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juniorgman187 · 3 years

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Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments.

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events.

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt.

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it.

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate.

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend.

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts.

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me.

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong.

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point.

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun.

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.”

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us.

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room.

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug.

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself.

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?”

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.”

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery.

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me.

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction.

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime.

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today

Grant: don’t need to.

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me.

“Who keeps texting you?”

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business.

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!”

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it.

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it.

“No one.”

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going.

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me.

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously.

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet.

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing.

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?”

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?”

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.”

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’”

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade.

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.”

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid.

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him.

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub.

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance.

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly.

“No, sir.”

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me.

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him.

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field.

“You are not going in without a gun,” Reid ordered.

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again.

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in.

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me.

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling.

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more.

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?”

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return.

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent.

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out.

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.”

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red.

This war was far from over.

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good.

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them.

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing.

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly.

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.”

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied.

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.”

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked.

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all.

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.”

What you feel.

I clung onto those words.

What was I really feeling?

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me?

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me.

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast.

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me.

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely.

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added.

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier.

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked.

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer.

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence.

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too.

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation.

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way.

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual.

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?”

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew.

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken.

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat.

“A dating app, actually.”

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this.

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?”

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.”

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.”

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now.

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung.

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed.

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice.

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though.

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?”

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling.

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead.

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face.

He felt sorry for me.

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book.

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.”

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.”

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.”

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words.

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t.

But I should’ve.

_ _ _

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being.

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end.

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat.

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would.

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative.

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?”

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it.

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction.

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.”

_ _ _

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however.

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it.

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this.

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were.

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now?

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me.

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them.

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones.

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head.

You deserve more than that. Much more.

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said.

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened.

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see.

“I asked you first.”

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.”

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before.

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know.

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me.

“What? What is it?” I urged.

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?”

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth.

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.”

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?”

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was.

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second.

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed.

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that.

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize.

That never came.

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust.

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments.

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness.

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.”

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).”

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either.

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up.

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too.

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I.

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well.

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field.

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room.

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?”

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet.

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer.

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it.

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.”

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?”

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart.

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat.

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.”

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here.

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?”

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes.

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least.

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity.

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though.

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something.

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.”

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar.

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me.

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me.

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again.

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again.

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.”

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image.

“Always, trouble.”

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know.

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help.

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.”

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation.

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her.

_ _ _

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left.

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied.

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety.

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D.

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful.

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright.

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened.

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?”

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?”

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.”

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before.

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?”

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before.

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit.

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority.

She was my priority.

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear.

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver.

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms.

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand.

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms.

She was so cold.

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute.

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again.

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all.

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.”

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car.

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way.

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly.

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible.

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there.

I need to be somewhere I feel safe.

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself.

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize.

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever.

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?”

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly.

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?”

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.”

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.”

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too.

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that.

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind.

“You’re smart. Figure it out.”

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence.

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?”

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?”

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point?

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt.

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?”

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth.

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never.

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him.

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything.

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us.

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet.

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting.

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

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#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid kiss #fighting fire with fire #juniorgman187 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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unbreathable · 3 years

Text

ride home / S. Rogers

Summary : As a girl you were always told to never accept a ride from unknown men. You knew what could happen, you knew the dangers and heck, you`ve seen how it ruined some girls. But hey, he`s your teacher, nothing could happen. Right?

Pairing : Dark(soft)!teacher Steve Rogers x female Reader

Before you read, please understand that this is intended to be a dark fic. There will be noncon elements, rape, violence, manipulation and so much more. If you find any of these disturbing, please click away. 18+ only.

Warnings for this one shot : manipulation, noncon elements, rape, use of drugs, lost of virginity. This is some kind of au and Steve might be out of character a little.

Word count : 3.319

Credit : for the gif I used, the credit goes to its rightful creator.

Note : Don’t expect this to be any good. I came up with this over the course of a few hours and I’m still learning how to write one shots, as I find it much easier to write a series. Also I still suck at writing “smut”. I’m trying to perfect it, tho. Promise. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this one shot till my mind would be satisfied with the way the next chapter of “The Magpie” turned out and would let me post it. :)) Also, please excuse any mistakes I made. Have a great day you guys!

Also, to all the writers from this platform : thank you !

Girl found wondering around without any memory of the last few days, claims she had been abducted and raped...

Your eyes narrowed as you stared at the case which has been all over the news for the past week. It was quite predictable, really. Young girl, too drunk for her own good woke up by herself in the middle of nowhere. You sighed. In a city as big as New York, cases like this happened almost every other day, but there was always something left behind. Fight marks, blood, hair. Anything that could help the police find the person who did it. This time though, there was nothing.

The poor girl. You couldn`t help but pity her. She must be terrified. All alone against a world that knows nothing better than to judge. You pinched your nose in exasperation.

Cases like this, it`s what made you choose to study law. You wanted to be able to help other women. To offer them a chance at justice. No one deserved to be told that it was their own fault for wondering alone at night or for wearing something more showing. No girl should feel like the law protects only the male population...

“ And what`s your opinion on this matter, miss I`m too busy scrolling on my phone to pay attention to class?”

You cursed in your head, as you put your phone away and lifted your eyes to meet your teacher.

Steve Rogers. America`s hero, savior of the world and an actual pain in your ass, was looking at you expectantly. You held his gaze as you forced your lips to form some kind of smile. Something about him always put you on edge and the way his eyes darkened as he stared at you, didn`t exactly help ease the feeling.

“I`m sorry, I was distracted.” you murmured, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he caught you unprepared. ”If you would be so kind...”

You looked at him as you raised one eyebrow. It was always like this. No matter what you did he`d always find something to pick at you. At first you took it as a form of banter between a teacher and his students, but with time it became clearly that he had a problem with you. Your grades didn`t reflect the hard work you always put in. Your extra work wouldn`t be considered. Every time you would as much as look at your watch he`d find something to jab at you. He would also have something to say about every paper you handed him. It was a miracle you even made the grade for his class.

You cringed as you remembered the comments he would make about your life outside his class. You seemed to bump into him on a daily. There was also something, in the way he watched your every move, that it made the hair at the back of your neck stay high on alert. You really couldn`t understand what you`ve done that America`s sweetheart despised you that much.

”The women rights...” he smirked down at you.

“Oh, yes. I strongly believe that women should have got their rights the same time men did.” you smiled when you realized that he wanted to add something else. “I mean we know that every society of this world was built around androcentrism, but if we`re real the women were the ones that kept everything from falling apart.” you drew in a short breath. “Oh, and I believe that 1920 was a bit late for our women to get their rights, since women all around the world fought for it since the 18th century.”

You smirked, as for once in your life the bell rang exactly when you needed it. Forcing a smile his way, you stood up gathering your notebooks. You were quite proud of yourself, not because your answer was the desired one, but because you got on professor Rogers nerves. While he didn`t seem to have a problem with women and feminists in general, he sure had a problem with the way you choose to speak on the matter. From the corner of your eye you saw his jaw twitch.

At first you were afraid to even say your opinion lest you would upset him, but now you enjoyed to see that vein on his forehead nearly pop. You held back a giggle. Oh well, at least you won`t have to see him for the next few weeks.

“Professor!” you rolled your eyes when you herd your bestfriend use her sweet voice. “I was wondering if you`d like to come to our party tonight.”

You stood straight, narrowing your eyes at the one that has been your friend since the first day you came to the city. What the hell was happening. You knew she had a crush on him, everyone did, but she wasn`t the one to just go and ask someone out, especially not him. You watched her in confusion as professor Rogers made his way to the front of the class.

“You know, with everything happening right now, the uni council would let us hold the party only if there was someone that could take care of us.”

“Oh!” you supposed that made sense, but even so why did it have to be him.

“Of course professor Barnes already said that he`ll be there, but we`d be thankful if you came too. Please!” your friend bated her eyelashes at him as you rolled your eyes.

Professor Rogers had a pleased smile as he moved his eyes from her to you. You held his gaze, even going as far as raising one eyebrow at him. He blinked, before turning his head towards the rest of the class.

“Since you asked so nicely.” he said after a short moment dismissively. ”`I`ll be there.”

There was something sinister in his eyes. Something that you failed to see as you made your way out of the lecture class.

“I can`t believe you invited him!” you playfully jabbed your friend in the shoulder as she walked next to you.

“Oh, come on! It’s just tonight, and I bet he won’t be able to stay up that late since he’s like... the same age as history?” she bit back a laugh, as she took your hand. “It will be fun, you`ll see.”

You hoped she was right since you were never a big fan of parties of any kind.

_ _ _

This wasn`t fun. Not at all.

You knew you should have stayed home, yet you still wanted to enjoy the last night with your class mates before break. But this wasn`t it. The music was too loud and you couldn`t even hear what some people were saying. Also you`ve never really been a techno fan. The food was crap and you were sure everyone came just because there were free drinks.

It was well past midnight and you have been there since the beginning, but you were already dreading it. You smiled as your only joy came from watching drunk freshmen being rejected by some of your friends. The girls were ruthless and that made you proud.

“Hey girl!” your bestfriend came by your side, holding two glasses in her hands as her body danced along the rhythm of the music. “Look at was professor Rogers sent us.”

Her words were slurred and you could see that she drank already too much. That`s why at first you thought you didn`t hear her right. While it wasn`t unusual for men to send women drinks, getting a drink from your teacher was something you never thought could happen. It was wrong in a way.

“What?” your eyes widened as soon as the word left your mouth.

You eyed the glass she handed you. It seemed to be one of your favorites, and after the sour taste the beer left in your mouth, that would have been like a desert. Still something made you suspicious.

“Come on, take it!” your friend pressed as she smiled broadly. “He must have realized that he’s been an ass all year and wants to make amends.”

She was giggling as her glossy eyes drifted around the room. She didn`t seem to be able to focus on anything, but somehow her shaky hands found yours and brought the glass you were holding closer to your mouth. You weren`t exactly sure what came over you, but you opened your mouth and let the liquid go down your throat. Involuntarily, your eyes wondered around till you saw the back of your least favorite teacher. He didn`t even seem to care about anything around him as he was engaged into a discussion with professor Barnes. That alone made you feel safe, even though the drink left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You were too quick to judge, you resonated. This was probably his way of saying: “Sorry I tormented you that much.” You suddenly giggled. It was shortly followed by your friend`s laughter. She threw the glass to the side and took your hand leading you to the dancefloor.

You weren`t that much of a dancer. You knew just some basics moves and that was it, but now you didn`t seem to care. You let your body move, and only chuckled when your legs started to feel like jelly. It was a strange feeling. You suddenly felt like were floating.

You furrowed your brows as you started to feel that your body didn`t exactly respond to your impulses. Everything around you happened in slow motion.

You cursed. Just how much did you drink? Moving one hand to your head, you tried to get your senses back, but you found it too hard to do. Your head buzzed. For a second you looked around trying to spot your friend among the sweaty bodies on the dancefloor, but it was like you couldn`t recognize anybody.

Fuck this. You had enough of this party already, and the way you felt made you decide that it was time to go home. You moved between the sea of bodies as fast as you could. Your coat and purse were the only thing you spent more than five minutes looking for, but as you found them you practically run out of there.

The bus stop wasn`t that far, but just the thought that you`ll have to go home by bus, made you want to throw up. You didn`t feel well and there was dizziness that started to overcome you. As you watched the empty street, you cursed again. Of course you`ll have to wait till the next bus came. Damn it! You should really get your license.

The sound of a engine from behind you, made you turn your head. Your eyes narrowed as you watched the Range Rover slow down and actually stop right next to you. You squinted your eyes, trying to see through the tinted glass, but as a wave of nausea hit you, you moved your head to the side. You didn`t exactly pay attention when one of the windows went down. You didn`t really care. You felt sick, and all you wanted, was to get home.

“ I saw you left the party early.” the deep voice said. “Are you all right kitten?”

You hissed when you heard the voice of the last person you wanted to see right now. What was he even doing here? Your heart skipped a beat as another wave hit. You took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself. Just ignore him and he`ll go away. You didn`t exactly knew why you choose to act like that but there was something in your head that told you it was for the best.

“Come on girl, I have to make sure everyone is safe and sound.” you heard his voice. “If you don`t feel fine, I can take you home.”

The idea of getting home sooner and in a nice car was looking really good right now. But still, you didn`t feel like it was the best for you. You choose to keep quiet for reasons not even you knew. You glossy eyes scanned the schedule of the bus that was right in front of you. Thirty minutes and you`ll go home.

You heard professor Rogers sigh.

“And here I thought you never shut your mouth.” there was a deep chuckle, fallowed by the sound of the engine coming to life. “Look kitten I can either get you home or I`ll go my merry way and let you here all alone... well not quite. But I`m not sure you`d want that kind of company.”

Confusion filled your mind. The sudden move you made to look at him, made you dizzy. You tried to focus your eyes, in time to see him pointing to somewhere behind you. You slowly turned.

A group of guys were eyeing you like a wolf would his prey. Your mouth fell open as they did obscene gestures at you. Your whole body freeze as fear took over you. You knew what could happen. Suddenly you were more sober that ever and as you heard the car start moving, you nearly threw yourself in front of it. On shaky legs you moved towards the door.

“Wait” you find it hard to speak. “Professor, I`m sorry I... please!”

You looked at him with pleading eyes, and didn`t even register the way he smirked as you got into the car. Everything was a haze. You only felt like you could breath when the car started to gain speed. You didn`t even remembered to give him your address or anything, but as the car rolled down various streets you were only thankful you were far away from them.

