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blkkizzat · 7 months

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ღ 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 ღ

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝟐

18+ONLY MDNI

kizzatober series: Smooth Criminals

Kinktober Prompts: Clothed Male/Naked Female, Thigh Riding, Knife Play Synopsis: The university campus is being terrorized by a copycat Ghostface killer. As a popular sorority girl with a dumb jock bf, you are a prime choice to be his next victim especially given how he can't stop thinking about you. But you're no ordinary Sorority Girl bimbo, now are you? CW: AU college fic. blood obsession/hematolagnia, bimbo reader, murder, slight DV (from your npc jerk ass bf), unprotected sex, masturbation, slight age gap (roughly 21 vs 28) and dark content. NOTE: If death/killer romanticization related shit triggers you this is probably a fic to avoid because that is happening all through this bitch. I literally wrote a murder fluff smut fic lmfao. WC: 6.5k of 15.4k Lightly black fem coded (reader is an AKA lmfao) but no descriptors.

A/N: This is my first kinktober fic! I'm sorry this took so long y'all but last week been low key hell and I was sick for a lot of it. Also I did struggle with this a bit since this one I decided to do as an whole fic instead of PWP and now its gotten to be so long its definitely going to be in two parts. Sorry there's no smut in the first part, but there is some fluff and some juicy build up. I've never written for Choso before but he's so baby girl omg I'm obsessed with him now but still I'm a bit nervous posting this. sorry if its dog.

Enjoy!

“Ever felt a knife rip through human flesh and scrape the bone beneath?”

Those were the last words a nameless student heard before Ghostface's hunting knife shined menacingly in the air and came down to claim its newest victim.

Shluk! Shluk! Shluk!

Metal slashed through flesh with razor precision.

Gurgled death cries are silenced as the lifeless body collapses to the ground.

A thick pool of blood began gathering around them to fan out and travel around their body down the slanted titled floor to drain.

Choso breathed in deeply.

A wave of calm washed over him.

Peace.

Almost in an enlightened state, he felt the most serene after a kill.

It was beautiful.

Blood was beautiful.

The surging stream of blood that would eventually slow to a trickle, the abstract designs of its splatter and the way it swirled around the body splayed across the ground like paint on a canvas.

Like a painting.

A death painting… and the knife, his paintbrush.

This was his art.

Choso can recall the first time he actually saw blood beyond a minor scrape.

He couldn’t have been more than 6 years old. No doubt trying to impress his younger brother Yuji by balancing on top of the monkey bars. After all this time Choso isn’t certain as to how, but he lost his footing and fell flat on his face onto the unforgiving concrete below.

Screams of children filled the area once Choso pushed himself up onto his feet. He immediately felt wetness rush down his face. However, rather than cry or panic a young Choso cocked his head curiously when he noticed his reflection on the metal jungle gym. A warped view of his face mirrored back at him but he could still make out the bright red fluid cascading down his features staining him in red.

Choso didn’t know how long he stood transfixed, mesmerized by the sight of rouge river that flowed from him until Yuji ran back crying with their parents in tow.

It was how he had the scar across the bridge of his nose till this day, which became unsightly enough he had decided to get a black bar tattooed over it as soon as he turned 18.

From then on he couldn’t deny his growing obsession with blood and seeing it leave the human body. All of which had led him here to this university to attain a PHD in Forensics.

He picked this university, not only for their program but it was the perfect small town playground for Ghostface, a local urban legend from years ago he decided to revive once he felt as he had attained enough knowledge not to get caught.

Choso was meticulous in his process.

Ironclad alibis, no distinctive patterns and no victims with any connections to each other, nor him. Additionally, he had memorized all the angles of the university’s security system (thanks to a security guard he had bribed then promptly killed).

His victims' lives were just his means to an end for his art and most students on this campus wouldn’t amount to much anyway outside of that was how he justified it. Choso did like toying with them on occasion though, fear made the blood pump faster and spray harder once he finally did catch them.

Sadly, he could never admire his creations for too long though before needing to make his own exit.

Almost midnight.

Ten more minutes before campus security makes another round.

He took one last glance at the scene of carnage he had created before disappearing into the night.

☠

In just a mere 2 hours, the news of another Ghostface murder spread across campus.

The university’s students were either scared, scattering back to barricade themselves in their dorms. Or curious, lingering around the crime scene near the safety of the news crews and reporters who had gathered to see who the unlucky victim was this time.

No one however, is likely more curious than you: A third year forensics undergrad, who was just itching to get a real glimpse of your first real crime scene, a Ghostface copycat killer crime scene at that!

You had even left a huge frat party (to be fair it was about to get broken up soon anyway) to trek across campus in the bitter cold of late fall.

“Y/N, let’s go back–,” one of your pledges whined, “–it’s cold and my feet hurt in these heels!”

“Shh, Stassi, shut up! What if this is an initiation test?” another pledge whispered.

Your sorority pledges chatter on behind you and you almost forgot you brought them along. It’s not like you wanted to but, like it or not, they were attached to you at the hip like little ducklings until rush was over.

With a clap you turn on your heel to address them.

“Ladies–”

However you abruptly stop once you see your Forensics TA, Choso Kamo, taking what appeared to be a night jog across the campus quad.

Was he going to the crime scene too? Your face instantly lights up and your pledges look around confused.

“Wait here girlies! I’ll be 5 minutes max…. No, I mean it. Wait right here!”

Your pledges huff quietly, but agree.

They had no choice really as you were already skipping as fast as your not-so-sober legs would carry you in 5-inch pumps over the quad lawn. Truthfully, that was not something they were trying to do too, especially not to chase down what looked like some creepy emo nerd.

“Choso!”

You call out to him and wave, but he doesn’t look like he sees you as you hurry towards him.

“Hey Choooo! Wait up!” You puffed out, trying to maneuver over the grass in your heels.

Choso sighed recognizing your voice, reluctantly slowing his pace. He would have kept on jogging but he knew you would keep calling out to him and draw even more attention that he really didn’t need right now.

Finally catching up to him, you grab Choso’s arm and loop yours through. He flinched slightly at your touch but you knew he always seemed a bit jumpy when it came to physical contact, so this didn’t phase you.

If anything you thought his reactions were kinda cute.

“Where are you going weirdo? All the action is back that way!” You teased with a big grin and pointed in the direction of the crime scene.

Choso tries to ignore how his adrenaline was pumping even faster from you holding on to him than when he was running, especially dressed as you were.

You looked sexy as hell utterly ridiculous.

You were decked out in a sailor costume, which was pretty much just a poor excuse for lingerie at this point. Your white sailor flap collar attached to nothing more than a sparkly navy bra with shiney white and red trims, leaving your midsection exposed showing your cute little belly ring in the shape of an anchor.

This was complemented by a dangerously short yet matching sparkling navy pleated skirt which sat low on your thick hips. Your shapely legs were the most covered part of your body yet still looked overwhelmingly tempting in red glittery garters, attached to white opaque stockings in glittery red heels.

“I’m the weirdo… but you’re dressed like that in 40 degree weather.” Choso retorted, brow raised.

“Duh Choso–”

You released his arm to give him a twirl in your outfit, not noticing the way he nervously wet his lips watching your skirt rise with your little spin.

“–The ‘Get Nauti’ party was tonight silly, where have you been!?”

Oh you know, just casually killing someone. Choso resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Of course he knew about the party.

The campus had been littered with fliers for ‘Get Nauti’ for the past two weeks. Nothing Choso would ever be interested in as he would rather stab himself in the face than attend a mind-numbing party with a bunch of bro-for-brain frat guys.

However, he did take advantage of the opportunity to create another death painting as Ghostface with the rest of campus preoccupied.

He couldn’t tell you that though obviously.

“Gym,” Choso said flatly and shrugged, “Heading back to the dorms n-”

“–You mean you aren't going to the Social Sciences building!? Don’t you remember?!” You cut him off in your excitement.

“The police said they would let us forensic students look at the next crime scene!”

Your face had a warm glow and your movements slightly swayed. You were clearly drunk.

“No Y/N, they said they might let the PhD students, like me, look at the crime scene… and that was only a slim ‘maybe’. You’re still just an undergrad”, he reminded you, much to your dismay as you puffed your cheeks.

But seriously, Choso thought, even the incompetent local police would have enough sense not to let you on the crime scene dressed as you are now, even if you were a PhD student.

“Awe no fair,” you whine dejectedly. “But you should go, Cho! Then you can tell me all about it! Pleaseeee, I’m dying to know what a Ghostface crime scene looks like. I hear it’s kinda gruesome!”

You gazed up at Choso through fluttering long lashes as you poked out your cherry glossed lips. It was a pout that could famously leave any frat boy at your mercy, but it never seemed to stir Choso much (that you could tell at least).

Choso swallowed.

On the contrary, your charms worked rather well on him. His mouth was dry and he unconsciously clenched and unclenched a sweat ridden palm behind his back.

The hell were you doing being this excited over a crime scene? One of his crime scenes for that matter?

Choso really didn’t know what to make of that.

“Y/N it’s late. I still have papers to grade. I’m going back to my dorm now and you should get home too,” Choso said flatly, trying to keep his cool although fatigue was etched into his voice.

He was in peak physical form but still feeling the strain given he just chased his last victim all over the Social Sciences building. Not to mention still having assignments to grade. All which would be fine if he also wasn’t on edge from you right now as well.

“Booooo…Choso yo– ahchoo!” You sneezed from the cold.

The effects of alcohol could only do so much to keep you warm in these low temperatures while you were standing still.

With another sigh Choso unzipped his black track jacket, taking it off and putting it around your shoulders.

He was doing so as much for your sake as his own. Choso couldn’t help but notice your boobs looking like they were going to pop out of your flimsy sailor bra at any moment when you folded your arms underneath them for warmth.

He was really doing his best to maintain eye contact with you.

“Awe thanks Cho, you’re so chivalrous!” You giggled, blushing as you snuggled into his jacket.

You could still feel his body heat lingering on the material but the heady scent of oak and sandwood from his cologne warmed you even more.

You also couldn’t help but stare as the black compression turtleneck he wore underneath clung to his body like a second skin. You had suspicions he was fit but you never saw him wear anything beyond his dark colored button ups and shaggy sweaters when in class.

“Now go home, Y/N. You shouldn’t even be out here alone this late.”

Choso’s stern voice snapped you out of your ogling.

“But I’m not alone silly!”

You pointed to the group of scared and shivering freshmen girls also in various states of sparkly undress all for the sake of ‘getting nauti’ standing on a paved path not too far off.

They looked absolutely miserable.

“I have my pledges!”

Choso gave you an incredulous look. You were too clueless.

“So let me get this straight… You are drunk. You have drunk freshmen with you, who shouldn’t even be drinking in the first place…and you plan on taking them to a murder scene? Where the cops are?” You made an “OH” face and absentmindedly laughed as you came to the realization it probably wasn’t the best look for Chapter VP of the AKAs to take a bunch of drunk and terrified freshmen pledges straight into a recent crime scene. Even if you could put an academic spin on it as it was relevant to your major classes.

Yikes, and on second thought, your house mom would flip her entire shit if she found out.

“Go home Y/N,” Choso said again, shaking his head.

“Besides, you should be more focused on the Chemistry lab midterm on Monday. You know you can’t afford to fail.”

You sulked but relented, he was right. On both accounts.

As your T.A. for that class Choso knew better than anyone just how much your grade depended on passing that lab and you hadn’t even so much as glanced at your notes yet this week.

“Aye Aye, Capitan Choso, sir!” you teased giving him a salute with a wink and lifted knee, your sailor skirt lifting a bit higher.

It was a cute move, or it would have been at least if it hadn't caused your weight to shift all on to one foot. The heel of the sparkly red glitter pump baring your weight sunk into the patch of soft soil beneath you causing your foot to pop out of the shoe as you tumble forward.

You would have definitely ate shit and embarrassed yourself in front of Choso, your pledges and whoever else was walking across the quad at this time of night if Choso’s quick reflexes didn’t catch you.

You let out a squeak and waved your arms as you fell tits first onto Choso’s hard chest.

Shit.

Choso could feel your hardened nipples pressing against him through the flimsyass costume you wore. He tried hard to focus on how cold it was outside. Anything rather than how warm your body felt up against him or how his biceps tensed from the tight grip of your delicate fingers that sought stability from him.

You grinned sheepishly. You thanked him for catching you not realizing the position you were in nor the torment you were putting this man through.

Setting you upright quickly, Choso crouched down to retrieve your shoe.

His plan was to simply place it near your foot but he felt your hand land on his shoulder and you raised your dainty foot up expectantly.

Any attempts to avert his gaze proved futile as Choso couldn’t stop his eyes from traveling up the length of your leg.

Your opaque white stockings practically glowed in the darkness illuminating the shapely calves it covered and thick thighs the tight material cut into. Your hips strained against your garters up until your –he caught himself and his eyes snapped up immediately.

He was a killer, not a perv at least he was trying not to be.

Gingerly making sure to only touch your ankle, you were giggling again as he put your shoe on your foot and placed it on the grass again.

“Thanks Choso! You really are a lifesaver, ya know! I can’t bend down in this skirt.”

“Don’t mention it.” Choso quickly replied, pushing his bangs out of his face in exasperation.

Really don’t.

Choso was trying to forget the flash of red lace he saw that barely covered your plump pu– No he had to stop, you were technically his student even if he was just a T.A.

He would surely have to kill you if he popped a boner right now. He was trying to keep a low profile already and did not need to add ‘sexual deviant' to his name from a student harassment claim.

“For real now, go home Y/N.” Choso silently pleaded you would just listen this time.

He always felt more compulsive right after a kill and didn’t know what he would do if you stayed around him like this much longer.

You finally relented to his relief, nodding and mumbling a sad little goodnight pulling his jacket around your shoulders tighter as you turned to leave back to your pledges.

Choso started to leave as well but your voice stopped him as you looked at him over your shoulder.

“You know Choso…” You smoothed your skirt down behind you and flashed him a pageant winning smile, “I don’t mind that you saw them.”

Before Choso’s short-circuiting brain could even process what you said you were bouncing off back to your pledges. “Okay ladies, now make like Bey and get in formation! Back to the Soro house!”

Your pledges erupted with various replies from–

‘Thank God!’’

‘Did you just go over there to steal that nerd’s jacket? Boss!’’

‘Was that your boyfriend, Y/N?’

‘Y/N’s bf is a starter on the football team, she doesn’t want that weird emo dork.’

‘No, sis did you see his muscles– That emo look is still kinda hot right now, huh Y/N?’

‘Awe, but I want to go back to the frat!’

–all fluttered from the group of chattering girls as you cheerily led them back to the Sorority house.

You laughed at their comments hoping Choso couldn’t hear them though, as they were a bit embarrassing.

Unfortunately for the both of you, there was no way for Choso not to hear your rowdy group of drunk giggling girls, he’s sure the whole quad did.

Choso rolled his eyes as a chill took over him as he started the jog back to his dorms.

He was glad he had given you his jacket though. The way his body had started to respond to you just now the frigid jog back to the dorms would do him good.

He just wanted to shower, grade a few papers then go to bed, he didn’t want to end up fisting his cock to you again tonight.

You had plagued his peace for too long. It wouldn’t do him any good to think of you, it’s not like he could ever have you.

Sure you went to the same university but you might as well have been from two different worlds.

You were a popular sorority undergrad with the attention of virtually the entire male population on campus.

Choso was a PhD student who was used to fading in the background, most avoided him due his looks and academic focus anyway.

He only had an affiliation with you because his scholarships were tied to being a T.A. for undergrad forensics classes.

Also you did have a boyfriend.

An asshole neanderthal football-wide-receiver boyfriend who he would have been tempted to kill already had he not served his own purpose as a reality check and barrier for Choso.

Oh and had an eccentric obsession with blood going for him and was also the Ghostface copycat killer, that too.

He was sure that would go over well with you, Choso mused sarcastically.

☠

Upon returning to his dorm Choso took a shower, graded papers and tried to fall asleep but inevitably jerked his cock off to you.

Twice.

The sounds and images of your ditzy little laugh and skippy little panties consumed him as soon as he closed his eyes. The phantom feeling of the way your nipples felt pressed against his chest and how you clung to him desperately had him feeling near insatiable.

Choso admittedly thinks of killing you often. Just to get some peace of mind.

It wouldn’t be difficult at all to pull off. It’s not like you could put up much of a fight against him.

He didn’t want to break his rule of killing anyone with a connection to him but Choso had also never had anyone stir him the way you did.

You were a distraction and liability to him. If he killed you he could finally stop thinking about you…right?

You would make a beautiful death painting too.

Choso imagines thick red blood splattered across your curves.

The fatal gash from the femoral artery in your thigh oozing out a continuous stream of blood. The cut would have to be considerably deep too considering how meaty your thighs were.

Would the blood streak down your long leg as you desperately tried to hobble away from him in your slutty red heels?

Or would you collapse in fear and surrender to him fully? Landing in such a way that allowed the blood to redirect backwards and soil the flimsy red panties poorly concealing the fat of your cunt as you cried out in fear.

Fuck.

He was hard again.

He reached over to his night stand for his lotion bottle– practically empty thanks to his nonstop fantasies of you.

God, he was pathetic.

☠

The school week that followed was relatively uneventful.

You passed your lab midterms much to Choso’s surprise. Although you always seemed to pass with a relatively decent grade despite how you struggled to get there. Holding firm to your B average in the class and 3.3 GPA in your major overall.

He had to admit you were a better student than he originally gave you credit for. It makes him recall when he first saw you last spring.

You were a late enroll to Forensic Biology 101. Not only that, you burst into the third class of the semester nearly 15 minutes late.

Oblivious to all the eyes your disruption earned, you leaned on your knees as your chest heaved from exertion giving the entire class an amazing view of your tits spilling from your pink crop top adorned with the prestigious “AKA” sorority.

You definitely would have given the class an additional show from bending over in your tight green jean skirt had your ass not been facing the door. Choso eyes couldn't help but travel down the length of your legs, your glossy white painted toes peeking out strappy pink pumps.

You smiled brightly once you caught your breath and apologized for your late entrance but you were newly voted chapter vice president and had just come from your first meeting.

Surely you had the wrong classroom.

“Er– this class is Forensic Biology 101 young lady.” The older male professor had given you a once over also thinking you must be lost.

“Mhm, yup! I’m Y/N! I just changed my major!” you beamed and handed the professor your schedule.

He looked at it and back at you twice.

“Hm, well so it is…but you are already behind, little lady. Go and take a seat next to the T.A. in the back, Choso Kamo, he will catch you up.”

Just his luck. Choso didn’t want to babysit some sorority bimbo who would probably drop this class in two weeks once the labs started.

Your university was famous for the forensics program. If you graduated you were all but guaranteed a job at a prominent lab in a major city but more than two thirds of undergrad students dropped it once the rigorous labs began.

You didn’t look like you would last.

Especially when you told him your interest in forensics came from watching Dexter. You told him how you thought the actor was hott and how his kill rooms were ‘so cool.’ Choso definitely rolled his eyes at that and wrote you off as a soon-to-be drop out.

You proved him wrong though.

You were a bit of a ditz and a huge clutz but Choso came to understand t's more because you had about a billion different things going on in your head at once rather than you just being dumb or careless.

You were also a hard worker.

It was admirable how many activities you were involved in yet still tried as hard as you did in your classes. You always came to his T.A. review sessions and even sought him out at times while he was in the research library to ask him questions.

You were a good student and he was a horrible T.A. for even thinking of you in this way.

The campus bell tower struck noon in the distance and Choso looked down to see that he had only read a single paragraph since he sat down to study thirty minutes ago.

Fuck, he had lost himself in thinking about you again.

Choso put a hand over his face.

He was sitting alone at a picnic table on the outer, less populated edges of the quad trying to read a textbook but every time he heard a high pitched giggle he snapped his head up thinking it was you.

Class schedules were a bit different due to midterms and he hadn’t seen you the entire week other than to administer the lab but that didn’t mean you didn’t still plague his thoughts more increasingly as of late.

It was making Choso a bit reckless.

Needing to relieve stress he had created 2 more death paintings. A mistake as it was rumored the local police would soon reach out to bigger towns for more help and perhaps even the FBI would send an agent soon to campus if this kept up.

He had to move more carefully.

Maybe make it look like there were multiple Ghostface killers for starters.

“3 Victims, One Week: The Copycat Ghostface Reign of Terror Continues!”

You read aloud adding a bit of dramatic flair to your voice as you recite the front headline of the campus paper and jar Choso from his thoughts of you.

Speak of the devil.

You approached Choso at his table and he immediately noticed you were wearing his jacket again, well more like swimming in it as it was clearly too big for you.

This time though you were bundled up in a scarf, leggings and heeled booties. He was glad his face was already a bit red from sitting out in the cold because he couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts from forming that you looked even sexier cozied up and comfortable in his jacket than in the slutty sailor costume.

“I don’t know why you even bother reading that shit Y/N. They never have any interesting details anyway.” Choso tried to feign disinterest in your arrival but his leg was already slightly bouncing under the table, nervous energy returning.

“Well I have to! You wouldn’t go to the crime scene for me last Saturday, remember?”

How could he forget?

However a part of him did want you to view it though, his masterpieces, his kills.

See how glorious their blood looked sprayed on the walls, the ground, and the general surroundings of his victims.

But he knew you’d never appreciate them the way he did even if you were a forensics student.

“Oh and sorry!”

You interrupted his thoughts once again.

“I meant to give you back your jacket, I’ve been carrying it with me hoping I’d run into you but I ran out today and forgot mine…whoops! I hope you don’t mind me wearing yours a bit longer?”

Your saccharine smile has Choso sucking in a hard breath.

At this point he would prefer you to just keep it, he couldn’t trust himself if he had it back with your scent all over it knowing you had been carrying it around all week.

He would never know any peace.

“Keep it as long as you need.”

“Kay!”

You smile at him as you haphazardly plop your overstuffed tote bag down next to him, which of course spilled all its colorful contents all over the table.

“Oh Crap!”

You lean over to reach for your bag but almost spill the tray of hot coffees in your hand.

“Y/N, Watch out!”

Choso grabbed the tray before it could spill all over his and your belongings and sat it down on the table with a small exhale.

“Oh! Thank you!” You flash him a big grin. “I got this one for you!”

You handed him a grande cup with ‘pumpkin spice dirty chai’ scribbled on it.

Choso preferred his coffee black and he has definitely told you that before but you always just brought him whatever sugary drink you ordered saying he needed to ‘try new things’.

He wasn’t about to turn you down though, caffeine was caffeine and as a PhD student he needed all he could get. Choso also knew it was your way of thanking him for helping you so much in forensics.

“Thanks...” Choso mumbled taking a sip. Shit this is actually good.

You sat down next to him, a little too close for comfort with your spandex clad thigh brushing up against his leg.

“Whatcha reading? Is it for your thesis?” You were perilously close leaning on him as you looked over his broad shoulder onto his textbook.

“Yeah, some forensics texts I need to review for citations. This section focuses on serology and bloodstain pattern analysis,” Choso stated knowledgably.

“Oh! Like in Dexter!”

“Yeah, Y/N, like in Dexter.”

Maybe Choso is growing a bit soft as he can’t resist but to crack a small smile at your kid-like-enthusiasm for the subject, you were incorrigible.

Choso also doesn’t miss the way your eyes sparkle when you ask him to tell you more about his research.

And so he does.

Sometimes Choso forgets how easy you are to talk on the subject. To be frank no one outside his own PHD program ever asks him about his thesis so before he realizes it he’s letting his guard down to indulge you.

You both get so lost in the conversation to the point it hasn’t even phased Choso yet that you are now actually leaning on him.

Your soft cheek rests near his shoulder and your body angles deeper into his as you point to ask him about a passage on the page which he begins to break down.

You try to focus on his words but in the midst of Choso’s explanation your eyes stray from the text up to his face.

You feel your body start to warm.You always thought he was attractive. His dark looks never deterred you if anything they were refreshing from the crew cut preppy jocks around you. Even more so with his piercings in.

Choso never wore any of his piercings during classes or while in the research library. You counted six facial piercings in total from the three on his brows to the septum, labret and finally the black bar piercing through his tongue that darted out exposed with the movements of his mouth.

Studying him further you discover for the first time his tattoo across the bridge of his nose was actually covering a scar. It looked old but like it had been deep.

You couldn’t help but wonder if it had hurt him and why he chose to cover it.

You didn’t even realize you had reached out to touch it until you felt his gaze snap to you.

Stunned and a bit embarrassed, you withdraw your hand.

“Ah, sorry I just noticed your tattoo was covering a scar…” you trailed off hoping he wouldn’t be annoyed with you.

Annoyance was the last thing on Choso’s mind as finally registered how you had melded yourself into his side body.

Although his usual reaction would be to withdraw back, you might as well have him chained down to the table now as he was practically immobilized by you not even being able to look away.

“Uh, yeah it happened years ago when I was a kid...I fell off the monkey bars, there was a lot of blood.”

No one had even recognized it since Choso had it covered years ago. You were the first.

“Oh no! I loved the monkey bars, we used to climb up on them all the time when I was little. I guess those things are kinda dangerous huh? Actually, I’m kinda shocked I never fell, a miracle right?”

You laughed and Choso found himself smiling at you again.

You were too accident prone so it really was a miracle.

“Yeah, good thing you never fell Y/N… It would be a shame to have to get a big ugly tattoo on that cute face.”

Choso swore on his life those last words only were said in his head but from the way your eyes widened he knew he fucked up.

“I- that is.. I meant-”

Choso smacked a hand over his face. He can’t believe he just said that out loud to you. He was really losing it.

“So you think I’m cute?” you teased giggling. You angled your head so you could look up at him from underneath his hand.

“Yeah, about as cute as the blood splatter diagram on this page.” he teased you back. A small smirk on his features as he peeked at you through his fingers.

“Hey!”

Choso chuckled. Little did you know he actually paid you a huge compliment comparing you to something he thought so alluring as blood.

You grab the hand covering his face as your smile widens and you playfully struggle with Choso.

You don’t become aware of your close proximity until you almost bump noses.

Choso locks eyes with you and you feel your tummy tighten as you bite your lip.

You’re still holding his hand and after a while you work up the courage as your other hand comes up to touch his face.

“Your tattoo isn’t ugly Choso,” you breathe out softly.

Choso closes his eyes as you trace the scar beneath his tattoo.

You weren’t sure what you were doing but your hand involuntarily begins to travel across his face and his piercings until they graze over his lips and he opens his eyes again.

Startled by the sudden hungry look in his eyes you pull back your hand but he captures it in his own, him being the one to trap you this time.

If either one of you just moved even an inch forward your lips would touch. You see Choso’s lips part when–

“Yo! Hands off my girl, freakshow!”

“Dean!?” You pulled back out of Choso’s embrace, floored to see your boyfriend and some more of his football buddies heading towards you as you knew they still should have been at practice around this time.

“Oooh he’s in for it now messin’ with Dean’s girl.” Dean’s football friends snickered.

Choso audibly breathes out in exasperation. The moment was ruined and he really didn’t have the patience to deal with your neanderthal boyfriend and his football lackeys who all shared a singular brain cell.

Didn’t they have a ball or something to chase?

“Uh hey, Dean I..”

You stop yourself when it’s clear Dean is ignoring you entirely as he approaches the table. Not even looking your way to greet you.

His aura oozes faux tough guy bully and walks straight up to Choso to size him up leaning on the table to tower over him.

“I’m talking to you, freak. You think you can put your hands on what belongs to me?”

Choso doesn’t look up at him but his grip instinctively tightens on the pen in his hand under the table as if it was Ghostface’s hunting knife.

Dean’s show of bravado going ignored by Choso pisses him off even more that his teammates are with him and the tough guy act is failing to have any real effect.

Tch.

With a swift movement Dean knocks Choso’s coffee over on the table, its half drunken contents falling on both you, Choso and his books.

This has Choso rising out of his seat as he thinks your boyfriend must have an unknown death wish.

Choso’s pen is still in his grasp but by his side now. It would be too easy to drive it into Dean’s neck before the dolt even knew what hit him. A bit extreme, but it could be considered an unfortunate accident of self defense if Dean struck first.

Fortunately, you stepped in between the two in order to diffuse the situation without picking up on Choso’s murderous intent.

You chewed your lip. This was low key, your fault. You technically were dating Dean. Although Dean was always the furthest thing from your mind when you were around Choso.

You didn’t even feel guilty for being caught as you’ve had your own suspicions for a while Dean had been cheating on you anyway, you just couldn’t prove it. You were still dating him more out of convenience than anything else, other jocks and frat boys left you alone knowing you were with him.

The only guilt you actually did feel was for Choso. This wasn’t his problem or relationship but of course Dean was a big enough asshole to make this into an actual issue with Choso since it was becoming clearer how little respect he had for you.

“Dean, what the hell is your problem!? You got coffee everywhere, this isn’t even my jacket.”

“Don’t what the hell me Y/N, you're so fucking dumb you’re going to let this freak get in your pants when– wait you’re wearing fucking his jacket!?”

Dean was yelling now and a small crowd was forming and starting to take out their phones to record.

You could not let this turn into an incident.

“Dean chill the entire fuck out, would you?! It was cold, so he let me borrow it– He’s just my T.A.”

A wave of harsh realization washed over Choso.

Just her T.A.

Right.

Choso is no one important to you, especially with your football boyfriend and social standing on the line.

He’d let whatever the fuck almost happened between the two you just now make him forget that.

Not anymore.

“That’s right. I’m just her T.A. So if you’ll excuse me.”

Choso turned from you both to salvage what he could of his books and leave.

You couldn’t place the emotions in Choso’s words and it made your chest tighten up. But you weren’t trying to write him or your almost-kiss off.

You didn’t mean for it to come out that way but you really lacked the proper words in these kinds of situations.

“Where do you think you’re going, loser?”

Dean grabbed Choso’s shoulder but the intense murderous look in his eyes made Dean release him just as quickly as if he had been burned.

Even his football goon friends unconsciously took a few steps back feeling the very real threat in Choso’s eyes.

Choso smirked as he left. Thought so.

