. But with the new valve, you’ll get plenty of years to make new memories and adventures, so you’ll have enjoyed your time to the fullest before you left this earth to be with him."

“I like the sound of that.”

“I’m sure you do. And let me say you that you will have the best resident by his side too, so you'll be in the best hands Edenbrook can provide.—Bryce winked warmly at her.

Ethan suppressed a scoff at his words and stood up from his chair.

“I believe you, my boy.”

And then Bryce grinned. A broad smile with his nose wrinkled paralyzed Ethan in his tracks for a second.

The same grin Eleanor had done that night at Donahue’s and that he had found odd and new in Eleanor, but for some reason, it was familiar.

And it was familiar because he had seen it in Bryce Lahela many times when he prepared patients for surgery. That sincere and knowing smile.

“Dr. Ramsey, thank you so much for your company.”

“You’re welcome, Elena. You’ll be in good hands now. I’ll come to see you when you have your new valve, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Lahela”—He nodded before leaving the room with his head racing incessantly.

He had read a while ago that expressions are contagious between people, even at the moment they are displayed, as a show of empathy and to recognize other people’s feelings. He did know too that couples after some time would imitate their expressions and laughs. But it also could happen with friends, family, and whoever you share a place to live with.

Maybe it was normal and Eleanor not only had expressions from Bryce but also from Sienna, Jackie, and Elijah, as they would see each other throughout the day and they shared an apartment.

But there was another option that could explain the fact that Eleanor had acquired a smile from Bryce. But he was so in denial that he didn’t even want to put it into words.

That realization changed everything in Ethan. His focus was now on Eleanor. On study how different she was compared to the months before he left. And in their daily meetings or just in their encounters through hallways of the hospital, he found that she was again the same happy and sweet resident he had met last year, with a calm demeanor, her sunny smile, and firm disposition to help whoever needed it. But he also noticed that this 'start over' between them had been taken seriously by her. She was completely focused on the work and never talked about anything that wasn’t work-related with him, and he never found her looking for his eyes or his touch like she used to, but he could tell she used to grow anxious when she had to be alone with him in the office.

A few days later, Eleanor found Bryce, Rafael, and Ethan on their way to their morning gym session so she joined them in a heartbeat. When she got into the room with her workout clothes on, the three buddies were in the treadmill warming up. She went to the fourth machine and started to run beside Rafael.

“What made you want to workout with us this morning, Ellie?”—He asked

“I always try to find a moment to make any physical activity but I hadn’t had the chance these few last days so I’m taking the chance now. I want to stay healthy,”

“That's a very good reason. The body is a machine. When it goes without use, it rusts.”—Ethan conceded, at the other side of the room, in the first treadmill.

“Don’t think that’s medically accurate, Doc”—Bryce pointed out, running between Ethan and Rafael.

“I know surgeons don’t know how to read a book, but that’s called a ‘metaphor’”—Retorted Ethan. Even if there was a teasing smile on his face, the bitterness of his words was evident to everyone in the room.

“Geez, I’ll tell Jackie to send you an invitation to the hate group for scalpel jockeys, Ramsey. You would love it”—He said, not missing a bit, his confidence not even remotely shaken.

Ethan observed Eleanor, whose smile had fainted with disappointment. After a few seconds, as she observed Bryce was smiling as usual, she quickly shook it off and ignored the attending for the rest of the routine.

Ethan knew there was something there and just the fact that he might confirm the rumors made him angry. At himself and at Naveen. Why he had to tell him? It would have been so much better not to know what Eleanor was doing with her life. It was not his business and he had no right to snoop into her life like he had been doing these few weeks.

---

The unusual bitter comment the attending had said to Bryce, made Eleanor sense that maybe he was suspecting about her relationship with the surgical resident. The multiples times she caught him observing her in her lunchtime, at Donahue’s, and anywhere he would spot her with Bryce were making sense now.

Maybe there were rumors. Maybe Naveen had told him, he surely knew every gossip in the hospital—not just because he was the Chief, but because he liked hospital gossip—, and of course he would deliver this information to Ethan to wake him up. The old man had always been pretty honest about his support toward Ethan and her.

Or maybe he just knew. He just figured it out because of her coldness towards him and because even if she and Bryce tried to keep it lowkey, there was always the chance that he could have caught them the times theye couldn’t help but holding hands or kissing when they were close.

Either way, she didn’t care.

At least not as much as she cared the day before he was back, but now she felt relieved that Ethan might have some clues of her situation. She still didn’t want to confirm it, she wanted to know if he was bold enough, if it affected him hard enough to approach her and ask her about her relationship status.

But she knew him. Ethan was never a man of facing emotions or tough conversations. He was a master at avoiding feelings and people and maybe he would wait for something or someone who would confirm the rumors. The problem was if he was emotionally prepared for that moment.

______

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