#i report on the same things every two weeks and call it a day

[mymp3]

P3R happening has me hyped but it also makes me a little crazy like. You do not know him you WILL NEVER KNOW HIM. STAY AWAY FROM HIM STAY AWAY FROM MINATO.

[moonlesslights]

Two Idiots in Love

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Sex, P in V, choking, breeding kink, innuendos, Miguel it's fucking hard to talk to.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this, I haven't sleep well for three days trying to get it done, but it's finally here. Love y'all xoxox

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Ok, but what about you becoming an Spider just about a year ago?

You are managing just fine.

Things got nasty for a while, that’s true. Your uncle died, your new responsibilities caught up on you, you almost die fighting some bad guys on your first months… And now you just try to eat three times a day (sometimes it doesn’t happen), pray to get more than six hours of sleep and do good in college.

But then, out of fucking nowhere, just when you were making peace with what your life was now and who you are, your identity, your place in this big ass world where you were completely alone to bear this double life… This giant prick with sullen face and cheeks the size of the moon comes into your life to tell you you’re not alone, everyone here has experienced the same or worse, stop being so dramatic.

So, in a second, your protagonist moment turns to you finding out there were thousands like you out there. And your whole life goes upside down.

Because now you don’t have to protect and look out only for your Earth, your city; but everyone else’s too. You have to travel to the most craziest worlds you could’ve ever imagine and fight horrible creatures you couldn’t even conceive its existence. And to make things even worst, Mr. Wide Hindquarters took an special hold of you to help him out with anything he would be ‘to busy’ to do. Like inform new recruits about their missions, filling out reports, doing research either respecting to what he occupied in the laboratory or to some universe yet to be explored… Whatever he needed, you would be called in to do it.

Some Spiders told you you were lucky, not many could work that close to Miguel, let alone being in charge of so many things without screwing something up and getting ‘their head ripped’. Even Lyla tells you that you’re something special, specially on the hard days, that’s why Miguel trusts you so much. After that you would just smile tiredly at her, whispering it was okay. Then Lyla would go face Miguel and demand him with a raised eyebrow to give you a break.

You manage for a few months, surrendering yourself to this strange routine. And your even more strange companion.

Every day you walk in to his space, every day he is already there. You turn a personal mission to arrive before he does. You never make it. The man apparently didn’t sleep and you aren’t waking the fuck up at 3:00am to prove a point or find out. So you let it be as another mystery to be solved.

“Good morning.” You wave your hand at him, making your presence known with that. Sometimes between a yawn, sometimes still cleaning the sleepiness off of your eyes.

“Good morning…” He always adds your last name to his greetings. It makes you feel like you are being scolded. Most of the time he is at the tables, working through the screens; if he’s not there, he’s at the lab, measuring substances with the help of crystal clear instruments.

Without looking at you, he points with his chin to the steaming coffee under the express machine. Through the weeks he has learned exactly how you like it. The first ones he made you were exactly like his: Awful. That couldn’t be drinkable. But you thought it was nice of him to always have hot coffee for you, so you didn’t say anything. But the faces you made at every sip were worth a thousand words.

Now, as you drink today’s, you cannot avoid thinking how cute that big stoic man must look every morning pouring the exact amount of sugar and cream you like into the cup. Moving the liquid with a tiny spoon until is all mixed.

He doesn’t talk much.

No more than orders and “Go home” followed by a “Good night”. You let him be for the first weeks. Not your business. But after the first month you knew you would go crazy if you continued this way of living.

You needed to talk to him. You needed to make things less awkward. He was your only human contact sometimes for entire days, and you cannot stand the fact of barely talking to him.

You don’t have idea how does the term “coworkers” serves on his Earth, but in yours, Human Relationships are encouraged to happen for the sake of teamwork.

With that very idea well tangled on your mind, one of those long days, you take a deep breath, imagine him naked (which isn’t difficult to be honest), stare deep into the space and say:

“Sohowhaveyoubeen?” Squeaking as fast as you can.

Miguel stops whatever the hell he is doing and turns his head to the right, side eyeing you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t even look at him, continuing to fill the document in front of you with the most unstable smile he could have seen in his entire life. Then, he turns around again, coming back to typing into one of the screens. You almost think he has completely ignored you until he answers in another fast and neutral line:

“I’m good.”

You give him an acknowledging nod, smiling softly and returning to your duties.

You had never wished so much to be victim of a lost bullet. Like right now. Like right fucking now. Please.

For one more week you took another personal mission: making a question a day.

“How was your day?”, “Did you have breakfast?”, “How was yesterday’s mission?”… It would be a good day if you got more than a monosyllable for answer. It was embarrassing, really. And Lyla looking at you with a grimace made it ten times worst.