“W-wait Cho–”

You want to stop him but feel Dean’s rough grip on your wrists.

“Whatever, let’s fucking go Y/N. We have an important party to throw later.”

Dean grabs your wrist and jerks you away with you barely being able to grab your bag.

Your stomach twists and you are at a complete loss for words but manage to flash an apologetic look at Choso while you are dragged off.

However when your eyes meet he looks right through you.

The expression on his face is stone cold and it sends a chill up your spine.

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

A/N: I promise it won't take as long for the second part to come out. I'm half way done with it already! I was just going to wait and post it all together but a like 12k+ word post all at once would be insane lmfao. After I am finished with this prompt the next 3 stories I will do will be from Thrilling Ghouls as they are all much shorter PWPs in the 3-5k range and I won't have to stress so much since I'm realizing all my Smooth Criminal prompts are longer fics and it takes me like a week or more to write them.

ღTaglistღ: @callm3senpaii @arxliana @jujutsualy @luxiethefairy @akaza-simp01 @fredswh0re @missphanosaur18 @moon-esque @samicamy-13

comment on m.list to be tagged in future Kinktober '23 stories

Reblog for Ghostface!Choso to come steal your panties although comments and likes are appreciated all the same!

PART 2

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the-orion-scribe · 1 month

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Points below the cut! Feel free to vote and help reblog for larger sample count!

Pros:

Dipper is always a fan of the supernatural, so its a great opportunity for him to do further research of his interests

Ford has 12 PHDs, so he's a suitable teacher and mentor for Dipper

Dipper also has friends (Soos and Wendy) in Gravity Falls rather than Pidemont (from Escape from Reality it's implied he didn't have as many friends). He would be able to craft a better social life in Gravity Falls

Throughout the show we see how their actions are dependent of each others'. If Dipper stays in GF. It not only allows him to grow independently of his sister, but similarly for Mabel. Also, Mabel letting Dipper go would be a key development of her arc, for she had mainly been selfish towards her brother during the show.

Cons:

No Mabel by his side. But they can still compromise with video chat. This isn't the 50s or 60s when the separation means more for the Stans.

The Mystery Shack would be no more as Ford reclaims his home for scientific research. Stan might be forcibly removed unless the two somehow worked out their issues.

Dipper is only 12/13 and isn't old or mature enough to be away from his parents

While a decent teacher, Ford doesn't seem to be a competent caretaker. He currently still sees Dipper as a lab assistant; essentially another adult, rather than a child who despite being mature in some ways, is still woefully underdeveloped in others.

Ford does not, currently, exist in any legal sense thanks to Stan assuming his identity for the last 30 years and faking his own death. No form of education he could offer would be recognized as legitimate until he can reclaim his identity, which would likely take at least a year if not more.

Apprenticeships in this day and age are *secondary* education, like a trade school. Dipper still need to graduate high school or its equivalent first, or resolve plenty of legalities and so on.

Thanks to @theoryofweirdness and @detectivejigsawpines for sharing more of the points for deliberation! Feel free to vote and reblog for larger sample size!

#gravity falls #dipper pines #stan pines #ford pines #mabel pines #apprentice au #polls

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sassypossumm · 15 days

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Finally

Art cred: mao0047 on X (they're really so good...)

FINALLY getting around to cleaning out my inbox, to the lovie that requested Professor!Miguel x Student this one's for you (made reader a TA grad student) MDNI TW: smut,brief mention of child's death, infidelity, P in V,degredation

"Professor? You in here?" Knocking on the heavy door, you frowned when you got no response.

He always did this.

Miguel O'Hara, stodgy genetics prof that he was, had a bad habit of falling down research rabbit holes. And when he did, you might as well have been dealing with the absent minded professor.

Sighing, you shoved open the door and stepped inside, immediately taken aback by the musty smell and horribly dim light. As your eyes adjusted to the light, your heart squeezed at the sight.

When you'd first started this TA program, you'd dreaded your assignment. Genetics?! You'd balked. What on earth did you know about genetics?!

Then you'd met your assigned professor.

Miguel O'Hara, genetics 101 prof. The man was a giant, disheveled, socially awkward, cerebral...teddy bear.

There was no other way to put it. One look at those wide, tired, gorgeous brown eyes and you knew you were sunk. Now, leaning against thr door frame, watching his hulking frame dwarf the dingy hole of an office, you couldn't stop the thundering of your heart.

You cleared your throat, and Miguel's head shot up. You stifled a smile at the way his glasses slid down his nose, and made note of the sheer exhaustion etched into his features. He looked far beyond his 38 years, in fact, he looked ready to be carved into the side of Mount Rushmore alongside the stony faced founding fathers.

"How long you been in here, Professor?" At your concerned tone, Miguel leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. Stepping into the space, you struggled to not let your eyes wander to the way his frame practically swallowed his chair as he man spread.

Sitting across from him, you busied yourself with papers as he ran a hand through his hair and groaned. You rubbed your thighs together, trying not to imagine what those gorgeous thighs of his might feel like braced on either side of you as you-

"Y/N?"

"Huh?" The sound of his voice shot through you, bringing you back to the present. Looking up, you met his eyes, and took in his expectant stare. Clearly he'd been trying to get your attention. Your cheeks heated at your foolish thoughts. Blinking hard, you pushed down the unrealistic notions.

There was no way a man like Miguel O'Hara would ever be interested in you. After all, hadn't you been throwing out hints half the semester.... and after that last poetry session you'd both attended...maybe Hobie was right...you were reading more into the lingering stares than was actually there.

"Yes, professor," You cleared your throat. "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening." Miguel gave you a tired smile and pulled off his bifocals.

"It's okay, Y/N. I remember my last week of finals before I received my PHD."

"Did you get your PHD before or after Fred Flinstone received his?" His eyes creased at the corners at your light banter.

"Before, you smart ass, who do you think tutored him?" He said with a conspiratorial grin. Of all the things you'd done and accomplished in thr past year, this was what you'd miss thr most.

The easy familiarity you and Miguel had slipped into. After papers were graded, and everything was organized, you'd occasionally relax and just... talk. Over a cup of coffee, and even at his house once or twice, you'd just talk.

It was crazy to think just how familiar you'd become with his life. Over the past several months, he'd begun opening up more and more. About his first girlfriend, how he'd left her for his brother's girlfriend. You'd been struck at the thought of the Miguel you knew cheating on anybody...it seemed such an alien idea.

Then he'd shown you the pictures of his daughter, Gabi. The daughter who'd been cruelly taken from him in a car accident. Your heart had broke. To have something so tragic happen, and then to top it off, his wife blamed him for the whole thing.

Youd tried to assure him that it clearly hadn't been his fault, but he'd stiffened and shook off your attempts. On thst one, you'd backed down. He'd put up a clear boundary, and you hadn't wanted to push him away.

Miguel, however, had no qualms about dragging his ex wife through the verbal mud, and venomously at that. From the way he spoke, it was obvious he had no remaining good will for the woman who'd blamed him for his daughters death, and insulted him at every turn for his supposed 'giving up' when he'd begun gaining weight.

Your blood still boiled when you thought about it. The woman was hurting, but that hadn't given her thr right to hurt Miguel. Righteous indignation burned in your belly as you looked at the tured, beautiful man across from you.

He deserved the world.

"Professor,"

"Please, Miguel, we're practically colleagues." He said, stretching his arms above his head.

Now that was odd...

Miguel had always been very strict about remaining professional. Come to think of it, he'd been calling you by your first name since you'd entered... maybe...

"Professor, I don't think that's very," he cut you off with a pointed look.

"Next fall you'll be just as much a professor as I am."

"Shakespearean Poetry and the Romantics can hardly be considered of equal value to genetics." You balk, but not for long. Miguel leaned forward and looked at you intently.

"Poetry is just as valuable as genetics, if not more so." You opened your mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes quieted you. The eyes were thr same, that visible exhaustion seemed a permanent addition to his features, but there was something...something different.

There was an unfamiliar intensity dancing in those deep pools of brown you'd fallen for. Before, you'd adoring thought of his eyes like those of a big puppy, but now...now the only phrase that came to mind was 'bedroom eyes'. You shivered at both the thought, and the electricity you felt growing between you.

On your end, you'd always known that draw existed,but youd never dreamt this giant teddy bear felt the same.

"Professor," Your tone was breathy. His brow raised slightly.

"Miguel." He instructed simply. Your tongue stuck to the rood of your mouth, and your skin grew warmer.

"Miguel." You murmured. He hummed, and you felt a thrill of pride run of your spine at the idea that you'd pleased him. "What, um, what is, what are we," He silenced you with another seerimg look.

"I'm socially awkward, Y/N," he gave you a warm smile. "But not entirely oblivious." Sliding his hand across the table, he grazed your fingers with his thumb. "I'd have to be entirely ignorant to ignore this...spark, if you will, that exists between us."

You shuddered at the contact, your eyes fluttering shut at his husky tone. A deep rumble went through his chest and he raised your fingers to his lips.

"Why wait so long?" You chanced a look at him, and felt your breathing shallow. He smiled against your fingers, and drew your thumb into his mouth, sucking softly, before withdrawing it, nipping the tip teasingly.

Where on earth did this man come from, and what had he done with your Miguel?

"For one thing, it hardly seemed prudent to risk either of our positions for something that was so clearly more than a one time fuck." He said calmly, turning over your hand to kiss thr inside of your wrist. You shuddered at his calculated tone and bit back a sound.

"You don't want to fuck me?" Your voice wavered, the words no more than a breath. Miguel's eyes darkened, and a predatory grin slowly morphed his features from placid genetics teacher to something...lewder.

"Oh, I want to fuck you, hermosa." He purred, sucking at your fluttering pulse point. "But I also want to make love to you, decadently." His lips dance up your arm. "Voraciously."

He stands, leaning over the table to dwarf you completely, pressing delicate kisses along your shoulder and up your neck. "Over. And over. And over again." His voice rumbles low in your ear, sending tendrils of arousal straight to your core.

Your head falls to the side, invitingly. You're not entirely certain what's come over him, but you're not about to question it. A whimper escapes your mouth as he finally turns your face up towards his with a firm hand on your jaw.

"For another thing," he breathed against your lips. "I wanted to see who'd break first."

"You." His lips quirk momentarily at your quip.

"Si, nena. You prove to be quite stubborn." He growls the final word before capturing your lips with his. You moan softly, and when his tongue brushes against yours, you surrender completely.

Whining desperately, you rake your fingers through his hair and tug wantonly at his shirt as his tongue expertly coaxed a litenty of primal praises from your throat. His hand slid down your jaw to enclose gently around your throat, and he groaned as your moans and whimpers sent vibrations through his fingers.

You trid tugging him across the desk, but Miguel simply grunted, tearing his mouth away from yours to press bruising sucks and kisses down the column of your throat. You whined at began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Ah-ah" Miguel growled, catching your hand in his. Biting down on your collar bone, he pulled back and looked at you. "Greedy little thing... we do this my way."

His way meant bending you over the desk, wrists held behind your back in one of his large hands as he took you mercilessly from behind.

"Th-this the fucking you mentioned?" You panted between thrusts, groaning when the base of his cock grazed your clit. Miguel hissed at the way your walls fluttered in response to the stimulation and slowed his pace, wrapping his free hand around the back of your neck, pushing your further into the desks surface.

"Callarse la boca." He grunted, picking up his speed. Miguel's hips slapped against your ass, accompanied by his occasional moan and your profuse broken sounds of pleasure. The erotic sounds seemed to spur him on, and his grip on your neck tightened as he released your wrists to slap your ass soundly. You cried out, clenching around his deliciously hard cock.

"You like that?" He growled, slapping your ass again. "You like being fucked like a slut?" Your eyes squeezed shut and you moaned. He reased your neck and gripped your hair, turning your face roughly as he continued steadily pounding into you.

"Answer me." He hissed, slapping your ass again. You like being fucked like this? Like my own personal cock sleeve?" Your breathing was labored and you moaned weakly. You could feel the veins of his cock as he brushed passed your g-spot with ever thrust.

"I, Uh-huh, so good, Miggy...." He groaned at your needy tone. "Please, need, need it, so bad..." You whimpered, thrumming and flushed, teetering on the edge of climax.

"Shhh. I got you, bebita. I'll give you what you need." He shushed you, pressing a tender kiss to your temple before grabbing your hips and pulling you back into his thrusts. You cried out as his cock bullied your clit and pussy with quick rhythmic thrusts.

"I'm gonna, Migs," You babbled, scrambling for purchase on anything to cling to. Folding himself over you, Miguel laced his hands over yours and murmured nonsensical praises in your ear, not letting up on his punishing pace.

"Let go, I got you."

With those words, you toppled over the edge, twitching and shuddering as you came all over his cock, and went boneless against the desks surface, lost in a haze of white hot pleasure as your walls clamped around his cock like a vice. Miguel groaned and his hips stuttered before his cock twitched, and he came soon after you, filling the condom with his cum.

Sighing heavily, Miguel scooped you into his arms before flopping back in his chair. Cleanup and damage control would be a job for later. Right now, you were sat, warm and sated in his arms.

And that was enough for him.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel imagine #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x y/n #Professor Miguel #Sassy requests

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justawritterwithideas · 1 year

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Boy Wonder and the Rockstar | s.r

✩ next part ✩

summary: Spencer and Y/N meet in college after a book search, creating a friendship where opposites attract. But Spencer has to move across the country to pursue his happiness and completely loses contact with Y/N. What if fate decides it's time to meet after 15 years and with a crazy stalker in between? Spencer won't lose to fate again and will do anything in his power to protect Y/N.

warnings: mentions of death, alcohol, drugs, strong vocabulary, as well as talk of heartbreak, disappointment and arguments. It also contains content regarding CM season 13, so it clearly contains spoilers. this is a spencer reid x famous!reader story.

this will be a small series of chapters so here are the general precautions of the series, each chapter will have its own precautions. !!!

words: 3,909 words.

a/n: hey! here alme with a little series i've been planning for a couple of weeks now. as you may know, i've been talking about the spencer reid x famous!reader relationship but as hayley williams, so i decided to set myself the challenge and write a little series called "boy wonder and the rockstar", so i hope you like it. i haven't planned how many chapters it will have yet but i don't want to make it too long, and also patience with each chapter. so, I don't want to make it longer and I'll leave you the first chapter. thank you. ♡

𝟎.𝟏: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐲.

Spencer always lived under the stigma of being a child genius. His I.Q. was 187, he could read 20,000 words per minute and had an eidetic memory.

Everyone around him told him what to do, from his mother, to his "friends," to his teachers, to his neighbors.

"Hey Spencer, with that brain of yours you could make it in the government" "Spencer you could be part of NASA" "Spencer you could be a mathematical genius like Einstein!" "Spencer you're going to get into the CIA!"

"And where are you going to go to college? Because you know Harvard is already a lock for you" "I bet you'll go to YALE, that's where all the smart ones go" "Princeton is an excellent choice for you!" "MIT could open a lot of doors for you"

Spencer this, Spencer that.

But no one really thought about what Spencer wanted. Maybe he wanted to be a magician and make children happy with his tricks. Maybe he wanted to be a trapeze artist, or a fireman, or an astronaut, or just an ice cream man.

All these expectations of Spencer reached a point where he didn't even know what he wanted in life. He lived under the shadow of the expectations and visions people had placed on him, and he didn't want to let them down. He was just a kid, a kid scared of adult life who had to impose himself because others imposed it on him.

That's how his brain made him skip grades, have to enter high school at age 12, and have to suffer a lot of abuse from the grown-ups for just being a boy genius.

Spencer sometimes wished he could make his brain disappear and have a normal one. Then he could have normal friends, go to a normal school, have a relationship, experience the problems people his age have, and be able to feel the phases of adolescence like any other kid.

But things were not like that.

He had to live the life he had been dealt, with his genius brain and the damn adult problems at 13.

CalTech was a new life he had to accept, but it wasn't as bad as the one he had before. His mind was kept busy for a long period.

He was forced to grow up around books full of equations, chemical elements and mathematical problems, managing at 16 to get his first college degree, which was Mathematics, and the following year to get a PhD in it. But he did not dislike this.

But as they say it is never enough, he kept on studying until he was 21. Thanks to this, he became a doctor of two more degrees, Chemistry and Engineering, in addition to Psychology, Sociology and Criminology.

His social life at the university was not so hectic, in fact, he only stood out for the fact that he was a boy genius, and that was it. To other people, he was a person like any other.

Until one autumn day, in the middle of his 19 years and studying psychology, his paths were interrupted by crossing that of others, and that, probably, is the person who changed his life the last years of college.

It was an ordinary day in the university library. Spencer had been rereading an encyclopedia of human anatomy for two hours. Why you may wonder, well, it was his way of killing time during his free time.

Acquiring knowledge was the best way to keep his brain fed and occupied, according to the boy.

He had eaten his sandwich a couple of minutes ago and let his brain feed on information at that moment, trying to persuade his intrusive thoughts at that minute. Through the pages you could see the muscular system, focusing on the leg and foot areas.

To be honest, it looked quite interesting.

That day, leaves were beginning to fall from the trees, filling the ground with their autumn colors; there was a gentle cool breeze, a strong smell of wet dirt and people were crowded in the warmer areas of the campus. It was no surprise to anyone that the library was one of the most crowded areas, the vast majority of people were gathered around the tables as large college texts lay open on them.

Spencer was sure he had seen more than one student curse at the fact that they couldn't find what they were looking for, and then walk out of the room in exhaustion. It wasn't the first time someone had cursed his name because they found themselves reading the text they were looking for and, besides, they weren't able to approach and ask for it.

He could believe it was cowardly on their part, maybe they were too shy to be able to do it or it was an excuse to put off studying what they were looking for. Even though he considered that the The study methods they had were not very good and, if they started studying earlier, they could increase their grad-

"Excuse me."

A voice interrupted the conversation Spencer was having with himself, pushing away his intrusive thoughts that were beginning to take over his mind. The young man's head turned and he saw a girl, perhaps his age, staring at the encyclopedia in front of him.

"I asked Miss Wellington about the Rouviére and Delmas encyclopedia of human anatomy, and well..." The girl looked over Spencer's shoulder. "She told me that maybe the boy sitting at the back table had it. There are no other tables in the back and you're the only guy sitting here, so I think my deduction is correct and you have it."

"Y-yes, this is the encyclopedia you're looking for." Spencer admitted, looking at the young woman.

More than looking at her, he was admiring her. She was wearing a red skirt and hoodie with some embroidered words on it, her legs were also wearing dark leggings and some rather damaged black converses, over it she was carrying another coat and a backpack; her arms were loaded with medical and anatomy books, plus her hair was disheveled.

"Great! Must be my lucky day that a cute guy has it." Her books fell onto the table and she sat down next to Spencer.

The boy could smell the scent of tobacco and mint mixed with the scent of cherry perfume.

"May I see?" Spencer turned to look at her and, even though he was reading that book first, his head nodded. "Fine! I just want to see..." The sound of the leaves was rapid, as if a fan was moving them. "This... Nervous system."

Suddenly, and as if by magic, a notebook appeared in front of them both and quickly the girl was beginning to write on the blank sheets, even though to Spencer it looked more like a scribble than a resume as such.

"Shit, what is this?" the girl paused to read more closely. "In the central axon, the electrical signal is converted into a chemical signal, and then releases the chemical signal with chemical messengers called neur-neurotransmitters." The sound of the pencil falling on the table made the boy startle.

"Nervous system?"

"That's right, I have a lecture in three days and I'm still trying to associate concepts in the nervous system. Like my nervous system isn't nervous anymore."

Spencer chuckled to himself, the girl had a funny sense of humor.

"In fact, when the brain interprets that we are in danger, it produces a rush of adrenaline that activates the heart and muscles to place them on alert, but if prolonged, it can lead to health problems such as cardiovascular disease like heart attack and is associated with hypertension and arrhythmias and is the enhancer of other cardiovascular risk factors." Spencer turned to look at the girl, who looked quite interested in what he was saying, jotting everything down in her notebook. "But it's not that your nervous system is 'nervous', it's that it interprets that it's in danger and so it sends that kind of stimulus to your body that makes you anxious."

"I see you know about the nervous system, much more than I do." The girl scanned him from head to toe. "Are you a medical student?"

"No, CalTech doesn't have a medical degree, but I am a doctor." The boy admitted.

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"Shit, and you already have a doctorate?"

"Actually I have three."

Silence stretched between the two, caused by the woman's shock.

"Are you some kind of alien or is your brain too big that it stores more information than I can retain?"

"Well, I have an IQ of 187 so I can read 20,000 words per minute, plus I have eidetic memory. But I prefer the concept of being more advanced than others."

The girl stared at him.

But to his surprise, the young woman only let out a giggle.

"You're funny, I like it." No one had ever told Spencer that he was funny. In fact, he thought that adjective didn't directly relate to him. "I'm Y/N, Y/N L/N."

"Spencer...Spencer Reid." Y/N denied.

"No, you're not Spencer."

"Excuse me?"

"You're Dr. Spencer Reid." Spencer smiled, she was right. "Well, it's nice to meet you, dr. Reid."

"Nice to meet you, Miss L/N." They both smiled.

"Well, now that I know your name, dr. Reid, we can start our friendship."

Spencer never thought making friends was so easy, even though he knew it was because the girl had gone to the trouble of calling herself his "friend," without even knowing him.

But that didn't bother him, in fact, he found it nice that someone had decided to be his friend.

Overnight, Spencer's evenings began to become more colorful, smelling of tobacco and mint, and filled with questions from Y/N, his new friend.

Although, at first, Spencer didn't seem comfortable around the girl, he quickly got used to it. He had learned several things about Y/N over the days, such as that she was a medical student at Pasadena City College, a college a couple of blocks from CalTech; she was the youngest in the family and had an older brother who had been diagnosed with leukemia a couple of years ago.

He had also learned that she was very into fashion, lived in an apartment complex nearby, smoked a couple of years ago, and only liked menthol tobacco cigarettes. Her favorite color was orange, but she didn't think it looked good on her, and she didn't see herself going to medical school, but she wanted to be a singer.

The first time Spencer heard Y/N sing was during a kermes in Pasadena City, she had been invited to sing on behalf of the medical school. Spencer never liked the idea of being around so many people, let alone at a kermes which was as unsanitary as possible, but his new "best friend" had begged him to go.

He couldn't say no.

He remembered perfectly how her hands shook with nerves, how she bit her lip as she cleared her throat and watched her bandmates, aka Y/N's other friends, rehearse with their instruments.

He knew she had practiced for this moment a bunch of times, had more than once arrived at Spencer's dorm wet from head to toe from running in the rain after a rehearsal, and hummed the songs under her breath every time they studied together in the library.

She was more than ready, but her own fears sometimes made her afraid of her talent.

Reid's eyes were on her, smiling confidently to convey that feeling as a guitar began to play the first chords, and announced the start of her performance.

Spencer didn't know what song it was, he wasn't even sure if the song was to his taste, but when he heard Y/N's voice he knew it had become his favorite song.

“Her name is Noelle

I have a dream about her, she rings my bell

I got gym class in half an hour

And, oh, how she rocks

In Keds and tube socks

But she doesn't know who I am

And she doesn't give a damn about me”

Their gaze was on each other, as if they were the only ones in that large space. The few times the eye contact was broken was when Y/N closed her eyes.

The song ended successfully and an avalanche of applause greeted Y/N, who thanked the audience for their attention. Soon another band filled the stage and for a few seconds, Spencer lost sight of Y/N. He wanted to tell her how great she had turned out, how all her effort and practice had made everything come out perfectly and that she looked like a total rockstar on stage.

"Spence! How was it, did you like it?" Y/N hugged the boy's arm, who turned to look at her with a sweet smile on his face.

"It was amazing, Y/N. Everyone loved it." Affirmed the boy.

"I was so nervous, I was so afraid it wouldn't go well, but I saw you there, and I felt like I could do it. You're my lucky charm, Spencie."

Spencer felt something jump in his chest.

"Let's get something to eat, I'm dying for some corn-dogs." Said the opposite.

"Y-yeah, let's get something to eat, my treat."

The day Spencer was accepted into the FBI academy was probably the most bittersweet day of his entire life.

At 22 years old, and in the middle of finishing his college semester for what felt like the fifth time, a letter arrived in his dorm room.

A letter of acceptance.

He could feel that all his hard work had been rewarded by whoever was up there. He quickly put on his sneakers and ran a marathon to the medical building at Pasadena City College.

His best friend's short red hair he could quickly visualize as he saw her smoking by the entrance, she seemed to be listening to something on her MP4 and bobbing her head to the beat of-who-knows-what song.

"Y/N! Y/N!" Spencer's voice sounded agitated, trying to get her best friend's attention.

The, now, redhead removed her earpiece and turned to see the tall boy running towards her.

"Spence?" From her mouth came the tobacco smoke, causing her to let the cigarette burn between her fingers.

"I made it, I got into the academy!"

The two big hazel eyes made contact with those of the girl, who dropped the cigarette to the sidewalk and hugged her friend tightly.

"I can't believe it, Spence! You did it! You did it! My goodness, I couldn't be prouder!" The younger girl began to do some jumping jacks as she didn't let go of her grip on his embrace.

"Thank you, Y/N. I couldn't have done it without you, you were the one who stuck with me through this whole process."

"You don't have to thank me, dorkie. I knew you'd make it, they couldn't leave out a genius like you." Soon they both disengaged from the embrace and the girl looked at the boy's face. "W-where is the academy? Tell me."

"I don't know, I-I didn't fully read the letter." He admitted embarrassed.

"Then read it! Go on." The girl took him by the arm and forced him to sit down on the faculty stairs.

Slowly, Spencer began to read the letter while Y/N listened intently to every word.

"The course begins on September 23rd of the current year in..." A pause.

Y/N looked at Spencer, who had stopped reading the letter.

"Where, Spence, what does it say?"

"The course begins September 23rd of the current year in Quantico, Virginia."

Y/N felt like a bucket of cold water had just been dropped on her.

Quantico? That was on the other side of the country!

"Q-quantico? Spence, that's on the other side of the-"

"Country, I know Y/N. I-I... I can't do it, I can't."

"What the fuck are you talking about!" The girl stood up startled, looking accusingly at her best friend. "No, I refuse. You have to do it, it's your dream, Spence! What you've always wanted for the last three years that I've known you, I refuse to let you back down now, I won't allow it!"

Spencer looked up from the letter, watching Y/N who was looking at him with her face burning with anger.

"You know I can't do that, what's going to happen to my mom? You know what's going on with her and her schizophrenia, I can't leave her alone."

"She would want you to go, Spence. Her happiness is where yours is, you know she'll be able to do it, there are plenty of options to help her." A long silence settled between the two of them.

Spencer didn't want to leave California, he didn't want to leave his mother or Y/N, he couldn't.

"Spencer Reid, I know what you're thinking right now, but I won't let you let this opportunity pass you by. You have dreamed of this exact moment for years, for as long as I have known you you have always wanted to go to the academy and you have done everything in your power to do so. Now they are offering it to you on a silver platter, you have to do it, there is nothing more you can do here in California. You've already studied all the existing careers in the world, you've already done what anyone in 50 years would have done and at your short 22 years you're already a doctor of three careers." The girl settled back down beside him, letting her icy hand wrap around Spencer's warm one. "You can't just limit yourself to staying here just because you have an engagement, the world has to know who Dr. Spencer Reid is like I know him, you have to go."

Spencer drew an elongated smile, feeling his body fill with that feeling of sadness that pervaded him from head to toe.

The redhead's words were true, it was his dream. But he didn't want to leave the only thing that made him happy on the other side of the country, he would love to carry it in his pocket to Virginia and have his dose of serotonin after each day.

He didn't want to stop smelling her tobacco and minty breath, the cherry smell coming off her clothes and the blueberry smell coming off her hair. He wanted to keep seeing the reddish locks of hair on his clothes and the cheesy paper notes in his pockets every time they met. He wanted to keep listening to the music on Y/N's MP4 every time he went to her apartment and drink coffee with lots of sugar that she made for him, keep hearing her voice in the shower and get biology questions at three in the morning every time she had a test.

He wanted to go to thrift stores to try on printed T-shirts and watch Y/N's camera fill up with pictures of the two of them, keep going to her shows with her band and eat frozen pizza after every gig.

He wanted to keep being with her.

But if she was letting him go, then he had to let her go too.

"I think I can go on living without hearing your bad jokes." Spencer's words lifted Y/N's spirits, who gave him a playful smile.

"Hey! My jokes are the best, last time you laughed for two hours."

"Because it was stupid."

They both laughed, letting the tension of the moment go with the last echo of their laughter.

"So you'll go across the country to make me proud?"

"Yes, I'll go make you proud."

Y/N's arms wrapped around Spencer's body, resting her head in the space of his shoulder and chin.

"I'm glad you didn't make a dumb decision."

Staying here with you isn't a dumb decision, Spencer thought.

They both pulled apart.

"Well, screw the skeleton. Let's go to the library and write your answer."

The girl's small hand imprisoned the boy's large hand, guiding him to the library to write what would be Spencer's fate.

The flight from California to Washington was five hours.

Five hours where Spencer and Y/N would be separated, and they would have to accept that fate had something different in store for the two of them.

Despite California being a sunny paradise, that day he wanted to keep the two friends company as they said goodbye at the airport.

"You already know my number, you know you can call me whenever you want." Commented the girl, who was in charge of carrying the book she had given him to read during the trip.

"I'm not such a fan of technology, you know that."

"There are pay phones over there too, Spence. It only costs a couple of cents to call me, plus they must have landlines there, and you have my email." The girl stopped in front of the door that separated goodbyes with new beginnings. "And if not, you can send me a letter. You know my address."

"A letter doesn't sound bad at all, in fact, for centuries, it was one of the most widely used means of communication by human civilizations since man began to write and whose importance transcended nations. The oldest courier service ever found was in Egypt in 2400 B.C. and in 1840, Sir Rowland Hill created the first postage stamp, which was called Penny Black, which was a profile drawing of Queen Victoria of England that had the rate 'One Penny' written on it."

"Oh Spence, I'm going to miss your fun facts about absurdly boring things." Commented the girl before she could hug him.