“It such a crazy world out there” professor Rogers voice made you move your head towards him, but as the fear was gone, you started to feel the dizziness again.

With unfocused eyes you watched him. America`s hero was giving you a ride home for free and you were acting like he was your biggest enemy. What was wrong with you?

“I have to say I`m impressed.” he suddenly said as the car started to slow down. “That was one of the strongest drugs that you drank, and you still have some of your conscious left. The other ones were down after a few minutes.”

You looked at him and simply blinked. You wondered if your mind was playing games with you. Surely, he hadn`t said what you think you heard. You must have imagined everything.

“E... excuse me?” you asked dully.

You drew in a shaky breath as your trembling hand went to the door. He chuckled darkly at your attempts to open it. You wanted to scream but as your movement became slower and slower you found that fear wasn`t enough to fuel your limp body.

The car came to a sudden stop. You closed your eyes as you felt hands pulling you back.

“Now, now honey.” you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. “Don`t waste your energy, you`ll need it.”

You turned your head and watched him through your eyelashes. Something in your head was screaming at you to fight, to run, to get away. You wanted to punch, scratch, hurt him in any way. But your body didn`t listen.

It happened too fast. In a matter of second your dress was ripped to shreds. And your found yourself pressed to the door. He was over you in an instant. Turning your head to the side so that he could stare into your eyes. He had a hungry look on his face. You`ve seen it many times but it never terrified you as much as now.

“Just as pretty as I imagined.” he said in a husky voice.

You squeezed your legs as you felt his hand moving around along your body. He tugged at your bra till the clasps snapped. Your nipples stood erect, you didn`t know if it was from the cold of the car or the heat that was inside you. One of his hands came forward at pinched at your nipples. You made to move, but as sensing your intention he tugged your head back by your hair.

“Don`t you even dare!” he growled as his thumb played with one of your nipples. “I waited a long time for this”.

He leaned forward kissing down your stretched neck. His mouth was hot against your skin. You gasped when you felt his tongue leaving wet traces along your collarbone. He tugged at your hair one more time before his hand went down.

“Always dressing like this world is your own runaway, always thinking that you know it all.” he let out a moan as he squeezed your ass. “Do you know what a face as pretty as yours and an attitude like that do to a man?”

You whimpered. You never meant to catch his attention in that way, you just wanted to feel good about yourself. You wanted to tell him that. To tell him that you were sorry, but your brain didn`t work anymore. There was no reaction even as he spanked you. You felt like you could pass out every second.

“Don`t even think about it!”

You closed your eyes when your panties were soon the same as your other clothes. Slick was going down your legs. Despite everything, you were aroused.

“So fucking wet already. Good girl!” he praised.

You felt his hand descend down to your very core, proding around. You bit your lips as tears filled your eyes.

“How many have been here before?” he gave a low chuckle the same time his fingers pinched your button.

“One?” he mocked as one of his long fingers entered you.

You held back a gasp. Non, no, no. This wasn`t happening. Nobody touched you like that before. Nobody even came close to it. That`s not how you wanted it not how you dreamt it would happen. You wanted dinner, roses, a man you loved... not him.

“Two?” he continued as another finger stretched you.

You felt your walls clench around his fingers, as he moved them in and out ou you, everything while his thumb circled your most sensitive part.

“Fuck... you`re tight!” his breath was ragged, it was like he couldn`t get enough.

There was a sudden pause. In a quick move you found yourself pressed to the door of the car, as he angled your body to have better access to your burning core. He drew in a breath.

“A virgin.” he moaned.

You closed your eyes as you herd him playing at his clothes. The sudden hardness you felt proding around your core, made you shiver. You didn`t dare to look back and see it. You were scared. It seemed too big. You were afraid it would split you in a half.

You screamed when he entered you. The pain blurred your vision. Your whole body ached and tears fell down your cheeks. No, no, no. You bit back a moan of pain when he started to move, not caring about you at all. His moves were rough, punishing.

“Shhh doll, I`ll take care of you.” he rasped. “You must have waited so long for this... saving yourself for me.”

Your body moved in rhythm with his. His cock dragged along your walls as every move sent a wave of pain through you. Soon though, you found the pain disappeared. A strange feeling took over you. It was almost pleasurable. You guessed you would have enjoyed it under any other circumstances. But now? Now you were just tired.

As you passed out, you failed to notice the feeling of something warm flowing through you.

_ _ _

Steve smiled down at your sleeping form. So pretty, even after being used like that. You had a glow. Too bad you might not remember anything that happened. He chuckled. It`s a good thing he planned to keep you. He`ll make sure you`ll never forget him.

You were his girl after all. The only reason he took that shitty job as a teacher.

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

Futures past pt19 / on AO3

As music lessons resume, Lan Xichen has a suggestion for Nie Huaisang

Nie Huaisang cheerfully knocked on the door, ready for his first music lesson of the year, only to be met by a decidedly grumpy Lan Xichen. The other boy tried to smile at him, tried to make conversation as usual and to ask how much he’d practiced that week, but Nie Huaisang wasn’t fooled.

“So, what’s wrong?” he asked as he set up his guqin, a little proud to show off again that he had his own instrument now. “You look so dejected that I could mistake you for your brother.”

“Let’s not talk about Wangji right now,” Lan Xichen replied, his expression turning sour.

Now he looked like his uncle, though Nie Huaisang was too polite to say as much. It was really strange to see him so upset, and a little worrying as well, but Lan Xichen did not give him the chance to ask any questions.

“I’ve been thinking a lot while you were gone,” Lan Xichen announced with a fake smile that wasn’t fooling anyone, “and I think your level is good enough to start teaching you something a little more advanced. Shufu has given me permission to give you an introduction to some techniques we use for musical cultivation, if that interests you.”

Nie Huaisang gasped at the news.

“Really? You mean, real musical cultivation?” he asked excitedly. “The real deal? Like… like battle songs? Healing songs? You think I’m good enough?”

His earlier bad mood quickly melting away, Lan Xichen smiled warmly and came to sit next to Nie Huaisang.

“I think you’re very skilled, yes,” he said, making Nie Huaisang flush at the praise, “though it’ll be a while until you can use musical techniques in a Night Hunt. But since we have this entire year before us, I thought you could try to learn Inquiry.”

“Really?”

To confirm it, Lan Xichen merely handed Nie Huaisang a musical score, one he appeared to have copied himself. Nie Huaisang took it with trembling hands, awed to be trusted in that manner.

“The song itself is not particularly complex,” Lan Xichen explained as Nie Huaisang looked over the score, “and it can be learned and used even by someone of ordinary cultivation level. The real difficulty, and what is going to take us a while, is the Qin language needed to understand the answers given by spirits.”

His eyes still on the sheet of music, Nie Huaisang just nodded. Then, realising what he’d just heard, he looked up and stared at Lan Xichen with wide, shocked eyes.

“Isn’t that a secret Lan technique?”

“I'm not sure about 'secret' but it is an exclusive technique,” Lan Xichen confirmed, his expression turning more serious. “That’s why I had to ask for shufu’s permission before I could offer to teach you. I won’t hide that he was reluctant,” he added with a strained smile. “But I told him that I fully trust you to respect our secrets.”

Hands clenched on the music sheet, Nie Huaisang hurriedly nodded again. He couldn’t think of a bigger honour done to him. He’d never have dared to ask to be taught any Lan secret techniques, but since it was offered he would do his best to be worthy of it, and to show proper respect and gratitude.

“I also told him that having a goal of your own seemed to help you in your studies last year,” Lan Xichen added, “and that this might help you do better in your exams by giving you better motivation.”

However pleased he was that Lan Xichen would trust him, and with something that important, the reminder of his failure to do well in class made Nie Huaisang grimace, and instantly reduced his enthusiasm. “Does it mean the music lessons will be dependent on the grades I get in regular classes?”

“It’s possible that shufu came to that conclusion,” Lan Xichen replied with a mischievous smile. “But I never actually said that, and your grades are of no concern to me. I just like teaching you”

“Xichen-gege, you’re so crafty!” Nie Huaisang laughed. “Who knew you were capable of that! You’re the best, you know? I like when you teach me, too. I’ll try to be as good a student as you are a teacher!”

“I’m pleased you’d think so well of me,” Lan Xichen said, his cheeks turning a little pink. “Now, let’s get to work. I think for today, we’re just going to focus on the song itself. Then next week, if you are comfortable enough playing it, I can show you how to infuse it with your spiritual energy to have the right effect, and we can start learning Qin language.”

It sounded like a great plan, and one Nie Huaisang wholeheartedly agreed to.

Just as Lan Xichen promised, the song itself was not particularly challenging, and short enough that Nie Huaisang had good hopes of quickly learning it by heart if he just put his mind to it. He’d try to be careful not to practice it around the other Nie disciples, since it was a Lan technique, but he’d still work hard on it, and… maybe that might turn Night Hunts into something interesting at last. It should certainly make Nie Mingjue happy if his brother finally became interested in those, even if he had to use another sect’s method for it.

It opened a world of possibilities, and Nie Huaisang promised himself to practice hard to make this happen, so both his brother and Lan Xichen would be proud of him. Or at least, as hard as he was capable, especially with all that he had to do that year.

That would come later. The lesson having reached its conclusion for the day, Lan Xichen served tea for both of them, and offered some candies to celebrate the start of a new year of learning. By then, Lan Xichen’s mood appeared to have improved a great deal, and Nie Huaisang decided it would be fine to start the first phase of his great plan.

"So, Xichen-gege, what do you think of this year's students?" Nie Huaisang asked innocently while grabbing some candies.

Lan Xichen's expression turned sour for a brief moment, before he got himself back under control and smiled again.

"They are an interesting lot, certainly," he said without enthusiasm. "Are you making friends this time?"

After taking a quick sip of tea, Nie Huaisang nodded, grinning.

"Gege, you won't believe it, but even last year I made a friend!” he announced. “Apparently, Zixun thinks I'm really cool and told his cousin about me!"

It was still really funny to him, and judging by his surprised expression, Lan Xichen hadn’t expected that either.

"Then Jin Zixun has better tastes than I expected,” Lan Xichen said with some hesitation, “and I must reconsider my opinion of him."

"Well, me too! But I am making friends this year too, and they're nicer about it than Zixun was. Have you met Wei Wuxian yet?"

Stopping short of drinking some tea, Lan Xichen's smile wavered. He froze for a second, and put down his glass again.

"I have,” Lan Xichen said in a tone of voice that made it plain the encounter had brought him little joy. “Jiang Cheng… I mean, Jiang gongzi came to greet me on his second day here, and Wei gongzi was with him. I suppose he was polite enough with me."

Nie Huaisang laughed at seeing him struggle to find something nice to say.

"But he upset your uncle and you don't like that."

That was all the encouragement Lan Xichen needed to allow his expression to turn into anger, which Nie Huaisang found very funny.

"He was extremely rude to shufu,” Lan Xichen complained. “It’s very unfortunate that he should show so little respect to a teacher. He's also determined to pester poor Wangji, who isn't used to being treated like that!” He paused, taking a deep breath to compose himself, but didn’t manage to put on a smile again. “Huaisang, since you're his friend, do you think you might tell him to leave Wangji alone?"

All of Nie Huaisang’s amusement quickly dissipated at that demand and he frowned.

"Well that's a problem! You really dislike him that much?"

Lan Xichen fell silent for a moment. Nie Huaisang found it more worrying than if he’d answered right away. A little anger at a misbehaving student was one thing, but he’d talked enough with Lan Xichen to recognise those moments when he was trying hard to be fair to someone he didn’t particularly like. He used to make the same face when talking about Su She, back before he started warming up to him.

"He doesn't seem like a bad person,” Lan Xichen said at last, “and he hasn't done anything to me, so I cannot dislike him. I am just worried for Wangji, who isn’t very good at dealing with people."

"That's really inconvenient,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “Xichen-gege, I was really hoping you'd help me help them to become friends! It would have been a lot of fun, the two of us scheming together…” he sighed again. “Oh, well. I'll see if I can get Jiang-xiong or Su-xiong instead. I don’t want to involve you in something you’d find upsetting."

"I think the fact you’d want such a thing is already upsetting me a little,” Lan Xichen replied. “Is it even possible for them to be friends? They are… very different."

Nie Huaisang gave that a moment of consideration before shrugging.

"I guess. But we're pretty different too, and we didn't start off so well either, and look at us now! If it worked for us, it can work for them! I’m sure they can become good friends like us!"

A spot or pink appeared on Lan Xichen's cheeks, but his expression remained conflicted.

"I think it's different. Their first meeting was a fight."

Nie Huaisang could only laugh.

"And I ran away from you when you tried to chat!” he pointed out, grabbing another candy which he pushed toward Lan Xichen. “Anyway, wouldn't it be good for Wangji to have friends? He's too serious. It's not healthy for a boy his age to be so serious. As his elders, we need to make sure he doesn't get lonely."

"you're barely a year older than him," Lan Xichen remarked, fighting a smile as he took the candy. "I'm not sure you have much claim as an elder."

One hand on his heart, Nie Huaisang faked an offended expression which made Lan Xichen chuckle.

"I am an elder!” he protested theatrically. “I am wiser in the way of the world, so it is my duty to guide these children. Wei Wuxian too!” he added, a touch more seriously. “I think he was impressed by Wangji, you know. Jiang-xiong says that it's unheard of for him to find someone he can't beat.” He paused, and considered that. “Jiang-xiong also says he kind of hopes that Wei-xiong gets his ass kicked very hard, so it teaches him humility. And Meng-xiong didn't say anything, but he did nod."

Lan Xichen grinned.

"I do get the sensation that people tend to be as irritated by him as they are endeared. And I suppose… Wangji too was impressed by Wei gongzi's skill. Mostly he said it was quite upsetting that such talent should belong to a person with such poor manners."