After that, you just came in the eighth day and remained silent, focused in finishing all your work as soon as possible rather than trying to make your prick boss to talk to you. You felt bad, actually. Maybe he just doesn't like to talk, maybe you were making him uncomfortable, maybe... Maybe he's just an arse. Yeah, that is probably the right...

"Hm? Uh, what... What is this?" You look up from your tablet, facing the broad of his back walking to the desk at the other side of the room. You raise an eyebrow at the small cardboard box in front of you, the one that Miguel just left there.

"Food." He says as answering the very question to the origin of the universe.

"For me?" You tilt your head and he looks at you like you were stupid. You frown. How were you supposed to know that, when he barely even looks at you?!

"I did too much." He explains. "... So I brought you some. You can throw it away if you don't want it."

You look down at the box again, watching it as the weirdest of things, and cannot help the little smile that creeps up to your lips. You knew Miguel didn't eat at the HQ cafeteria, since he owns an apartment close from here, so this was completely homemade. Hm, you never thought he was into cooking.

"Why can't I give it to someone else if I don't like it?" You respond with an easy smile, almost teasing him.

"Throw it." He sentences without even looking back at you.

You side eye Lyla at your left, who winks at you. This is a whole ass victory. And you and the little hologram girl knew internally Miguel did not like the day you decided to stop trying to talk to him.

"Thank you." You finally murmur. "I really appreciate it."

"It's just leftovers..."

You nod, pursing your lips and… Still smiling. Fuck it. It was obvious he was going to dismiss it with something like that.

None of you says anything else for the rest of the day, but you make the choice to keep trying on the small talk every day and Miguel, apparently, started to mess up the amount of ingredients for his meals and brings leftovers almost daily.

You continue with this new routine for another couple of weeks.

With the time passing, you gain more and more confidence to talk to the big guy. Most of the times he doesn’t engage in the conversation, it is just you saying your thoughts out loud and telling him everything about your life at college, 'till the point he has a personal beef with some of your classmates. I mean, he doesn’t say it but he surely grunts under his breath every time you mention their name.

Gwen did asked you at some point if he really listened to you or if he just... Left you. You wondered the same for exactly... two hours.

"... And I handed him my essay, right? And he looks at me and says: 'So are you going to tell me who is helping you with these or am I going to find out myself?' So I obviously told him nobody was helping me, I just like doing them. And he freaking threatened me saying that if he founds out he's going to fail me. Like... He doesn't even listens. Agh, he hates me..."

"Is the same one who got angry because you were late to his lecture about himself and his recently published book?" That was a week ago. And he remembered.

You nod, sighing. Miguel clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval.

He might not be talkative (at least for now) but he listens to you. You have no doubt left about that. He may not say a single word while you drop a hundred for minute, but he would come the next day asking "How was the test?" or would know you have classes with that professor and add to his daily good night a soft "Good luck tomorrow." You even start catching him lifting the left corner of his lips when you drop a bad joke about all the things you need to get done by the end of the day or about something you heard on your way there.

You noticed it when certain Spider came in to a meeting, a Spider two days ago you and Miguel had gossiped about because you were told something by your friends on Wednesday, Miguel heard some more on Thursday and with a final comment you put the pieces together on Friday, looking at him with a wide proud open mouth as he shook his head with a soft chuckle. Talking to the Spider in question Miguel would turn to you with the most neutral and blank expression and you would still fight to hide your smile at the memory of everything you found out during the week. No one ever noticed and you liked it. Miguel liked it. It was like a private joke only the two of you could share.

"But what would happen?" This was the part Miguel didn't like. "Like, how would you know I would fuck up something?"

"You cannot give Noir a kaleidoscope." He sentences, giving you another raised eyebrow.

You were in the middle of the daily session of Instructive and Informative questions, according to Lyla and you. Miguel prefers to call them Destructive and Irritating.

After today's mission you had taken a particular soft spot fo the black and white Spider, to the misfortune of your boss. So the whole session has been about the long shot of taking special gifts from your dimension to him.

"But why? Really, what's the worst that could happen if I just give him a tiny little kaleidoscope?"

"Ay, Dios, dame paciencia... You already gave him a rainbow slinky spring toy, why do you keep insisting on gifting him more stuff?"

He fix his gaze on you as you lower your eyes down to your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "... He just looks happy when he sees color."

Miguel sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"I know, but every one of us needs to respect the natural order of our Earth. He shouldn't keep taking things with him that shouldn't be there, do you understand?"

"But..."

"No more 'but's'. I want those reports done by the end of the day." Miguel returns his eyes back to the screen in front of him, dismissing you just with that action. "Get to work instead of keep losing our time with this."

He hates the way you comply to his orders. Hates the way you leave the space beside him empty to go working at the other side of the room, where he can only see your back. He hates when you refuse him to see your face.