Spencer felt his heart clench.

"I'll miss you listening to me." They both turned in an embrace so tight it could take all the oxygen out of their bodies.

Neither wanted to be the first to say goodbye, neither was ready to leave the other. Their hearts were bound together like puzzle pieces, and just as when you lose one, the puzzle will no longer be complete.

"Now, you must go, your flight is about to leave." Y/N commented, separating from the young man as she wiped away the small tear that escaped from her eyes. "Miss me a lot, huh? And show off how pretty your best friend is."

"Always. Remember that wherever you are, whatever you do or whoever you're with, you'll always be in my heart."

A pout settled in Y/N's mouth, who felt like she was letting a part of her go with Spencer.

"Don't forget about me, because I will never forget about you." Demanded the girl, who was pushing the boy to go for his flight.

"It's impossible for me to forget you, I have an eidetic memory." He said laughing, waving goodbye as he received the book the girl handed him.

The two met in a final embrace, where Spencer could smell the girl's cherry and menthol tobacco scent for the last time.

"Write me!" Y/N vociferated, waving goodbye to the boy who nodded and disappeared behind the airport doors.

Y/N and Spencer didn't know that at that moment fate would place them on trial, causing their paths to diverge for many years until, magically, they would come together again.

“When two souls are meant to meet, fate brings worlds closer, erases distances, joins paths and defies the impossible.” Anonymous.

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencerreid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x famous!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #it's my first series #almeseries

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glowing-gold · 5 months

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It’s tough for me to have a casual conversation with someone about The Beatles. You see, a lot of people know me as “the girl who loves The Beatles”, so at parties people come up to me, they make the innocent mistake of approaching me while I’m 3-4 drinks in, and they ask me, “so you really like The Beatles huh?” a harmless, get to know you kind of question, an ice breaker if you will. And at first, I have to pretend to be cool about it. I’m like “yeah, that’s me! Big Beatles Fan over here!” And they’ll be lulled into a false sense of security and start asking me questions they think are fun party questions to ask someone. So they ask me, they say “What’s your favorite song?” And I tell them, I can’t possibly choose. There are so many to choose from, it depends on my mood, the time of day, what color I’m wearing, the weather outside. Are we talking early Beatles, middle-era or late stage Beatles? Is it a ballad or a rocker? What album is it on? Is it a John song, Paul song or a George song? Who produced the song? Etc etc

and I can see their eyeballs start to bulge as they realize, perhaps this was not the casual conversation they were hoping to have at their friends birthday party. So I grin and shake my head and backpedal and let them know if I had to choose, with a gun to my head, I’d probably say the Abbey Road Medley. this puts them back at ease, i can see them silently thank god, because they know what I’m talking about, they’ve heard that one and they probably like it too! We discuss which parts are best (Bathroom Window) and which parts aren’t as strong (Mr. Mustard). But then I’ll forget to be cool and start telling them about how the guitar solos on The End are actually Paul George and John taking turns, and how it’s probably the last time any of them played together in the studio and how devastating that is when you take into account the title of the song and the fact that they knew it was all coming to a close…. But only if you consider Abbey Road to be the last Beatles album, which is a hot button topic considering Let It Be came out in ‘70…

So they look at me and nod, looking Nervous again. Then, thinking they’re saving themselves by changing the subject, they ask me another fun, easy to answer, non-loaded party question: “so why DID they break up???!!”

See, that’s when I have to make a decision. Do I give this person the PhD defense they never asked for? Do I shut down the conversation right there and then? Do I TRY to give them the short answer they’re looking for (keeping in mind, I’m a little tipsy)?

I usually try to make the answer short but every time it ends up into a dissertation. And god, help me. I can SEE them lose interest with every passing second. Their eyes glaze over, they’re on their fourth or fifth “damn, that’s crazy”. But I’m grabbing their arm, white knuckled and crazed, frantically pleading with them: “there’s a lick in Beef Jerky that sounds IDENTICAL to the lick in Let Me Roll It, which goes to show these two men couldn’t stop writing together even when they were separated for years, and they continue to write together 40+ after John’s DEATH and isn’t their story the most TRAGIC AND HEARTBREAKING LOVE STORY OF OUR TIME????!!!!!

anyway, this meme:

#the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #george harrison #ringo starr #mclennon #beatles #now and then #special interest

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 2 months

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Congratulations on 5k

Could you do 6 and 16 for Orm if he's not allowed Steve.

.⋆｡Dosage｡⋆.

Orm Marius x plus size reader

You get stuck babysitting the Ocean Master, you should’ve guessed that he would stir up some trouble

Warnings: sex pollen so little bit of dub-con, mention of tranquilisers and death, Batman not being helpful, swearing, no smut but nudity and implied smut

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

5k Follower Celebration

You wondered what you did to warrant this terrible punishment. The lab was silent, your music having been forcefully turned off by your employer an hour before and you were pinned to your seat by the icy blue eyes of your charge.

Babysitting, that’s what you had been reduced to. It’s not like your three PHDs could be put to better use than making sure Arthur’s brother didn’t wander off and get himself into trouble. You rationalised that you could deal with it fine as long as he kept his mouth shut and his hands to himself but evidently the ex King of Atlantis had a serious staring problem and it was so much more distracting than if he had been chatting your ear off.

Sighing heavily, your head dropped between your shoulders and you pulled your glasses off your nose. “Do you really have to stare at me the whole time like some kind of fucking vouyer?” Orm huffed, finally looking away and giving you a chance to observe the Atlantian.

There was no doubt that he was beautiful, with a chilled jaw, perfect skin, fluffy blond hair and a body that would rival Michelangelo’s David but as soon as he opened his mouth, all that beauty melted away. He was arrogant and entitled and for some damn reason he refused to let you work in peace.

“You should be honoured to be in my presence human.” Your eye twitched in annoyance. Breathe Y/N, breathe. You told yourself. You crossed your legs and shot Orm a look that would’ve had Batman shaking in his boots.

“Just- find something else to do and let me work, please.” He raised a dark brow at you but nodded anyway. His muscles rippled beneath the compression shirt he had been given upon his arrival to the tower. You forced yourself to look away and back to your work. “All I need is an hour and then we can find something productive for you to do.”

He hummed noncommittally, which you were perfectly fine with.

The lab settled into a blissful silence and you were finally, thankfully, able to really plug into the data analysis that you had been putting off. Occasionally, you could see the disgraced prince out of the corner of your eye as he wandered around the lab, his hands clasped behind his back. He could follow directions well, you would give him that.

You didn’t mind the company, now that he was not staring at you like a fucking creep, in fact he was quite comforting considering you spent most days in complete isolation save for when Batman needed yet another project completed.

Just as you were reaching the final compiling, Orm’s voice rang through the lab as if he were commanding his people. “What the fuck is sex pollen?” Your entire body seized with fear and as you turned your chair to face him, time slowed.

His large hand had turned one of the many labelled specimen jars in the open cabinet at the other end of the lab, the cabinet that you had forgotten to lock when Bruce had barged in earlier. Your eyes widened almost comically as the delicate jar tipped and the neon pink dust gathered to one side. Orm tried to grab the sealed beaker but the glass was already rolling off the shelf.

Your hand was already moving towards the contamination shut down as the container met the solid ground, shattering immediately.

The pollen exploded outwards, coating everything within 2 metres of the impact point in a bright pink dust. Orm coughed and tried to wipe it from his skin, but the pollen was already soaking in, quickly making its way into his bloodstream.

The lab doors slammed shut and the industrial strength locks clicked into place. You yanked a medical mask from your workstation and quickly tugged it on as you rushed towards Orm, whose face was now flushed. His chest was already heaving with laboured breaths and as you drew closer, you could see the sweat collecting on his brow.

“Hey, I need you to listen to me very carefully right now.” His gaze snapped to you and you held up your hands to show that you weren’t a threat. “We can fix this, we just have to work together. Understand?” He nodded his head and you sighed in relief.

“I need you to strip off your clothes, the longer you’re in them, the more pollen you’ll ingest. And then I’m putting you in the decontamination shower until I figure out how this is going to fuck with your fishy DNA.” You expected some fight out of the prince but he followed your directions to the letter, his eyes staring intently into your own.

You were thankful for your mask concealing your face as he pulled off his shirt, exposing the toned muscles of his stomach. You swallowed thickly, heat defiantly pooling between your thighs as his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his sweatpants and yanked them down. Evidently, Atlantians didn’t wear underwear. He leaned closer to you, his nostrils flaring.

Orm’s eyelids fluttered as he let out the most erotic groan you had ever heard. “Fuck, why do you smell so fucking good?” You hated to admit it, but your knees buckled at that. Swallowing down the whine that threatened to spill from your lips, you pulled yourself together.

“O-okay now, into the shower.” You nodded your head towards the stall in the corner of the lab but Orm remained still. His breathing was quickening and his pupils were blown, leaving only a sliver of blue around the black. You stepped in that direction but still, he refused to follow.

“Goddamnit.” You muttered and grabbed his muscular shoulder, forcefully yanking him to the stall and quickly shoving him inside before he had a chance to refuse. You locked the door, knowing that there was no possible way for him to drown himself, and started the auto decontamination.

As soon as he lost sight of you, Orm gave a shout of protest and slammed his fists against the door. “No! Come back!” The glass trembled with the force of his blows and if it weren’t for Bruce’s tendency to make everything strong enough to hold Clark back for a minute at least, you would have been scared of it shattering.

You carefully walked backwards to your desk, your eyes locked onto the shower which was now running but it was doing nothing to hinder the man inside. In fact, his efforts to get out doubled as the water hit his overheated skin. “You’re mine!” He screamed and a crack appeared in the glass.

You snatched up the phone that directly connected you to Bruce, pressing it to your ear as you continued to back up. As soon as you heard his gruff voice, you shouted at him. “Orm ingested that sex pollen shit from Ivy, what the fuck do I do?”

There was a pause and for a second you thought the line had dropped. Then he sighed heavily into the receiver. “Fuck. The antidote you developed won’t work on him since he doesn’t have any human DNA and his body won’t burn out the pollen fast enough before his system overheats.” Silence settled between you as the solution dawned on both of you at the same time. “So-“

“So I’ll have to help him through it or he dies.” You finished his thought for him.

“I’m sorry kid.” Then the call cut off. Orm threw his body at the door and another crack appeared. You had a choice here, there was a tranquiliser in the drawer of your desk that could put down Flash, you could wait for the door to shatter and use it against the raging prince. Or…

Your mask dropped to the floor, along with your shirt and pants. His shouts had now devolved into unintelligible growls that only served to make your inner thighs even wetter. By the time you reached the shower, the frosted glass now resembled a spider’s web and you were completely bare.

You hit the override switch to the side of the stall and the screaming stopped. The damaged tracks groaned as the door slowly opened, revealing you to Orm once more. “Take what you need, I only want to help.”

The air was knocked from your lungs as strong arms grabbed you and pulled you into the shower with him. Cold water washed over your naked body though it did nothing to lessen the fire between you. A moan was forced from your lips as Orm ducked down and buried his nose in the crook of your throat, pressing his hard body to your soft one.

His chest rumbled happily as he inhaled. “I will not be gentle, I cannot. But once this curse has passed, I will treat you like a goddess, a queen.” His tongue licked up the column of your neck until he could rise to his full height once more. “You will experience pleasure like never before, my claim will be laid upon you.”

And you could only nod as his large warm hand gripped your knee tightly, bringing your plump leg up to wrap around his lean hips. “Prepare yourself for your king.”

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wrishwrosh · 3 months

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hey, i find your posts about historical fiction pretty interesting, do you have any recs?

anon this is the most beautiful and validating ask i have ever received. absolutely of COURSE I have recs. not gonna be a lot of deep cuts on this list but i love all of these books and occasionally books do receive awards and acclaim because they are good. in no particular order:

the cromwell trilogy by hilary mantel. of course i gotta start with the og. it’s 40 million pages on the tudor court and the english reformation and it will fundamentally change you as a person and a reader

(sub rec: the giant, o’brien by hilary mantel. in many ways a much shorter thematic companion to the cromwell trilogy imo. about stories and death and embodiment and the historical record and 18th century ireland. if you loved the trilogy, read this to experience hils playing with her own theories about historical fiction. if you are intimidated by the trilogy, read this first to get a taste of her prose style and her approach to the genre. either way please read all four novels ok thanks)

lincoln in the bardo by george saunders. the book that got me back into historical fiction as an adult. american history as narrated by a bunch of weird ghosts and abraham lincoln. chaotic and lovely and morbid.

the everlasting by katy simpson smith. rome through the ages as seen by a medici princess, a gay death-obsessed monk, and an early christian martyr. really historically grounded writing about religion and power, and also narrated with interjections from god’s ex boyfriend satan. smith is a trained historian and her prose slaps

(sub rec: free men by katy simpson smith. only a sub rec bc i read it a long time ago and my memory of it is imperfect but i loved it in 2017ish. about three men in the woods in the post revolutionary american south and by virtue of being about masculinity is actually about women. smith did her phd in antebellum southern femininity and motherhood iirc so this book is LOCKED IN to those perspectives)

a mercy by toni morrison. explores the dissolution of a household in 17th century new york. very different place and time than a lot of morrison’s bigger novels but just as mean and beautiful

(sub rec: beloved by toni morrison. a sub rec bc im pretty sure everyone has already read beloved but perhaps consider reading it again? histfic ghost story abt how the past is always here and will never go away and loves you and hates you and is trying to kill you)

an artist of the floating world by kazuo ishiguro. my bestie sir kazuo likes to explore the past through characters who, for one reason or another (amnesia, dementia, being a little baby robot who was just born yesterday, etc), are unable to fully comprehend their surroundings. this one is about post-wwii japan as understood by an elderly supporter of the imperial regime

(sub rec: remains of the day by kazuo ishiguro. same conceit as above except this time the elderly collaborator is incapable of reckoning with the slow collapse of the system that sheltered him due to britishness.)

the pull of the stars by emma donoghue. donoghue is a strong researcher and all of her novels are super grounded in their place and time without getting so caught up in it they turn into textbooks. i picked this one bc it is a wwi lesbian love story about childbirth that made me cry so hard i almost threw up on a plane but i recommend all her histfic published after 2010. before that she was still finding her stride.

days without end by sebastian barry. this one is hard to read and to rec bc it is about the us army’s policy of genocide against native americans in the 19th century west as told by an irish cavalry soldier. it is grim and violent and miserable and also so beautiful it makes me cry about every three pages. first time i read it i was genuinely inconsolable for two days afterwards.

this post is long as hell so HONORABLE MENTIONS: the amazing adventures of kavalier & clay by michael chabon, the western wind by samantha harvey, golden hill by frances spufford, barkskins by annie proulx, postcards by annie proulx, most things annie proulx has written but i feel like i talk about her too much, the view from castle rock by alice munro, the name of the rose by umberto eco, tracks by louise erdrich

#honestly will probably be coming back with additions bc this is just based on whats currently on my bookshelf #made this post while staring at the copy of mirror & the light i keep on my desk as some kind of hilary mantalisman #send me your address so i can explain my passions etc etc #histfic

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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 11 months

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My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader)

My Wonder (Spencer Reid x Reader) Word Count: 14,842 Reader insert: she/her pronouns. She is not American unless you are, just has a previous history in American law enforcement. Warnings: mentions of murder, crime scenes, guns, near-death experiences, slow-burn romance, drug addiction, death, and some MAJOR FLUFF! Spoilers: none, as Criminal Minds has been out for literal decades so don't get mad.

All his life, Dr. Spencer Reid has been told he is a genius - gifted, different. When you, a new member of the BAU, arrive, he expects the same weirded-out reaction from you as everyone does. But when you don't, and you instead find him interesting, Spencer finds himself forming an attachment to you. And as the years go on, is it really any wonder that he falls for you?

This is six times you secretly say I love you to Spencer, and one time he says it back in the same fashion.

This man has been eating my brain alive for the past few weeks and I know I'm late but damn he deserves all the appreciation he gets. This was just a silly little idea I had because I'm the kind of person to get obsessed quickly and can't move on until I write it out of my system. Seeing how long this turned out, I have split each moment into six smaller, digestible chapters as linked below. Enjoy xx

Spencer Reid was performing some of his physics magic for his colleagues when he first saw you.

He'd just mixed up some water with an antacid tablet and placed within a film canister. He'd done it a hundred times on his own, but he'd only just joined the BAU two months ago, and JJ and Derek hadn't seen it before so he just had to do it. Quickly placing the lid on, he said, 'You can turn around now.'

'I don't understand why we had to in the first place,' Derek said as he grumpily turned around.

'A magician never tells his secrets,' Spencer said, rubbing his hands gleefully. To him, showing off his intellect never got boring.

Well, show off wasn't the proper term. He understood that he could be a lot for some people, knowing so much for a man in his early twenties that looked barely old enough to be out of school, let alone with three Bachelors and PHDs under his belt already. Spouting little known facts or remembering minute details about cases that went back thirty to forty years was just his way of expressing himself. It was his way of contributing to the team. And while his team was getting used to his ramblings and intellect, even demonstrated admiration for it, others would call him a freak.

'If you ask me,' JJ said, 'I wouldn't want to know how he does some things.'

'Fair,' Derek replied, all their eyes on the film canister.

Spencer watched it in anticipation, how the bubbles slipped out between the lid and the canister slowly at first, then started bubbling faster and bigger and-

POP!

The canister rocketed up towards the roof, and all three of them watched with wide eyes as it arced over the bullpen and then down to meet the-

'Ow!'

Spencer ducked into his chair as he watched a young lady in a loose button up shirt, dress pants and boots pat her head. He heard JJ and Derek scurry away, but Spencer remained staring at the woman. Who is she? he thought, his eyes scanning over her.

Your (h/c) hair caught the sunlight, giving it a glow that had Spencer mesmerised. Your (s/c) skin shone with it, making your (e/c) eyes stand out most beautifully. And when you stood back up and made eye contact with him, canister in hand, he found himself frozen, unable to avoid the conclusion that he was the culprit.

'What is this, Reid?' Hotch said, walking up to his desk not looking the least bit impressed. 'Actually, don't answer that. Just don't do it again.'

'Sorry,' Spencer murmured out, a guilty smile stretching his lips slightly.

Hotch blew out a sigh. 'Never mind that now. I would like to introduce you to our new team member. Agent (Y/n) (L/n), a transfer from LA.'

Spencer finally realised that you had walked up with Hotch, and now that you were so close (literally standing a desk apart from one another), he was lost for words at how bright your smile was, and how beautiful you looked that way.

'So you're the one that thought my head was a good landing place for your little... rocket,' you said offering the film canister back, laughter dancing in your words.

It took Spencer a moment for him to realise you wanted him to take the canister back, so he scrambled to his feet, fingers fumbling for the canister. 'No, I-I was just showing how a-an antacid reacts with water, and how, put into a small, confined place, that can cause a chemical, gas-like reaction and cause it to exploded.'

'And launch it like a rocket?' you asked.

He paused as he watched your smile slip a little. Oh no. He'd done it again - made someone feel dumber than him. And while technically that was true, he never meant to make anyone feel like that.

'Y-Yeah?' he answered, awkwardness rising up in his throat, freezing his limbs, his brain.

But then suddenly your smile returned, melting his fear and doubt as you said, 'Cool! I've always loved chemistry. I actually did a Bachelor of Science with a major in archaeological science and a minor in chemistry before I started my BA in Criminology.'

'And now you're here,' he said, a soft smile of his own tugging at his lips.

You nodded, looking around what would now be your new home. 'And now I'm here.'

'Fascinating,' Spencer breathed out. He didn't mean to, but it made you smile more so he didn't mind. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't introduced himself. He struck out his arm, rigid as a board, and offered his hand. 'Sorry, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid.'

'Pleasure to meet you, doctor,' you said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. You skin was as soft as it looked, Spencer noted. 'I very much look forward to working with you and the rest of the team as we go forward.'

'We've got a briefing in five minutes, Reid,' Hotch interrupted, moving to step away from the conversation. 'I'll introduce you to the rest of the team then, (L/n). And if I find you firing another film canister through the sky, Reid-'

'Yes, yes, sorry, no more rockets. Airspace Reid is officially grounded,' Spencer quickly replied, not wanting to get lectured like a twelve-year-old like he usually did.

Your tinkling laughter drew his attention back to you, and he was baffled by the wonderment dancing in your eyes as you looked at him. 'You are a wonder, Dr. Spencer Reid.'

'T-Thanks?' he replied, although he wasn't quite sure if you were making fun of him or not. Most people did if they didn't straight up tell him he was annoying.

Hotch walked away, but you remained for a moment, leaning in close to whisper, 'That's a good thing, by the way.'

'Oh. Right.'

You flashed him one last smile before following your new unit chief, falling back into easy conversation with him as you gracefully floated through the chaotic goings of the office. Spencer couldn't take his eyes off you as you did, in awe of your grace and poise, and how you didn't even stumble when you spoke with him. You were genuine, upfront and honest. You couldn't be much older than himself, he noted, perhaps even younger. He was used to being the baby of the team, but it looked like that would be changing.

The prospect of being able to connect with someone his own age sent an unfamiliar but not unwelcome flutter through his heart.

'Oh, you've got it bad.'

Spencer spun in his chair to see JJ and Derek standing behind him once more, watching him with knowing grins.

'What? What have I got?' he asked. 'I'm not sick... I don't think.'

JJ rolled her eyes and giggled as she walked away, Spencer just catching a quiet, 'This'll be fun,' as she did. But Derek walked closer, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, and that knowing grin stretched wider, more feline and cheeky.

'Don't worry, pretty boy,' he said. 'You'll figure it out soon. You're smart, right?'

'Well, smart isn't really the quite term for someone with an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187-'

'And pep talk is over,' Derek interrupted, abruptly walking away back to his desk and leaving Spencer in a disarray of emotions.

So he looked back to where you had gone, and found you speaking with Penelope, nodding enthusiastically to whatever she was talking to you about. But you weren't just being polite, you appeared genuinely interested in the conversation, even though Spencer noted you barely contributed to it.

'You are a wonder, Dr. Spencer Reid.'

All his life, Spencer had been told he was a genius - gifted, different. It had just become an effortless part of who he is. It was almost expected at this point to see weirded-out or overly-amazed expressions from people he didn't know. So why then, when you said that to him, did he feel happy about it?

He checked his watch. Almost briefing time. He got up from his seat and made his way to the briefing room where only a place beside you was available. Maybe he would find out soon enough.

It became a casual thing, for you to comment on how wonderful Dr. Spencer Reid was. Every day in the office, whenever you travelled to cases, even out in the field, sometimes in not-so-great situations.

It was only ever once, but you always managed to find something to say, 'You are a wonder, Dr Reid,' to him. Sometimes it was his full name, sometimes just doctor. Sometimes, he was just Spencer. Apart from JJ, you were the only one who ever really called him by his first name. Oddly enough for him, he liked it when he was just Spencer, not the Boy Genius or freak or computer.

But the next time you told him that and it meant something to him was ten months after he ended his drug addiction.

He sat at his desk in the bullpen finishing some paperwork, or at least attempting to. They'd just gotten back from a long and exhausting case and his brain (the very thing he knew he could always rely on) refused to coordinate with his hands and eyes. The information he wished to write out felt jammed at his fingers tips, appeared blurry in his vision.

'Gosh,' he breathed out, leaning back in his seat defeated as he rubbed at his tired eyes. No doubt black bags sagged beneath them.

It had been a long, exhausting case. The team had gone to Dallas to find a serial killer who'd been leaving a trail of dead doctors and pharmacists over the span of months which had suddenly turned into weeks, then days once the team joined the case.

The unsub had spiralled, devolved so to say, alluding to a psychotic break. But when they'd found him, he was not the malicious, sadistic person they'd first expected. Spencer was the first on the scene and had instead found a young man in his early twenties, not much younger than himself. All he'd wanted was some off-market narcotic that took away the pain from the physical abuse he received from his father.

And while Spencer's trauma was not the same, he couldn't help but see the parallels. When he'd looked the young man in the eyes, it was like looking into a mirror. All he saw was himself, drowning in his own trauma, his own fear, his own pain.

Spencer scoped the bullpen, suddenly noticing the silence. Not a single person was left. He then looked at his watch - half past ten. He hadn't noticed people leaving whatsoever. Not surprising considering his current state, his current condition.

Spencer slowly reached down to the bottom drawer of his desk, a sudden urge coursing through him to do so. Slowly again, almost hesitantly, he pulled it open and leafed through the many spare manilla folders that sat oddly in there until he reached the bottom.

It was just one vial, but just the mere sight of it sent relief rushing through Spencer. Dilaudid. He gently cradled it up to his eyes, admiring how the glass doors of the entrance became obscured as he looked through the transparent but murky liquid. After this case, what he wouldn't give to have a needle right now. Just one hit-

'Well, if it isn't Dr. Spencer Reid burning the midnight oil.'

Spencer almost dropped the vial as he scrambled to shove it deep into his pant pocket just as you appeared out of nowhere from the conference room.

'Sorry,' you said, an apologetic smile already on your lips. 'I didn't mean to startle you.'

'It's okay,' he replied as casually as possible. It was one thing to nearly be caught out by your colleague that you had an illegal narcotic you used to have an addiction for in your hand, but another when that colleague is one you've admired since the day you met. 'I was lost in thought, anyways.'

'Well just as well then. I can only imagine how depthless your brain must go with all that knowledge crammed in there.' You walked down the stairs to the floor of the bullpen and walked to him. You were still in your clothes from the past twenty-four hours, and your light makeup looked like it was lifting off your face like a second skin. Even your unrelenting smile seemed to sag with exhaustion.

Spencer straightened up in his seat, suddenly concerned. 'You okay, (Y/N)? You look-'

'Like trash?' you finished as you pulled up a chair of your own and sat in front of him. 'I have no doubt.'

Spencer looked behind your back into the conference room, his eyebrows furrowing when he spotted stacks of folders and loose paperwork spread across the table. 'That all yours?'

You looked back to the mess of words and paper you'd just escaped and sighed dramatically. 'Oh, yeah. Seems like the longer the case, the more paperwork you have to do. Poor trees.'

'Yeah...' Spencer found it odd how much paperwork you had to get through. Even he didn't have that much to get through. But before he could question you about it, your soft voice filled the damning void that surrounded him.

'How are you feeling, you know, after this case?'

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'Don't give me that,' you say, your smile now replaced by a seriousness Spencer only saw on you when you were making an arrest or in really dire situations. You've worked together for almost three years now, he knew all the faces you pulled, all of your likes and dislikes, how you liked your coffee only after you've completed one task for the day to prove you can survive without it but choose not to.

He knows you, so it should not be surprising that you know him just as well.

'The moment we found out the unsub's objective, you've been a little... off.'

'Well, it shouldn't be surprising considering that was me just ten months ago,' he said matter-of-factly, pulling back into his shell, putting up his guard. 'I mean, if Hotch hadn't have found out about it, that could've been me-'

'No it wouldn't have.'

Spencer scoffed, but not in a demeaning manner. He just didn't believe you for a moment because he could see the facts, the statistics, in his head. 'Over 45% percent of addicts relapse at least twice. This is without the intervention or support by health care clinics and families and friends, and this case just proved that. So, yes, it could've been-'

'But it wasn't,' you intervened again, your voice echoing like soft thunder through the empty office. It gave you presence, forcing Spencer to look at you, like really look at you, and face what you were about to say.

'You had help and support from people that care about you, Spence,' you continued, sitting forward in your seat. 'And I don't care about the statistics, you're not one of them. You're your own person and you can determine where you add value in life, not by some... statistically-informed percentage prediction... thing.'

That drew a laugh out him, the quiet but sudden sound surprising him slightly. 'Stastically-informed percentage prediction, huh?'

'Shut up,' you grumbled and playfully punched his shoulder. When you both calmed down, you continued. 'When I realised who we were looking for, for a moment I kind of got scared.'

Spencer raised a quizzical eyebrow 'Scared?'

You nodded. 'The truth is that... when you were kidnapped and... you had to endure all that pain alone... I was terrified. We all were. Even when we found you, I was terrified. Because I knew you would never be the same, and not that it's your problem, but I knew in that moment that I would never forgive myself for not finding you sooner. For not going with you and JJ to the farm.'

Tears welled up in your eyes and Spencer immediately leant forward. To do what, he didn't know, he just needed you to know he was there for you, like you always were for him.

'I'm sorry,' you mutter, blinking the tears away before they could fall. 'Your trauma is not my own. I have no right to express my guilt.'

'There's nothing to feel guilty for,' he said, reaching out slowly with his hands, the ones that slightly shook as he laid them on your own.

To his relief, you smiled. It wasn't full, but it was there. 'You're a horrible liar, Spencer Reid.' That brought some laughter out of you both, lightening the suffocating air of the office.

'But even when we found out about you and the dilaudid,' you continued, pulling yourself together, if only to let Spencer know your true thoughts. 'I wasn't even mad.'

A large lump formed in Spencer's throat, and he had a hard time swallowing it along with the threat of tears that burned behind his amber eyes. 'You... You weren't?'

It was the mixture of surprise and hope that pulled at your heart, that made you feel obligated to keep speaking. 'Why should I have been? I was not the one who was tortured mentally and physically by a split-personality murderer; and who also witnesses the darkest, most ugliest aspects of humanity every single day of his life. It was not my place to judge how you hold onto your own humanity.'

Your eyes until then had never left his, but they flickered downwards then, and Spencer froze at where your gaze landed.

It only lasted a moment before your eyes returned to his, and it startled him the lack of sympathy he finds there, but instead warmth. 'It is still not my place to judge,' you said, twisting your hands so they could clasp his fully. 'All I know is that... you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. So much stronger than me, JJ, Pen, Emily - heck, I'd say you're even stronger than Derek. But not Hotch, Gideon, and Rossi, though. Then again, no one is.'

You both chuckled at that, and all the tension in his body seemed to dissipate at the sound. So light and airy, it was what he imagined heaven sounded like.

'The point is,' you continued, giving his hands a squeeze, 'you are a wonder, Spencer Reid. We all see it. You've just got to now see it, too.'