Nie Huaisang smiled at that most encouraging news.

"There! If Wangji is complimenting him, then they need to be friends!" he exclaimed, making Lan Xichen laugh hard enough that he felt the need to hide it behind his sleeve.

"That's hardly a compliment."

"Coming from Wangji, it is."

That got another laugh out of Lan Xichen, which he quickly got under control and attempted to replace by a more severe expression. It might have worked, if his eyes had not been shining with barely repressed mirth.

"Wangji is not nearly as bad as you seem to think,” Lan Xichen said. “He's just very shy, and being distant is the way he deals with it. Not everyone can be as bold and determined to collect friends as you are, Huaisang."

"I'm not sure how to take that."

"Coming from any other Lan, it might be an insult,” Lan Xichen admitted. “Coming from me, and to you, it's probably a compliment."

Nie Huaisang grinned, delighted to be teased like that. How had he ever thought that Lan Xichen was boring? Maybe his future self was right about him not being too bright. But then again, wasn't it easy to make that sort of judgement in hindsight? Lan Xichen was fun now, but it had taken time for his smiles to gain real warmth when they were together. It had been time well invested though, and realising that made him hopeful that this business between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian might turn out fine. Maybe they too would get to have that sort of comfortable relationship someday.

More comfortable, even, since they were to fall in love someday. It was going to be so funny to see how Lan Wangji acted when he was in love.

After this, the two boys fell silent for a moment as they finished their tea. It was getting a little late, and Nie Huaisang knew that he would soon have to leave. It made him almost wish that Lan Qiren had already given them homework, so he’d have an excuse to stay a little longer by whining that he always worked better when he was with Lan Xichen. Or else, he might have offered to help copy some scroll or other for Lan Xichen’s great secret project. Anything at all so he wouldn’t have to go. After almost a whole winter apart, he just wanted to be in his friend’s company a little more, just a tiny bit more, even if he knew they were sure to have time together again the week after.

Then, just as Nie Huaisang was trying to accept that he couldn’t find a good excuse to stay, Lan Xichen spoke again.

"If we do help Wangji and Wei-gongzi become friends,” he said, “and that's still an 'if' on my part, the main issue will be to make them understand they both want to be friends. Wangji seems to think Wei-gongzi only exists to torment him, and despairs to see again his more positive qualities."

Excited both for the excuse to chat a little more and by the fact that Lan Xichen was falling to his side, Nie Huaisang nodded.

"Wei-xiong is convinced Wangji is giving him the cold shoulder in spite of his efforts to become friends,” he replied. “He’s not used to people not fawning over him, I fear. Xichen-gege, we're gonna have to work hard!"

"It would take effort,” Lan Xichen agreed. “I can see you're very excited about this little project, but don't let it get in the way of your studies."

Nie Huaisang dismissed that worry with a hand gesture.

"Don't worry! I'll practice the guqin every day no matter what!"

That answer made Lan Xichen laugh.

"I meant your actual studies, Huaisang,” he corrected, trying to sound scolding but too obviously amused to be scary at all. “The lectures? With my uncle? You do remember that's why you're here in the first place?"

Blushing a little at his blunder, Nie Huaisang shrugged.

"Oh, that. I'll deal with that,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “At worst, I'll just come again a third year. Wouldn't that be fun? We'd get even more time together!"

"I'm not sure shufu would be thrilled,” Lan Xichen pointed out. “But I would certainly be happy to have you around as long as you want. And… of course, you'd get more time with Su She as well. Apparently you've even told your brother about him?"

If he hadn’t been in such good humour upon hearing that Lan Xichen enjoyed his company that much, Nie Huaisang might have noticed that the other boy’s expression became a little more pained when he mentioned Su She. But he was in too good a mood to be observant.

"Of course. It fell through last year because I didn't plan it enough in advance and my grades were bad,” he explained, “but this year, I absolutely want to invite Su-xiong home with me when I go back, even if I don't pass! I think we'll have a lot of fun, and da-ge can't ground me if I have a guest to entertain!"

Lan Xichen's smile turned strained again, nearly as much as when Nie Huaisang first arrived to see him.

"How cunning of you. I'm sure you'll have great fun. I could try to steal your brother for a Night Hunt, so you and Su She can have some peace."

It was a very generous offer, and Nie Huaisang gave it all the consideration it deserved.

"No, I think if you make it all the way to Qinghe, I'll want to keep you around too,” he announced. “Xichen-gege, even though you've come a few times, we weren’t friends back then so I've never really shown you my birds, right? And we could go painting all three of us… wait, Su-xiong isn't that fond of painting!” he remembered, hitting his forehead. “So it won’t do. Then… let's dump him with da-ge for a bit, so they can get all excited together about fighting and cultivation, and I'll steal you away! Oh there's this gorgeous little spot from where you can see the mountains at a wonderful angle… I've always wanted to show it to someone, and I think you're really someone who would know how to appreciate it. Will you go there with me next time you visit us, Xichen-gege?"

Lan Xichen tried to smile, his face a little pinker than usual.

"Wouldn't you rather take Su She, if you like it so much?"

Nie Huaisang considered that, too, before shaking his head.

"There are other places I can show him. That one, I really want to show you."

Looking definitely quite pink now, Lan Xichen smiled.

"Then I will gladly accompany you. If you like it so much, it must be very beautiful indeed, and I can’t wait to see it."

"Xichen-gege is too kind,” Nie Huaisang replied, delighted by that new plan. “Really too kind. And in his great kindness, will he help me give Wangji a friend?"

"You’re just as stubborn as your brother,” Lan Xichen accused, his good mood fully returned. “We'll see. I need to see a little more of this Wei Wuxian before I decide. But if I find him to be a good person, and if I am given reasons to think he’ll be good for Wangji, then yes, I will help."

It wasn't unfair to worry about that, especially when Lan Xichen didn't have a messenger from the future to tell him that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were pretty much soulmates. Indeed, without that information, Nie Huaisang would never have guessed that Lan Wangji's cold anger might have hidden any other sort of tender feelings. That was why Nie Huaisang really needed Lan Xichen's help, he was the only person in the world who could understand his brother.

Since he needed Lan Xichen's assistance so badly, Nie Huaisang wondered if he should maybe not ask Wei Wuxian to help him cheat in the next test. But he had already done his part of the deal in that regards, so it would be very upsetting to have copied all those boring texts for nothing. Besides, it would probably be fine.

There was no way they'd be caught, right?

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #double time travel

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1dmonthlyficroundup · 3 years

Text

1D Monthly Fic Roundup

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for May 2021! Below the cut you’ll find 17 One Direction fics that were all published this month in the order they were submitted to the blog. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup.

New York Kiss by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment

[Louis/Zayn, Mature, 47k, tumblr post]

“Also, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m quite the narcissistic type, and I didn’t want that cute guy to have a bad opinion of me for the rest of his life.” “Who, me?” Zayn bats his lashes jokingly, ignoring the fact that his heart skipped a beat at Louis’ words. “Yeah, you. So, shall we go?” Louis drops what remains of his cigarette on the floor and steps on it to light it off. Meanwhile, Zayn makes a reckless decision. “Alright. Lead the way, De Niro.”

Or: A strangers to lovers AU where Louis is an actor, Zayn is a writer (among other things), and they meet each other literally by accident in NYC, just as the world is about to turn upside down.

I Love The Very Blood Of You by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 129k, tumblr post]

“I don’t just like him …” Harry muttered, fiddling with the string at the waistband of his jogging bottoms that had definitely seen better days. “I love him, Zayn. I’m in love with Louis. With a vampire.”

He looked up just in time to see a small smile on Anne’s face, and she reached out with a hopeful look. Harry couldn’t resist, and put his large hand in hers, letting her comfort him for a moment.

“I could tell there was love between you,” she confessed softly, a light blush on her cheeks. “When I met you, I knew you were smitten with each other. I won’t pretend it doesn’t make me nervous, but … I can’t tell you who you can and can’t love, sweetheart.”

A vampire. A human. A broken arrangement. A love long since forbidden. Hunted by hate. Destined.

One More Taste of Your Lips by MsHydeStylinson @mizzhydes and @canadianlarrie

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 80k, tumblr post]

It had been eight years since the hiatus began, and Louis had spent that time writing and recording music, touring and making it safely through the pandemic. When the opportunity arose to go back on tour with One Direction, Louis knew he'd be a fool not to take it. Sure, life on the road would be different after all this time apart, but he was looking forward to experiencing that comradery again.

What he hadn't realised was that living the better part of nine months in each other's pockets was bound to dredge up issues from his past. And when one of the pockets belonged to Harry, who he'd had a rather unconventional friendship with that drifted apart during their last tour, life on the road again would upend both their lives in irrevocable ways.

***

Harry wasn’t that sixteen year old boy anymore. Nor was he the young man in his late teens who was on the cusp of conquering the entire world.

But some traits seemed to remain the same; his vibrant green eyes, the dimples set deeply in his cheeks whenever he laughed earnestly, or his curls that were the same shade of cocoa that Louis remembered fondly.

And yet, Louis had absolutely no idea who this man that stood a mere twenty paces away was today.

take my hand, wreck my plans by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose

[Harry/Louis, Teen & Up, 38k, tumblr post]

Louis meets the man in the center of the room, feeling every eye on him.

“Mr. H,” he whispers.

The man smiles brightly and laughs as if he can’t believe his eyes. “It’s you,” he says breathlessly. “I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Nor I you, especially under these circumstances.”

“Even so,” Mr H says, his eyes bouncing from Louis’ eyes to his lips. “Will you do me a great honor and join me in leading the first … um…”

“Dance?”

Mr. H laughs and nods. “Yes, that’s the one.”

Louis bites his lips and doesn’t hesitate before whispering, “Yes.”

Mr. H beams and reaches for Louis’ hand. Sparks fly at the touch and a zing of excitement shoots through Louis’ body. His face heats up as he’s afraid his scent would give away his feelings towards the other man.

Winter Light by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment

[Liam/Zayn (Liam & Louis, Harry/Louis), Teen & Up, 58k, tumblr post]

“Do you think this place is dead?” he suddenly asked, his eyes focused on one of the two oaks, whose bark was grey and trunk cracked.

“What do you mean?” Zayn inquired, joining him by the tree.

“Well, it’s winter now, so obviously everything looks dead anyway,” Liam said. “But do you think come spring, this place might look like the way it looked before?”

Zayn took his time to think about Liam’s question. “I think all things are salvageable,” he eventually answered. “Including this garden. You just have to try hard enough.”

After his mother’s death, Liam is sent to live at his estranged uncle’s manor in the North of England, where new friends, mysterious places and family secrets await him. A Secret Garden inspired Soulmate AU

Cake and Kiss by @loulovehome

[Harry/Louis, General, 2k, tumblr post]

The one where omega Harry didn't like cake and wants to throw up when his alpha kisses him.

Love After the End of the World by writing_practice / @mercurial-madhouse

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 150k, tumblr post]

“Wait. Just so I’m clear in me fucking noggin,” Niall says. “An international worldwide takeover is well under way and the only thing standing between having hot showers and a second end of the world is us five fuckers?”

-----

Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda.

When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

Hometown by @allwaswell16

[Louis/Harry, Not Rated, 2k, tumblr post]

On the day Harry gets his driver’s licence, he drives through the suburbs, heartbroken that he can’t drive home to Louis.

Baby Blues by @kingsofeverything

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 12K, tumblr post]

8 mpreg Harry snippets originally posted on Tumblr. Mostly smut ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But If This Ends by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 107k, tumblr post]

Harry’s life as a vampire is routine. He spends his years moving around from place to place, learning as much as he can, and falling in love whenever the universe sees fit. When he tries to move his casual relationship with Louis to something more, it all gets turned on its head. As they navigate confusing thoughts and complex emotions, Harry finds himself torn between the love he feels for Louis and everything he thought he knew.

Featuring pet names, love letters, secrets, meaningful friendships, and two insecure boys desperately in love.

Pretty in Pink by lovelarry / @chloehl10

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 18k, tumblr post]

“Love? Can I come in?”

Harry sniffed and shook his head before he realised Louis couldn’t see him. “No. Go home, Lou. Please.”

“I’m not leaving,” the Omega insisted, his voice full of concern. “And I’m not judging either. Just… talk to me, Haz.”

Harry briefly considered changing or at least ripping everything off and greeting Louis in his boxers before he realised that might actually be worse, that Louis had seen him dressed up and there was no need to hide anymore. He meekly shuffled over to the door and pulled it open before he backed away, refusing to meet Louis’ eyes.

To the Omega’s credit, he walked straight over to Harry and wrapped his arms around him from behind, resting his cheek between Harry’s shoulder blades.

“This top feels nice. Soft. I see why you like it,” Louis said quietly from behind him.

*****

Alpha Harry loves to secretly dress up and be pretty. He loves his feminine side, even if it’s not typical of an Alpha. But when Omega Louis finds out, it might just the start of something even more beautiful for them both...

Plant New Seeds In The Melody by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 58k, tumblr post]

After losing his husband in a tragic car accident, the last thing Louis needs is to keep running into popstar Harry Styles, who David was quite fond of.

Obviously, that’s exactly what keeps happening.

But as their unlikely friendship blossoms, Louis realizes that, maybe, having Harry in his life was the only good thing that came out of his adverse circumstances. Harry could be just the right person to help Louis find trust and intimacy in someone new.

We are the same, you run in my veins by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers

[Louis/Harry, General, 4k, tumblr post]

When the time for Louis to become the Alpha leader of his pack comes, he can’t rise to the occasion for not being yet bonded. A series of trips to neighbouring packs in search of his soulmate is fruitless until he meets one of the other packs’ Alpha heir.