Spencer stared at you, dumbfounded and conflicted within himself. He felt like he wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. And a great urge to suddenly engulf you in a hug started itching his limbs, which was weird because he didn't care much physical affection, or affection in general. But before he could decide what he wanted to do, you decided for him.

You gave his hands one last squeeze before letting go and standing up. The absence of your touch left him cold as he followed you as you went back into the conference room to pack up. Surprisingly it didn't take you long until you came back out, your coat and bag in hand.

'Don't stay up too long, now,' you said as you passed him by, your smile so radiant it was almost as if you weren't crying just a few minutes before. 'We've got a long day ahead.'

As soon as the elevator door closed on you, he pulled out the vial of dilaudid and stared it down. It was like it was taunting him, sitting idly, innocently, in his palm, as if it knew he desperately wanted it, needed it.

'...you are stronger than you give yourself credit for... you are a wonder, Spencer Reid. We all see it. You've just got to now see it, too.'

For some reason, though, he suddenly didn't need it. The fire, the urge, the want and reliance for it - he was suddenly weightless with clarity, if only for a moment.

Spencer chucked the vial in the dumpster outside the office when he left. It was hard, but he did it. He knew he wasn't cured, that there was still a long road ahead. But it was a start.

The next day when he came into the office, Derek was the first to comment on his haggard appearance.

'Seriously man,' he said, trailing Spencer out of the break room, 'you look like a ghoul. Did you sleep at all last night.'

'I was here late last night doing paperwork,' he explained, sitting himself and his coffee down at his desk. 'You should go see (y/n), she probably looks a little worse for wear herself from staying late last night, too.'

'Oh, she stayed late too, did she?'

'It's not like that,' Spencer insisted, swatting at Derek pathetically. 'She had a mountain of paperwork to finish of her own.'

'Y/N?' Emily said as she walked by with JJ, identical coffees in their hands. 'She finished her paperwork at about the same time I did.'

'Yeah, we were walking out together before she turned back into the office. Said she had to talk with Hotch,' JJ said.

'I remember that,' Spencer added. 'You guys said goodnight to me on your way out.' Not that he had responded, he suddenly recalled, a pang of guilt punching his gut.

'Who had to talk with me?' The man himself suddenly walked by, stopping at the congregated group upon hearing his name.

'Y/n,' Emily answered. 'Last night.'

'Oh, yes. She, uh, asked if there was anymore paperwork to do.'

'Why would she do that when she was done?' JJ asked.

'I don't know,' Hotch said, making his way towards his office, 'but who am I to turn away someone who wants to do paperwork for free? Now, briefing in ten minutes.'

As the others dispersed back to their desks, Spencer didn't know how to feel about this new information. It didn't help the matter when you finally dragged yourself into the office, dark circles peaking out from under your thin layer of foundation. But as you sat at your desk, eyes drooping as you logged onto your laptop, he knew just what to do.

It took you a second to register the cup of coffee being held in front of your dazed eyes, and another to realise who was holding it.

'Late night?' Spencer asked, a coy smile on his lips.

Despite your exhaustion, you managed to grab the cup without spilling any of the precious caffeine that would help you through the day. 'Yeah,' you decided to play dumb, answering as enthusiastically as possible. 'Paperwork, you know. Never-ending.'

Spencer hummed, contemplating his next words carefully. 'Well, I hope giving up your sleep was worth it, then.'

'I'd like to think it was.'

The way you didn't hesitate to answer struck a chord of truth in him that left him dumbfounded once more. Twice in under twenty-four hours? That had to be a new record for him.

But instead of freezing up, he managed an honest smile as he clanked his coffee cup with your own. 'Well... it is certainly most appreciated.'

The next time you dumbfounded him, he almost kissed you.

Ever since you had joined the BAU, you and Spencer had alway had a sweet partnership. But after that night in the office, you had become inseparable. Best friends, to put simply. You stayed late at the office to keep each other company, brought each other coffee and treats, spent free days checking out the new films playing in the cinema.

You had inside jokes, and fought like an old, married couple - a fact the team loved to bring up whenever possible. But you liked it like that. Spencer was your person, and you were his.

And as much as he wowed you everyday, you managed to surprise him on occasions, too.

You were both paired up to interrogate a suspect. You personally didn't believe she was the killer, but Spencer didn't like to base anything from solely his gut. In other words, he was skeptical.

'I didn't kill those women,' your suspect said. 'And even if wanted to kill them, it would be for something more worthwhile than a stupid role.'

'Jealously isn't as far-fetched a reason to kill as you may believe,' Spencer stated to her. 'Particularly in women, the feeling of being threatened or in danger of losing something important to them brings out almost a maternal instinct to protect what they believe to be is theirs.'

'You think all actresses are that low? That shallow?' The young woman was pretty, but her face scrunched up in an ugly manner at the insinuation.

'He doesn't think that at all,' you interjected. 'In fact, he quite likes actresses, don't you buddy?'

Spencer gave you a side eye to which you smiled sickly-sweetly at in return. You were never going to let the Lila fling down any time soon.

You looked back at the young woman, your face returning to empathetic, concerned. She had a wall up, she was wearing a mask. If you wanted answers out of her, you needed to connect with her.

You leaned forward on the table, positioning yourself in front of Spencer so all her focus was on you.

'Anna,' you said softly, like you were speaking to a friend. 'I know you didn't do it. You're different than all those other girls right? You've worked hard to get where you are. Small town girl wanting to make a name for herself in an industry that can be ruthless and heartless as the killer that's still out there. You are classically trained, by-the-book, no shortcuts. I bet you started on the stage of your elementary school, landing the lead role.'

The young woman looked at you with skepticism for a moment, then you saw a crack in her mask as she nodded. 'I was Mary in the Christmas production. But it wasn't until high school when we preformed Shakespeare's The Tempest that I knew this was what I wanted to do with my life.'

Spencer noticed your smile now, how it lifted in a manner that sung of melancholy and fondness.

'"We are such stuff as dreams are made on.",' you said whimsically, and Spencer noted a familiarity that had the words rolling off your tongue with ease. Like it was muscle memory.

'Such a beautiful line, right?' the young woman asked.

'Yes, but, when translated into our modern English, it is quite sad really.' You make eye contact with the young woman and hoped she saw the understanding and slight desperation in your eyes. 'It means that life is an illusion, and a fleeting one at that. I don't necessarily believe in the first part of that, but it is true that life is fleeting. So before you end up the next aspiring actress in our morgue, you've got to tell us everything you know.'

The rest of the interrogation went smoothly. Honestly, it was the easiest one Spencer had ever sat in before. And all the while he had just sat there in awe of you.

'I didn't know you read Shakespeare,' he said randomly as they drove together in a local police SUV to meet with the rest of the team at the new suspect's house.

You scoffed. 'See that's the biggest misconception of Shakespeare. That it can only be read. In fact, it actually shouldn't be just read. It needs to be performed.'

Amusement danced upon Spencer's lips. 'Are you saying you were in a Shakespearean play? Which one? Actually, let me guess. Romeo and Juliet.'

'That's a cliche.'

'Twelfth Night? How about Taming of the Shrew?'

'Why do you want to know so badly?'

'Because I...' It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't quite know why he wanted to know. Only that he knows everything and you were his best friend and he didn't know something about you.

You spared him a sympathetic smile from the driver's seat before returning your eyes to the road. 'If you must know... it was actually The Tempest. It was my high school's production, too. And as much as he irritates me, I grew fascinated with Shakespeare's work after that. It even prompted me to do a unit or two in Shakespearean literature and performance during my uni days.'

You allowed yourself to slip back in time a little to those days, that melancholy and fondness finding its way back into your smile, Spencer noticed.

'Outside of Shakespeare though, I'll admit... I was a theatre kid.'

'No way!' Spencer exclaimed. 'You?'

'Why is it so unbelievable that I used to dress up and spout lines that no one really understood?' you asked, but you weren't offended. Simply amused that you seemed to have stunned the (until now) un-stunnable Dr. Spencer Reid.

'Because... it's just so left of field from anyone else in the team.'

'And is that a bad thing?'

'...not at all,' he said after a moment, and then proceeded to drop the matter entirely. Spencer Reid never forgets anything, he couldn't forget, not with his eidetic memory. But he made extra special care to file that little fact about you away for now.

A few days after returning home from wrapping that case up, you came into work to find your coffee already made on your desk, and beside it was an envelope. Curious, you swiftly opened the envelope and gasped with pure surprise at what you found.

'I thought you might like them,' Spencer said as he approached you, his own coffee in hand. 'The ticket vendor said they were the best seats in the house.'

'Oh my God, Spencer!' You couldn't help yourself, you leapt onto the gangly man like a frog and held him tighter than you'd ever hugged someone before, avoiding spilling Spencer's coffee. You were so excited you even smacked a fat, grateful kiss on his unsuspecting cheek before letting him go. 'Tickets to ASC's production of The Tempest?! How did you even get these, I was told they were all gone.'

'Believe it or not, I have connections everywhere,' Spencer answered a bit too vaguely but you didn't care. 'Even in areas that aren't of my particular expertise. I figured you and a friend could go enjoy it before it finishes up.'

'You mean you're not coming?'

Spencer tried not to read into it too much, but he swore he heard a little hiccup in your question, like you were upset. 'W-Well, I, I, uh, didn't want to assume anything. I mean, y-you might want to take JJ, or Emily-

'Spencer.' It was ridiculous how easy he listened when you said his name, how he dropped everything to listen to what you had to say whenever you did. And his heart faltered when he made eye contact with you and saw joy and hope lighting up your eyes. 'Would you like to come to the show with me?'

And it wasn't any wonder, then, that he replied without hesitation, 'Y-Yeah! All right, s-sure. Would love to.'

'Amazing!' Spencer once again had to juggle his coffee and you as you squeezed all the air out of him in another bone-crushing hug. 'Spencer Reid, you have just made my day.'

It was a week later and the night of the performance. You drove yourself and Spencer two and a half hours straight from Quantico down to Staunton to the American Shakespeare Centre, reciting and recalling your favourite Shakespearean moments the whole trip.

Spencer made the extreme effort to look presentable, pulling out a nice suit set, even replacing his usual casual sneakers with some shiny boots. His hair was slicked back out of his face, with only the slightest stubble on his chin and upper lip.

When you picked him up, you said he looked handsome. He never cared much for his appearance, but that comment warmed his heart slightly, made him sit more upright in his seat.

Once you pulled up and got out of the car, he finally saw you in all your glory. A navy blue dress clung to your frame beautifully; kitten heels cradled your feet as you walked up the stairs to the theatre's entrance; your jewellery brought out the (e/c) in your eyes, even further accentuated by your simple makeup and hair.

Spencer has met Nobel price winners, attorney generals, even spoken with the most psychotic people humanity has to offer. And yet there you stood - ethereal, angelic, striking him silent with just your presence.

'You coming, Boy Wonder?'

You'd reached the top the stairs without him moving a muscle. Embarrassed, he tried to cover it up with a cough as he scrambled to catch up with you. 'Boy Wonder? Where did that come from?'

You shrugged playfully as you hooked your arm through his. 'Just seemed appropriate.'

'I'm twenty-seven, (y/n). I'm hardly a boy.'

'Oh, so would you prefer I call you Batman?'

Spencer raised a quizzical eyebrow. 'I didn't know you liked DC comics.'

'There's a lot you still don't know about me, Spencer Reid,' you answered, handing over your tickets to the ticket vendor at the door. 'Like how I've always preferred Robin over Batman, anyway.'

You quickly found your seats, and Spencer tried not to acknowledge how tight-knit the seats were pressed together. His thigh pressed lightly against your own, and he couldn't tell if he hated or liked the feeling that suddenly sprouted in his gut.

It distracted him so much that instead of watching the performance, he looked at you. How you reacted to each sonnet, to the entrance of new characters, to the costuming and the music and emotion that filled the room with every word spoken. He watched it all, your joy, your love. Your heart was on your face, and it struck something new and unexplored inside him.

You cried at one point, and physical touch wasn't his forte, but he intertwined his fingers with yours and gave them a reassuring squeeze that he was there. You'd turned to him briefly and nodded, showing that you understood and that you were grateful.

You didn't let go of his hand for the rest of the show.

'Wow,' you breathed out as you exited the theatre, the performance finally done. 'That was...'

'Yeah. I feel the same,' Spencer finished, his hands shoved into his pockets as they walked down the stairs towards the carpark. His hand still burned from your touch, and that unsure feeling in his gut still remained.

'It was just so... magical.'

'I would say impressive, but magical works too, I guess.'

'Says the guy who still goes trick-or-treating on Halloween and believes in ghosts. Don't tell me you don't believe in the supernatural now.'

'I'm not saying I don't believe. I'm just saying that it's impressive that they were able to make fantastical magic seem slightly realistic.'

You playfully shove him, causing you both to fall into laughter. The two different melodies mixing together made Spencer feel lighter than he'd felt in a while. This was different to when you usually hung out. This time, there was no case, no team, nothing but yourselves to worry about.

'It doesn't matter, anyways,' you said, stopping on the steps suddenly. Spencer went down one more before stopping too. You smiled gratefully at him. It was a cool, autumn night, cool enough that your breath danced like ghosts in front of you as you spoke. 'Thank you, Spence. This was a wonderful night. You didn't have to do this.'

'I know,' he said, and it startled him how quiet and soft his voice was. 'I just... I just wanted you to enjoy the stuff you love. You deserve to enjoy the stuff you love.'

His acute eyes fell to your shoulders and noticed the slight shake in them. 'Here.' He wasted no time pulling his jacket off and wrapping it around your shoulders, pulling it tight to capture the warmth.

You gratefully held onto the jacket, the warmth it captured seeping into your eyes. 'You truly are a wonder, Spencer,' you said, your words dancing in between you two.

He was only the step down now, making you two eye level with one another. He was so close he could see himself in your eyes. He wondered if you could see yourself in his.

'Am I?' he asked, his breath mixing with yours.

'Yeah...'

He felt your warmth, and he suddenly decided that he liked the feeling in his gut. The one that had been driving him crazy all night. The one that had an iron grip on his mind, his heart. The one that pulled him closer to you, to your lips.

His eyes were almost closed and his lips almost on yours. You didn't back away - you didn't want to back away you realised. No matter how hard your heart pounded in your chest. No matter if he was your best friend.

So you leaned in too, and you could just feel the stars and planets align as you tasted his breath-

The front of your heel slipped on the edge of the step, sending you flying forwards into Spencer's chest. His reflexes had improved immensely since joining the BAU, and so he managed to grab hold of you and hold himself up before your momentum could send you both tumbling down the remaining stairs.

You both breathed in heavy gulps of air, steadying both your hearts from what could've happened.

'Nice catch,' you said after a moment, loosening your grip on Spencer only a little.

'Thanks.' He didn't know where to look. You, the ground, his surroundings. It all just felt muddled, as if his whole world had been tilted on its axis.

In a sense, it had.

But he felt your gaze, and he couldn't deny your eyes so he looked at you also. You eyes were blown wide, and the slight catch in your breath had him second guessing himself. Maybe he'd read you wrong after all. He'd never been wrong before, but there was always a first time for everything, he figured.

'(Y/n), look, I-'

Before he could attempt to salvage himself, the irritating ring of his phone went off, breaking the glass dome of solitude you'd' forged together with nothing but words and air.

This forced you apart, awkwardly so, as Spencer readjusted you on his step before letting you go completely and fishing his phone out of his pant pocket. He checked the ID caller: Hotch.

He accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear. 'Hotch, what's up?'

'New case,' the unit chief answered without pleasantries. 'I know we're all meant to be off for the weekend but this one is important.'

'Where is it and we'll be there.'

'You're with (Y/n), right? In Staunton?'

'Yeah, why?'

'Head to the local police. We'll meet you there. That's where the case is.'

'Okay. Gotcha.'

Hotch ended the call and then it was just him and you once more. Although instead of the air feeling freeing and warming, Spencer couldn't seem to get enough in his lungs. It was like he was suffocating, having to face you again.

So he slipped into work mode, keeping Hotch's urgency and the new case in the forefront of his mind. 'New case. Here in Staunton. Hotch wants us to head down to the police and meet them there.'

'Right.' You seemed to think the same as him - it's probably why you were best friends to begin with - as the ethereal light in your eyes dimmed with the severity of the new situation. Without another word, you both bee-lined for the car, jumped in, and made your way to the local police station.

But for the rest of the case, Spencer couldn't help but think about that moment with you on the steps. He'd kissed before, of course, even dabbled in flirting despite how little he knew about the craft. He'd never imagined he'd attempt it all on you, however. Not even in his wildest dreams.

He didn't hear your heart-stopping compliment again until it was almost too late.

After the Staunton case, you and Spencer had been... odd. Well, mainly Spencer, as he spoke as little as possible to you during cases, and always offered to go with anyone else but you on certain tasks. He even stopped coming over to yours for movie night each Saturday, claiming each time to be busy or unwell. It was Spencer's only way of ensuring nothing like that night ever happened again.

He convinced himself the moment was fleeting, just a mixture of chemicals in his brain combined with the adrenaline of being with a beautiful women he very much admired that made him read the signs wrong. You were friends, that was all you were, and all he would ever allow you to be.

This went on for three months.

And you were miserable.

Emily, JJ and Penelope recognised the change in your demeanour at work first, and when they found out the reason behind it, they slapped Spencer upside the head on their way out of the office one Friday afternoon and took you with them, promising a wonderful night out on the town.

That night, to Spencer's eventual annoyance, you'd met someone. A charming young firefighter named Riley who lived in Washington DC and was just in town to see family.

That night, you hooked up. And the next morning, he asked you on a date. That date led to another, then more. You were on your way to another one tonight when you got a phone call from JJ saying they found the latest unsub's house and were planning a raid on it.

Spencer knew you were on a date when he also got the phone call to come along. Despite his distance (by his own choice, he always had to remind himself), he kept tabs on you, checked in on you via others. And while the girls of the team were awfully mad at him, they always answered him when he asked how you were doing.

'You know, for a genius, you really are quite stupid,' JJ told him when he asked about you.

He quirked his eyebrow, genuinely confused. 'I'm sorry?'

'She's heartbroken,' Penelope added. 'Her best friend just gives her the silent treatment out of nowhere after what sounded like a magical night at the theatre. Who wouldn't be upset by that, Reid?'

'I just,' he paused, rallying his thoughts into words that couldn't quite describe how he felt. 'It's complicated.'

'Love shouldn't be complicated, Reid,' Emily interjected, a soft but sad smile gracing her painted lips.

Spencer swallowed thickly at that. 'W-What do you mean?'

Derek finished making his coffee and took a sip of it before answering. 'We all see it, Reid. You don't have to deny anymore how you feel.'

'I'm not denying anything, Morgan.'

'Maybe not to us,' Derek continued. 'But you are definitely denying it to yourself. All I can say is don't wait until it's too late. She's already slipping away.'

That's when Spencer found out about your dates with Riley, and an ugly, selfish, hurt part of him wanted to scream with anger. Mainly at himself, but the damage was done and he had to get over you.

But when you showed up to the unsub's home, your FBI bullet-proof vest on and mascara slightly smeared under your eyes, he was beyond confused. And concerned.

'You're here,' he stated matter-of-factly.

'You sound surprised,' you answered stiffly, loading your gun without even glancing at him.

'To be honest, yeah. JJ and the rest all said you were out tonight. I figured you-'

'What? That I would ignore the call because I had something personal planned?' You finally looked up at him, and man did your cold stare pierce him like an arrow. 'This is my job, Spence. I knew, same as you and everyone else, that I would have to make some sacrifices to do it. So please, don't think so little of me just because I attempted to have a life outside of it.'

He grew more concerned at your choice of words. 'Attempted?' he asked, but then he looked closely at your smeared mascara, at the redness circling your eyes. Like you'd been crying-

'Don't worry about it,' you muttered, brushing past him to meet up with the team. 'You haven't for about four months now.'

Spencer tried to ignore the sting your words brought with them as he followed you to the rest of the team, forcing himself to put the case in front of you. But he'd done that for the past four months as you had so brightly pointed out, and look where it had landed him.

'Now remember,' Hotch started, bringing the team and some other officers in to brief, 'this unsub may use this place as his base to build his bombs, but don't discredit the idea that he wouldn't blow it up to save himself. Tread carefully but be vigilant, he is in the house somewhere. Now move.'

Spencer followed you into the house through the front door, gun and flashlight at the ready. All that could be heard were the soft but swift patter of footsteps as the FBI and local police ran in. The lights were on, but no unsub.

You were silently directed by Hotch to investigate the back end of the house, to which Spencer and Derek followed. You focussed on maintaining your breathing as you tried not to think about your date, Spencer, your heart thrashing in your ribcage. Only the unsub mattered.

The three of you broke into the last room of the house, the laundry. Upon entry, you spotted him, the unsub, running out the back door into the backyard.

'Hey!' you called out, immediately breaking into a sprint after him. You broke out of the laundry onto a cemented path towards a clothes line, chasing after him towards the fence line. But as you stepped off the path and onto the grass, something gave way beneath your feet, followed by a resounding click that had your freezing with fear.

'(L/n), keep going!' Derek shouted from somewhere behind you.

'Hold up!' you cried, throwing an arm back behind you. 'I think the yard is full of bombs.'

'Well, let's go around the front and get him in the back streets, come on!'

'I can't,' you replied back, slightly breathless from running, but also from the fear constricting now your airways.

'Why?' You didn't have to see him to know it was Spencer, concern dripping from just one word.

'Because I'm standing on one.'

Spencer knew it was physically impossible, but he was sure his stomach just dropped out of him and onto the bomb-littered grass around them. This was bad. Like very very bad.

'Shit,' Derek breathed out before bringing his wrist up to his mouth. 'Hotch, the unsub got away over the back fence, send some men to intercept him two blocks north from here.'

'Got it,' Hotch answered efficiently.

'And send the bomb squad out here. Yard is like a mine field and (L/n) is standing on one.'

After that, it didn't take long for the rest of the team to run outside, making extra careful to stand only on the pavements as they got as close to you as they could. Spencer stood the closest, standing directly in front of you as the bomb squad swept the yard for the rest of them.

'I've got some good news and some bad news,' one member of the bomb squad said as she came up to the team. 'Good news is it's the only bomb in the yard.'

'And I just managed to find it. Super,' you muttered, your tone shaky although the intention was to lighten the mood.

'Bad news is it's a pressure-triggered bomb, meaning that if you move even a fraction it'll go off. Also, by stepping on it, you've set of a timer until it explodes. The only way to disarm it seems to be a code of some kind.'

'How long do we have?' Spencer asked, not bothering to mask his desperation. This couldn't be happening. Of all the people, it had to be you.

'Six hours now,' she said grimly. 'My team and I will do everything we can to dismantle it and shut it off manually, but it's built quite strong so it'll be tough to crack open without setting it off. Your best bet will be to get an answer from your bomber.'

'Uniforms just called in,' Rossi said. 'They're bringing him in now.'

'Good,' Hotch said with a ferocity that would send most people running for the hills. 'He's gonna give us that code one way or another.' He turned to you, determination blazing in his eyes. 'Hang tight, (Y/n). We're gonna get you off that thing.'

'I'll hold you to that,' you joked, and you were grateful to receive a soft smile in return from Hotch and the rest of the team. Except for Spencer, he couldn't find it in himself to smile. He could barely think no thanks to your dangerous position.

'I'll stay with (Y/n),' Spencer said, his voice strained compared to his usual calmness.

'Reid,' Derek started, 'you're our best bet to crack open this guy. If we find something-'

'Then I'll have my phone ready to pick up. I'm not leaving her.'

It surprised you the strength you heard hidden underneath his fear. It was there in his eyes too, blazing like Hotch's, except with more warmth, more determination.

Derek looked to Hotch, and Hotch just nodded. 'Okay fine, but you better pick up on the first ring.'

'Promise.'

'I'll stay to help with the bomb squad,' Emily said while also looking at you.

'No,' you said as Hotch, Derek and JJ left. 'You all should go. In case he somehow remotely sets it off himself.'

'We're not leaving,' Reid said firmly, making eye contact with you. 'Not until you're off that bomb, you hear me?'

You wanted to argue, trying to be selfless and strong. But the truth was you were terrified, and to hear Spencer's strength where you lacked helped you push your pride aside and nod in agreement.

Time had flown by and it was now the last ten minutes. Spencer had received phone call after phone call but nothing had been helpful. They'd tried two potential codes already but they didn't work. The bomb squad quickly realised that they only had three chances to get the code right and so they were down to the last chance.

'You guys should really leave,' you said amidst your chattering teeth. It was now just after midnight and your thin button up and the bulletproof vest were not cutting it anymore. Spencer wished he could give you a blanket, a jacket, his own shirt for God's sake if it would keep you warm slightly.

'That's not going to happen,' he answered without hesitation.

You yawned, eyes threatening to droop close. Your legs had gone numb long ago. You were unsure how you were holding yourself up. It certainly wasn't by adrenaline. Perhaps you were frozen in place.

'I mean it, Spence,' you said, bracing yourself as another shiver threatened to spasm your entire body. 'It's the last ten minutes. You should be clear in case it goes off.'

'I'm not going to do that.'

'Damnit, Spencer. Of all the times to be stubborn, you choose now?'

'I'm not being stubborn,' Spencer argued. Were you purposefully trying to tick him off now? 'I'm trying to save your life!'

'You're right, you're not being stubborn. You're being plain stupid,' you retorted. You weren't sure why you were suddenly so angry, you just didn't like him playing the hero when he didn't have to.

'Yes! I am stupid, I admit that. I'll announce that to the entire neighbourhood right now if you want me to! Because if it weren't for me being an idiot, you wouldn't have had those dates, you wouldn't have had a date tonight, and maybe you wouldn't be stuck standing on a bomb right now!'

You stared incredulously at Spencer. He blamed himself for your situation? For Riley?

Despite the bustling of people around them, everything grew silent as youO stared at one another, Spencer's chest heaving as he sucked in air hard.

'Spence,' you said softly, your anger suddenly dissipating. 'I don't blame you for any of this. I would've ended up on this bomb one way or another. Or even worse, it could've been you standing on it. And as for Riley...' You thought the tears would come up again like before, but your eyes remained dry, and your heart didn't pull harshly.

Not for Riley, anyways.

'Did something happen between you two?' Spencer tentatively asked. His tone bordered on concerned and hopeful, demonstrating his torn mindset to whatever you were about to say.

You nodded. 'I told him I had to go to work, which wasn't unusual, but he just flipped. Said he was sick of me choosing you guys over him and that he was finished.'

He hated himself for feeling the slightest bit happy at the news, but his best friend instincts kicked in, and all he wanted to do was reach out and hold you. 'I'm sorry. You could've said no. We would've understood-'

'Spencer, I will always choose you guys over anyone,' you interjected, and the complete seriousness on your face reflected your sincerity brighter than the full moon above. 'I will always choose you, Spence.'

It was then Spencer saw it: the same feeling he'd had swirling in his stomach for months reflected in your eyes. It scared him, but what scared him more was that it would all be gone soon if he didn't do anything about it.

He would be too late, just like Derek said.

The bomb squad lady and Emily walked up to them both, and Spencer did not like the grim expressions on their faces.

'I'm sorry,' the bomb squad lady said. 'It's the last five minutes. There's nothing else we can do but clear out of the blast zone.'

'What about the code?' Spencer pressed, but Emily shook her head.

'Reid, they've gotten nothing out of him. We've got to go.'

'But we can't just leave her here-'

'Trust me, Spencer, I don't want to either!' Emily cried, tears pricking at her eyes at the thought of you dying. 'But we can't do anything for her here. I've got the remote to input the code if they get another one, but until then, we've got to clear from the blast zone.'

'No.' Spencer shook his head vigourously. He couldn't accept this. He wouldn't accept this.

'Spencer,' you tried gently. 'It's okay. I can do the rest alone. I want you to be safe.'

'Well, too bad, because I'm staying.'

You squeezed your eyes shut as tears rushed down your cheeks. 'Damnit, Spencer. Please, just go. Don't make this harder than it already is.'

Spencer took a daring step towards you, the tops of his shoes dangling just over the edge of the pavement. 'I won't abandon you. Not again.'

You were most likely a blubbering mess, your heart hurting so much at the thought that he would get caught up in your mess. 'God, why don't you just leave-'

'Because I love you, (Y/n)!'

The four of you stood dumbfounded as his proclamation echoed through the yard, the house, the street back out the front. Hell, Spencer hoped the whole world heard what he said, because he felt free for the first time in months, weightless, powerful.

And it was all because of you.

'I love you,' he repeated again, softer this time. As the reality of the situation came crashing down on him, tears of his own sprouted in his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He'd finally built up the courage to tell you, and you were minutes away from being blown up.

Through your tears, you find it in yourself to chuckle a little. It's watery and gross-sounding, but Spencer likes it none the less because it's yours, and you haven't lost complete hope. 'Talk about great timing, you big idiot.' And then there it is, that bright smile he saw day one in the office. You wore it with such pride, such strength it pulled at Spencer's heart strings painfully. 'You truly are a wonder, Spencer Reid.'

'One minute,' the bomb squad lady said, her tone frantic now. 'We've got to move! Now!'

'Reid, come on!' Emily cried, backing up with the bomb squad.

'I won't abandon her,' he replied, never taking his eyes off you.

'Reid please!'

Before he could reply, though, his phone buzzed, and he immediately answered the call. 'Please tell me you go it.'

'HOME! The code word is HOME!'

'Punch in HOME!' Reid called out to Emily, keeping Derek on the line as he stared at you. If you were to die, he was gonna make damn sure the last thing you saw wasn't an unfamiliar face.

'Are you sure?'

'We're out of time! Do it!'

'Spence...' you muttered. But you never finished your sentence, as your breath got caught while watching Emily punch in the code into the device. You closed your eyes. Soon you would be in eternal darkness. You would not fear it, but embrace it.

But when nothing happened, you dared to sneak a peek at what was going on. You saw Spencer first, who looked at Emily, who looked at the device in her hands. The deathly silence was finally broken at the sound of a green light on the device switching on. You then heard a hundred tiny clicks somewhere underfoot and felt yourself being pushed up back onto level ground.

Spencer finally looked back to you, eyes blown wide with hope he dared not realise. That same hope fuelled your frozen, tired legs, to take the tiniest of steps forward, and when nothing happened, you took your other foot off the bomb and collapsed forward into Spencer's arms.

His heart pounded faster than the jet that flew them all over the country every week as he cradled you simultaneously gently and tightly. You sobbed into his chest, your arms circling around his back and pulling him as tight as possible.

Oh, how he had missed your touch, your affection, your love, you.

'It's okay, you're okay,' he soothed, patting your hair down with one hand while he cradled you with the other. 'I'm here. We're all here.' He realised suddenly he'd dropped his phone, and so with one hand, he reached down and picked it up, bringing it to his ear. 'She's off.'

He barely heard the cheers of excitement and relief on Derek's end before he was hanging up and helping you to your feet. After that, it was a whirlwind of the bomb squad excavating the bomb, paramedics arriving, and CSU investigating the house.

After giving his statement of events to the local police and finishing speaking to other officials, he found you wrapped in a trauma blanket in the open back of an ambulance.

'How are you feeling?' he said as he approached you.

You broke free of your own world to look at Spencer, and a soft smile managed its way onto your lips. 'Well, I can feel my legs again so that's a start. And you?'

'All the better now that you're not standing on a bomb.'

You chuckled, though a red tinge dusted your cheeks out of embarrassment. 'I must admit, it's true what they say about your life flashing before your eyes the moment before you die.'

'Really? What did you see?' Spencer had read articles about this kind of stuff before, but had never spoken with a person who'd experience it themselves.

You didn't answer straight away, instead standing up to face him fully. Your legs felt like jelly a little but you stood strong. 'I saw you,' you replied easily, as if breathing air. 'Only you.'

Spencer couldn't hold it back, his fear, his relief. It all came bubbling out in an ugly sob as he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, pressing his face into your hair, using your scent to calm himself. He felt you sobbing too, how your body shook with your own anxieties.

'I missed you,' you said, your words muffled into his chest.

'I know, I'm sorry,' he murmured. 'I missed you, too.' He pulled you back slightly so that he could see your face. He wiped at your tears and forced his best smile just for you. 'But I'm back now. And I'm not going anywhere. That is... if you want me around.'

You heard his silent question, and it made you smile how confident and shy he could be simultaneously.

'Spencer Reid,' you murmured, like what you were about to say next was your biggest secret, 'of course I want you around. I love you.'

He chuckled with relief, tears still pricking at his eyes. But your words sealed your fate, as he used his small amount of confidence to grab the back of your neck gently and pull your lips to his.

You were the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted, and dare he compare you the most addictive drug he could ever hope to get high on. He couldn't get enough of you, and it was such a relief to finally let it out how much he needed you to breathe.

You were equally breathless, simultaneously feeling all consumed by Spencer's love without also having enough of it. Your fingers danced in the soft curls at the nape of his neck, threading yourself into him as much as possible. The truth was, the past four months were torturous.

'I'm not going anywhere.'

As you both finally broke apart, you pressed your foreheads together, nervous giggles of teenagers bubbling up in you both. This was fresh and new, but the love you had for one another had been there all along. No one was going anywhere.

'Finally!'

You and Spencer looked up to see the rest of the team watching from afar, with Emily and JJ smiling giddily, Derek and Rossi trying to suppress laughter, and Hotch having the simplest of grins on his lips.

'Oh, babygirl is going to have a field day when she hears about this,' Derek said, walking up to clap Spencer on the back and give him a hug. 'Well done, man.'

'It's about time,' Rossi said as the rest of the team joined you both. 'I thought I was going to have to take matters into my own hands.'

'Thank God you didn't,' Emily said, both her and JJ giving you a hug. 'As much as this has been traumatic for all of us, I'm so glad it brought you back together.'

'Say that to my poor legs,' you whined, but you hugged them just as tight. Truthfully, you felt the same. And as Reid held you in his arms that night, having refused to let you out of his sight after your brush with death, you couldn't be more grateful for it, too.

Your wedding was the next major point in his life that your words had impact.

The past five years leading up to your engagement had been some of the best and challenging in your life. There'd been many more close calls on both your lives since then - kidnappings, hostage situations, deadly viruses, the works. Even some romantic challenges that came in the form of other men and women.

But your bond ran deeper than superficial, petty spiffs. You always found your way back to one another, no matter how dark the road got. It was even on such a dark case that saw both you and Spencer on death row that he asked you. You'd both been captured and locked in a shipping container filled with no gaps for air and no way out. Before that, you'd copped a beating from your capture, forcing Spencer to watch all the while. Truthfully, it hadn't looked good, and that's why Spencer did it.

'What?' you asked deliriously, barely able to see straight no thanks to the lack of oxygen.

'I was planning on asking you... after this case,' Spencer admitted, his face mere centimetres from yours as he held you in a tight hug. He was breathless, running out of air and time it seemed. He had to do it now. 'Had it all planned out... We would go to that place on the hill we go to... a picnic all set out... and just as the sun would set, I'd ask you... and give you this.'

You would've gasped if you'd had enough air to do so, in utter shock to see Spencer pull out a simple gold band with a diamond embedded in it from in his pant pocket.

'I've had this for months... waiting for the... right time,' he managed to get out. 'It's my mothers. When I told her I wanted to marry you... she didn't even hesitate to give it to me.'

You were both weak, but he softly picked your left hand up and looked you dead in the eye. 'This might be it for us, but it also might not. Either way, I want to be yours for whatever time we have left. So, (Y/n) (L/n)... will you marry me?'

The tears that trekked down your face actually cleared your vision enough to see Spencer's smile clearly as you answered, 'Yes. I will marry you.'

Either some higher being was looking out for you that day, or your team was just really good at their job (Spencer never doubted them for a moment), but the team found you both in time, both unconscious and barely breathing, but hand in hand, with yours suddenly bejewelled.

Since then it had been a flurry of work and wedding arrangements and stress over the next seven months. Many speculated you were pregnant and that's why you and Spencer rushed the wedding. The truth was you just didn't want to wait any longer than you had to, not being in your line of work. Any day could be your last, so why waste it.

Spencer messed with the tie of his navy blue suit for the hundredth time as he stood waiting under the arch of flowers in the backyard of Rossi's mansion for you. He wasn't nervous, just... ansty, like he had ants in his pants and wanted to get out of them as soon as possible. But he couldn't deny he was just as excited for this day as you were. All of your friends and family dressed up, no case, no killer, nothing but what dessert they were going to have at the reception to worry about.

'Hey pretty boy,' Derek said, coming up behind him and clapping a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. 'Stop messing with it. You look fine.'

'I know, I just...' Spencer couldn't put into words what he was feeling, not as he stared at his good friend - his best man. Even though Derek had left the BAU, Spencer and him still spoke regularly, and he was more than happy to be there for his best bud at arguably the most important day of his life.

Derek smiled knowingly, straightening Spencer's tie because that's what the best man did for the groom. 'She loves you, Spencer. You've got nothing to worry about.'

'I'm not worried. I just...' He felt the tears already coming on and he hadn't even seen you yet. You were probably even more gorgeous than you already were. God he couldn't wait to marry you.

'I get it, man,' Derek said, and then the piano started playing a soft, whimsical tune that was so you and he stepped back into place. 'Show time, pretty boy.'

Spencer straightened himself up, told himself to hold the tears back. This was not a sad day, but a joyous one. But his breath was stolen the moment the doors of Rossi's mansion opened, after Emily, JJ and Penelope walked through, and you walked out into the backyard on your father's arm.

Your gown was simple, accentuating your body like the goddess you were. Your (h/c) locks were styled to perfection, hidden barely by the thin veil that fell like morning mist over your face. You held your favourite flowers in your hands, the glint of your engagement ring shining as bright as the sun that shone upon the whole ceremony.

By the time you reached him, Spencer was about ready to rip your veil off, kiss the living daylights out of you and runaway. But he resisted, instead waiting patiently for your dad to flip your veil up, and for you to hand over your bouquet to JJ, your maid of honour. When you finally turned to face him, he could've cried. You were so beautiful. And we was marrying you today.

You reached out to him, and he was more than glad to clasp your hands at last.

'Hi,' you whispered, a nervous but excited smile twitching your lips.

'Hi,' he whispered back, the threat of tears burning the back of his eyes again. 'You are gorgeous.'

'Thanks. You look handsome.'

'It's a wonder what a whole eight hours sleep and showering more than once a week can do.'

He was so glad to hear your laugh. It calmed his nerves, and apparently yours calmed too, as your hands no longer shook in his.

'All right, everyone,' Rossi started, stepping up to minister the ceremony. 'Let's get this started.'

The boring, ceremonious stuff went by quickly and soon you were reciting your vows. You'd both wanted to write your own vows for each other - agreeing that the usual script was not enough to express your love for one another, and what you would do to protect that love.

Reid went first.

'(Y/n),' he began, staring you straight in your eyes. He'd written his speech over and over again, but once he found the right words, it only took him a matter of seconds to memorise them. Forever. 'I've always been told I was different. Gifted, special. Being different helped me get this job, this family-' he turned to his friends, who watched them with bright smiles and teary eyes. 'But it also got me in trouble, held me back from experiencing... normal things like friendship, even love. So much so, that I started to believe... I was unworthy of love.'

You squeezed his hands, hearing the stutter in his words, the built up emotion that threatened to consume him. He gratefully squeezed back, grateful to know he was not alone, that he would never be alone from this day forth.

'But from the day I met you, you've shown me that I can be myself and be worthy of love. Theoretically, we shouldn't work. Despite popular opinion, studies have shown that people from different backgrounds, with different interests and completely different personality traits are less likely to feel attracted to one another than people with similar backgrounds, interests and personalities.'

'Come on, Reid. You really want people to sleep through your wedding?' Derek asked, prompting you and the rest of the guests to burst into laughter.

'I have a point,' he countered, and waited for the laughter to die down before resuming his vows. 'And while I usually rely on statistics and facts to make informed decisions about my life, from the day that I met you, you turned my entire world upside, inside out... and I didn't care. Because despite knowing almost everything there is to know about, well, everything, you are the one thing that has and always will make sense to me.'

He saw you trying to hold back tears, so he let go of one of your hands to caress your cheek where some tears rolled down. He swiped them away gently with his thumb without ruining your makeup, the most handsome, beautiful smile you'd ever seen on his lips.

'I love you, (Y/n) (L/n). I have loved you since we first met, at every case, at every movie night, every time you made me coffee. I love how you find the light amidst the darkness, how you give yourself completely to everyone you meet. I love the crinkle in your forehead every time you get mad at me. I love all of you, and I don't have to promise you that I will stay by your side through it all for the rest of our lives. You have had me since day one, and that will never change, even in death. But before that final day comes, I look forward to making the most of what time we have left loving you.'

The guests clapped so loudly that he almost didn't hear your soft sobs. But he did, and he pulled you into a quick hug before you pulled yourself away.

'Oh my goodness, I just want to kiss you,' you admitted quietly to him, bringing laughter out of him. But you quickly pulled your self away, using your free hand to grab an A4-sized piece of paper from JJ and return to face Spencer.

'Unfortunately, I don't have an eidetic memory so I will be using some assistance for this next bit,' you joked, stopping your flow of tears briefly as everyone chuckled, appreciative for the break in overwhelming emotions. Spencer breathed in deeply, steadying his heartbeat as much as possible. His part was done, but he knew this next part would be the hardest to retain composure.

'Spencer,' you began, one hand shakily holding your vows, while the other gripped onto Spencer like your life depended on it. In a sense, after today, it would. 'From the moment I first met you, I knew you were special. That you would leave a mark on my life in one form or another. Some sad part of me sometimes thought it would be when you inevitably shot yourself because you couldn't pass your marksman test after three goes-' Cue Spencer looking to Hotch apologetically while the rest of the guests laughed. '-or because, in our line of work, any day could be our last, and I wouldn't rule out any psychopaths intervening with that. However, despite it all, you're still here, and I couldn't be more thankful that you are. You amaze me everyday, Spencer - with your knowledge of the world, your intellectual insight, how you are almost incapable of growing any substantial amount of facial hair.'

You were glad people were laughing now, because what you were about to say next was going to take all your composure not to fall apart.

'But it is your heart and your ability to connect with people that has captured me completely. Our story has been... unconventional, to put it plainly. We were colleagues first, then friends, then you became my best friend, and I thought I couldn't be happier than that. But maybe it has something to do with some chemicals in the brain that are stimulated when you hang around someone you admire and adore long enough - you know, science stuff - or fate. I don't necessarily believe in either, but I do believe in us, Spencer. I believe that we are two souls choosing to become one for the rest of our lives; I believe you are my person, and the one I choose to face each and everyday with; I believe we haven't overcome all that we have for nothing; and I am not the least bit surprised it took nearly getting blown up to admit how I truly feel about you.'

Spencer couldn't care that what you said about brain chemicals was technically incorrect, it was so you, and there was not a dry eye in the backyard as you looked up at him finally, sheet long forgotten, and (e/c) eyes shining bright with tears and love.

'I love you, Spencer Reid,' you said breathlessly, but loud enough for everyone to hear. 'You have experienced the worst of humanity over and over again, and yet here you stand with me, smiling, happy, choosing to believe in happy endings. You are a wonder - my wonder - and I can't wait to spend everyday from now loving you, and being wowed by you. From now... until I cannot breathe, and even then beyond.'

You gave the paper back to JJ, then returned your full attention to Spencer. It was like it was only you two, the clapping from your guests dulled as well as Rossi's final words. But Spencer didn't miss a beat when he heard him say, 'By the power vested in me and my online-approved minister credentials, I pronounce you husband and wife. Go on kids, you've earned it.'

Spencer swooped you into the sweetest, loving kiss he could muster, gently cradling your neck and cheeks as your lips met in a soft collision. It wasn't lustful (that would certainly come later), but it was consuming, like two forces being pulled together by a magnet. You were separate entities choosing to become one, and it made you smile through your kiss and for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening.

You both partied with your family and friends, but you always managed to find your way back to one another despite the chaos. He now cradled you gently as you swayed together on the dance floor, fatigue settling in. You held each other up as you did, content to just be with each other in the final moments of your special day. Emily, your new section chief, had ordered you both take two weeks off to celebrate your honey moon. Because God knew when the next time you'd be able to relax would be when you both came back to work.

You shifted in his arms, manoeuvring yourself to look up at him, a delirious, tired and happy smile adorning your pretty lips. 'I love you, Spencer Reid.'

He leaned in for a brief but loving kiss before saying, 'I love you, (Y/n) Reid.'

Something about how his last named paired with your first name sounded that warmed him inside. The same feeling lit up in your eyes, but maybe that was just the happy tears that formed there, too.

'We're the Reids now,' you whispered in disbelief, probably due to the amount of alcohol you had consumed throughout the day. 'You're my husband!'

'Yes I am,' he murmured, pulling you back to his chest to lay your head. 'Forever and always.'

The last time he heard you say those special words was the day you said goodbye.

It wasn't until you fell pregnant with your first child that you found a proper house to live in. You'd been content with the studio apartment you'd found and moved into one year into your relationship, but when you fell pregnant, Spencer knew you would need a bigger space. One that you could call your own and make a home out of.

Your forever home.

Surprisingly, it hadn't taken long to find something: a nice rustic, two-storey house on the outskirts of DC. It was in a nice neighbourhood , far enough out of the city to be quiet, but close enough you could both get to work quick enough in case of an emergency. The moment you'd laid eyes on it, you fell in love with it, and Spencer knew without question this would be where you brought your family up.

He traipsed through the house with two cups of tea. Coffee had started to disagree with him after he quit the BAU, as if that were the only place he needed it. Teaching and guest lecturing at all the local universities was nowhere near the stress level of the BAU, and so he'd switched to tea. Somehow, in his (as he called it) pre-retirement, it tasted sweeter.

You had stepped down from being a profiler at the BAU after your third child was born, realising that with a four and two year old waiting outside the birth suite to meet their baby brother, you couldn't risk leaving your three babies without a mother. And while leaving the BAU, your home of close to twenty years, wrought a grief out of you that was close to unbearable, you knew it was the right decision and right time.

And you soon found a love for writing - fiction, non-fiction, poetry, it didn't matter. What you'd experienced in your career as a profiler had changed you, and sometimes writing it out made it less haunting, it gave you closure. You went on book tours, consulted on scholarly and literary journals, you even were brought into Spencer's classrooms to guest lecture from time to time.

All the while building and loving the family both of you had always dreamed of.

Spencer smiled at the dusty pictures that lined the walls, of the faces of his children and grandchildren smiling back him. Of the faces of friends old and new, of ghosts he used to know from a time long gone. Sometimes he hardly recognised himself in those pictures. He wasn't the vain type, but when he looked at himself in his 20's and 30's, he couldn't help the yearning that pulled at his heart when he did.

He compared those youthful pictures against his present day, laughing at the barely existent grey stubble he now sported, of the white hair that curled and stood up in any and all directions, of the glasses he now permanently had to wear. You always said he looked sexier with glasses, anyways, so he didn't mind.

Those pictures were his memory, his legacy, his life. When he felt his brain burning, when his memory became a bit too fuzzy, he could always look at the pictures and find solace in how those moments would live on in the people he loved.

'Spence?'

Your voice prompted him to keep moving, to let go of the past and remain in the present. He wandered through the rest of the house to the backyard, where two garden chairs sat either side of a coffee table, looking over the yard. The gardens were filled with flowers of all shapes and colours. He wasn't a nature guy by any means, but Spencer wanted you to have something to look after other than him or the children, something you could be proud of when you were much older. So he'd planted it himself (okay, he needed help from Derek), filling it with flowers that expressed all the wonderful qualities he loved about you.

There was a small gardening shed in the back, a quaint barbecue/entertainment area to one side, and a build-your-own playground just sitting on the lawn. He found you sitting comfortably in one of the chairs, staring out at the yard contently. He placed both cups of tea on the table before taking his own seat in the other chair.

'Do you remember how Jason used to carry Diana on his back up the slide?' you asked gently, a fond smile cracking your dry lips at the memory of your children playing on the very same playground their children now played on when they visited. 'You always got so scared they would fall and hurt themselves.'

'Isn't that our job?' he asked, taking a sip of his tea. 'To worry for our children?'

'You didn't have to be a helicopter parent, though,' you jibed playfully. 'You got better when Aaron was old enough to climb himself, so I can't berate you for that.'

'Speaking of which, Aaron just called, said him, Rachel and the kids want to invites us to dinner on Friday.'

You turned and smiled at him, but he saw how tired you were. It was in the slight droop in your lips when you smiled, it was in the slouch of your shoulders, it was the way you held out your hand for him to grasp and you could barely squeeze him back. You'd been like this for days, and it broke Spencer's heart to see the love of his life slowly fade away right beside him. He knew it was a natural way of life - considering their previous occupations, he was grateful to be even given the chance to grow old with you.

But despite natural law and despite his many blessings, it didn't dull the ache that grew more painful everyday.

'You don't have to be here, Spence,' you said, voice barely above a whisper, like it was just a secret only you two shared. 'You've seen enough death already.'

Spencer placed his cup on the table before getting out of his chair (a feat he struggled withe everyday now, his BAU days finally catching up to him) and walking around to your side, bringing both his hands to clasp yours as he knelt beside you.

'I'm not going anywhere,' he said, willing every ounce of sincerity and love into his words, into his hands as he held your frail ones. 'Forever and always, remember?'

Spencer almost broke down when your eyes locked with his, those shining (e/c) orbs sparkling with life and mischief and wonder. Despite what time had done to you, you were still his (Y/n), his best friend, his partner, his lover and saviour.

You nodded as if to say yes, I do remember. I always will. You pull one hand free of his grip, and use it to cradle his wrinkled cheeks. 'We've lived a good life, haven't we, Spence?'

He pulled one hand away to caress your hand on his cheek, holding it there for as long as he could. 'Yes. Yes we have.'

Your eyes scanned over him, suddenly seeing your life in rewind.

You saw him as he was now, white, Einstein hair, wrinkled skin and glasses. Then with only little streaks of white in his hair, more sleek. That's how he was with the kids. You kept going back, to your wedding, to your engagement, to the first time you kissed. Every movie night, every case, every late night in the office. Until you were seeing him as if for the first time. Kind of dorky, kind of sweet, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed to explain to you how his "physics magic" worked that very first day in the office.

It was like he was seeing you for the first time as well, as you smiled your bright smile like you did on that first day. The smile you had smiled for him every day since. The smile he saw in your children, and then your grandchildren.

'You are a true wonder, Spence,' you whispered softly, using what little strength you had left to squeeze the hand that still clasped yours as if to say thank you. 'My wonder.'

He waited for the lump in his throat to form, for the words to get stuck in his throat like they always did before. But the lump never formed, and so the words flowed like water out of him, finally feeling right.

'And you are mine,' he whispered back, smiling as bright as he could for you as he held you. 'You always have been my wonder.'

You bring his lips to yours one last time before dropping your hand from his face and sitting back in your seat, looking more tired than you'd ever been. But your other hand still held his, and he certainly wasn't going to let you go. Not yet.

'Spence,' you wheezed, eyes struggling to stay open on him.

Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, using his now free hand to stroke your grey hair in soothing motions. 'It's okay. You can rest now. I'll join you soon enough.'

The slight dip of your chin let him know you understood, and soon after you closed your eyes, your hand grew slack in his hold and your chest ceased rising.

You were gone.

And he was still here.

It was only then did Spencer allow the tears to fall, to acknowledge that despite both of your acceptances, he was sad. You'd lived good, long lives, and even then Spencer believed it was not enough time to love all of you. He knew it was selfish, but he figured after all he'd been through he would be allowed this one wish.

He held you for another hour before he called your children to notify them of your passing.

He held on for another year before he joined you. Cause of death: a broken heart.

He was buried beside you in the family lot, and on your joint headstone, it wrote:

Here lies Dr. Spencer Reid and Mrs. (Y/n) Reid. Loving Husband and Wife and Parents. "You truly are a wonder."

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 4 months

Text

Yandere Brother Pt 3

Tw: suffocating unbearable love, violence, general yandere, female reader shenanigans, infantilization, and of course incest. also christmas

minors and ageless blogs dni please <3

click here for part 1 and part 2

Click here for my new oc Yves (PLEASE READ IT I LOVE YVES)

plotholes and emglish errors everywhere and i could not be bothered :100emoji: please dont point it out thanks xoxo

Caught the Covid fuk now i cant leave my bed im so damn sick and pukey all the time, i dont fuckin know where my roommate is but at least they're not here to get infected, feeling like a busted up rustbucket rn

So this was originally written last year, couldnt find what else to write but this christmas time is perfect, so like dont mind the shoehorning of Christmas somewhere in this fic

You're having your summer break and you plan to pick up on a new hobby. Crocheting, perhaps.

Fuck, your brother picked up your search history from his spyware. Now you're left to deal with $1000 worth of wonderful quality crocheting materials and your big brother being your personal crocheting mentor.

This is where it gets frustrating. Yes, if you have the resources, you would enjoy your hobbies more. But, just like... What if you didn't like crocheting in the end? You're stuck with all these.

It happens to every single potential hobby. Stamp collecting? Your big brother will bid to the death for an extremely rare stamp from the 1900. You're not even fucking collecting the stamps, the stamp book already comes arranged with all the stamps ever produced. A collection that would only give a hardcore stamp collector an instant orgasm upon sniffing it.

Nail art? Where the hell should you keep all the acrylic powders, fake nails, drills and drill bits? Not to mention the dizzying numbers of nail polishes, nail brushes, nail stickers and cuticle sticks. Of course, your big brother is going to hire a professional nail artist to make sure you're practicing your hobby safely while he's learning how to do it himself, so he could replace your mentor too. He would become so skilled that he could qualify to open up a 5 star nail salon. But he's not interested unless you are.

Painting? you absolutely do NOT need all of those tubes of paint. The difference in shades for some of them are so small that you mistook it for the same colour. You would have a headache choosing the right type of paper, right type of primer and right type of fixative to use.

Are you having troubles on painting? Let big brother teach you. You would sit on his lap as he guide your hands across the canvas. Don't you think his warm hand enveloping yours feel nice? Doesn't his free hand feels nice sensually rubbing your thigh? Don't you just feel protected in his hold?

Makeup? Same situation with your nail hobby. You're essentially being babied by him and experienced celebrity makeup artists, you would drown in a mountain of eyeshadow palettes, primers, setting sprays, skin care products, anything and everything related to makeup.

Every instrument ever? Big brother would insist lovingly providing all the music lessons you need. He is a musical prodigy after all. If it's something ridiculously obscure like a Glass Armonica or the Theremin, big brother would master it in a couple of weeks, earn a fucking pHD in it and THEN teach you. No instrument is too expensive or hard for him. Your big brother is crossing his fingers HARD for you to have this hobby.

Chess? Oh, he is also a prodigy in it. He could teach you. Your chess pieces would be custom made to your liking, by the way. It would be the perfect density, perfect size, perfect texture for you. He knows what you like and you hate that.

Sports? Take a look at his "achievement room". It's filled to the brim with golden medals and trophies of every sport competition ever. He's not leaving you alone for this one.

Pottery? Welcome to your very own personal pottery studio, furnished with all types of drying racks, ovens, kilns, turntables and equipments you have never heard of. Big brother is always there to supervise you, making sure there won't be any accidents.

Cooking and baking? You get to have an industrial sized kitchen all for yourself. Everything is decorated such that it looks like you would be on television, starring in a cooking show. You don't need to clean anything, or prep anything, or actually do anything, really. There's a team of professional chefs and assistants to do everything for you. They're paid to cheer and clap and celebrate when you pour cake batter into a pan.

Gardening? Well, there's a massive plot of fertile land for you to garden to your heart's content at the house he bought as your 18th birthday gift. If you want a big project, it will be done overnight. You wouldn't hear the gigantic machineries and vehicles tumbling about due to the soundproof walls he installed. No one would be able to hear you both either, doing god-knows-what inside.

Video games? Your big brother personally do not encourage you to pursue this. But... Nonetheless, he would spoil you rotten with all the latest gaming consoles, limited edition merchandises, pre release copies of your favorite game franchises and whatever your gamer heart desires. All at a hefty price of... Daily cuddles and kisses. And you also have to move in with him. And he gets to decide what game you're playing, if he deems it a "bad influence"? It is not staying in his house.

You rather not.

Nothing is fun because the fun parts are already done for you. You don't get to experience the highs and lows of picking up a hobby, you don't get to explore and experiment. You're literally cursed with luxury.

So imagine your boredom, stress and paranoia during summer break. All your friends are spies for your brother, your hobbies aren't even "yours", leaving your house would inevitably lead you to your brother and all digital footprints are heavily scrutinized by him too. No privacy, no autonomy, all monotony.

You juggled three smartphones at once. Throwing one up in the air, catching the other one with your dominant hand, throwing the last to your other hand. Who gives a damn if one, or all of them breaks? It's riddled with spyware and your big brother would buy you every time a new model is released anyways. Which is... A new phone, a month?

You stopped caring where he gets the money. Obviously he has an assload and can afford to wipe his ass with thousand dollar bills regularly.

It's summer break. One last resort to try and spend your time like a regular ol teenager is taking up a part time summer job. There is a wide variety of jobs to choose from with your qualification. Granted, it's minimum wage and mostly customer service.

If you work as a barista, the cafe or juice bar you'll be working at will LOVE the crap out of you.

Your older brother will visit daily and increase their sales tenfold. Of course, he would pick the drinks that you like doing. It's okay if you fucked up, its only your beloved big brother's order, you can add as much sugar, salt, pepper, cyanide as you want. He will never yell at you, never tell you that you made anything wrong or never even die.

The management will suddenly see a surge in daily customer count. Thanks to big brother's networking. And like him, they also will accept anything you make with no complaint... As per his instructions. You could go full on ridiculous and give them a cup of ice drizzled with strawberry scented dish soap and call it Tutti Frutti, they would still pay for it and take it with them. Though, you're not sure if they ever consumed anything from you.

Without fail, your brother would visit you during every break and hand you your meal along with a kiss on the forehead or the cheek. He would bring you out to eat but you would refuse everytime. You also didn't want his company, which made him pout and whine without fail. But it's nice that he would actually back off after the sixth "no".

However, you know that fucker is watching you from a hidden camera somewhere in the nooks and crannies of whatever breakroom you're resting in.

He would engulf you in a big hug when you get off work, telling you how proud he is of you for getting through another workday like a champ. Praising you for all the hard work and excellent performance, making sure to soothe and comfort you if you happen to come across a rude customer earlier in the day.

You try not to think too much about their fate.

You will be fed, bathed and loved after every shift.

Hell, he would even build up a company from scratch just to hire you. Any position you want, barista, manager, cashier, back office work, janitor- you name it, you get the "job" and get paid a pretty penny. All your other coworkers and customers are probably paid actors and actresses to simulate a "real life working experience" safely. He controls it all, making sure you have just the right amount of drama, the right amount of diplomacy and the right amount of gossiping. You're rarely pushed out of your comfort zone, though. Big brother always has your safety and best interests at heart.

Of course, he will never tell you all of this, to keep the immersion going. You're going to feel sad that you're not exactly experiencing reality. But a bastardization of it. Might as well star in a trashy reality TV show instead, at least, it's much more authentic than whatever your big brother has going on for you.

He doesn't need to even tell you though. You would pick it up easily and quickly especially if you already watched the Truman Show. Don't tell him you did, god help you if he ever gets an inkling that you knew about the existence of the Truman Show. He deemed that movie as demonic propaganda and he needs to lecture some sense into you. If you want out, just say that you're 'bored' and want to do something else. Your big brother will gladly drop everything and do anything in his power to help you "achieve" what you want.

But for the sake of "plot" in this latest installment, you agreed to work in a quaint little bubble tea stall. Where you're the only employee, making drinks for whoever is ordering in front of the shop's decorated window.