Harry.

The world seems to stop turning for a second and then it shifts, clicking into its axis. All the distress and wrongness he felt until that very moment suddenly disappears. Louis is finally whole.

But two Alpha leaders from different tribes soulbonding is something unheard of before.

evergreen, evermore by docklands / @hershelsue

[Louis/Harry, General, 2k, tumblr post]

The year is 1979. Their entire lives, Harry and Louis have lived in Chichester, home to the best watermelons in the world. An unruffled life in the country has always served their long term friendship well. It all shifts when Harry has to move away to a bigger city due to his mother’s job, albeit his love for his hometown and for Louis. It’s even harsher when the moving truck leaves on his birthday, of all days. When all seems lost, Louis ends up having to pull some strings to ease the pain in Harry’s heart.

When The High's Too High, and the Low's Too Low by DaysLikeMasquerades

[Louis/Harry, Mature, 22k+ (wip)]

Two perspectives of growing up neurodivergent

Some days Harry wondered if he would ever find a friend who could look past all the things he couldn't change. Someone who didn't care that he could spend hours talking about his latest fascination without calling him obsessed. Who didn't laugh when he couldn't stop his hands from expressing his emotions. Who didn't care that he was 13, but he'd start crying if he went into too many stores, because they were too bright, too loud, too smelly, and it was all just too overwhelming. Some days he thought someone like that just didn't exist.

Most nights Louis wondered if there would ever come a time when he didn't hate himself. When he would learn to control his emotions and the mood swings that seemed to take over everything and leave no room for himself. He wondered how he could live with himself when he only seemed to hurt the people he loved. His teachers thought he was a wonderful boy, but he knew the truth. Most nights he cried himself into exhaustion wondering how it was possible to feel so broken at only 15. He wanted to be happy, but he didn't know how and that scared him more than anything. Most nights he just hoped he could figure it out before it was too late.

Make You Never Wanna Leave (so Don’t) by @beelou / cherrylarry

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 3k, tumblr post]

“You look hot in plaid.” “What?” “I said you look like a dad.” “No, you didn't.” “Yes, I certainly did, Harold. You have no proof.” -- Or, the one where Harry wears plaid.

a little tenderness by @disgruntledkittenface

[Harry/Niall, Not rated, 10k, tumblr post]

“Listen, my alpha and I broke up and it turns out that all of our friends were really his friends and I need someone to help me through–”

“No,” Harry practically shouts, the word bursting out of him unbidden. He cringes when he sees the shock on Niall’s face, his pale skin flushing lightly. “I’m sorry, but my answer has to be no. I don’t help omegas through heats. I’m really sorry, Liam knows that, so I don’t know why he would give you the idea–”

“It’s not heat, Harry,” Niall interrupts. “It’s depri.”

“Oh. Fuck.”

Touch deprivation makes a lot of sense now that Harry thinks about it. Niall seems generally unwell; he appears to be weak, his skin is pallid and his lips look chapped, and his breathing is ragged. He’s wearing a cozy-looking sweatshirt, but even over FaceTime, he kind of seems cold, hunched over with his arms wrapped around his body. Harry’s never been around an omega in depri as bad off as Niall looks; most of the time, there’s an alpha friend or family member who can help out with scenting and physical contact.

Oh.

#28th appreciation #tracksintheam #trackinghome #1dsource #fic rec #may 2021

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floweryavenue · 3 years

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Ugh, so, I don't even know if anyone is actually gonna read this, and I'm not really the one who would participate in fandom very actively (I was always a passive observer, liking other's people content), but the stuff with the leaks of the extra 8 pages of snk ending has been really bothering me for the last few days, and I really need to get a few things off my chest.

I really wanted to wait till 9th June to form my full thoughts. However, since basically all pages have leaked anyway and quite a reliable source confirmed there is basically no additional context to them whatsoever, I decided I might as well write this anyway and vent somewhere to clear my head so I can finally move on with my life to focus on other things I like and with other important irl stuff. Moreover, since Tumblr seems like a reasonably safe space to do so (comparing to one hell of a Twitter...) I might as well do it here. So, let's go.

So, basically, my main problem with those pages is simply that... you just don't do that. No. You don't release an ending, make people think it's really the end, then say you're gonna release a few additional pages that won't change anything but simply clarify some things, and then, two months later, release these pages indeed but not only they don't actually clarify anything, but in fact, create even more plot holes. Furthermore, as a cherry on top, they change the ending quite completely. If those pages had been included in the original release, most people, myself included, would've moved on by now. But noooo, make us go through this hell again. Great :))))

And as for the content of those pages, well... I can't help but feel they really did quite a disservice to Mikasa, one of my favourite female characters ever. My biggest problem isn't even that she 'moved on' (whatever that means at this point, coz I feel like fandom has been successfully managing to butcher that term ever since 139 has dropped) and started a family on her own because I'm fully aware that falling in love again after you first love died is an entirely normal thing irl. But ffs, we're not talking about irl here; we're talking about snk and Mikasa. And the thing that MAINLY bothers me, is the way it has been presented.

I'm not going to delve into the husband's possible identities, 1) I'm not interested at all in participating in any ship wars, 2) because we don't even get to see his face and sources say we indeed don't get any direct confirmation in that regard. Not that this matters anyway, because we get presented with Mikasa on the one hand staring her own family, but on the other, still continuing to visit Eren's grave repeatedly throughout her life and in the end, getting buried with a scarf on, her dearest remembrance of Eren, and maybe even getting buried next to him (even tho, the latter is still not 100% confirmed, bcs here sources are contradictory, but judging by the general mood of those pages, I'd not be surprised at all if it turns out to be the case).

That makes me think the whole family-stuff was used only to present the passage of time and the fact that Mikasa never fully got over Eren, bcs we don't see the family in any other context besides the visits to the grave. And that leads me to my other question - was introducing the family really NECESSARY, then? Couldn't Mikasa simply visit the grave with Armin, and maybe even with Armin, Annie and their kids? Idk about you, but that would make 100% more sense to me. Also, don't get me even started, how much in the wrong way it rubs me that Mikasa, the character who, as we know, always deeply cared about others, even strangers (Gabi, etc.), would just drag her husband, her children and grandchildren to the grave of her first love on which she had written 'my most beloved, my dear'? Do I really need to elaborate on how WEIRD that is?

But I guess that's on me for believing a male author would write a satisfactory conclusion to the main female character (not Mikasa touring around Hizuru, not Mikasa playing with kids at the orphanage, no! Forced family plot, instead! Take that!)

As of Eremika, aka my most cherished paring ever since 2014... I guess the only good thing in that mess is that at least it doesn't invalidate them. If anything, it validates them even more, because the stuff I've mentioned earlier prove their love was eternal and Mikasa never truly got over it. So, all in all, I'm gonna still cherish them forever. There are still many unexplored aspects of their bond, so I believe we, as a community, have a big room to explore (pls, I'm begging you, explore with me all the possibilities of their four years in the cottage in the mountains, I swear, that sh!t has so much potential it's unbelievable).

As of Paradis getting destroyed, well, that leaves me bitter, even though after doing some thinking, that really might be the least out of place thing in those pages. At least according to sources, it happens when Mikasa is already dead, so at least Eren's wish of giving his friends long, secure lives came true. However, that would be it.

And as of titan's power still being there and some kid apparently finding the source of it... this just screams 'sequel-baiting', AND I ABSOLUTELY HATE IT. That's it.

To end my definitely too long rambling, I just wanna say, I really would have liked to wait till 9th June to publish my thoughts, but as I've said, those last few days have been driving me crazy and I really wanted just to get all of it off my chest and move on. I want for now to just focus on my irl things, like working on my master's thesis and other stuff giving me joy, like Eurovision next week coming back after 2-years-absence due to pandemic. Eurovision is one of the few things that I love, and I intend on fully enjoying it next week, not sulking on those leaks too much. And if by some completely unexpected miracle I get pleasantly surprised on 9th June (even tho I truly doubt it at this point) - that would be only a win for me, I guess.

Anyway, please remember, all that I have written here is ONLY MY OPINION, and if you disagree with anything, that's valid, you're completely entitled to that. I'm not publishing this to argue with anybody, only to clear my head. That's it.

If anyone has read this too long personal rant of mine - thank you, I'm kissing you on the forehead right now.

Oh, and remember - EREMIKA IS CANON. And always will be (no, that one is not up for discussion).

Also, we have that official High School AU, and Eren right now is quietly snoozing on Mikasa's shoulder during another Twilight marathon she made him to take part in, and Armin and Annie are dissing people together on reddit while bonding over their pretentious taste in music. That's canon, Isayama told me after I had phoned him to ask wtf.

PS To think I was almost sure those extra pages will be about Mikasa's reunion with the rest of the alliance... I guess it's time to put that clown make up on.

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xiairi-q · 2 years

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i'd like to req a matchup please!

for my personality, it changes very often and i change my presentation as a person depending on who i'm friends with or who i'm talking to, i don't really have a set personality, but i do have a strict moral code which usually doesn't change. i have a somewhat dark humour and i have a wide range of hobbies and interests. my favorites are writing and drawing, i'm learning the piano right now, but i'm not sure i'm any good. i have other hobbies but i'm not as invested in them as those three. i have a shitty sleep schedule, sometimes i go to sleep at midnight and then other times around six in the morning. i'm a compulsive liar, i struggle a lot with honesty and even though i want to stop sometimes it just slips out. i really wanna get it under control. in my personal opinion, i think i'm really boring.

i really hate people who are unnecessarily rude— especially to people who are only trying their best (for example, people who are rude to staff at a restaurant because they made a mistake). i try to be nice to every stranger i meet and polite as possible. however with friends i let my guard down and sometimes i can be a really horrible person, and i don't want to be that way to people anymore. i'm trying to be good though. i dislike mushrooms a lot, they taste like biting earlobes.

i enjoy my hobbies, i've kinda dedicated my entire life to them. my favorite thing in the world is music, i'm constantly listening to music no matter what i do. i'm in a lot of different fandoms, i hyperfixate often on them— my life mostly becomes about my hobbies and the fandoms im in. danganronpa is currently my biggest hyperfixation.

i'm nonbinary and pansexual, i go by any/all pronouns. i'm okay with any of the games, i've played all of them. my birthday is on september 30th, and i am a libra. my love language is gifts.

sorry if this is trouble or if i did anything wrong, if there is anything you want me to change please let me know!

I MATCH YOU WITH....KAEDE AKAMATSU

You are the definicion of a perfect person???

You both have similar ideals which I thought this would pull you together

I think that she enjoys dark humor as long as it doesn't hurt anyone (which is actually called humor but I just wanted to adress)

She will teach you how to play the piano as long as you draw her or teach her how to draw/hj

If you are not lying about things that are too important I can she can help you out

You can be comfortable around her she is the person that is least likely to judge you

if you are being too rude she will be there to remind you that

But I personally think that sometimes it is ok to be selfish as long as you don't cross the lines

How the frick do u know how it feels to bite earlobes???

OH YOU LIKE MUSIC???

GET A LOAD OF THIS, BITCH-

She will invite you to her practices

You are her muse so if you are there to watch her everything will be perfect

If someone misgenders you she won't be too rude at first but if they keep doing it she might get a little angry

Alternatives : Ibuki Mioda

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa kaede #mod kaede #kaede x reader #kaede akamatsu #kaede akamatsu x reader #danganronpa matchup #danganronpa headcanons #danganronpa x reader

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juminly · 4 years

Text

As The Rush Comes (Ikémen Vampire Theodorus Van Gogh x Reader)

Summary: You are at a nightclub with your friend Theodorus Van Gogh. The problem is, you want to be more than friends. Does he feel the same? Hell yes. Change is bound to happen. And it does. This one-shot was inspired by the song As the Rush Comes. Read all 3 parts on AO3. Rating: Mature (explicit/coarse language, detailed mention of sexual acts)

Tags: Modern AU, mutual pining, sexual tension/frustration, jealousy, dirty dancing.

Warning: mention of the reader not remembering the events of a past night of heavy drinking and partying. Word Count: 3500 approx.

Club Music Playlist *Kiss you by Nadia Ali **Down to Love (Kyau & Albert Remix) by Armin Van Buuren feat. Ana Criado

***Still I Wait (Richard Durand’s In Search of Sunrise Remix) by Jonas Steur feat. Jennifer Rene.

Song lyrics are in bold; look at this asterisks to know which song is playing in the background and play the song as you read -------------------------- *I'd wake up, and make love to you if I had you, I would touch you so much, but I'm not allowed to… Nadia Ali, bless her heart, was only adding salt to your wounds. You were already feeling salty enough for feeling the way you did and she didn’t make it any better. Why were you salty? While the song went on and on about how the vocalist just needed to wait for the perfect moment to kiss the one she wanted to show love to, you were here lamenting pathetically over Theodorus Van Gogh, the man that occupied your every waking thought and dream… and most recent fantasies.

The music was thrumming loudly in your ears, the discographies selected by this particular local DJ was always to your liking. The rhythmic beat of trance sending the club-goers into an ephemeral state of rapture as the dancefloor flocked with writhing bodies, the scent of alcohol, sweat and sex heady in the air. Were people living in some sort of state of drought? The thirst was real… and so palpable. You were not one to judge, you felt it too.

Thud… Thud… Thud… Was that the music or your pulse? You couldn’t tell anymore.

Would you pretend, we're only friends, if I kissed you, At least I can dream of you in a scene, when I'd kiss you.