Of course, your big brother miraculously happens to work in a nearby skyscraper as one does. It's not that you didn't do your research, you were a hundred percent certain he didn't work in that building, because that fucker never goes to work... At least, physically. Perhaps he does his job, whatever that may be, through online means.

You were planning to use your bicycle to get there that you got yourself with "your" money. He never bought you a car or a bike or anything that would get you around, he saw it as something unnecessary. Why would you need it when big brother is available 24/7 to bring you anywhere?

Actually, you could have gotten yourself a car with the allowance he gives you every day for being cute and adorable, and being patient with his incessant kisses and hugs and cuddles and love and touches and his fucking insanity in general.

But you know that he's going to kick up a massive fuss about driving alone. It was hell to even get your license with him actively trying to sabotage you at every exam- which includes him stooping so low to bribe the examiner to fail you. However, you persevered, and you got that stupid license. All the while, he was lamenting about how you're going to leave him all alone, how you don't need big brother anymore, how society pressured you to grow up too fast and recklessly drive off wherever.

You knew better than to fall for that. Or even entertain it either. Eventually, he gave up trying to guilt trip you into crying, apologizing to him and sobbing in his arms, promising that you won't leave him.

It's not like he DIDN'T kick up a fuss when you said you're using a bicycle either. He began freaking out about your safety, fearing that you might get run over.

Well. You admitted defeat. He's driving you to fucking work and back. It's not worth it to fight this battle.

So you began working in the stall. You had someone train you for your first 2 weeks. Then you were on your own.

The owner, who is also the person who showed you the ropes around there, said business isn't good, but it isn't bad either. So you didn't need to worry about rush hour where hoards of thirsty, sleep deprived office workers trample over each other to get their daily boba fix. It's pretty peaceful working there.

But what you do need to worry about, is your fucking big brother.

He would come and buy a drink, whichever you like to make. It can be the most expensive one, or the cheapest one, the most elaborate one or the simplest one. It's up to you, he will pay for it and happily drink what you made.

You could make him pay for the most expensive drink there is but serve him a cup of lukewarm water, and he would still drink it with glee and fork over his money, telling you to keep the change (which is usually a hundred bucks extra).

Let's say you want to be decent and make him drink that you know he would actually like. Which is anything that tastes generally fruity. And insist that you like making it even though it actually sucks.

He knows. He can tell that you're specially making his favourite drink. And that makes him happy and more obsessed with you if that's even possible at this point.

He would leave a massive tip and a kiss on your forehead.

Although your brother is fucking gross and weird like that, you still love him. Probably a bad idea but you're working so hard, trying your best to earn money honestly just to get him a Christmas gift.

Despite the restraining order between your parents and him, your brother is still invited back home each year to be jolly together. Preparations start a few days before Christmas, where you would see an unusual sight.

All of your immediate family members in the same room, or at least in the same house together without fighting to the death. Your dad's bones are intact, your mom didn't have her insecurities jabbed on for once. They're not exactly on speaking terms, per se.

You woke up one morning to see an... appropriate sized tree for your parent's house, erected in the middle of the living room. Adorned with beautiful ornaments and... are those pictures of you on the ornaments?

Wrapped presents were patiently sitting under the tree. There was a small box with your father's name on its tag, another small one with your mother's name on it. A decent sized box was addressed to your brother, must be a combined present from your parents.

Your shoulders sagged in defeat when you saw your presents took up the perimeter of the tree and even conquered the couch, the back of the couch and under the coffee table. You lost count after gift box #27.

Since everyone is in the kitchen, you quickly place the presents you got for your parents... and your brother.

You panned to the fireplace. Your Christmas stocking is filled so much to the brim that your brother must have added 5 more next to your original one. Your parents' and your brother's stockings are relatively empty. You stuffed them with candies and nuts to make them look less embarrassing.

You straightened your back, that should do it. Your ears perked up when you heard some clamoring in the kitchen. It must be your brother.

You let out a surprised yelp when you're yanked back by a pair of arms that snuck around your waist. "Merry Christmas, my little wittle precious baby!" You squeezed your eyes shut and scrunched your face as he attacked you with a barrage of kisses.

He giggled and squealed as he held you in his arms and twirled you around in glee. You let out a scream of horror as your feet dangle off the ground. He does this every Christmas morning when you were a child to wake you up further and get you excited for the holiday. But you're not a kid anymore, and this is horrifying.

Finally, he stopped and put you down. Your hair is frazzled and the world around you is gyrating. He squeezed you in another hug and gently rocked you side to side.

He immediately unlatched when you said you're hungry. Your big brother gleefully lead you to the dining table, where he fixes up a napkin around your neck like a bib. You asked him why is he tying a ribbon on your hair, he said that you are his Christmas present and he is spoiling himself this year.

Before you could respond, he gave you a brief peck on the head before frolicking away into the kitchen.

Your parents came out of the kitchen, greeting you. They're holding a tray full of steaming hot breakfast foods, no doubt your brother forced them to make it for you. Every Christmas generated a metric ton of leftovers. It's because your brother wanted you to try all of the foods from all over the world. But don't worry though, the leftovers could be so intact that it was given out to neighbors and friends and extended families. Some didn't even need to cook after that, the sheer amount of leftovers was enough to fuel ten more Christmas gatherings.

Croissants, quiches, various types of bread, eggs, ham, bacon even panettone made from scratch. Looking at the spread in front of you is dizzying, your big brother sets down the last plate right between your hands. It's a breakfast plate your brother customized to fit your usual preference, everything is shaped into a heart. He patted your head as he took a seat next to you.

Everyone ate in silence. Everyone was focusing on their own meal except... your brother. Who else would rather stare at you adoringly instead?

He asked if you wanted to go make snowmen outside. Not without proper winter protection, that is. You shrugged, it's not like you could escape your family anyway. Your friends are all busy with their own families, and you don't even have friends. Everything is closed and if you lock yourself in your room, your brother will just pick the fucking lock and force his way in.

Your parents tried making small talk, this earned a feral glare from your brother because it interrupted the connection between the both of you. They paid him no mind and began asking about your life. You tiredly replied to their questions and asked some back yourself, to try to find any sense of normalcy. Your brother would be disengaged with the words coming out of your parents mouth, but highly interested in what you had to say.

The rest of the morning went by uneventfully. You offered to help clear the table and do the dishes. Your brother just 'aww'd at you and gave you an appreciative kiss on your forehead. That wasn't an explicit yes, he appreciated the gesture, but he wouldn't allow you to dirty your hands doing chores.

He told you to wait for him to clean up. In the mean time, he gave you permission to open some of the gifts he got you. Frankly, you don't even want to deal with it at all, it's just too much crap. You decided to go through the stockings instead and grab some snacks for yourself.

As expected, he filled it with the most expensive treats and the freshest oranges. These types of foods are usually served in a formal setting, like eating gold crusted caviar at a 10 star restaurant, all dressed up in fancy clothes. But he just... shoved it in a Christmas stocking as if they're mundane chocolates.

Whatever, you shoved some into your pockets.

You turned around to see your brother smiling lovingly at you. He wrapped a puffer jacket around you, his scarf with his cologne on it, a pair of thick mittens on your hands , a winter hat snuggly fitted to your head, and a pair of thick pants he made you wear in front of him.

He picked one of your numerous christmas presents and handed it to you. He clasped his hands together expectedly as he watches you.

Your brother urged you to open it, go wild. Rip the wrapping to shreds. You felt so bad seeing how well wrapped it is and the quality of the wrapping paper is... indescribably good. It doesn't even feel like paper, it feels like silk.

So your carefully dismantled it, trying not to tear anything. You look up to see that your brother is pointing his camera at you, capturing this very precious moment. He encouraged you to go on.

You managed to remove the packaging and revealed a box of expensive winter boots. These are high quality and you would have been the source of envy even though most of your "friends" are also from wealthy families. Not everyone gets to have these.

You appreciate it but... You already had a pair of winter boots, the ones from last year, and the year before that. And the year before that, and a week ago where your brother is freaking out about you potentially having frostbite on your toes.

"It's the latest model! It was released as a part of a Christmas special, it will keep you warm and protect your feet too. It was selling out fast, I'm so glad I managed to get a pair for you, I can't have my sweetiepie sad on Christmas day!" Gushed your brother. You slipped them on.

You can't tell the difference between the one you had last year and the one on your feet now. Maybe some minor difference in it's stylistic design but... they're equally as comfortable.

You thanked your brother and finally gave him what he actually wanted from all this: a hug. He put away his phone and returned the embrace, sinking so deep into your jacket that neither of you can move without stumbling. You know he expected you to show gratitude for all his gifts through his main love language; touch.

It is exhausting.

After that, he brought you out to his private plot of land which he made into a park, complete with swingsets, monkey bars and slides. But these aren't for the public, it's for you. All the equipment are well maintained and look brand new even though you know it's been there for years.

He's not fond of throwing snowballs because it could hurt you. But he allows you to throw as much as you want at him. Even after the stunt you pulled last year.

You packed snow around a rock and hurled at him with all your might, it went straight to his head and his right eye was busted for months. Your brother didn't see that as something wrong, though. Even if you tried to apologize, he said that it was an accident and it was alright, he still loves you dearly and you did 'nothing wrong'. The first thing he did after recovering from his injuries at the hospital is to take you out for hot chocolate and then give you a backrub back home because winter could make your muscles stiff; and hence you must feel strained and sore.

He was still mildly bleeding from his gauze at the time, it was covering at least 70% of his upper head. Your brother was clueless when you asked if he needs any painkiller for his recent injury. He claimed to not feel the pain, but his wincing tells you otherwise. He rewarded you for your concern nonetheless with hugs and kisses and another massage.

You laid yourself on the snowy ground and started making snow angels. Your brother had his camera out and began capturing every moment he has with you.

You felt uncomfortable. And the cold is nipping at your bones even though you're thoroughly insulated by the sophisticated winter gear your brother made you wear. You're ready to go home now.

It shocked your brother and made him a bit desperate. He stammered and stumbled over his words, asking you if you wanted to play on the swing, build a snow man, play on the slides, the merry go around and... throw snowballs at him. Are you cold? He was in the middle of removing his own jacket to layer it onto you, but you stopped him.

You said you're tired. You don't find this fun and you're too old for this.

Maybe you're thirsty? He packed a flask filed with steaming hot chocolate for you- no? You're not thirsty or hungry? Maybe you wanted to use the bathroom-- no? You don't have to go?

He tried listing out all the possible reasons you wanted to go home and all its' solutions. Desperately wanting you to stop growing up so fast.

You got sick and tired of this, you yelled at him at the top of your lungs that you wanted to go home. You then stormed away towards the car, leaving your brother to stand there in silence, his camera capturing your explosive outburst.

Your brother saw you slamming the door angrily as you got in.

He sighed, gulping and hovering his finger over the delete button. But he ultimately decided against erasing the footage, it's still a video of you after all. Your brother assured that he's coming to the car, he wipes a stray tear away as he heads to his vehicle.

The both of you stayed silent as he drove you home.

Once you arrived, you bolted out of the car and ran back in. Locking yourself in the bedroom and barricading the door with random furniture. Hugging your knees close to your chest as you pray that your brother does not go after you by climbing into your windows.

And... he didn't. He left you alone for once. For a few hours too. It gave you the much needed relief, you felt like you could breathe now.

You're starting to feel a bit hungry. And you're hungry enough to be willing to face your older brother. So you began unbarricading, placing your dressers to it's original place.

You carefully unlocked the door, fully expecting him to be waiting outside for you. To your surprise, no one was in the hallway. You could hear some noises downstairs, in the kitchen.

You cautiously went down, the tree is still intact. Nothing is broken and there doesn't seem to be signs of a fight. You released a breath that you didn't know that you were holding, happy to know that you don't need to spend another Christmas at the hospital visiting your badly battered parents.

You whipped your head to the sound of your brother calling your name softly. He's holding a baking tray and a bowl, you can't tell what is in there because he's too tall. He smiled at you as he set it down on the dining table. The tray contained freshly baked parts of a gingerbread house and the bowl contained vanilla frosting.

You scanned the rest of the table. There are numerous small glass bowls containing different types of candy and snacks; from pretzel sticks to colourful chocolate rocks, to real gold leaves. Piping bags with metal tips are present too next to a box of plastic gloves.

Your brother pulled your chair out and invited you to sit there. You did, and he called you a good girl. His good girl. As you put on a pair of plastic gloves, he kissed you on the temple.

You asked where your parents are. He said that they're preparing the food for dinner, which includes ham and a roast turkey. And 15 other dishes.

You quizzed on, asking if there will be more people coming in. He shook his head: no. It's only the four of you. In the meantime, you should enjoy yourself building this gingerbread house. He puts on his own pair of plastic gloves too and began filling the piping bag with icing.

The two of you worked in peace, you opting to decorate the house while he pipes the details on the gingerbread men.

There is only two, a large one and a smaller one. You can guess which represents who.

You noticed the odd choice of attaching the small one to the large one's torso. With strategic use of the candies and frosting, he made it look like the larger gingerbread man is carrying the smaller one on its hip. He piped your defining features onto the baby gingerbread, and piped his features on the larger one.

He noticed you staring, your brother asked if you had a hard time connecting the pieces with frosting and if you needed his help. You said no, you just need a spatula from the kitchen. He tried to get up from his seat, but you pushed him back down, saying that you can get it yourself. He pouted, telling you to be careful and not touch the knives or stoves. Your brother went back to obsessing over the details on his gingerbread men.

You went inside the kitchen and greeted your parents who are busy cooking. You go through the drawers to find a silicone spatula and decided to help pick up some stray food scraps on the floor, throwing them into the bin. But as soon as you step on the pedal and have the lid swing open, you saw two crushed, but perfectly edible, gingerbread men in the garbage bin.

You returned to the dining table to see that your big brother is proudly presenting his work. He said this represents you and him... as if you already haven't figured it out. He said he dreams of having you live with him in a perfect fantasy house, fantasy world where you never have to grow up. And he will always be there by your side, taking care of you till the end of time. You will be pampered and spoiled rotten, you don't have to do anything, you don't have to lift a finger. Your big brother will do everything for you. He would even breathe for you if he could.

You nodded in acknowledgement, too tired to engage with him. You sat back down, continued with the gingerbread house. You failed to notice the flicker of sadness in his eyes, your brother felt so neglected and unwanted these few years. He wished that you were a kid again so the both of you could play together and be happy. The more he tries to win your favour, the more distant you get from him. He is endlessly chasing and you are running non-stop.

The rest of the afternoon went by uneventfully, other than the fact that your big brother rests his head on your shoulder the whole time.

Now, it's time for dinner. You tried helping them bring out the dishes, your brother praised you for being a darling as usual. He lets you have the first bite of the turkey, tearing a small inconspicuous piece of flesh from the bird and hand feeding it to you. It's still warm, juicy and delicious. Maybe it's the feeling of being special that makes it even tastier.

You chew as you brought out the casserole, setting it down on the table.

You looked at the spread. It looks like a buffet at a high end hotel. So many varieties and extremely nutritious.

Your brother fixed your napkin bib for you again and took food for you. Slumping in your seat, you were thinking of protesting but you knew it's easier to just wait for him to carve the best parts of the turkey for you and let the food pile up neatly on your plate first. He returned it to you, all your favourite dishes are on it within sensible portions. But these are still a lot of food for a person.

He didn't care about praying. Your brother wanted you to eat as soon as possible because you must be hungry. And it is absolute sacrilege to let you go hungry.

You insisted that you join your parents in saying grace and you're not that hungry. Your brother looks uncomfortable, still believing in his sick mind that you're starving to the point of emaciation. But since you are adamant in doing such 'pointless' things In his mind, he agrees, only if he leads it.

Everyone bowed their head down and held each others' hands.

Your brother said the shortest, most insincere, laziest grace ever. Once he fulfilled your requirement, he urged you to eat.

You're upset, you felt really angry and you thought he was mocking you instead. So you opted to eat alone in your room, you made it clear that you didn't want anyone in. Especially not your big brother.

He cried out a desperate plea to get you to stay with him. You ignored him and took a couple more of your favourite finger foods. Predicting a fight between your brother and your parents.

You wrenched your arm away from his powerful grip and fled the scene, hurrying up the flight of stairs. Only slowing down when you're out of sight.

As you thought, sounds of verbal fighting started resonating throughout the house. You heard your brother screaming his head off at your parents for being bad influences and poisoning you to hate him. Your parents defended themselves and this only fuelled the fire. You didn't want to be around when your brother started hurling chairs, so you slammed the door as hard as you could. The sudden loud noise did stop the commotion downstairs briefly. But it continued soon after.

You ate alone, in your barricaded room. Wishing that you're born into a 'normal' family, with 'normal' trauma. To a lot of people, you are complaining about a blessing. But you are always feeling alone, the only person facing a problem which everyone sees as a solution.

You scraped the last bits of food with your spoon. Waiting for the sounds of the ambulance or at least for the fighting to quiet down.

You looked at the clock. It's 1 AM. It's been relatively quiet for a while now, they should be finishing up their fight or cleaning up. Time for you to return your plate.

You grunted as you pushed the furniture away from your door which felt like the umpteenth time. You left your room and head downstairs.

Hearing soft sobs from one person, your brother. He's sitting in front of the tree, hugging the present you left for him earlier. The presents addressed to your parents are both missing, presumably being taken back to their room. A blanket is loosely draped around his shoulders.

You took slow steps, unsure if you should comfort him or not. But before you can even decide to chicken out, he spotted you. However, to your surprise, he didn't approach you or tell you to come forward. He gave you a soft assuring smile, before returning his attention to the tree.

You set your plate aside and went by his side. Your brother watched you with puffy eyes full of love, yet it tells you that he has been irreparably hurt by something... or an accumulation of things.

"Thank you..." He whispered, refering to the gift you gave him. It isn't something particularly valuable to you. It's a picture of the entire family in a photo frame. Your brother is going to cherish it, because it is a gift from the person he loves most in the world. But deep down, he secretly wishes that it was a photo of you and him alone.

He still looks extremely upset and distraught. Almost like he is at the brink of a breakdown. Your brother usually verbalizes what he wanted, but he couldn't this time.

You wonder what your parents got for him. You peeked over his shoulder to see that an unopened box containing a plain T-shirt and a pair of socks is carelessly discarded to the corner of the room.

Then, it clicked. Just like you, he felt alone. Maybe you will never understand why he holds you so dear in his heart. Just like how no one will understand him either, his struggles are unique to him with no one to relate.

He destroyed the relationship between himself and your parents. His friends are all superficial. You're grown up and constantly rejecting his love.

Not a single one of you paid attention to him. Yes, it is hard to think of a present for someone who has everything. But they could have put in a bit more effort, the colour of the shirt and socks aren't even in his favourite colour or in the correct size. You could have removed your parents from the photo, your brother will never remove it himself. Because that would mean defacing your gift for him.

And growing up, your parents never saw him as... a person. As someone with feelings and a personality. They only saw his value as a trophy piece to show off to their friends and family. Same goes to his friends now, if it wasn't for his skills and possessions, he would be nothing to anyone.

He had to beg to be loved. Even that isn't reliable, he could give it his all and everyone around him will expect more. Your brother could never dream of being the receiving end of his own affection. It seems like an impossibility to him.

Perhaps he is doing all of these despite getting nothing but disgust and disdain from you is all to protect your innocence, to not put you through what he had to face. It's just that he went about it the wrong way. Or maybe he is just... wrong in the head. Or maybe he was hoping by loving you so much, you would give him the intense type of love he was yearning for his entire life.

Either way, he is alone.

The both of you are now seated in front of the fireplace. You didn't want to open presents, your brother is okay with that. He did not nag you to do it for once. Snuggling closer, the both of you shared a blanket. He still looks unhappy and crestfallen.

You remember you still had the ribbon bow on your head.

He hovered his arms around you as you squirm in his grip. You managed to crawl into his lap and rest your head on his chest. He lets out a chuckle and some sniffles, clamping his arms back down around you.

You reminded him of one last gift. Your brother is confused until he saw your ribbon.

From that moment on, he burst into tears of joy. He found you so unbearably adorable, so unbearably cute that his heart couldn't take it. An excited squeak escaped his lips as he held you even tighter. Peppering kisses all over your face, neck and head.

He started blabbering in baby talk, calling you every pet name and listing out everything he loved about his 'gift'. Repeating that this is the best gift he ever received and this is all he ever wanted. You are all he ever wanted. Praising that you remembered what he loves.

You hope that he could feel a little less lonely tonight. You can't peer into his head and know exactly what is going on inside. But you knew, he was happy.

Your breathing calmed him down and he closed his eyes, nuzzling against your neck. The collar of your shirt wet from his tears and your arms are secure around him. Your brother mumbled "I love you." as he adjusted you on his lap. Pressing your form against his, enjoying the heat that the both of you shared. Wishing that this moment will never end and you will never part from him.

You realized another thing too as he strokes your hair.

Your older brother is the only person in the world who harbors true, undying, unconditional love for you.

Even though he has his flaws, there will be no one else like him. Ever.

So you closed your eyes and melt into him. Just like before, you felt safe.

The both of you fell alseep in front of the hearth, surrounded by gifts, mostly unopened ones. Snowflakes floating down from the skies and landing delicately at the edge of the roof. Feeling unburdened and content in the living room.

Merry Christmas.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #tw infantilization #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #tw yandere #yandere concept #male yandere oc x reader #yandere brother #tw incest

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cambion-companion · 6 months

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I cannot concentrate on my work (ironically as a TA writing up my phd thesis) because I read your intelligence 8 tav x raphael fics and now I am shaken to the core and all I wanna do is daydream about being a clueless little slut in the house of hoep

please saer can I have some more

hahaha I'm so glad that brain worm took root, intelligence 8 Tav is delightful. I also wanted to incorporate this lovely ask as well and express my gratitude for the support you all have given me this month. All is well! Enjoy a drabble with a Tav/reader utterly oblivious to the true nature of a cambion...to them he's just a tiefling with wings! how cool!

Raphael + reader (gn) drabble

(I'll probably write another that's more romantic/cute but this was too funny to pass up)

"You have an uncanny talent at getting into the most outlandish situations." Raphael pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, inhaling a deep breath.

You looked around at the decadent room he'd rented for himself, steam rising from two baths and flower petals ornamenting the lush red carpet. "I wouldn't think a devil-guy would be the sort to have tulips thrown about."

"Roses." Raphael corrected, his hand clasping firm about your upper arm just in time to save you from slipping on the wet tile and braining yourself. "I would wager a hefty sum of gold your mind does not entertain too many thoughts at one time."

"Thank you." You murmured, touched. You allowed him to escort you to safety upon a chair and watched with vague interest at how his lips twisted in bemusement. "I should thank you for saving my bacon back there. Wasn't expecting to survive that. But Shart always gets Withers to bring me back when we run out of those glowy scroll things."

"I do believe I sense a migraine coming on." Raphael squeezed his eyes shut briefly before crossing to pour you both a glass of dark brown alcohol.

You took the fancy crystal glass and downed the drink with gusto, only realizing your mistake when the scorching whiskey had passed into your gullet, and you burst into a coughing fit. Raphael sighed and gave you a solid couple thumps on your back as you struggled to breath. "There now. Death by imbibing spirits too eagerly is no way to enter the afterlife. Not until you've served your purpose, at least."

"What?"

"I'm concerned for your well-being, dear."

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve. "That's really nice of you, Raph." He winced at the nickname but just barely managed to keep a pleasant neutral expression. "I don't know why everyone else threw such a fit about you, you're not a bad dude."

"I'm flattered." Raphael almost felt a sense of annoyance at how easy this was. He enjoyed a challenge, and this mortal was certainly not bringing it. He drained his glass fluidly and returned it with a clink to the table. "Now, your person is more or less stable for the time being."

You looked around, checking behind you. "What person?"

"Your body has been plucked from the peril you so naively flounced into." Raphael clarified, a slight edge to his words now, he was running low on patience. "Be a good mouse and run along, fetch me the crown and we can part ways amicably."

"I never imagined mice to be much good at fetching." You mused, rising to your feet as Raphael practically pushed you from his room. "That seems more a dog's forte. Oh, we have a most wonderful dog back at camp-"

The door closed in your face, so close it almost clipped your nose. You stared at the dark wood for a moment, then smiled and shrugged. You spoke a little louder so he would be able to hear through it. "His name is Scratch! What was I saying? Oh yes, dogs fetch crowns and balls better than mice! Maybe keep that in mind when giving people animal nicknames!"

No answer.

He must have gone to take a nap. You were sure cambions probably did that often since they seemed to act much like cats in every other way.

Smiling to yourself you departed, convinced that you and Raphael were now bosom friends.

#raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #raphael baldur's gate 3 #drabble #fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #raphael x you

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veneritia · 1 month

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april 2024 camp nano wip intro - when comes the dawn

this is just something silly :)

taglist: @bloomingwrites @writinglyra @zmwrites @trapped-inadystopianovel @inky-duchess @aalinaaaaaa @seasteading @kaatiba @lazulis-stuff @serpentarii @sourrcandy @charlesjosephwrites @marrowwife @forever-and-almost-always @halcionic

Slide transcripts under the cut!

[TRANSCRIPT BEGINS]

Slide 1: Title slide

When Comes the Dawn, book 1 of 2

Slide 2: wdym my fantasy story has to have magic?

Set in a fantasy world loosely set in the late antiquities/early middle ages., where everyone alive has the capability to harness magic. But actually using it requires strict and intensive education (and maybe a phD or 5) so most people only know very basic spells.

In Trinitarian belief, it’s believed that the goddess Meidther gave her blood to bring humans to life, and because of that people are imbued with magic. No living person can be alive without magic because it’s literally impossible! Wait -- the emperor of Aetier has a what????

So there’s this weird phenomenon where on very rare occasions, babies will be born without magic. Called “deadbornes”, these babies are incompatible with life and usually end up passing away minutes to days later. With one notable exception (we’ll circle back to this later)

Slide 3: the set-up

The Empire of Aetier (or if you ask any local: “the gods’ specialist little empire”) has a very unique way of handling succession in the imperial family. That way is murder. Just murder. All heirs plot against one another in a formal-informal system called “The King’s Game.” It’s supposed to be a competition of skills, but it’s kind of warped itself into state-sanctioned fratricide (NOT to be confused with a battle royale. That’s just uncouth /j)

The last King’s Game ended 22 years ago, when Dantalion vi Aetier defeated and killed his half-sister in battle. As the victor, he crowned himself the new Vasilier of the empire and proceeded to bring in a new golden age of prosperity for his people. And nothing is wrong and everything is beautiful, and there is no way this can go wrong

... right?

It all starts on the day Fenice was born... where instead of being the healthy and uber powerful child Dantalion expected her to be, Fenice turns out to be a deadborne. Deadbornes are considered harbingers of ill omens, and siring one is a terrible way to start your new reign. And even stranger still is the fact that Fenice...doesn’t die? Someone call the priest and ask them what does it mean if your death omen refuses to go away

Slide 4: The plot

The end of the Hesperia-Aetier war brought new lands under the Empire’s rule, and with it, new ways to gain power and prestige in the Imperial Court. The biggest thorn in the empire atm is that Hesperia’s last king is still wandering the lands somewhere, waiting to strike.

Imperessa Fenice vi Aetier (who’s still alive and kicking) just lost her mom in the war, and now she’s desperate to prove herself to her estranged father that she’s more than a disappointment and wasted potential. And what better way to do that than to succeed him as the next Vasilier?

The problem? Only those that undergo an Ascension are considered legitimate contenders for the throne. The other problem? Dantalion won’t give her one.

Fenice: “Trade offer: I receive my own province to rule and an Ascension. You receive the head of the deposed king of Hesperia.” Dantalion: “Deal. But you have to marry his brother though” Fenice: “What”

[in big, bold, italicized font] disclaimer: this is not a romance

Slide 5: The plot pt. 2

Now wedded and gifted with a province of her own to rule , Fenice actually has to set-up her own power base and follow through with her end of the deal to find and kill the runaway king, as well as extinguish the rebellions he’s so keen on igniting.

But the more she looks for him, the more she realizes he’s being backed by someone much more powerful. But who?

And on totally unrelated note, there seems to be some weird rumors going around of some guy claiming to be Aretos vi Aetier, the son of the very same person Dantalion killed during the King’s Game 20+ years back. But that’s obviously fake news. Surely no one will fall for it!

Slide 6: The POV characters

[image description, the slide is split into two parts with fenice on the left and nikephoros on the right. end image description]

[heading ] fenice vi aetier

[image description: a face claim of the character is displayed on an arched frame, the model is female,has long red hair, pale skin, and an intense gaze]

20, she/her, imperessor of Aetier, Kaisarim of Isidore

the deadborne child that just won’t die

The most calculative and petty bitch you will ever meet

Has the constitution of a sick Victorian lady

Has an inferiority complex so bad it loops back around to a superiority complex

May have met god. not entirely sure

(Debuff) (unremovable) an off-putting aura that cancels out all magic in her immediate vicinity

Ginger

She’s soooo aroace

[heading ] nikephoros deominos

[image description: a face claim of the character is displayed on an arched frame, the model is male, has short light brown hair, is wearing a red sweater, and has his chin tucked into the crook of his arm, while leaning off the arm of a sofa. end image description.]

24, he/him, prince-consort, prince of Hesperia

has been having the worst day of his life for 5 years in a row and counting

his country? conquered. his brother? in hiding. his sister? captive. himself? trying not to die of liver failure

the opposite of a wife guy, the only person he hates more than his wife is his father-in-law loves his family, would be nice to see them though.

generally a nice guy but recent events has him very stressed and angry 24/7

has murderous urges almost all the time

At the bottom middle of the slide it says "married in body but divorced in spirit."