You’ve dreamed of so many scenes, in so many different locations and in all of them, you were in the most compromising situations and positions. Holy fuck, just thinking about how those icy blue eyes staring into you while he lazily ran his tongue over his swollen lips, the ones you wanted to kiss and bite so damn much, that chiseled body of his positioned between your… No.. No… You told yourself you wouldn’t go there but your mind couldn’t help but wander. The song had just been coaxing you to act on your impulses and you covered your ears, just to keep Nadia from tempting you more than you already were.

How many months has it been since the incident?

The office hottie, Arthur Conan Doyle, had thrown an extravagant birthday bash in his so-called crib, and to your own surprise, the man had exquisite taste and the entire thing was planned immaculately. Who had been his wingman during the entire process? The hot mister that was your companion at the club for the night. That was how, when and where you met him, much to your dismay.

You heard that things had gotten hot and heavy between you during that birthday party and you were literally flung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried into Arthur’s bedroom. Things had gotten that heated… However, big emphasis on the word “heard” cause you unfortunately don’t remember jackshit from that fateful night and cursed yourself all the time for this.

His hands roughly groping you and his lips fiercely crashing down on yours… The things that could’ve happened… The things you could’ve done… You could ONLY imagine. Imagine, yes. Remember, no. The heavens indisputably had some mocking plot to make you miserable. Miserable? You definitely were. After that night, you were thrown into the friendzone. With a capital F.

Pining after a man that wouldn’t lay a finger on you unless it was to ruffle your hair like some puppy. You almost got your chance at some type of romance in your uneventful life… Still, things only got interesting when that asshole suddenly showed up, but it wasn’t like you were actually willing to admit that to him. You’d rather swallow his… Brain and heart, focus. Libido and hormones, get the fuck away. He wants me… He wants me not… I want everything he’s got.

Shut it, Nadia. You were already drowning in heaps of doubt and you’ve clearly… clearly had enough of her feeding you more fantasies and unlawful and excessively unadulterated thoughts and you were doubting yourself already. And what you decided to do? Drink yourself into oblivion, accompanied by the vexing perpetrator who had just gotten back from the men’s room. It was admiration and pining time for you. As he slowly approached you with long and sure strides, Theodorus was, is and will always be probably the most gorgeous, handsome piece of eye-candy that you’ve ever laid your eyes on and you were 99.99% sure that this statement was your true and unbiased opinion.

Beige dress pants hugged the length of those legs that carried him, giving you the chance to drool over the definition of his stature that you could see thanks to the tightness of the fabric, emphasizing a bit too much for your liking on his… No, don’t go there. Heat flooded your reddened cheeks as your thoughts scrambled wildly in your mind as he found his seat next to you. That’s always where you found yourselves. Together. Always. You get along so well. It’s bound to be this way, right? The string of fate and the butterflies of time managed to find a way to bring you together. While your internal ruminations besieged your mind, a rich baritone touched your ears, unmistakably his. “We probably should leave soon. I don’t want to suffocate in this clothed orgy.” You shot him an inquisitive look, silently asking him to elaborate on his point. “You look like you’re about to melt in that pretty little dress of yours, Hondje. I’d rather hop to any pub or have a drink at that klootzak’s place and deal with his moaning than this. At least his place isn’t as filthy as this hellish kennel.”

“You talk like an old man, Theo. Why don’t we just try to live a little?” He simply gave you a glare, a response that you knew very well. He wasn’t going to waste his breath on such mundane frivolities. It seemed that you would have to take the drinking party elsewhere. Clubs were clearly not Theo’s favourite destination.

You couldn’t help but giggle at this man’s dog analogies. As much as they pissed the shit out of you… Wait. Rewind. Did he just compliment what you were wearing...? He noticed?

For the first time in a while, you decided to try “letting loose” and go for something different. You would usually go for something, more like, anything black but today was different. In celebration of whatever weird feeling and eccentricity that came over you, you decided to go for a skimpy off-the-shoulder purple dress that kissed every curve of your luscious form, barely reaching the top of your mid-thigh and pushed your bosom in a way that accentuated your cleavage. You felt hot and you wanted to feel hot too.

**It's down to love tonight, This is where we are, As we turn into the light, Let’s make it last...

On any other day, Down to Love would’ve been one of your favourite songs to listen to but definitely not today. You were clearly not down to any kind of love. This is not where you wanted to be and you didn’t want this to last. You growled under your breath, enough to have Theodorus, the man of the hour… no, he was the man of your every-fucking-day and your every-goddamn-dream and fantasy, tilt his head to the side to cast a judging gaze at you, raising an arched eyebrow with a silent what-the-fuck is wrong with you.

There was so much that was wrong with you and he was the cause of it all. The prime suspect. The only one, this maddeningly handsome asshole.

Lips slick with moisture, your eyes lingered a little too long on the inviting gleam before you attempted to relax in your seat, while Theo remained hunched apathetically over the bar counter, nursing his drink thoughtlessly. Both of you were so accustomed to whatever it was that you were doing, you fell into a pattern that soon began to feel more like a ritual. You couldn’t even remember how you became his drinking buddy but there was something that Arthur said once… Both of you were not the type to party hard so it made it hard for him to have fun with the both of you, even though Theo and him spent an obscene amount of time together. You were kindred spirits. That was a fact.

Being around him made it hard to breathe. You noticed that not only the first button of his shirt was open, but now, the second one was too, giving you a good look of impeccably sculpted pectorals, his skin shining under the epilepsy-inducing lights of the nightclub while drops of sweats meandered down to places unknown, unexplored… and desired. With one arm propped on the counter and leaning his full weight to one side, his form was completely angled towards you and his eyes roamed appraisingly over your provocative dress and your overall physique. You knew that look, you’ve seen it before. It was the same way he scrutinized and examined art.

His gaze was now posed on your thighs, your dress hiked up even more on your silky skin as you crossed and uncrossed your legs restlessly. “Looking at something, big guy? My eyes are up here. You’ve been checking me out since we got here.” you quipped with a smirk. “Hm?” he hummed, as if you had ripped him away from the depth of his thoughts. You could see a faint blush on the top of his cheekbones… It was clearly only a sign of inebriation. Right? “Oh, I was just wondering who you’re trying to seduce.” he replied blankly before continuing. “You wouldn’t need to dress up like this to impress me.” His tongue swiped over his lower lip, wettening it before throwing his head back, draining his glass of whiskey and turning his body away, leaving you perplexed by his words. What… What exactly did he mean by that? Shaking your thoughts away, you had enough wine in your system to finally get the words spilling from your lips. “Theo… Wanna dance?” Those three words prickled his ear drums and he turned to look at you with a judging smirk. “Is it playtime, Hondje?” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms at his expected remark, climbing off your bar stool and tapping your heeled foot on the black tile beneath you. Looking at him expectantly, your heart clenched, momentarily regretting your decision to build up the courage to take the first step. He was bound to embarass you somehow.

“I’m sure you can find lots of other pups and mutts to play with in that disgusting pile of bodies.” An affronted expression washed over his handsome face and you resisted the need to slap his smugness away. You began to tremble slightly and snapped at him “You suck, Theo!”. His reaction made you freeze for a second. His eyes were taking you in, gliding over your body from head to toe before locking with yours. “Would you like to take me for a test drive? Are you in heat, Hondje?” he practically purred.

“Fuck you, Theo.” Was he capable of doing anything but frustrate (and arouse) you? You could feel an intense heat building inside of you, your heart beating angrily in your chest as you seethed from his response. You blinked, completely outraged and offended as he dared to freaking chuckle at your contained outburst.

“You wish. Now, can you go bark at someone else and let me enjoy my bloody drink?” Not wanting to give him more of your precious time, you actually flipped him the bird this time, scowling at him in disbelief, all that wine in your blood giving way for your tongue to sharpen as the night went on. “Do you always have to be such an ass?”

The ear-splitting grin on Theo’s face suddenly transformed into a smirk… and a scowl? when a young man behind you asked you to dance. You couldn’t really register what the guy was saying. Something along the lines of “ I don’t know if he’s just stupid or blind” and honestly, you kind of agreed with him. As much as Theodorus Van Gogh was a genius at what he did, he was stupid for not giving in to you. You were ready to give him… your everything. You were in deep shit, being so in love with a man who would possibly not return your affections? He looked like the incarnation of heartbreak and didn’t that just make you giddy? Being around him almost made you… sarchotic.

Sarchotic or not. Now you had his full attention.

Those ocean blue eyes were trained on you, an unfamiliar predatorial aura reverberating from him, still seeping through Theodorus’ attempt to enshroud it with the negligible quirk of those lips, that half-smile that you knew too well. If he wanted a show, he’s gonna be getting one. Not that you really cared whether he enjoyed it or not, but the least you could do is actually enjoy the company of the… You looked at your newly appointed dance partner, who had just lead you to the dancefloor, to evaluate him.

Okay, he wasn’t too bad: a bit shorter and less muscular than Theo but his hair were waves of chocolate brown that were simply asking to be threaded through and pulled. You beamed at your partner, feeling a rush of adrenaline course through your blood, knowing that the handsome Dutch man had his eyes on you and you were going to put a damn show. Wait, it wasn’t a show. You were doing this for you. You didn’t give a fuck and just wanted to have some fun. Looking at the cutie in front of you, you raised your arms in the air and jumped to the beat of the music, body-rolling as you let the sinful rhythm of your racing thoughts lead your every movement. ***I wanted it, I needed it, I love the way your skin felt upon my skin, And I thought you felt the same but you threw me away, Threw me away and still

The man in front of you was definitely getting into the groove, slowly inching close to you and you were more than ready to welcome him. Your hands that were in the air were now resting on his shoulders, your fingers finding the inviting chocolate strands of his hair. His hands were on both sides of your hips, claiming control over the frantic sway of your hips, matching the booming tempo that filled the room. You licked your lips and bit them, feeling your heart race as you snuck a quick look at the bar counter, the expression on Theodorus’ face was absolutely feral… and bloodthirsty.

Good thing you had bitten your lips because you were about to let out an obscene moan as he looked like he was ready to slam you into a wall and fuck you senseless, growling in your ear: You’re already so wet for me, Hondje, so ready for me to slide inside you…. You’ve been teasing me all damn night and when I stuff you with my cock, make you mine… You’ll be screaming my name. A looming presence was suddenly behind you, a hand gripping your hip and forcefully pulling you away from the “cutie”. You had absolutely no idea what happened, when it happened and how it happened. You could’ve sworn that you heard something along the lines of “She’s mine” but it was most probably your brain playing tricks on you. Or not.

“Are you trying to play games with me, Knabbeltje?” His heavy hand on your hip clenched tightly, his fingertips digging in your soft flesh while you drank in the rumble of his voice in your ear, velvety smooth yet deep enough to shake you to the bone, capable of making your knees buckle in weakness. You fought the temptation to rub your legs together and continued the lascivious sway of your hips from side to side in a rhythm that was your own and one that Theodorus would come to learn. Cutie, who? Theodorus was the only person you knew. All your senses acutely aware of him and he made sure of that. Only a breath of air seperated your bodies yet, he was so close but still felt so far before he yanked your back brusquely, your back hitting the vast plain of his chest and the softness of your derriere grazing his crotch. You closed your eyes and hummed with a nonchalant tone, your back arching as you reached your arms behind you, gripping Theo by his nape and threading your digits leisurely through his chestnut locks.

“You really want to know, hm?” You crooned and he tensed briefly but soon relaxed behind you, one hand caressing the curve of your hips, his hold on you was firm and steady, making you feel the heat radiating from his body and enveloping you with the scent of his cologne mixed with whiskey, intoxicating you even more than the wine you drank.

One of his large hands snakes up the curve of your waist, lightly grazing the side of your soft mound and trailing up your neck and resting there. He rolled his hips against yours, your body following his every moment as he dictated your every single motion. The warmth of his breath tickled your ear as he crooned sultrily in your ear. “I could eat you all up, Knabbeltje… right fucking now.” I don't wanna feel rejection, don't wanna have no regrets… Is this a good decision or will you look for someone else? Leave me all by myself...

“Is that so?” you could hear your own smile in your voice and could hear an inherent raspiness in it too. Your thoughts swiveled with yearning and your judgement was clouded by your love for this man… and your inebriation. Your mutual ministrations continued as he grinded his hips at an excruciating pace, drawing out the torture that you were both suffering from. His long fingers were now teasing the column of your neck, careening over your sensitive skin and sending shivers up and down your spine. Slowly, he wrapped his hand on your neck, pressing only lightly and bit the tip of your earlobe before sucking on it, letting his tongue glide over its seams. “I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. You want me to repeat myself?”

“I didn’t say any such thing, Theodorus.” You dared to use his full name, intentionally triggering him. His grip tightened on your neck and warm breath caressing your ear. “I’m not all bark like you.” He truly thought that you were all bark but you were prepared and intended to do lots of biting, now that he was so near. You tightened your grip on his strands, making him groan in response. “I hate that you make me feel this way.” you breathed out slowly, trying to ignore the tightening of anticipation rousing in your chest. “Enlighten me… What kind of way do I make you feel, hm?” It was now his turn to tease you. “You know how I feel about you…” you pouted, grudgingly taking a sharp inhale before you carried on with this morphed, semblance of a confession. “You keep… you keep messing with my head, Theo.”

“You’re doing much worse to me, mijn liefste.” Oh God, you didn’t know what he said but you were positive that it was not some dog related insult and your heart drummed even harder in your chest. Why did this man have so much control over you? His voice was like whiskey and chocolate, dark, decadent and heavy with yearning, a blazing fire in your core, an excited tremor coursed through your veins like lightning, but not once did you rush the wicked to and fro of your hips, brushing your softness against the harsh ropes of sinew that made him the Adonis that he was.

Your cheeks were rosy as the pink dusk that painted clear skies and he saw that as you twisted your chest to look back and up at him. His fierce stare reflected in your glimmering eyes, your pupils dilating clearly, making them appear almost darkened in their shade. It would be blasphemous to say that Theodorus was anything but completely mesmerizing. “Don’t give me those eyes, Knabbeltje... or I promise I’ll take you here and now.”

I love to see you smile, I love, my love… As much as the thought had you reeling, you wanted the awaited spectacle to be a private one. Gazing straight in his almost glowing orbs of sapphire, he had the look of a man who was born ready to ravage you and rearrange your insides. Leaning down, he drawled against your lips with a huskiness that sent you into a frazzled state of need.

“When I fuck you, I’m going to make sure you always remember it. The only thing that’s gonna spill from those pretty lips is my name.”

------------ Read Part II HERE. Tagging le Theo simp squad + those who have been so kind to send me their ideas on what the “dirty dancing scenario” should be like: @delicateikemenmemes @sweetlittlemouse @nad-zeta @nafeary @raymiazaki @munarisblog @karmaaf (sorry if I forgot anyone else) Hope you enjoyed this 💜 Please feel free to leave comments/feedback! Masterlist

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen vampire theodorus #ikevamp theo #theodorus van gogh #ikevamp theo x reader #ikemen vampire scenario #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikemen vampire theo x reader #ikevam theo #theo van gogh #ikemen series #otome #cybird

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personasintro · 4 years

Text

wrong | myg drabble

SYNOPSIS; you chose your husband, so why it feels so wrong?

PAIRING: yoongi x reader

GENRE: angst, fluff

WORD COUNT: 4k

WARNINGS: strong language, cheating

a/n: this is part 2 of one of my drabbles called wrong or right, if you want part 3 don't forget to reblog and let me know!

wrong or right | wrong

m.list / ko-fi

Life comes with ups and downs, and at the end of the day it's only up to you how you'll stand up to it. Positivity is one of the options – it means bringing and finding positiveness even in the smallest things, or even the saddest ones. On the other hand, there is always negativity which usually brings sadness and anguish.

But you're hit with reality instead and you've no idea how to cope with it. You've surely done the right thing, right? You spend your days and nights asking the same question, or more like persuading your self-consciousness and the guilt flowing in your entire body.

The huge room is filled with guests, a soft jazz music playing in the background that should probably make you relax, but you feel like you could throw up any minute. A part of that desperate need to empty your stomach, is the sight of your husband chatting with a group of people that you don't know. He didn't even care enough to introduce you to them, but you stupidly try to tell yourself that that's for the best. You don't think you can manage to fake smile at anyone for one more second.

The heels and straps around your ankles are killing you, and you wish you would have your fluffy slides instead. You're still shocked that your husband even invited you to this kind of thing, since he usually goes alone. Some part of you thinks, he just wants to show you off as his trophy, which doesn't make sense. You're far from that.

Even the stupid wedding ring mocks you, shining underneath the fancy lightening. It burns your skin and you wish you could just throw it away, and you hate yourself for that. You chose right – so why the hell you feel like an absolute shit?

And then you see the one person you never thought would participate in such thing, or choose his evening to spend it here.

Min Yoongi.

It's been only a few hours since you've seen him, safely behind your desk and from a distance, but he's breathtaking. He wears a black suit matched with beige dress shirt underneath it, his longer hair nicely done and exposing a little bit of his forehead. It got so much longer since you've last seen him from close proximity.

It's hard enough to see him every day, since the two of you are working together but luckily, you never had to talk with him. He never tried to talk to you after you walked away from him, but you can't blame him.

You hurt him. You knew how much he wanted you to be his. But you always pushed him away, thinking you're doing the right thing. You're married for fucks sake. This was never supposed to happen in the first place and you've to live with that guilt for the rest of your life.

And as much as handsome he looks, smiling at every guest that stops and shakes his hand in a greeting, you feel your breakfast in your throat, causing you to painfully swallow.

“Y/N, come here.” Namjoon calls up to you, waving his hand decorated with rings at you.

Gulping, you place your empty glass on the small table and slowly walk up to the group of people, praying Yoongi never heard your name in the first place. There are many people here, he surely won't notice you if you just blend with the crowd.

Your husband wraps his arm around you as soon as you're next to him, showing you off to his colleagues with beaming eyes that's only for the show. He starts to introduce you to every person that's in the circle, a glass of champagne in their hands as they smile at you. You can't tell if it's fake or real, but your mind is too busy to remember their names, nor pay attention to Namjoon's voice filling your ears.

So you blindly stare into the crowd, giving a fake smile every now and then, acting as if you were listening when you are clearly not. You never liked crowds and too many people in the same room.

You don't listen to them, nor even paying attention to a name you've never heard before, until your eyes glances at the new man that seems to catch everyone's attention. It's not him who catches yours though, it's a man that's standing right next to him, boring his eyes into yours as you silently gasp.

Shakily inhaling, you look away from the darkened gaze, wanting to shake off your husband's hands off you. But he's your husband. And Min Yoongi is nothing to you now.

You faintly register them talking about the man Yoongi came with, just to find out he's working in the same company as your husband does. And when he introduces his friend, you can't bring yourself to look up at him, acting as if the jazz music that's nothing else than an empty sound to you, sounds much more interesting. He surely knows, if he's even looking, that you're doing a great job of acting as if he wasn't here. But he is, and he only stands a few meters away.

When the waiters comes with a new set of champagne glasses, you don't fail to notice Yoongi taking one right away, taking a huge gulp of it. If he wants to survive tonight, he probably needs something stronger. He's always been a more hard liquor kind of man. The fact that you even know this, makes you sick.

There are a few glasses left, a young waiter turning to you, ready to offer you some and before you can open your mouth and decline, your husband's voice is like a piercing scream to your ears.

“She can't, thank you.” he waves him off with the same fake smile as you've seen him to have a couple of times, probably more than it's necessarily.

He bows to you, walking off with the tray in his hands, serving other guests.

“Ahh, Namjoon. Let the woman have some fun.” One of his colleagues, that you forgot the name of, teasingly says making a soft laugh erupt in the group. It puts a fake smile on your lips, acting as if it's funny when all you want to do it hide and cry.

“I think she had too much fun,” he speaks up, smirking down at you while you gape at him with opened mouth. How can you react to that? Why would he say something like that? “She's pregnant.”

Your whole body freezes, followed with a choke and subsequent coughing which can't be mistaken with none other, than Yoongi's. His hands drips with some of the champagne, coughing as he tries to calm down himself, his friend worriedly patting him on the back.

“Are you okay?” One of the men asks, the same worried look painting his slightly older face as Yoongi looks up and stares at you instead.

You can't read his emotions, he's probably too shocked to react and realization washes over his face once he notices everyone looking at him. He waves him off, nodding as he apologizes underneath his breath, wiping his mouth and hands with a tissue that his friend handed him.

Shamefully, you look down at you feet not having an ounce of courage to look up. Something tells you, he stares at you. You want to open your mouth, explain him your secret that he was never supposed to know. But it was bound to happen. You work together, it's was just a matter of time until you'd be forced to tell your boss. You'd start showing more and more, failing to hide the growing bump under your skirt and blouse.

Rather than being ashamed by your husband mentioning you had too much fun, you're ashamed that the man you were sleeping with, knows. It's the father of your child. He surely has to have a dozen of questions, because from his point of view you must look like a cheater. But are you a cheater to him when you could be potentially pregnant with your husband? It's just a point of view and matter of opinion.

However, your breakfast and the only proper food that you've managed to put into yourself, is about to go up and you quickly excuse yourself with a hand over your mouth. You don't care how embarrassing that just was, all you can think of is getting it out of you. Soon enough, you're hovering over the toilet, thankful that there's no one in here that can hear your vomits falling down onto the toilet.

Your knees hurt against the marble floor but you don't care, not even about all the germs that could potentially be on the toilet's seat that you hug. The door's open and you're done with emptying your stomach, reaching for the toilet paper to wipe off your lips. Your lipstick is smeared all over it and you probably look like shit, but that's the least of your concern. You flash the toilet making sure there's no trace of you throwing in there. Only if you would stay there, locked up in the small space instead because when the lock clicks and you open the door, you're met with heated gaze and sharp eyes digging into you.

You ignore him, scurrying to wash your mouth and get rid of the taste of your vomits. But he still stands there, watching you with angry and cold eyes. The same ones that were always filled with love and warmth. It makes you sick to think, that you made him like this. Your decision made him like this.

“Yoon--”

He doesn't even let you finish his name, shivering as he opens his mouth. “Are you really pregnant?” he asks, despite of seeing you in your current state right now, his eyes dropping down to your stomach.

It's well hidden behind the loose fabric of your nude dress, and if he didn't hear about it, he'd never think you are pregnant.

“I...yes,” you answer him in defeat, shamefully looking down at the marble floor. You can't look at him when you confirm it.

He stays silent, too shocked to even know how to properly react and you notice it from the corner of your eyes as he tries to calculate it. He doesn't know how far along you are, but judging by the lack of bump, you could be two or three months pregnant. It fits perfectly, that is if he counted right.

You wait for him to drop the question – that one question that you've feared as soon as you saw those two lines in front of you.

“I'm sorry.” you whimper, speaking first as you see his eyes to flicker between yours.

He almost feels bad for you, seeing your slightly irritated lips from your wiping and tears in your eyes. He has never seen you looking so broken, but he still stands his ground and not moves an inch. You're not his to touch.

“Sorry for what, exactly? For breaking my heart or lying to me?”

You don't blame him for sounding so repulsing, knowing it's his way of coping with his anger and heartbreak. Hearing him saying that you've broken his heart so openly, makes you want to cry out loud. Maybe it's the freaking hormones or your own heartbreak – you don't know and you don't plan on welling about that.

There is a far more important thing to be dealt with right now, and the man in front of you is that.

“Lying to you?” you ask him confusingly, sniffling quietly under your breath as he scoffs.

“You told me you haven't been sleeping with him. You promised me and you lied.” he fires back, a straight and prominent line creasing between his eyebrows as he sends daggers your ways.

He thinks it's Namjoon's baby.

“I didn't lie to you!” you exclaim, too fast to properly realize what you've just said. But it's too late to do otherwise, other than to watch his eyes widen as wheels roll inside his head. “I wasn't sleeping with him.”

You weren't. Because all you wanted was him. Even though you were cheating on your husband, you never were disloyal to Yoongi. At least not the time that you two were together. Or sleeping together – whatever.

“But... that means,” he chokes out, lips puckered in confusion and eyes widened as he slowly looks up at you in question. “Is--is it mine?” he asks you slowly, sounding so fragile that makes you want to cry and hug him.

He's asking a question he knows an answer for, but he still does it to make sure. He wants you to say it out loud, admitting that the miracle growing inside of you is half him. And for a moment, you can't bring yourself to answer him because that would make it real. There won't be no going back. However, when you watch his face to scrunch in desperation and so much hurt that you've caused, you can't watch and break him again.

“Yes.” you whisper, and as on cue, a huge breath escapes his mouth before he leans against the wall.

He just found out he's about to be a father and he's holding up himself good. But the wheels keep rolling, causing him to frown as there are millions of questions and thoughts he has.

“But then... does he know?”

The mocking behind the 'he' word doesn't go unnoticed by you, but you don't blame him. He always hated Namjoon without even knowing him. Not only because he is your husband, gets to hold you every night and call you his, but because you've told him how he treats you. Yoongi spent months trying to tell you that you deserve better. And you knew it. But you still couldn't let go of him and hold Yoongi instead. You weren't scared, you feared. And you still do.

“No,” you whisper, gulping and trying not to throw up again, although your stomach is already empty, from what you're about to say. “After I found out... I had--I slept with him,”

The way he looks at you and then eyes the wall angrily, you can practically see the fume coming out of him. His fingers find their way to his hair, tugging at his roots as his jaw clenches tightly.

“I didn't have another choice!” you exclaim, causing him to punch a wall. You flinch, not believing he just punched a wall that makes his knuckles bleed right away.

But he doesn't hiss at the pain. The pain in his heart is far worse.

“Bullshit!” he yells, leaning his forehead against the wall as he tries to calm down himself. “You could've told me.” he brokenly says.

“And then what? I could leave my husband and raise this child with you?” you ask him, your own words digging into your heart and you don't doubt it does the same to him.

The pain is so visible when he finally looks up, taking a glance at you. “Would that be so hard?” he whispers causing a tears flow down your cheeks in instant.

There's no answer that you could possibly say that wouldn't hurt him, even more than you already did. You wanted to save your marriage but you destroyed and broke a man's heart instead. That was never your intention.

But the door that barge open catches the both of your attention, with your husband barging right into the restroom with angered gaze.

“It's him, isn't it?” he asks, voice breathy and filled with raged, glaring at you with so much hate that makes you dryly swallow. And before you can open your mouth, he's already rushing to Yoongi and connecting his fist with Yoongi's jaw.

A weird sound of bone cracking makes your heart jump, the sight of Yoongi stumbling while gripping the side of his face causing you to yell out.

“Namjoon!” you yell, running towards him and quickly grabbing his arm when he's about to attack him again. “Fucking stop!” you yell again, glancing at Yoongi that glares at Namjoon with the same hatred and fire in his eyes.

He mockingly wipes the blood of his face, his lips already split and bleeding as well.

“It's his child, isn't it?!” he screams at you, causing you to whimper as you let him go and take a cautious step back, just to find Yoongi's hands pressed against your hips softly.

“How did you know?” you whisper, your eyes filled with fear.

You feel disgusted with yourself for having to have sex with him, just to make him believe that you're pregnant with his child. It was stupid and enough to make you cry yourself to sleep for a month straight, your heart breaking at the memory. You panicked and didn't know what to do. You chose your husband just for you to loose him in the next couple of weeks, after finding out about your pregnancy.