Slide 7: Major characters (spar's notes edition)

(no pictures bc face claimsare hard :(

[heading] dantalion vi aetier

47, he/him, vasilier of the empire

a living legend that all history nerds of the future would study

the dilfiest dilf to ever dilf

has many kids. is a father to maybe one of them

has many wives. is a husband to one, maybe two of them

canonically extremely pretty

surprisingly the only vi aetier to recieve the “kinslayer” epithet despite all previous generations also...slaying kin

Is a wife guy but for a specific wife only

conquered Hesperia as a pride thing

[heading] titania of taul

45, she/her, late vasilia of the empire

the most badass woman to ever walk the face of the earth

mother to fenice and first wife to the guy on the left

she dies before the book starts but she’s still present in the story because death has nothing on her

has many fun epithets such as “the strongest mage,” and “the scourge of men”

Titania is to Hesperians as Hannibal was to the Romans

A+ fighter, B+ mom

Not brought up or relevant in the story, but did you know no one knows who her mother is. One day, her dad just walked out into the wilderness to hunt and then a couple weeks or months later came back with Titania. no explanation was given

Slide 8: major characters cont.

[heading] andras vi drochona

44, he/him, imperessor of Aetier

Dantalion’s only full-blooded sibling, and also his only living sibling

the vasilier’s right hand man

lopped off his own sword arm to prove his loyalty

Designated a forever bachelor by the government

terrible at being comforting

likes to mess with his nieces and nephews

[heading] charles vi aetier

18, he/him, imperessor of Aetier

dantalion’s second child

everyone’s favorite person and can do no wrong

has to always be ok or he’ll detonate like a nuke

achilles coded bi-disaster, take that however you will

a disney prince trapped in game of thrones someone please help this boy out he just wants his family to get along

absolute mama’s boy

[heading] sola eidos

27, he/him

that is not his real name, he made it up

could be the star of his own book ngl

primarily deals in information nowadays but sometimes he misses the adrenaline rush that comes from a well-executed assassination. this is what lands him in fenice’s hands

his secrets have secrets, that’s why his hair is so big

slide 9: major characters cont.

[heading] isandros deominos

28, he him, king of Hesperia

Nike’s older half-brother

Had the worst start of a reign ever. He’s proclaimed king and then immediately has to flee into hiding

hates Aetier with a burning passion

is Stressed TM and in dire need for some hot cocoa

[heading] leda vi bryennia

48, she/her, honored fidari

long story short, she once witnessed Titania fight and covered in blood and had such a massive girl-crush she swore to be Titania’s knight the second she was asked

helped raise fenice and is now serves her as her guardian/protector. that is her child thank you very much

had a shounen-style rivals-to-friends-to-lovers arc with fellow fidari Thetis. It’d be great if it wasn’t for their explosive break-up

[heading] sartore vitae

28, he/him

he can mansplain, manipulate, and manwhore his way into and out of any situation

has a cool eye-patch

is maybe a little too invested with Fenice’s relationship with her father

he WISHES he was as cool as lelouch lamperouge

+ many more characters! (seriously this cast is huge)

slide 10: featuring

way too much extraneous worldbuilding

court intrigue

morally dark gray protagonist

family as your allies and family as your enemies

lots of near-death experiences

no romantic subplot!

too many code geass references

slide 11: camp nano goals

write everyday

2wrte 15,000 words total

reach 50,000 words on my draft

slide 12: fin

[image description: the final slide is full of discord screenshots of funny jokes and commentary about the wip. ]

[end transcript]

#pls don't take this seriously #if u see any typos no you dont #wtwcommunity #writeblrgarden #writeblr #collection.my projects #series.wctd #collection.events #event.camp nano april 2024

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samgirl98 · 7 days

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Orion Called Cepheus 2/2

They had come in the Batmobile.

Jazz was tense as Batman drove toward Gotham; Robin sat by him in the passenger seat. He would turn his head frequently to look at Danny. Jazz squeezed Danny’s hand hard. She couldn’t believe Danny would go behind her back and call someone else who knew nothing about his current situation.

She couldn’t believe her baby brother would want to leave her for his biological family. Jazz glared at her younger brother from time to time.

He looked away guiltily each time.

Danny was doing this for her. Jazz deserved to have a normal life. To go to university. She shouldn’t have to be on the run with him. She didn’t need him messing up her life.

The trip to Gotham was silent.

Jazz didn’t even raise her eyebrow when a secret passage was opened randomly at a back alley. Damned rich people. She held on to Danny’s small hand as they exited the Batmobile. She ignored Batman and Robin and looked around the cave. People were sitting by a huge computer.

Everyone stared at Jazz and Danny as they got out of the car. Jazz got in front of her brother to shield him from their eyes.

A man in a black suit with a blue bird turning into blue stripes on his arms got up. She may not know all the Gotham vigilantes, but she recognized Nightwing. He had an easy smile, probably trying to make her feel more at ease.

It didn’t work.

“Hi, I’m Nightwing. Nice to meet you and Danny.”

Jazz didn't shake Nightwing's hand. After a few seconds, Nightwing’s hand fell to his side, and his smile became a little strained.

“Right, well, welcome to the Batcave.”

Nightwing’s welcome echoed throughout the cave.

Jazz ignored the people in the cave and took her brother’s hand.

“So, now what,” she asked.

There was no way in the Infinite Realms she would let some fruit loops take her younger brother away from her. She had failed him once and wouldn’t do it again.

She felt a tug and looked down at Danny.

“Jazz, can I talk with Damian? I’ll be right back.”

“No,” she wanted to scream, “you’re staying with me!”

“I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

I’ll be here if anyone tries anything.

The silence got louder somehow the fainter Danny and Damian’s footsteps got.

“You’re not taking my little brother from me,” was the first thing she said. “You’re all strangers. I won’t let you take him away from me. He’s all I have!”

Jazz clenched her fists, ready to fight if she had to. She would take Danny out of the cave, kicking and screaming.

Batman put a gloved hand on her shoulder.

“We would never pull you two apart,” he said. His mask was off, and Jazz could see the sincerity in his eyes.

She couldn’t help it. She broke down crying.

Damian stared into the distance as his younger (now truly younger) twin brother told his story.

Damian tightened his hold on his sword’s hilt. He wanted to hunt down the Fenton’s and strike them down. For the first time in a long time, he wished he didn’t follow his father’s rules.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner, akhi? You knew I was Robin. We could’ve been reunited long ago; we could’ve been heroes together.”

“I didn’t want to bother you or father. And—and I was being selfish. I loved being in an environment where I didn’t have to fight to the death, where I didn’t have to kill. I’m sorry for messaging you now, but I need help…”

Damian hugged Danny, “Don’t apologize for calling me. I’m glad you did.”

“I want to be safe,” Danny sobbed, his little fists clenched, “I want Jazz to be safe.”

“I failed you the first time; I won’t fail you again, Cepheus.”

When the twins got back, Danny noticed Jazz’s red-rimmed eyes.

“Jazz, what’s wrong?”

“I won’t lose you, little brother. I refuse.”

“Jazz, you’ll always be my big sister,” Danny said, “but you deserve to live your life. Go to university, get your PhD. You shouldn’t put your life on hold for me.”

“You’re my little brother, and I will always put you above everything else.”

“That may be true, but you shouldn’t have to. Besides, with my father’s help I should be able to return to my real age. I hope.”

Damian cleared his throat.

“I am grateful for what you have done for Danyal. I will not seek to take over your role, but thank you. Father, my siblings, and I can care for Danyal from everything that would harm him. You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

Jazz sniffed and took hold of Danny’s hands.

“Besides,” Bruce started, “there’s more than enough space here. You can stay for as long as you want. I can protect you and Danny from your parents. You don’t have to run anymore.”

Danny squeezed Jazz’s hand.

“I’m sorry for calling them without saying anything first, but Jazz, you deserve to live your life, too.”

Jazz looked at Danny’s young face and then at Bruce’s sincere expression.

“Thank you, I would like that,” she said while hugging Danny. Nothing would separate her from her brother.

#orion called cepheus #dc x dp #dp x dc

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leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesworld · 1 month

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CALM AFTER THE STORM |BTS OT7 X READER| HYBRID AU (M)

{Chapter One – Disgusting Humans}

Pairing: OT7 BTS!HYBRID X FEM!HUMAN READER.

Kim Namjoon: Black Mackenzie Valley Alpha wolf

Kim Soekjin: Alpha White Lion

Min Yoongi: Alpha White Jaguar

Jung Hosoek: Alpha Snow Leopard

Park Jimin: Alpha Albino Cobra

Kim Taehyung: Alpha White/ Bleached Tiger

Jeon Jungkook: Alpha Black Panther

Reader: Heaven Valentino

Status: Ongoing

RATED (M) FOR MATURE

Words: 2.4k!

WARNING: EVENTUAL SMUT, BLOOD GORE, DETAILED GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION, ABUSE (ALL FORMS), PROFANITY, VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, CHARACTER DEATH(MINOR), SADOMASOCHISM ACTS, MENTIONS OF BDSM, ETC...

CHAPTER WARNING: The following chapter contains sensitive and distressing subject matter, including references to child rape, kidnapping, and child trafficking. If you find such topics triggering or uncomfortable, I encourage you to exercise self-care and consider avoiding this particular chapter. Your mental and emotional well-being always come first.

Previous Next

MATERIALIST

~Valentino Mansion~

3RD PERSON'S POV

Heaven Valentino, a skilled and determined woman, had just finished a rigorous training session at her gym. With precision and composure, she fired round after round at a target dummy, hitting the bullseye every time. Satisfied with her performance, she exited the gym and began making her way back to her room.

As she walked, a voice called out to her,

"Ms. Valentino?" It was her secretary and trusted right-hand man, Park Hyung-jae, hurrying to catch up with her.

Curious, she turned to face him. "Yes, Jae?"

"Someone is requesting your presence," Jae informed her, the urgency evident in his voice.

Heaven's sharp mind instantly assessed the situation.

"Who is it, and what role do they play?" she calmly inquired.

Jae answered without missing a beat.

"Choi Woobin, Chief Executive General Officer," he replied, conveying that the person in question held a position of significance.

"Very well," she replied nonchalantly.

"Set up an appointment for two in the afternoon. If he fails to arrive on time, I will not entertain him. Punctuality is of utmost importance to me."

With that, she moved on, resolute in her decision. It was typical of her to make swift judgments and take charge of her own schedule, refusing to waste time on those who did not value timeliness.

Her composed demeanor left Jae slightly taken aback.

"Well, that was easier than I expected," he mused to himself, shrugging off the surprise. With a sense of relief, he left to fulfill his assigned tasks.

~Heaven's Room~

Heaven's POV

Ah, I knew it wouldn't take long for him to come begging. I could see right through his façade, right from the start. You see, there are very few things that I despise more than tardiness, laziness and liars.

Hybrid abusers.

Growing up as the youngest daughter of the illustrious Valentino family, I've had my fair share of enemies. From the moment I entered this world, there were those who sought to bring me down, to harm me, or even to kidnap me, all in an attempt to weaken my family. But these feeble-minded individuals could never succeed.

Many assumed that, as a wealthy and privileged young woman, I would be nothing more than a spoiled brat with no ability to defend herself.

But oh, how wrong they were.

From the day I could walk and comprehend the world around me, I have been trained relentlessly.

The Valentinos believe in honing the skills and fortitude of their children, regardless of their gender. So, from the tender age of four, I began my journey towards becoming a force to be reckoned with.

By the time I reached fifteen, I had accomplished what most could only dream of. I graduated high school with a flawless 5.0 GPA. But my thirst for knowledge was insatiable, leading me to a prestigious university known as the "Gifted Souls."

In just a few short years, I secured a PhD in psychology, a Masters in business, and even delved into the realm of fashion. I achieved all of this by the tender age of twenty-two, and now, at the age of twenty-three, I am well on my way to solidifying my empire and making a name for myself.

The professors at my university were astounded by my brilliance, bestowing upon me the moniker of the 'female version of Albert Einstein.' But, I paid little attention to such trivialities.

My single-minded focus was on gaining knowledge and establishing myself as a force in the business world. I aim to take over one of my parents' companies, the very essence of the Valentino empire.

People may see me as a woman who walks with an iron fist. When they encounter me, they don't think of me merely as Heaven of the Valentino family, they see Heaven Valentino, a woman who commands respect and exudes power.

Some have even had the audacity to refer to me as the ice princess, the demoness or even the female Adolf Hitler. But I take such labels in stride because I know the true strength that lies within me.

As an individual who values efficiency and productivity, I possess a limited tolerance for trivial matters or individuals who impede progress.

In the circle with which I surround myself, idleness and unproductive behavior have no place.

Vigilance remains paramount, as there are perpetually individuals plotting one's downfall or even one's demise, and I personally acknowledge the latter as the ultimate threat.

Over time, I have accumulated a considerable list of adversaries. The number of instances where I have inadvertently provoked others is too extensive to accurately quantify, such is the nature of my assertive personality.

When confronted with something disagreeable or incongruous to my stated preferences, I swiftly take decisive action.

The ability to discern and rectify undesirable situations is a responsibility I take seriously, akin to the saying,

"With great power comes great responsibility."

In my case, this responsibility is focused solely on my survival.

While some may perceive my approach as cold or detached, it is merely a matter of survival in a world where dangers often lurk beneath the surface.

In conclusion, my aversion to nonsense and unwavering commitment to productivity have inevitably resulted in the development of numerous adversaries.

This is an outcome I readily accept due to the assertive nature of my character.

My consistent and immediate response to unfavorable circumstances is driven by a sense of responsibility towards self-preservation.

Ultimately, it is this unwavering dedication to my own well-being that helps me navigate the precarious landscape of existence.

I felt my eyes narrow as I thought about the man who had recently come into my crosshairs,

Mr. Choi, the Chief Executive General Officer of Seoul National Police.

To the public, he was a respected figure in his early fifties, but I knew the dark secrets that lurked beneath his facade.

Mr. Choi's wife had tragically succumbed to stage four cancer, leaving him without any children to carry on his legacy.

Many saw him as a pillar of the community, a dedicated servant of the people. But I saw through the facade to the truth - he was a twisted, solipsistic man who had been engaged in despicable acts.

It was a revelation that had shaken me to the core when I had discovered that Mr. Choi was involved in taking bribes from hybrid traffickers.

The thought of such corruption within the ranks of law enforcement made my blood boil.

But what truly turned my stomach was the knowledge that he was also a child rapist and a sadistic individual who derived pleasure from the suffering of others.

Only I and my uncle knew the extent of Mr. Choi's depravity. My uncle ran a Hybrid facility called Hybrid Heaven (HH), dedicated to rescuing hybrids from abuse and capturing traffickers who sought to exploit them for profit.

When my uncle had uncovered Mr. Choi's involvement in these heinous activities, he had turned to me for help in bringing him to justice.

With the help of my loyal team of associates, I had quickly gathered evidence of Mr. Choi's crimes. It was not difficult to connect the dots once they realized that a police officer was complicit in covering up the illegal activities of hybrid trafficking.

And when Mr. Choi's name had surfaced as the linchpin in the operation, I wasted no time in setting my plan into motion.

I stood in my room and felt a surge of anger and revulsion towards the man who had committed such atrocities. I knew that he was reaching out in a desperate attempt to cover his tracks, but I also knew that I held the power to bring him to his knees.

With a steely resolve, I prepared myself for the confrontation that lay ahead. I would not rest until Mr. Choi faced the full force of justice for his crimes.

And in that moment, I squared my shoulders and steeled my gaze, I knew that I was ready to confront the darkness that lurked within the heart of a man who had once been seen as a paragon of virtue.

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~Mayás Fashion House~

As I arrived at my company building, the energy in the air shifted as the employees stopped in their tracks to greet me politely. With a nod and a smile, I returned their greetings, keeping the interactions brief.

I made my way to the private elevator that would take me up to the 8th floor where the meeting room awaited.

As the elevator came to a stop, I stepped out and approached the meeting room. The transparent glass walls and doors allowed me to catch a glimpse of Mr. Choi inside, his figure pacing nervously.

I watched as he reached for a handkerchief to dab at his sweat, a reaction that I found somewhat distasteful. Pushing open the doors, I sauntered over to one of the swivel chairs, disrupting Mr. Choi's anxious movements.

"Good Afternoon, Mr. Choi," I greeted him calmly, causing him to visibly startle. With hesitant steps, he made his way towards me and took a seat on the opposite side of the table.

"G-good af-afternoon, Ms. Valentino," he stuttered out, clearly flustered by my presence.

"Relax, Mr. Choi. I just need some information from you, and then we'll be done," I reassured him with a light chuckle, meeting his gaze as he averted his eyes and nodded eagerly.

"Good. Now, let's not beat around the bush. Tell me everything you know about the illegal underground Hybrid dealers," I said, leaning back in my chair, a sense of authority evident in my tone.

Mr. Choi hesitated before beginning to speak, revealing details about the underground operation.

He mentioned a mysterious figure known as Black Eagle who orchestrated the kidnapping and sale of hybrids for profit.

The auction took place over five days at a luxurious resort on the outskirts of Seoul, shrouded in secrecy to all but those in attendance.

His eyes met mine as he shared more about the nefarious activities, including a bi-monthly Hybrid auction where rare exotic hybrids were sold off to wealthy clientele with exclusive VIP passes provided by Black Eagle.

I listened intently, absorbing the information and maintaining a composed demeanor throughout.

It was clear that Mr. Choi was apprehensive, but my focused interrogation drew out the pertinent details I needed to pursue further action against the criminal syndicate.

My eyebrows creased as I listened, a mix of disbelief and horror washing over me.

The thought of such a place existing where people indulged in their darkest desires on hybrids, pushing the boundaries of cruelty and exploitation, made my stomach churn with disgust. The depths of depravity that some individuals would sink to astounded me.

He continued, "Participants torture hybrids to feed into their twisted sexual gratification,"

What the actual fuck!

These creatures, who were part human and part animal, deserved compassion and care, not to be subjected to such heinous acts.

It was a stark reminder of the darkest facets of humanity, a side that I never wanted to believe existed.

As the details of the auction event unfolded, each revelation seemed to plunge me deeper into a pit of revulsion.

"They also indulged in the "hunger games" a concept, where the rarest hybrids were paraded and objectified for the amusement of the audience, they would compete to inflict pain and suffering on the hybrid, all for the chance to possess them as prizes."

It felt like a nightmare brought to life. To think of it was sickening beyond words.

My heart ached for the hybrids subjected to such cruelty, for their pain and helplessness in the face of such brutality.

It was a stark reminder of the darker side of society, one that I had never truly comprehended until now.

The callousness and inhumanity displayed towards these creatures left me feeling a deep sense of shame for belonging to the same species.

Despite the turmoil of emotions swirling within me, I forced myself to remain composed, to listen to the grim details of the auction event with a steely resolve.

The urge to lash out in anger and despair clawed at the edges of my composure, but I held onto my restraint, determined to bear witness to the extent of the atrocities being described.

As the final details of the event were laid bare, the mechanics of the auction and the fate of the hybrids outlined in chilling clarity, a cold fury settled over me.

The thought of the buyers participating in such cruelty, of treating living beings as mere objects to be traded and discarded, filled me with a sense of loathing that I had never experienced before.

With a clenched jaw and a heart heavy with sorrow, I steeled myself to hear more, to confront the depths of depravity that lay at the heart of the five-day auction event.

Despite the revulsion and horror that threatened to overwhelm me, I knew that I had to bear witness to the truth, no matter how harrowing it may be.

I made a solemn vow to ensure their safety and vowed to lead them to a life free from such atrocities.

Determination consumed me, and I pledged to keep my promise, declaring my identity as Heaven Valentino.

In the intense confrontation that followed, I confronted Choi Woobin with unwavering resolve, demanding information and justice.

As the truth unfolded and the gravity of his actions came to light, the shock on his face was palpable.

Despite his pleas for mercy, I stood firm, condemning his heinous crimes and refusing to yield to his empty remorse.

Taking charge of the situation, I orchestrated his confession and surrender, unwilling to let him escape accountability.

With a mix of anger and compassion, I ensured that justice prevailed, even as his pleas for forgiveness fell on deaf ears.

The moment was charged with raw emotions as he was escorted away, a tearful reminder of the consequences of his despicable deeds.

After the intense encounter, I made a call to Jae, seeking solace after the harrowing events.

Exiting the meeting room, I left the company building and made my way back home, reflecting on the tumultuous events that had transpired.

~Unknown Location~

3rd Person's POV

Two hybrids were drained and weak, their bodies suffering from the beatings they received for sleeping in. Locked in a heavily secured cell, they endured days without food or water, leaving their mouths dry and their bodies craving molesols of food. Heavy metal shackles dug into their wrists, leaving painful bruises as a reminder of their captivity.

One of the hybrids expressed a strange premonition to his older brother.

"Hyung, I have a weird feeling," he murmured, his eyes distant.

“What is it?” his brother inquired, concern evident in his voice.

“I feel like something big is going to happen,” the younger one replied, his hybrid instincts alerting him to an unseen future.

As they shared a tense moment, the older brother hoped silently,

'I hope it's not bad, my dear brother.'

°●°○°●°○°●°○°●°○°●°○°●°○°●°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hey lovebugs,

I'm super excited to hear your thoughts on this book!

I added a tad more detail to offer a glimpse into the world of the book, just enough to spark your curiosity without giving away too much. I wanted to provide a little peek behind the curtain to entice you to come along for the ride.

A quick heads up - this book doesn't hold back on the intense stuff. It deals with some heavy, triggering content that might not be everyone's cup of tea. So, fair warning, this is not your typical light and fluffy read. It's raw, real, and might hit close to home for some.

I'm all ears and eager to hear your feedback, so drop a comment and let me know your thoughts.

Thanks a ton for taking the time to check this out and for sharing your thoughts. Your support means the world to me! Let's dive in and see where this wild literary journey takes us. 📚✨

Thanks a ton again!

TAGLIST OPEN!!

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teyamsatan · 1 year

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Illicit Affairs | Chapter V: All Too Well

Pairing: Neteyam x Human/Avatar!Reader

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Synopsis: Neteyam's life changed when you came into his life the first time, and is now bound to change again, in ways neither of you could have ever predicted.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, descriptions of ptsd flashbacks, cursing, blood, descriptions of surgical procedures, some fluff.

Word Count: 9k words (wow)

A/N: Chapter 5 is coming out a little earlier than expected because I am too excited to wait. We finally get to discover a little more about what Neteyam's gone through and his decision to leave, so super chuffed about that. I am working really hard trying to balance writing for this and being a PhD student, but I am happy with the progress I am making and hope to be done with Chapter 6 in a couple days' time. Things are quickly unfolding, and there is a looot happening in this chapter, so I hope you enjoy <3 I'd love to hear your thoughts x

From when your Brooklyn broke my skin and bones I'm a soldier who's returning half her weight And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue? Just between us, did this love affair maim you too?

“Fuck, fuck fuck!” Neteyam ran faster than he knew he could and kneeled next to you. He was panting in heart-stopping fear, watching your shaking form and hearing your pained wails that were opening out so many holes in his chest, the pain was unbearable. He forced himself to try and remember what to do; this wasn’t your first flashback, this wasn’t the first flashback he’s had to walk you through. One, do not touch the person experiencing a PTSD flashback. Done. Two?

“Y/N. It’s me, it’s Neteyam, listen to me. You are with me in the the forest a couple clicks North-west of the village. It’s just you and me, there’s nothing happening to you right now. You’re safe. It’s just you and me.”

Just you and me. Just you and me. Just you and me.

Everything hurt. You just wanted it over, you wanted everything to be over. You couldn’t hear or see anything around you, except yourself in a past you’d do anything to forget about.

Just you and me. Just you and me. Just you and me.

“It’s me. Hey, it’s me. You’re ok. We’re ok. You are with me now, you’re safe. Please come back.”

You’d recognise this voice anywhere, for the rest of your life, this voice was going to be able to pull you out of the deepest shadows and into the light. You opened your eyes and willed them to focus past the tears, past the blood you could feel on your hands and feet and focus on the blue form talking to you.

“Breathe. Take slow, deep breaths, can you do that for me? I need you to give me a sign you can hear me, Atan (light). Please, please.”

You tried your best to do as you were told. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Remembering his request, you nodded almost imperceptibly.

“I’m here. You’re safe. Please come back. It’s just you and me.”

Just you and me. Just you and me. Just you and me.

Neteyam…

You slowly moved your hands, searching, desperately needing the feel of his warmth on you. He knew, he always knew. Without the smallest hesitation, he grabbed both of your hands in his. You looked at him, finally able to see in front of you, see what was real. He was real. Your tears fell freely down your cheeks, and without a second thought, you removed your hands from his and felt your arms reach out for him, for all of him. You hugged him tightly and sighed a breath of relief when he closed whatever space was left between you and held you close. Your new body fit into his like the final piece of the puzzle you were both trying to solve all your lives.

You didn’t say a word. The world was moving on around you, but not you. You and Neteyam stood there, in the little corner of Pandora that suddenly felt a lot like a safe haven in the storm.

“You’re ok to get up?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

“Do you want me to carry you back?”

“No, thank you. I can walk.”

It was too late to continue training and you silently made your way back to the village. You felt embarrassed, and so you walked with your head down the whole way back. You knew there was nothing to be embarrassed about, there was nothing to be ashamed of, and yet, going back on your first day in this new body, having been given a second chance at a new life, you were disappointed that your nightmares didn’t seem to care which version of you they had to go through to resurface.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Neteyam. I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m sorry you always seem to be around when these things happen.”

If only you knew how sorry he was that he was always around when these things happen.

He couldn’t be sure, but he can guess what triggered your flashbacks. He couldn’t lie and say that day didn’t haunt his dreams, too.

Neteyam made his way back to the village that evening shaking and in tears, and wanted nothing more to take his Ikran far away to a place no one would be able to find him. But alas, he took his bow from the stand in the family tent and slipped out unnoticed while everyone else was having a communal dinner by the bonfire. He walked furiously, still shaking, still crying, until he reached the training grounds he used to go to every day when he was younger. He saw broken arrows on the ground next to some of the targets and felt it was fitting for how he was feeling. Broken, like no amount of care could ever bring him back to the arrow he was currently holding in his hands. He made quick work of the targets he could easily spot, then worked his way through the harder ones until his body ached and his fingers bled from all the now-opened scabs.

“Ma ‘itan (my son).” He heard a voice break through the shadows of the now fluorescent flora surrounding him. He saw his mum’s steps before he actually saw her, and turned his back to her before she could see him, truly see him.

Neytiri approached him slowly and gently took the bow from his hands. She placed it around her body and placed her arms on her son, one on his back and one on his chest, above his heart.

“What is the matter, son?”

“Nothing, mother. I will come home soon, I promise.”

She reached over and wiped away her son’s tears with her thumb.

“Please, tell me what happened.”

Neteyam couldn’t hide anymore when a small guttural cry escaped his lips. His mum slowly moved him away from the practice area and sat him down on the grass, that illuminated under their weight.

“Mum, I’m killing her.”

He was bawling now, bringing his knees to his chest and settling his head on them. “I feel like my being in her life will kill her.”

“Y/N?”

“Every time we are together, something happens to her that breaks her even more. She found her dad, mum. She found her dad’s skeleton racing me through the forest. I almost killed her once because I wanted to get her out and show her the forest, so I almost killed her on my Ikran.”

“Ma ‘itan…”

“She wouldn’t go outside if it wasn’t for me. I push her to go, because I hate seeing her like this, seeing her wasting away in a lab, I just want her to be better, and happy and free, like she used to be when we were kids. I push her to go, and every time it ends up making it worse.”

Neytiri waited for her son to release all the worry plaguing him. Her son kept everything inside, but if you were patient enough with him, he would let you in eventually.

“Neteyam… you can’t blame yourself for these things. You had no way of knowing how these things would turn out. Yes, it was irresponsible to take her on the Ikran, but you were a child. You wanted to help, and she loved being on it. She told me it was the best thing she had ever done, and that she is grateful that you thought to take her with you. Your strong heart saved both of you from Toruk. I am sorry about what happened today, that must have been really hard on her, but you were just walking trough the forest together. Any other place on Pandora, and this wouldn’t have happened. This was just a horrible misfortune, but it’s not your misfortune to bear.”

Neteyam was crying so hard he felt himself running out of breath.

“You didn’t see her, mum. I saw her, laying unconscious on the ground. I saw the blood, so much blood I didn’t even think such a small person could carry it. I thought she died. I have nightmares about that night that I will never be able to outgrow. You should have seen her today. She was shaking and screaming and clawing at her feet so hard, she won’t be able to walk for weeks. Why must everything bad in the world must happen to her, mum?”

“We don’t know what Eywa has in store, ma ‘itan. She protects the balance of life, and maybe there is a reason for all this hurt. We can only help her the best way we know how, by loving her and being there for her. We have to hope that that’s enough.”

“I don’t think I can do that anymore, mum. I don’t think I can watch her suffer anymore. It’s killing me. I love her, mum. I love her so much and there is nothing I want more in the world than to take her hurt and make it go away.”

“Neteyam, I think sometimes it is better to realise a hard truth early than live with a comfortable reality until the cracks in your heart are too deep to ever be able to be mended. Maybe both of you just need some time apart, to grow and heal on your own. I know you love her, Neteyam. But she will never be yours. She’s not one of us, son. You will never be able to be mated. I know you love her, but she is human. So maybe some time apart will allow you to move on, and then you can be there for her, as her friend, as someone who can help her navigate this life whilst living your own.”

“Your dad and I have not said anything until now, because we know. We’ve always known how you felt for her. And we wish that she could have been Na’vi, that this could happen for you, son, but maybe this is a sign from Eywa to look towards the future, to start finding your true mate, one who will not make you feel like this when you are around her. Love is not supposed to hurt, my son.”

He looked over to the girl walking close to him, the girl who was now no longer just a human, but an Avatar, a girl who had a chance to be one of the people one day, but whose demons did not diminish over time at all, and he wondered if they ever will.

Soon enough, the lights of the village came into view and you were not ready to have to talk to anybody, explain to anybody when there were no words to describe the pain and anguish inside your heart. You wanted sleep, a deep sleep that wouldn’t cease in the morning.

“How about you just go to your tent for the night? You can catch up with the family tomorrow morning. I will tell them you worked really hard and since this was your first day in a new body, you just need some rest.”

You let out a big sigh of relief, and nodded silently at Neteyam, grateful and unnerved at his uncanny ability to understand your needs almost better than you were able to understand them yourself.

“Irayo (Thank you).”

Your tent felt cold and uninviting when you entered it, but you couldn’t be bothered to think about it too hard, and, as you let yourself collapse on the mat that would qualify as a bed for the foreseeable future, you thought about all the new challenges that dawn will bring.

“That’s right, come on back, Ace. That’s it.”

The light was blinding you, as your eyes adjusted to your newfound environment. You groaned slightly and removed the metal cage trapping you to the linkpod. With heavy legs, you got up and stretched your body as well as you could, trying to ignore the tingling of your limbs as the blood flowed through them properly for the first time in over half a day.

“So, how was it?” Norm was almost besides himself excited, and you knew you had to lie, because telling him it was one of the hardest, most excruciating days of your life might dampen the current mood.

“Hard, but a lot of fun! I learnt to ride a Pa’li, and Tsaheylu is unlike anything I have ever experienced. There really is nothing like it in this body that can compare.”

“Ah, I’m glad to hear it. Do you have plans for tomorrow?”

“I think just more of the same? I’ll start learning how to shoot a bow soon, too. I, for one, think I’ll kick ass at it.” You said, hoping your amused tone and sly comments were enthusiastic enough to be perceived as authentic.

“I’m sure you will, Ace. You off to bed?”

“Yeah, I’m exhausted.”

Your human face staring back at you in the mirror looked somewhat better than the muddy, cried-out one you left behind at the village, but that doesn’t mean much when both bodies shared a soul, one that looked much worse than either of them could ever reflect.

You couldn’t take another dream, another anything, so, popping two Xanax pills, you crashed your head into the pillow and hoped for a peaceful blackout.

The next day, you were back in your Avatar body before dawn, and made your way towards the Sully tent, dedicated to make this work. It took a while to get the mud off your body at the nearby river, but eventually you thought you looked presentable enough to go ahead with the day. You promised Lo’ak, and Jake, and Norm, and yourself, that you would make this work, or at least give it a good college try.

“Can I come in?” You remember to speak in Na’vi, and find the family eating breakfast around the fire.

“Lo’ak you skxawng, you stepped on the herbs I spent all of yesterday collecting.” Kiri was screaming at Lo’ak and hitting him across the arm while he was trying to defend himself as best he could from the continuous onslaught.

“Ow, ow, ow!! Kiri, stop that! They were next to my sleeping bag, don’t leave your shit everywhere if you don’t want people to step on it.”

“NOT PEOPLE, LO’AK. YOU! IT’S ALWAYS YOU!”

“Bro, remove your girl before she maims me.” Lo’ak directed his attention to the human boy sitting in the corner, just laughing and enjoying the show.

You couldn’t help laugh at the scene, fondly remembering all the times Lo’ak and Kiri bickered like twins - there was no doubt in your mind these two were made to be siblings.

Neteyam, sitting in a corner in silence, sharpening his knife, glanced up at you inquisitively. You didn’t like how intimate his gaze felt and with the perspective of a new day, you knew it was a mistake to allow him so close to you yesterday, to allow yourself to touch him and hug him and pull his body close to yours like he was your life support machine. A mistake. You don’t make mistakes.

“Maite, come, sit, eat.” Neytiri came in and pushed you closer to the fire, placing her hands on your shoulders and forcing you to sit. She gave you fruits and seeds and motioned for you to go ahead. “Tell me how yesterday went! Neteyam told us you are much better at your Pa’li training than their dad ever was.”

“Hey, I can hear you, you know?” Jake said, taking a break from cleaning a rifle to scowl lovingly at the mother of his children.

“Well, I can’t speak to Jake’s proficiency, but I think it went well. Great Mother, the Tsaheylu was one of the most incredible experiences of my life, I never knew it was possible for a feeling like that to exist.”

“Wait til you bond with an Ikran.” Lo’ak interjected. “It’s fucking awesome.”

“LANGUAGE!” Said Jake at the same time Neytiri sent a hiss in her younger son’s direction.

You and Neteyam made your way to the archery practice area. There were many people there, most of them accompanying their young kids learning to use a bow and arrow for the first time, learning to one day be able to pull their weight for the sake of the village and their loved ones. You stared in awe at the determination these children had, how unwavering and brightly it shone. It must be nice to be sure of the life ahead of you, be sure of your purpose and your future.

“Right. Unlike Spider, you have not had any practice with our bows, so we have to go back to basics. There are things you always have to keep in mind when you shoot an arrow, and these things will take time. In time, it will become second nature to you, but practice makes perfect - although true for anything, it is especially true in this case.”

“First, your stance.”

He removed his bow from around his body and demonstrated. You couldn’t help stare at him, couldn’t help trace your eyes all over his body, that was now fully on display for you, and adjusted your posture to now accommodate for the heat you felt in between your thighs at the sight. Fuck.

He smirked at you and dropped the stance. “I’m going to need you to focus. Can you do that?”

You raised an eyebrow and looked at him, an annoyed look crossing you features. “Yes, I can do that. Don’t patronise me.”

He raised his hands, as if relenting, and apologised with a small smile.

You raised the bow you were holding in your right hand and try to mimic his posture the best you could. He circled you, analysing every aspect of your stance, his gaze pausing on some aspects more than others.

“Your knees are too straight. You have to bend them a little.” You did as you were told, no questions asked. You trusted he knew what he was talking about more than you’d ever be able to argue him on.

One of his legs made his way between yours and slightly tugged at one, and you hissed at the contact. “Your feet need to be aligned with your shoulders.”

“Your feet also need to be parallel to the target.” You adjusted your feet slightly, focusing on trying to assimilate everything he was saying. You were nothing if not a good student.

“Good. Remember, good stance means good posture, means consistent good shots.”

He was a good teacher, you noted. Calm and patient, he took his time and never talked down to you. He explained well and was attentive to details, and you couldn’t help think this is, once again, proof of Neytiri and the clan’s influence on him. Whereas his two younger siblings were chaotic and a lot more human in their demeanour and behaviour, Neteyam was quiet, focused and determined. A true leader, a true warrior. The perfect son, Lo’ak words ring in your ears.

He circled you once more, and you noticed your arms were starting to get tired. You didn’t complain, though. You were not going to be weak - couldn’t be weak.

He placed a hand on your back and the other on one of your shoulders, willing them back in a straight position. Your body buzzed at the contact and you had to suppress a shiver running down your spine. “Your back always has to be straight. Not hunched, but not over-arched, either.”

He placed both his hands on your hips, and you froze into place. His figure was towering over you, you could feel him, feel his warmth radiating on your back. He kept his distance, so as to not attach himself to you, and gently pulled your hips backwards. Your breath was laboured now, you knew, and let out a silent prayer that he couldn’t hear you, couldn’t hear your heart beat that you were sure was so loud it was noticeable within a 2 click radius.

“Your hips have to be straight, too. No bending them forwards or backwards.”

This went on for a while, just a slow torture that you thought was never going to end, until at some point, a few hours later, he finally allowed you to shoot an arrow. The pain you felt in between your shoulder blades and arms was nearing unbearable, but still, you soldiered on. You tried to keep in mind everything he told you all at once, and with a (hopefully) correct stance, posture, grip and bow arm, it was time to work on your release. Your fingers were cramping from holding the bow so tightly in between them, and with a slight whimper, you let go.

He followed the arrow with his eyes, all the way through the air and past the target, getting stuck on the ground somewhere beyond view. He turned his attention back to you.

“That was not horrible. Your arm is too low.” he says while gently placing a hand on your arrow-holding arm and moving it upward, furthering the pain you felt in between your shoulder blades. He moved his hand downwards and placed it on your abdomen. You gulped, and saw the ghost of a smile on his face. “Your core is not engaged, Y/N. Take a deep breath.” He waited for you to do as you were told. “Hold like this. Txur nì'ul. Stronger.”He didn’t remove his hand, that damn hand, until he was satisfied with your form, then let go. “Again.”

You spent your days like this, training, running, discovering Pandora’s flora and fauna, not as a scientist, but as a hunter and as an apprentice, with timid curiosity and appreciation for the life in front of you. For the first time in your life, you tried to see beyond the science and really see the miracles happening around you. Neteyam told you something on one of your walks that stuck with you.

“When you see nothing, you will see everything.”

You see more and more why scientists, why your mother or Grace, or Norm or Max, could never make it here. It wasn’t because of survival, or training, or skill. You saw it in yourself and your day to day struggle to empty your cup, your mind always looking for meaning, and answers, and ways to fix and analyse and quantify. Always requiring proof, never being able to just be and watch and observe things and beings for what they are, not what they could be. This was all so unfamiliar to you, so strange, and you wondered if you were ever going to be able to see.

After a while, the novelty of you, your alien body and blood ceased to be news to people and you were able to now be in the village without as much attention drawn to you, although the eyes never stopped completely. Not when you were always surrounded by at least one Sully, more often than not the two Sully brothers, the heirs to the Omatikaya rule. There was chatter in the village, you knew, about whether you were ever going to make it as one of the people, and how that would impact the future of the clan. Would they want yet another former Sky Walker as an integral part of their life, as their Tsahik, perhaps?

The whispers of the people bothered you, but not enough to do anything about it. You knew they were baseless and premature, and had no intention of entertaining them. Lo’ak was your best friend, your brother that you loved and you knew loved you, and whatever other feelings he might have, you knew were just a side effect of hormonal growing pains. Lo’ak would outgrow you in time, and you were there to support him whenever he found a love worth harbouring. Neteyam, on the other hand, was a completely different story. The resentment you felt has never diminished in time, although the ice did melt a little after your fateful first day together. You made no efforts to engage with him outside of practice and he reciprocated the effort (or lack thereof) with the same enthusiasm. He was gone most evenings while you had dinner with his family, and would only come back soon before you made your way to your tent. You didn’t hate each other, but that was about the extent of your relationship. The intensity and heat you felt every time he touched you or looked at you in a certain way has also never diminished in time, but you knew yourself and your body enough to be able to resist him, at least until nighttime, when you were a human again and had a bed to yourself.

You spent your nights mostly by yourself in the lab, determined to not fall behind on your lab work. You found having to have two completely different approaches to life very difficult, but in time, it was like you became two different people. You don’t think they’d like each other very much. Your life was split in two, and the bodies you inhabited made it easier on you to differentiate between the two halves. Your human body was weak, progressively weaker as time went on and you forsook the time to exercise it. In it, you were weak, plagued by all your insecurities and fears and nightmares, all of which came out at night. Your Avatar body was strong, progressively stronger with every day you spent running and training in the forest. In it, you were strong. A warrior, proud and determined and eager to learn. You laughed, and danced, and made conversation and learnt how to craft your own necklaces with Kiri whenever training with Neteyam got too much. You took Lo’ak by the hands and dragged him through the forest, laughing and swinging through trees. You took to Mo’at and tried to learn the healing ways of the Tsahik, as opposed to your mother’s medical training. Life was heaven in one body and hell in the other, and you couldn't tell which one haunted you more.

“Again.” Neteyam spoke over the voices of kids practising their target practice next to them. He had to admit to himself he was impressed with your progress. He knew he shouldn’t be, you were the most impressive and stubborn person he had ever met. He used to watch you patch and suture the Avatars in the lab when you were 13. They said your stitches were the best amongst the remaining humans. He watched you go from a child to a woman who seemed to know everything there was to know about everything. He didn’t know why he didn’t realise before this was going to be the same. You were irksome.

You shot another bullseye and turned around to face him, smiling cockily and did a curtsy, he thought it was called. He rolled his eyes, but smiled at your satisfaction.

“You can keep me here all day, I’ll just keep doing it, if not for anything else, just to spite you.”

“Fine, we’re done. You are dismissed.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, in that way you always did, that way that drove him fucking crazy. Being next to you every day was driving him crazy. He didn’t know what hell he must have inflicted on a past life to warrant this. Always watching you, and knowing that stolen glances will always have to be enough.

You started making your way back towards the village, and he followed you. It was such a stark contrast to your first day in this body. You looked confident, and happy. He wondered if it was real, if it was possible that it was indeed that easy, and being here, outside with them was enough to wash your nightmares away, to heal you. He felt a flicker of hope raising in his chest. Stop, Neteyam. What the fuck are you doing?

The village was quiet at this time of day, most people gone on hunts or rides or training. Neteyam heard his dad’s voice booming in the family tent and knew Lo’ak was in deep shit again. He sighed. Baby brother, why do you always have to make things so hard?

“Dammit, Lo’ak, we went through this for a month. A whole ass month. What is this called?”

When you and Neteyam entered the tent, you found the two Sullys sitting on the ground, with the patriarch towering over Lo’ak with a gun in his hand.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“I don’t want to hear that. Do you fucking understand what we’re doing here? Do you understand the humans could be back any fucking day now? War is coming, do you understand this, boy? And you will straighten up, Lo’ak, or I swear to God you will not be allowed to ride an Ikran again for the rest of your life.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

Neteyam felt you wince at his dad’s words, and he knew you felt bad for his brother. He did so, too. But also understood that his dad is only trying to make sure they are ready for the time they will inevitably have to go to war. He can’t imagine the pressure on his shoulders at training his own kids to be prepared to avoid their own death and bring death upon others.

“Now, we went through this multiple times. What is this gun?”

He felt the silence bearing down on him, and then heard your voice raise above it.

“It’s a M69-AR, sir. It’s a machine-gun.”

All eyes in the room snapped shocked to you. You shifted uncomfortably in place, but your gaze did not falter from where you were looking at Jake.

“How do you know that?”

You looked down at the ground, and hesitated before speaking again.

“I have trained with guns I have found over time for a few years, sir. My dad and the other soldiers in the unit left manuals, training videos, ammo in the lockers. I have found it and learnt about it. I never expected to get an Avatar, but I did not want to be defenceless.”

Neteyam saw his dad and realised he can’t tell what he was thinking at the moment. A mixture of fear, confusion and awe was what he was able to spot.

“Alright… what’s the caliber of this gun, kid?”

“.50 caliber BAT.”

“Ok, walk me through the gun’s characteristics.”

You didn’t flinch under the scrutiny of his gaze.

“Well, it has a camera sight on the top for better aim and targeting. It has a second grip for better firing stability and has a long barrel that allows for higher muzzler velocity. Like most weapons used by humans, it can also fire 0226-LSAR ammo, and a grande launcher can be attached to the second grip.”

Lo’ak’s face dropped, and although he had better control over his emotions, Neteyam realised he was also staring at her with a similar expression plastered on his face.

“Did you ever shoot it?”

“No, I haven’t. I only shoot a standard 8mm handgun, in the woods next to the lab whenever everyone’s preoccupied or out. But I know how to clean it, field-strip it and load it.”

“So nobody knows you’ve been training on guns for years?”

“No, Sir.”

“I can’t describe to you how stupid and dangerous this was. I didn’t think you of all people were prone to life-threatening idiocy.”

You felt your gaze harden under his scrutiny and the familiar feel of anger bubbling in your stomach.

“I’m not a little girl anymore. I will not stand and watch as the humans come back and ruin everything my mother’s fought for and I will not apologise for it.”

You saw Jake stand up, straighten his back and for the first time in your life, you feared the man sitting in front of you.

“Don’t you dare bring your mother into this. Your mother wouldn’t have wanted you to put your life in danger carelessly, getting involved in things you know nothing about. She asked me to take care of you, to teach you. All you had to do was fucking ask. All you had to do is come out of that damn lab and allow us to be part of your life, the way we have wanted to be for years.”

You felt tears pricking at your eyes and without another word, you turned on your heels and left.

You entered your tent and closed the flap shut as well as you could, half-considering using one of the suture kits that now resided in it to sew it together so no one can open it. You fell on your sleeping mat with a huff, and took hold of one of the books you have brought to your tent in the couple months you have been here. Your gaze stopped on one of your favourite poems, and repeated the lines to yourself, like a litany needing to be uttered.

“I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted

To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.

How free it is, you have no idea how free——

The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,

And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.

It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them

Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.”

You stared at the page for a long time, and let your mind wander. Why would he talk to you this way?

Because he cares about you.

You thought he would be happy, proud of you for being strong, being independent and self-sufficient. You took care of yourself, you would be able to take care of others, of the people you loved.

But maybe he doesn’t think you should have to do this by yourself.

Why should you be ashamed of that? Ho doesn’t understand you, never tried to see things from your perspective.

Maybe cause you never allowed him to know you enough to be able to understand.

He’s not your dad. He has no right to talk to you this way.

He wanted to be your dad, you just always kept him at arm’s length. You’ve always kept everyone at arms length.

You wanted to slap the version of yourself talking back to you. You really are such an annoying person, sometimes. And you hate that you make sense when you didn’t want to make sense. You wanted to be mad and tell him to keep his bossing around to his own children and leave you be, but you couldn’t. Not when the annoying you was right - Jake has tried to be your dad for a long time and you just couldn’t bring yourself to allow that kind of love in your life anymore, not after knowing what it’s like to lose it.

A scream coming from the village pulled you out of your train of thought, and you made your way outside in a hurry.

“Help! Help!!”

You recognised the voice; Ewoaì, one of the most talented hunters of the village, was running holding a motionless body in his arms. His young brother, you noted.

“He can’t breathe, he stopped breathing. Please, someone help! Where is the Tsahik?”

Jake and the Sully boys emerged from inside their tent with a concerned look on all their faces. Neteyam spoke. “The Tsahik and tsakarem are away, at the Tree of Souls. They will not make it back in time.”

Fuck, you thought.

“Bring him here, NOW.” You spoke over the commotion. All the people who had gathered to see what was happening turned their gazes to you. Ewoaì ran to you. “Place him on the ground.”

“Lo’ak.” You looked at the young boy, trying to assess the situation the best you could. You heard Lo’ak make his way towards you.

“In my tent, there is gauze and disinfectant, it has the name 2% chlorhexidine isopropanol, find it and bring it. There should also be a yellow injection that says EPIPEN on it. Bring a syringe as well, no needle. Hurry.”

You turned your attention to the man holding his younger brother in his arms. “Remove his necklace, now.”

You started to check for signs of what was causing his asphyxiation. You opened his mouth and looked inside the best you could for food, or anything else that could be blocking his airways. You didn’t see anything. He didn’t seem to be having an anaphylactic shock; no rash and his heartbeat seemed strong. You were going to have to figure out the cause at a later time, but for now, your best bet, his best bet, was a tracheotomy.

Lo’ak scrambled out of your tent, almost dropping some of the things on the way. He put them next to you in a hurry.

You removed your hands from the boy’s body and moved quickly to apply some of the antiseptic on the gauze and wipe his throat with it. You got up, removed your knife from the holder on your chest, and made your way towards the nearest fire. You placed the blade over the fire and hoped that would do enough to sterilise it. For good measure, you also wiped it with the solution currently still on the gauze.

You made your way back to the boy and lifted your gaze to his brother.

“This is going to hurt. I don’t have the tools to put him to sleep. I need you to hold him tightly by the arms. I need you to be strong for him. Strong heart. Neteyam, hold his feet. Don’t let go.”

You took your knife with one hand, whilst your other hand, tried to find the cricothyroid membrane, hoping it would be in a similar location to a human’s. Pushing the knife against his throat, you applied pressure and made a cut. The boy tried his best to recoil, but the men did a better job at keeping him down than you thought they would. You took the knife and placed it on the ground, then took the syringe Lo’ak gave you and hollowed it out. Carefully, you placed it inside the hole you made. You lowered your body and placed your mouth on the syringe. Sucking on it, you were relieved to feel air coming out, and you started breathing into the tube until you felt the boy starting to breathe again on his own. You removed yourself from his proximity and monitored until you were sure his breathing was stabilised.

You let out a huge sigh of relief. You finally felt like you could look Ewoaì in the eye. “He’ll be fine.”

His brother let out a shaky breath and extended his hand in front of you. Smiling softly, you took it in your own and felt his grip tighten at the contact.

“Thank you. You saved his life. Thank you.”

“You can take him home. I’ll come by later and check on him, and if he’s breathing right, I’ll take it out.”

You rose from the ground and tried to get your laboured breath to slow down. You did it. Tears started pooling in your eyes and you realise your hands were shaking when you went to wipe the them before they fell. Your attention turned to the Sully men waiting by your side. They all looked like they were -

-in awe. Neteyam was in awe. You were breathtaking. He heard this English word, angel, from his dad, a long time ago, and when he asked what it meant, his dad told him it was someone pure and good, who helps others and brings comfort in times of hurt…someone whose light can illuminate the darkest times. He didn’t know what that meant until he met you. You were an angel. There was so much hurt and darkness in you, but somehow you managed to spread light everywhere you went. No matter how hard life got, you never lost the desire to do good, to be good, and Neteyam didn’t think he could love you any more than he did right at that second.

You gave him a quick look and he could see the fear in your eyes and the unshed tears, and the trembling hands. You were scared. Before he could move a muscle, Lo’ak took you and encircled his arms around you in a bear hug. You stood there in shock for a second while it registered, then slowly brought your hands up to his back to reciprocate the hug. You closed your eyes and nuzzled your head in his neck, and Neteyam moved his gaze to his feet, feeling the now all-too-familiar darkness of jealousy spread through him like poisonous gas.

Eventually, Lo’ak let you go, and you moved closer to Jake. You were trying to meet his eyes, but he could tell you were scared… or ashamed. He saw you take a big breath and swallow audibly.

“Jake, I am…”

“I know, Kid.” Neteyam was surprised to see his dad’s gaze, so angry and unflinching just 30 minutes ago, soften when his eyes looked at you. It was his turn now to hug you.

“You did good, kid.”

You let out a soft cry and he saw the tears fall freely from your face. You smiled, and for the first time since you were back in his life, saw that you looked actually content.

“Come.” Jake released you from the hug and made his way towards his tent. You followed suit and saw him picking up a gun from the floor and pointing at another. It was a standard assault rifle and you kneeled down next to it.

“Put it back together.” You did as you were told, skilfully putting each component of the weapon in its place. Before you moved on, you made sure everything was in order, and then you picked the appropriate 6.2x35mm 80-round magazine from the mix that was on the floor. You attached the magazine and took two more of them and placed them on your person.

“Good. Let’s go.”

You and the three Sullys walked steadily for a while. Lo’ak and Jake went ahead while you and Neteyam stood back. He was close to you, too close, and you felt his right hand almost brushing yours. You looked up at him, and saw he was already watching you. His expression instantly sent shivers down your spine - it reminded you of how he used to look at you before. It was intense and soft and loving. You saw his eyes dropping to your lips, which parted in response and felt so exposed, so vulnerable… so fucking mad. He did not get to do this. He did not get to give up on you are like were a bad drug and then come back and give you this look.

You expression hardened and you removed your eyes from his and stared at Jake’s back, which was all of a sudden a lot more interesting than it had been 5 seconds ago. You crossed your arms over your chest and walked in silence the rest of the way.

You reached the spot soon after, and you noticed it was a similar training area, like the archery one, but this one had targets made of shrubbery that resembled a person, which had remnants of bullet holes in them. I see…

“Ok, kid, let’s see what you can do. Shoot the target in front of you, head and chest.”

You took a big gulp and positioned your body. This was a lot of pressure, with the eyes of Toruk Makto and his heirs staring right at you. You took one last look at the weapon, then loaded it. You aim, then shoot. The gun surprises you a little, as you find the recoil a lot stronger than the handgun you usually practice on and the fire rate unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Still, you adjust fairly quickly, then try again. Within 3 tries, you were able to hit the target exactly where Jake asked you to, and as to not waste any more ammo, you stop.

Lo’ak is ululating and clapping, so happy for you, even though he was probably going to get in trouble for not being a better shooter than a girl who spent her whole life in a lab. He didn’t care. He loved seeing you do well, seeing you adapt. He couldn’t wait for the day you two would go on Ikran rides together and he could show you all the beauty of this world, the way you deserved.

“I see. Neteyam, from now on, I want you both at gun practice and lessons, do you copy? She can learn everything else in the spare time, but I want her there. She’s way too good to waste on Pa’li training.”

“Yes, sir.”

In the evening, you went by Ewoaì’s tent and checked on his younger brother. His airways were clear again so you were able to remove the syringe and stitch up the tracheotomy incision you performed earlier. You sat with them whilst inspecting the child’s condition. He wasn’t well. He had a fever and intermittent shortness-of-breath. His abdomen was in pain and he had a laceration forming on one of his calves. You made a note to bring some more supplies from the lab, and with that, took your leave.

Dinner was pleasant, you ate with the Sullys in their tent, as you do most nights these days, and enjoyed the conversation that did not include you. It was nice to just be around their family and experiencing their tight-knit unit up close. There was laughter, and bickering, and animated discussions about what went on and what’s to come. Jake told Neytiri, Moat, Kiri and Tuk about Ewoaì and his brother, about the guns and the target practice, and they all looked at you with admiration. You blushed and thanked them, deciding the floor was particularly interesting tonight.

“I think Y/N should sing for us! I haven’t heard her beautiful voice in such a long time!” Said Neytiri, smiling fondly

“Oh, I don’t have my guitar!”

You saw Neteyam’s eyes go wide, a rare sight for a man who prides himself on his composure. He stood up from his place around the fire pit, and went to a part of the tent that had a hidden nook in it; you’ve never seen what was there, but assumed there lay the family trinkets, Jake’s guns, clothes, etc. Neteyam came out from behind it holding… a guitar, you realised in shock. A big guitar, that would fit your new hands perfectly. Too stunned to speak, you just looked at him with your mouth agape, and he laughed at your expression.

“This was supposed to go slightly differently, but alas, it’s as good a time as any to give this to you.”

“It was supposed to be done for your birthday, but it took me a lot longer than I thought carving the wood.”

Your eyes flickered between him and the guitar, and then turned to look at Kiri, who had a big smile and waited expectantly for your response.

“…you made this?”

“Well, me and Norm.” He looked almost bashful, and he reminded you so much of young Neteyam that your heart ached and you hoped you could prolong this moment forever.

“He helped me with the design and the metal work, I had to hunt a few good animals to get the gut for the strings, but I think it turned out alright! He tried it and tuned it and it seemed to sound good, but I guess we’ll see when you play it.”

You were still unsure what to say, unsure how to speak or form words or thoughts.

“Neteyam, I don’t know what to say…”

“Say you’ll accept it? And that you’ll forgive me for what I said on your birthday? I really am a kurkung (asshole) sometimes, and I am sorry.”

You nodded almost imperceptibly. His face broke out into a smile, a stupidly handsome smile that stopped your world and shifted it on its axis and you knew, you knew he was doing it, the impossible, he was getting you to forgive him, to forget the hurt and pain he put you through. And you hated yourself for being weak, but you also just allowed yourself a second, just a second to remember what it was like to have him in your life, have him radiate his warmth like he was the sun your soul orbited around.

“Will you sing now?” asked Tuk innocently, and you had to concede.

You toiled for a while with ideas of what song to pick. There was only one that came to mind in this exact moment, thinking of the man you still loved so much, loved as much as you did when you were 10 and he brought you the bracelet, at 13 when he took you on your very own magic carpet ride, at 16 when he held you while you cried in his arms after your dad, and every day in between, the man you needed like air, like that damn oxygen pack you hated, whose touch made you come alive and set your mind ablaze.

You picked up the guitar and tuned the chords, slowly caressing them to get the sound just right. It was perfect, much better than the guitar you had at home. It was perfect. You started strumming a familiar song, that you never sang to them, to him, before, that you sang to yourself in that year apart and you wanted him to hear it, wanted him to know.

I have this dream you're doing cool shit

Having adventures on your own

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home

We never painted by the numbers, baby

But we were making it count

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now

You looked at him, and sang to him. He looked sad, like it was hurting him to watch you, hear you again. You used to play just for him all the time, singing feelings you never had the guts to say out loud, and here you were again, confessing something probably better left unsaid.

We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family

And it would've been sweet

If it could've been me

In my defence, I have none

For digging up the grave another time

But it would've been fun

If you would've been the one

You finished the song and heard clapping from all around you and knew you had to acknowledge the others eventually. With a last look at Neteyam, you turned around and smiled and did a little hand curtsy as a joke.

It was a good night.

You made your way to your tent quite late that night and you saw Lo’ak waving at you until you entered, placing your new guitar slowly on the ground. You lay down and tried your very best to fall asleep, which you felt was impossible, considering you were still reeling after the day you had. Eventually, sleep came, and you woke up back in the linkpod, with Norm’s face coming into focus slowly.

“Hey, Ace. How was your day?”

“Eventful, to say the least. One of the kids in the village needed an emergency tracheotomy. Thank God I had some supplies in the tent, which reminds me - I need to prepare more that I will come to pick up tomorrow, or you can drop to my tent if you make your way to the village.”

“Jesus. What the hell happened?”

“I think it’s this damn virus, Norm. I monitored the kid for an hour in the evening, his airways cleared, but he still had shortness of breath, a fever, gastrointestinal symptoms, and this weird laceration on his calf. His brother’s not sick, so the virus is not transmitted through air - at least I hope not, considering I shared the air in the tent with the guy for a while.”

“Fuck. I will go check on him tomorrow and maybe take some blood. You can run some tests if you want to and have the time.”

“I have some blood from someone else with similar symptoms. I will run the tests tonight, can’t really sleep anyway.”

“Ok, be careful, alright? This is not a joking matter, especially to us.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

You changed in some clothes better suited for a night working in the lab, put on your goggles, lab coat and gloves, and got to work. You were half paying attention to prepping the laminar flow hood and half thinking of the crazy day you had, thinking of Neteyam and his smile and his apology and ugh, you hated him.

You didn’t realise you forgot to put a mask on in your distracted state, and with the hood prepped and ready to go, you removed the blood from the fridge where you kept it while everything you ready and made your way to your work station.

In a second, everything changed. That’s all it took, a second for your whole life to completely turn upside down, yet again. It always only took a second. A second for your mum to take her last breath, a second for you to fall off an Ikran, a second to step on your dad’s remains, a second to lose the love of your life, a second to watch the vial drop and shatter all over the floor, splattering blood all over your body and on your face, in your open mouth that screamed in shock at the instant loss of a future.

Tag list: @nuhteyam @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @mashiromochi

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