When you told him that you're pregnant, he never really seemed to be so happy. In a way, it didn't make a sense for him. The only time that you two have sex, you get pregnant without even trying? You pushed him away every time after that, claiming that you don't feel good – which wasn't that much of a lie. There was just a different reason.

“That you were cheating on me?” he mockingly asks, making you embarrassed but he seems to be pleased by your flushed cheeks and shame written all over your face. “I didn't,” he scoffs, “Not until you got pregnant all of a sudden.”

“But-- how?” Something doesn't add up and judging by his dark eyes you just know, that he's hiding something.

“I'm infertile, Y/N.” he tells you slowly with his deep voice, eyes narrowing at you as you open your mouth in pure shock.

If the situation weren't so serious, you'd probably laugh at it. What seemed like a boring and uncomfortable night turned upside down. A night full of secrets that got spilled is another regret that you haven't stayed at home.

How is it possible that he even knows that kind of information? You never tried to get pregnant with him. It was something you two haven't talked about before. Maybe you should have, considering you're married. Somehow, you thought it would come along the way. Eventually.

And you want to ask him that, although, you don't feel like you're in any position to ask questions. But instead of opening your mouth, your head spins and your vision gets blurry, and if it weren't for Yoongi's arms keeping you stable, you'd fall.

“But that doesn't matter right now. What matters right now, is that you fucking cheated on me with your colleague.” he snaps, causing you to flinch.

“I'm sorry.” you whisper, looking down at your feet before he grabs you, shaking you furiously.

“I gave you everything! I got you a nice house! I got you a car! I got you the fucking job! And this is how you repay me?”

You're crying, silently pleading for him to stop but he doesn't. His fingers dig into your flesh, your whimpers are a silent plead that hides between his furious voice. It happens all quickly, his fingers leaving a red marks as he stumbles backwards, Yoongi's fist meeting his face this time. He's shorter than Namjoon, but he still manages to have a good aim and judging by Namjoon's shock, it's a painful one as well.

Namjoon spits, blood covering the marble floor as he bitterly chuckles. “Shouldn't I be the one who punches you?”

Yoongi ignores him, his eyes glancing at you as he asks if you're okay. All you can do is nod, hugging yourself as Yoongi reaches for your hand.

You've no idea what he's planning and you hate how vulnerable he looks, when you take your time staring at his outstretched hand. He's reaching out to you, in more ways than just with his hands, and you still glance between him and your husband who's wiping off the blood from his face. What's wrong and right? Do you have to choose? Can you just walk away from both of them?

But Yoongi has never done anything bad to you. He filled all those empty spaces that Namjoon created and failed to fill. You were just too scared to leave your husband. You were never supposed to have sex with Yoongi. You were never supposed to visit him and cuddle him afterwards, listening to his late-night rambles alongside with your own. There are a lot of things you weren't supposed to do, things that crossed a line, yet you didn't mind it. Because Yoongi made you feel everything that Namjoon never did.

And that's a fair answer.

You take Yoongi's hand, glancing at his dark eyes that seems to look neutral as he leads you out of the restroom. But Namjoon stops him, grabbing his shoulder rather harshly but it's like Yoongi was expecting it. And in one swift movement and letting go off your hand, he delivers another punch to your husband's jaw.

“That's for how you treated her, you asshole.” he says through clenched teeth, grabbing your hand again as he leads you out of the restroom, this time successfully.

You're not surprised when you see people nearby giving you a worried look, causing your cheeks to flush. Yoongi holds your hand tightly, leading you into the crowd and you just follow him with your head down, not asking any questions. It's until he stops in front of his friend, his eyes widening at the sight of both of you. But he doesn't ask questions, reaching for his pocket before he gives a car keys to Yoongi.

“Thank you, hyung.” he tells him, but his friend only smiles in return.

When you're finally sitting in a car, you allow to tears fall down your cheeks and loud sobs escaping past your lips.

From Yoongi's point of view, he's not sure what he's allow to do but he still reaches towards you, grabbing your face. “Hey, it's okay. We don't have to go anywhere, if you don't want to. I can take you back, if that's what you want. I'm sure he will be able to forgive you... since he knew all along.”

His words are nothing but genuine, even though he hates that bastard for treating you so bad. But he still puts you first, despite of you turning your back to him.

And you get it now. He thinks you're crying because of your husband.

“I was wrong.” you sob, automatically leaning to his touch as he gently caresses your puffy cheeks.

“He's going to forgive you. He's not going to find a woman like you anywhere.” he whispers, his own voice slightly cracking.

“No,” you shake your head, shakily breathing as you prepare to tell him. “I shouldn't have walked away from you.”

“W-what are you saying?” he asks, eyes wide and mouth opened.

“I should've stayed. I chose wrong. Namjoon was a wrong choice.”

He shakily breathes, cupping your face tighter as he pokes your nose with his own, lips hovering over yours. “Kiss me.” he pleads, and you don't hesitate.

Kissing him deeply while tears stream down your face. You're crying, but you finally feel free and that huge pressure is gone from your heart. Maybe choosing to cheat on your husband was terribly wrong, but the feeling inside of chest, full of love just proves you something.

That you chose right this time.

#bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #min yoongi au #yoongi fanfic #suga x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi drabble #suga drabble #yoongi scenario #bts drabble #personasintro

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bloody-wonder · 2 years

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The Philosophy of Reading Tag

@beeblackburn tagged me in this ages ago and now i finally have time to anwer all these juicy questions about books and reading😋

1. What’s most important…a good character, plot, or message? definitely characters. i mean i prefer every aspect of the book to be equally good but if i have to choose one then plot and message can go out the window and leave me with my blorbos

2. Should one read books about ideas or opinions they disagree with? i think it can be beneficial but i don’t like doing it bc there are plenty of things in the day to day life that make me mad as it is

3. As tech advances, what do you think will be the role of books? no idea tbh. seeing as physical books have successfully survived the advent of ebooks i think they will play the same role in the future. if the question is about the role of books versus other media, still i think there won’t be any fundamental changes. ever since people discovered that you can write things down, make music and art, record videos, they just kept doing all of that. popular genres and forms change but media stay the same in essence. maybe one day only ebooks will exist or be widely available but i don’t think that books will ever disappear as a medium, the demand’s too high for that🤷‍♂️

4. How important are summaries, review, and art in your book choosing? reviews are important only if they’re by i people i know and trust already. i don’t go searching for random reviews from strangers on goodreads. summaries are very important but art (both cover art and fan art) is probably what is most likely to grab my interest. i do judge books by their covers sometimes and there are definitely books out there which i will never read just bc i find their covers abhorrent (looking at you middlegame)

5. Should one ever skim or scan a book? idk if one *should* but i think there’s nothing wrong with it. i read for entertainment and if i don’t find myself entertained by a lengthy landscape description or a boring inner monologue i will sure as hell skim it. earlier this year i skimmed the entire second half of kostova’s historian and was almost as content with that time saving decision as i was disappointed with the book itself

6. Should reading always be enjoyable? i think everyone should decide for themselves. i often connect with dark books that have graphic scenes of violence and despicable characters so you can’t exactly call “enjoyable” the stuff i read when i’m *enjoying* myself. at the same time i can’t pick up a non fiction book about real world problems for the life of me bc it doesn’t provide the necessary level of escapism. if i want to be educated about something i do it in other ways so. to each their own ig

7. Is it important to be well-read? i think it’s sexy but ultimately as important as being someone who has consumed lots of any other type of media. interestingly however we don’t have adjectives to describe that - well-watched? well-listened? well-viewed (for art)? definitely has something to do with how the westerners value the written word over everything else

8. What is your book buying process? i don’t buy books bc i’m broke but i think even if i had money to spare (and free space to store books) i wouldn’t buy a book unless i’d be positive that i’m gonna love it. paying money for a book which turns out to be bad is like paying for food which then tastes like crap. luckily for books we have libraries where we can *consume* books without paying for them. can’t have that with food huh

9. What is your reading process? i have a very complicated tbr selection process that involves several lists and spreadsheets, then i see which of those books i can access in what form and then just read or listen to them and report back to my mutuals. the last part is very important bc the knowledge that i can later discuss the book with someone enhances my reading experience tenfold. for this reason i also tend to prioritize books that have been recced to me by my mutuals before

10. How do you use what you read? escapism? i’m not sure i understand the question *hides all my favorite books about sociopathic murderers behind my back* i definitely don’t use any of that in any way haha😬

11. If you could download a book to your brain, would you still read? i think i’d prefer reading fiction the way i do it now (and then deleting it and reading it again if it’s good) but i’d really like to download textbooks and like,, academic papers right to my mind palace

12. What are your views on rereading a book? when i was younger i used to think it’s a waste of time in the sense that you could use that time to read something new and get closer to the goal of reading every book ever written - something both normal to want and possible to achieve - but now i am old, wise and jaded and have read aftg three times in a row

13. What makes a book good? a douchebag ravenclaw (that’s what i call a character who is very smart and rather mean)

14. What makes a book bad? lack of douchebag ravenclaws

15. How do you feel about not finishing a book? terrible. i don’t dnf - hence the multi-step tbr selection process, hence the skimming. lately i’ve also been trying to trick myself into thinking i don’t *dnf* them but just put them aside for an undetermined period of time. this yielded moderate results😐

16. Should the author’s personal life matter at all? there’s something to be said for divorcing your understanding of the art work from what you know about the artist but also i think that supporting bigoted authors financially is just unethical

17. If you could only read one genre for the rest of time, what would it be? probably fantasy. it’s so broad and has so many subgenres it’s unlikely i will ever get bored of it

18. Do you ever read a book without knowing anything about it? no a whole ass book is too much of a commitment for me to go into it entirely blind

19. What author, genre, series, or culture can you just not get into? Why? can’t get into sci fi bc i don’t like the aesthetics and the science talk sounds like gibberish to me. i will read a couple of books when the mood strikes but it will never be my go to genre

20. Do you think everyone should read? Why? for selfish reasons i would like more people to read so that i have more people to discuss books with but other than that no i don’t think everyone *should*

well this was interesting. i’m gonna tag the usual suspects

@moonsandstarsaregay @oliviermiraarmstrongs @fandomreferencepending @pemberlaey @jimscoffee @counterwiddershins @figuringthengsout @fugitoidkry @bibliophilic-vacillator @thehalcyonharbinger @bellaroles @magpiefngrl @mrs-storm-andrews @sugarbabywenkexingif

#book tag #haven't done one of these in a while

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Promise

Anthony (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope) x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Death scenes, Grief, Housefire, Angst, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Romance

Summary: Sneaked glances and pass-by smiles are often times the start of the most beautiful of love stories. Sadly, many of those stories end too quickly, too soon for the souls in love to be able to enjoy them. This is the story of Y/N and Anthony. The love story that started with a promise and ended in flames.

Requested by @niksoiio Hi dear! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I apologize for taking so long, but here it finally is! I know how excited you were for this fic, so I hope it fulfills your expectations and doesn’t let you down! Please enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

Never is a love story as pure as one long awaited to commence. The souls patiently waiting to intertwine, the emotions dying to shine through more than just glances and secret smiles. Feelings to mix, collide and dance together, creating a symphony of a lifetime. The symphony of love that lives beyond the end of the very souls that sparked it.

This is a love story, a story of loss, and a clear example, proof that a love simply doesn’t die. It’s an everlasting flame - burning brighter than the one that attempted to destroy it.

~~~

“You seem restless tonight.“ Anthony walks into the living room, placing a cup of hot cocoa on the coffee table in front of Y/N who’s reading the back cover of the book he has been keeping himself busy with lately.

Y/N has been Tanya’s friend since they met in middle school. When their friendship carried over into high school, that’s when her and Tanya’s adoptive brother Anthony met. They instantly became friends, sharing their love for thrillers and murder mysteries, similar taste in music and relatively similar personalities - the quiet peacemakers. The lovers, not fighters. Well, not fighters unless necessary. They are both protectors with many people they care about and would do anything to keep them safe. The two of them are pretty similar that way.

Very compatible, as some would say. Tanya being the first to notice the connection between two of the closest people in her life. Knowing the shyness of the two and their self-doubt, she chose not to speak up about it until spoken to, expecting them to take ages to finally see what’s been going on between them. Guess she wasn’t far from the truth.

On this night Y/N and Tanya were supposed to spend their time studying together for the last exam of the semester before Christmas break began. They have agreed to meet at the Clarke house at six PM in the afternoon which has long passed and Tanya is still yet to return from the date she went on with her boyfriend Vince. She promised Y/N she’d make it home by six, but now it’s eight and there’s no sign of her whatsoever. A snowstorm started slowly taking over the town approximately two hours ago, probably the reason behind her friend’s absence, but to Y/N’s dismay, also the reason she’d have to spend the night at the Clarke household because her parents wouldn’t be able to collect her in this weather, especially not with the run-down car they drive.

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She nods in gratitude at the boy who sits down on the couch next to her as she takes the mug containing the hot beverage with as firm of a grip as she can muster with her shaky hands.

She has indeed been restless since she arrived. Walking into the house, apart from Anthony who had let her in, the first person she saw was the youngest member of the family - Megan. The little girl has never done anything to her in particular, but there has always been something about her that has unnerved Y/N. Something in her eyes and demeanor, how empty and hollow her gaze was, almost like she was looking through people and objects instead of at them. The smile she sent her as a greeting sent chills down her spine, leaving her hands and knees shaky and her body jittery as if the house was colder than the outdoors. The thought that she’d have to sleep in this house made her stomach clench with discomfort, a sickening feeling of wrong taking over her mind and body.

“Maybe it’s the exam. You know, if Tanya doesn’t make it, I can help you. It’s not a difficult subject, after all.“ Anthony attempts to reassure her, giving her a sympathetic look as he takes a sip of his own cup.

She gives him a soft smile and another nod of appreciation for his offer, “No, it’s not that. Or at least I think it isn’t. Exams don’t make me nervous until after I’ve finished them, if that makes sense.” She giggles weakly, basking in the warmth of the porcelain cup in her ice cold hands. It doesn’t have much of an effect though - instead of warming up her skin, her hands are basically cooling the drink and she still feels as tense and endangered as ever. “But a study partner could be pretty useful, thank you.”

After finishing the rather disappointing movie they found on TV as well as their drinks, they make their way to Anthony’s room to actually get some studying done because, judging by the nearing of nine PM and the constant lack of her friend, she wouldn’t be returning on time. Anne attempts to offer them before they go, an offer which they turn down in favor of making the most of the time they have left before their brains would require rest for the day.

“You see, I get that it’s far less complicated than it seems, but I’m terrible at paying attention in classes, let alone at taking notes.“ Y/N admits while they take a short ten minute break between note-reading and revising the chapters they’ll have an exam on the following day.

Anthony’s eyebrows furrow, “Why’s that? I mean, the professor isn’t boring. Not to me, at least.“

She shakes her head, “No, no, far from it. The rare time’s I’ve managed to focus I quite enjoyed the lectures. But I tend to get too stuck inside my head to hear anything else. My brain gets overwhelmed by the future, by what’s gonna happen five minutes, five days or maybe even five years from the present moment. I sometimes get so lost in those thoughts that I end up...this is gonna sound weird, but I feel like I end up living them.” Somewhere along the lines she could no longer hold his gaze, embarrassed and afraid of how his opinion of her might change with this newly revealed information.

However, much to her surprise, when her eyes meet his again he’s looking at her with nothing but intrigue and child-like curiosity. No amusement or humor or mocking, just wondering, hoping to find out more. Little does she know, that’s how he always looks at her when she is facing the other way. “That’s so interesting. I guess the real question is: Do the things you imagine ever end up coming true?” It was said with a lighthearted smile with the intention of easing the tension in her, calming her nerves, but he had unintentionally struck a chord.

She nods her head, her eyes widening slightly, “Well that’s the weirdest part - they do. Almost all the time unless I do something to prevent it. It freaks me out every time.” An aura of fear surrounds and inhabits her as her gaze wanders away from his again, this time subconsciously, “It scares me so much, Anthony. I know something’s terribly wrong with me. I’m a freak of nature or...I don’t even know what. I just know it’s bad. And I probably shouldn’t have told you all of this cause you now won’t ever look at me the same, you will avoid me. Call me crazy behind my back. I see why but-...”

Before the petrified girl could continue rambling, Anthony takes hold of her hands, firm and comforting. The sudden, unexpected contact of their hands silences her, freezing her eyes on his as she breathes heavily in hopes to stabilize her rapid heart and far worse shakiness. With his hands holding hers, she feels protected, guarded from whatever the future may hold and from the very fact that she could probably find out if she tried. For once though, she doesn’t feel like she has to. She doesn’t need to see what will happen and prepare, she trusts it won’t be so bad as long as she has this boy holding her by the hands, looking at her with such softness in his green orbs staring back at her.

“But that’s all nonsense, Y/N. I’d never say something behind your back, especially not something meanspirited or ill-willed. You...“ he trails off, hesitating for just a moment longer, deciding against prolonging this grey area his feelings have been locked in for far too long as it is, “You are very important to me, more than you know. I could never see you as anything but amazing, mesmerizing. You’re you, Y/N. And that’s why....“ Hesitation and doubt make one final attempt at beating his courage bloody. Much like last time, they fail and Anthony carries on, “That’s the reason I’ve fallen in love with you, Y/N. Quirks, oddities, they are all beautiful cause they are yours. And I love them cause they make you who you are.“

He has somehow managed to turn the tables on her, leaving her to be the speechless one despite her having just revealed her freaky ‘abilities’ to him. What looks like a fiasco in her mind he’s made seem like a perfectly put together kaleidoscope. Like every piece of her shattered courage and bravery is back in it’s spot. Although he’s somewhat managed to put her together, she’s still a long way from being whole, which is why words have failed her now. She hasn’t felt so complete in so long, and now the final piece missing is that response that just refuses to leave her chest.

Seeing her stunned as she is, Anthony feels the need to apologize, justify his out-of-the-blue confession that startled her so much, “I know I should’ve you sooner, or at least picked a better moment but-...”

It’s her turn to cut him off though her method is much more efficient - silencing him by pressing her lips against his. Though caught off-guard, Anthony is quick to respond to it, kissing her back with the same amount of love she’s put in on her end.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m so sor- WHOA!“ The two pull apart at the sound of the familiar female voice that has suddenly filled the room. Tanya has picked the worst of moments to be coming home, and she’s more than aware of it. Despite feeling guilty for interrupting her brother and best friend’s moment, she’s also glad she didn’t miss it. After all, she’s been watching the two suffer in silence, pining for each other since the start of their high school freshmen year and even now that they’re in college. They’ve been quiet about their feelings for more than four years and she can’t be happier to finally see the prophecy fulfilled. “You know how long I’ve been waiting for you two to finally succumb to your hearts and turn those lame brains you have off?! Oh this is a relief like no other.” The older girl laughs, pleased with the outcome of four years of looking on at two very important people in her life adoring one another and not saying a word. Needless to say, she’s proud of them.

“Do you know what knocking is, Tanya?“ Anthony is the first to recover from the initial shock of his sister’s appearance.

“Only in theory. Not in practice.“ She replies sarcastically, giving a pleased smile that speaks volumes of how her spirits have been lifted all thanks to them. “I’ll go downstairs, pretend I didn’t see what I saw, make myself a cup of tea to warm up and when I come back I want to see that you two have pulled yourselves together. Your faces are burning red.” She instructs, backing out of the room but not before fixing them a narrow-eyed warning look.

She wasn’t wrong - they are indeed blushing a deep red and all they can do is smile when they look at each other, giggling a tiny bit.

Suddenly, Y/N’s eyes widen as though she has just remembered something of great importance. “Wait.” She mutters, more to herself than to Anthony. Her hand swiftly slides the ring off the middle finger of her left hand and offers it to Anthony, “Here.” The boy takes it hesitantly, turning it between his fingers as gently and cautiously as he can as though the ring would crack if his grip became any firmer. “By taking in, you’re making a statement, a promise. A promise that you won’t change your mind about me...about us by tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or by next week.” She’s unable to look at him yet again, instead focusing on her fidgeting hands rested in her lap.

After a brief moment of contemplating, Anthony hands her back the ring, “I don’t need to make a promise, I know I won’t change my mind. You could look into the future and see for yourself too.” He tells her reassuringly, a sweet smile on his face to show the lightheartedness of what he’s said, afraid it might be offensive to her if he didn’t clarify.

She shakes her head, “For once in my life I don’t want spoilers for the future. I’ll just let it play out. I’ll see it when it happens.” She pushes the ring back to him, “But I still want you to keep this. A reminder, if not a promise. A reminder that I promise to love you for a very long time.”

A warmth spreads throughout his chest, the wholesomeness of the moment having reached to his heart and soul. He curls his fingers over the ring protectively, “Alright, I’ll take it. As a promise that I too promise to love you for even longer.”

The strings of emotion connecting them are slowly being pulled, bringing them closer once again. They both lean in, ready to feel that incredible magic of a love-filled kiss another time.

“Consider this me knocking! My hands are kinda full so just open the door if I can come in!“ Lips less then an inch apart, they’re interrupted by the shout coming from the other side of the bedroom door.

The young pair laugh, accepting that their moment will have to be postponed before Anthony goes to let his sister, who’s carrying a cup of tea and some snacks, in. All Y/N can think about is how much happiness she’s found so unexpectedly, in a place she was all but willing to stay at. Life is full of surprises and unforeseen moments, so many things one can never predict. And even though Y/N can predict them, now she’d rather not. She now understands the importance of surprises in life and she wants to cherish them properly.

* * *

Flames, fear, screams, shouts, cries. All painted on the backs of her eyelids. The mortifying images playing out in front of her jolt her awake.

A nightmare, it’s just a nightmare, she tells herself.

But upon opening her eyes she is met by the misty darkness of the smoke-filled room her and her best friend are currently in.

A nightmare that she could’ve predicted and warned the others about.

“Y/N, get out of the window! I need to find Megan!“ Tanya tells her urgently, ushering her towards the windowsill, “Go! Anthony will catch you!“

Looking down at the snow*covered yard below, she sees Anthony’s figure, motioning for her to jump. She can barely hear him over the ringing and thumping in her head but she trusts him. She believes she’ll be ok if she chooses to rely on him. So, following both his and his sister’s instructions, she jumps, falling into his arms. For a few moments it’s all blank around her and in her head. She wonders if it’s just the feeling of the fall or the fact that she could’ve died so easily. Or maybe the close proximity to Anthony. Either way his whisper wakes her up from the blank trance she has fallen into.

“It’s ok, I got you.“ He steadies Y/N on her shaky feet, taking her head and leading her to the front of the house.

The next few minutes are a show of nothing but horror and pain. Her and Anthony witness it together, unable to do anything but look on as ever member of the Clarke family, one by one, has life escaping their bodies in the most brutal of ways: Tanya and Megan never made it out of the house; Mr. Clarke was caught under the fallen ceiling in the living room and Dennis was the worst, having impaled himself on the fence below the attic window.

They saw it all happen. They couldn’t do anything. Fear-ridden, powerless and helpless, frozen in their spots by the horrifying scenes playing out in front of them. With tears brimming her eyes and blurring her vision and her knees almost completely giving out, Y/N felt a little bit of her die with each member of the family. A large chunk of her died along with them. She can only imagine how Anthony feels.

“Mom...“ The distressed boy mutters, “Mom’s still in there! Mom!“ Before she could stop him, he’s running towards what used to be the front door of the house and into the burning hallway.

Y/N’s heart drops, adrenaline and the primal instinct to save the person she loves kicking in bringing her legs to life, carrying her forward. “Anthony no!” A loud cry of desperation leaves her aching chest.

She too enters the hallway, surrounded by the overwhelming heat that feels like it’s burning her skin off. She doesn’t dwell on that though, instead she lunges forward, hands grabbing at Anthony’s arm with all her might and yanking him back with as much strength as she has left. Thankfully, it’s enough to send the boy stumbling back, falling on the snow out in the yard, falling to safety just in time.

Just when the ceiling in the hallway collapses. Directly on top of Y/N.

Like the last breath had been drawn out of Anthony’s lungs. Like his last hope had just been shredded to pieces.

Like his life ended along with her, his heart severed and plucked out of his chest, thrown into the flames.

He bows his head, uncontrollable cries leaving his body, each feeling like a punch to the gut - oh so painful and oh so dreadful. As though his very soul is draining from his body with each scream of agony. Then he spots the shimmer in the snow, the twinkle in his darkened vision.

The promise ring that had fallen out of his pocket, its smooth, gleaming surface unharmed, reflecting the raging flames in front of him. Its statement, its meaning standing stronger than ever - an everlasting love. A brightly burning flame ignited by two souls so adored by each other. And even though one of the flames that started the fire has been extinguished, the fire of love hasn’t wavered.

The ring is sending him a message:

This is far from the end of his love. Far from the end of hers either. When two souls intertwine the way theirs have, the bond cannot be broken.

* * *

Half a century has passed and Anthony has never missed the day - each year gracing the town of Little Hope with his presence to commemorate his late family and loved one, bringing a flower to each of their graves.

Survivor’s guilt still haunts him. That night’s events still keep him up at night and the images still seep into his dreams. However, now he has a way to cope with it. He writes. He writes in a diary but in such a way that it’s composed of letters. Letters addressed to different members of his family though the majority are love letters for Y/N. He tells her about his day, how he wishes she were by his side, how he whishes they had more time or acted on their feeling sooner.

How he loves her even more now, how they have remained connected.

“Funny how we haven’t run into each other before. Fifty years and this is the first time I’m seeing you here.“ The deep male voice startles him, “I knew we’d run into each other eventually.“

It’s Vince, Tanya’s boyfriend - the person who’s been placing the flowers Anthony find on Tanya’s grave every year. He always assumed it was him, another man forever in love with the soul that is left to linger after its body vanished. Another man chained by a memory, one he wouldn’t escape even if he could. He still loves Tanya, no doubt about it, and he wishes to never stop loving her. Him and Anthony are rather similar that way.

“Though it was you. No one else knows Tanya’s favorite flowers.“ Anthony motions to the bouquet of white flowers in Vince’s hands, “Surprised you’re still here.“ He knows it’s not the wisest thing to say to a man who’s suffering down the same road of guilt and grief - the road only lit by the everlasting love that has remained in his heart as well as Vince’s.

“Surprised you haven’t stopped coming around.“ He replies though they both know what’s insinuated - they understand why neither of them can let go. They’re bound to bodiless souls that reside here. They are both more than determined to stay as close as possible to those souls they are so hopelessly in love with. Vince’s eyes trail down to Anthony’s hand which is holding the bouquet he was going to place on his sister’s grave. He catches the glint of a ring on his finger, “You’re married?”

The promise ring. He’s chosen to wear it in place of a wedding ring. It is not only a way to cope but it’s exactly what him and Y/N agreed on all those years ago - a reminder that they’ll love each other for a very long time. For forever.

“Yes. I’m married.“

He indeed is - to Y/N and the memory of her. To her soul that his will forever be connected to.

@artlovingbre @sparrow-gg @megandaisy9

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