The human part in him hates the questioning sessions because they always end up with your heart too big for your own good, crushed a little bit more. The human part in him is what brings him closer to you after a few minutes, talking you through some trivial topics until he can convince you it is all not as bad a it seems, until you smile again when you insist it's okay, that you just needed a minute, that you understand. And he might o might not tell you can give Noir that fucking kaleidoscope if you want it so much.

But some deep and primal part in him whispers into his veins to walk up to you, take you by your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and order you you better not refuse your face to him one more single time again. That if he wishes to see your eyes, the curve of your nose or your lips, you better fucking show them to him... Every day. Every. Time. He. Wants. To.

He gets frustrated when he catches himself in the middle of those thoughts, of the drives. He has been able to control it magnificently 'till now. But he fears the day he won't.

For another while you enjoyed the 'leftovers' brought to you too. But it also came to happen the one day, they stopped being leftovers:

You yawn as you make your way to the exit of the lab, making sure your alarm for tomorrow is correctly scheduled, you can not afford another harsh look from your professors one more time. The building has fallen silent already; most of its ordinary inhabitants have already retired to their rooms or to their home worlds.

Miguel walks up to you from behind, watching you standing at the door. Neither of them managed to see even a ray of sun today. He didn't care, he had something much better to watch all day… But he can't help but sigh at the thought of taking it from you.

"Italian or Mexican?" You turn to look at him, barely catching what he said. Both of your brows furrow and he glares at you while adjusting the neck of his jacket on. "For tomorrow's lunch. You want me to bring Italian or Mexican?"

"Oh, uhm..." You widen your eyes, surprised by the consideration. Pursing your lips and squinting, you think about it for a second, but the only possible answer comes immediately after: "Mexican."

"Hm." He nods, fixing his eyes to the front again.

Both start walking now towards the exit of the building. You know you can open your portal to go back home now, but you refuse to do so. Miguel knows there's an exit on the other side of the lab that leads him to a closer path to his apartment, but he refuses to take it. Because you always take this one.

"It's getting chilly." You whisper, watching the first snowflakes of the season falling on the other side of the big windows in the lobby. Miguel hums in response. "I like it, though. The first month working with you I had to carry a fan with me everywhere. I am so sorry for the cost of the electricity bill back then."

Miguel tugs at one corner of his lips, but only that. You tilt your head, glaring at him for a second before you take two fast steps to put yourself in front of him. The poor man has to stick his feet to the floor to avoid knocking over you.

He frowns, confused, and you look up at him with those same eyes filled with determination you put on when you look at the cookies he always -purposely- leaves on top of the highest cupboard in his office. He could only describe it as the face of a master plan, because you would always come back with ideas to get them down without asking him for help. And he loved to play guess with what you would do this time.

"Smile for me." You ask as you were some kind of cameraman, and if he was confused before he's into a new level now.

"What?"

"Y'know..." You bring both of your index fingers to the opposite sides of your face and part your own lips into a simple smile, like showing him what he was supposed to do.

"I know what smiling is." He frowns. "Why do you want me to do it?"

You shrug. "I just... I would be really happy to see it."

Miguel's expression remains unfazed, but he prays to every God out there you can't listen how hard his heart jumped inside his chest when your words reached him.

He swallows. His eyes fix on you and he brings both of the corners of his mouth up, exposing bright teeth and two big fangs that brush on his lower lip in the most precious awkward smile you could have ever seen. His brows are drawn together and he looks like he's in pain, and you know that even if a fucking meteor crashed down in the city right now, you still wouldn't be able to look away.

You clear your throat and lament how his smile is gone as soon as it came. You brush your hand at the back at your neck, nervous, fucking ashamed of your imprudence. Miguel raises an eyebrow at your reaction.

"Thank you. That was nice of you." You smile, avoiding his eyes and solely focusing on the snow awaiting for you. "I'm sorry if it was unpleasant for you. I didn't mean..."

Your words get caught up in your throat when you suddenly feel the texture of fabric coming around your neck. You turn back to look at the front again only to find Miguel tugging his scarf on you, with his fingers making sure it hugged every part of your skin your sweater couldn't.

"Miguel, no. It's even colder here than on my Earth. You need this more than I do." You frown with a worried expression washing over your features.

"You'll come back tomorrow pretty early. And it's going to be cold." You could try and argue about you having your own scarfs to bring tomorrow with you, but his eyes tell you he is not asking.

"... Thank you."

Miguel laments the moment your turn around, laments the moment you don't look at him anymore. He is sure the smile from a minute ago hadn't been anywhere near one of his best, and yet your eyes shone with the light of all the moons he's seen in all of the Earths he has visited.

And as you do a little wave when you start walking away before entering your portal, Miguel waves back, slowly and with only two unsure swings of his wrist. It was enough to make you smile anyway. It was enough to keep him standing there even after you were long gone wondering what the hell he was doing.

When Miguel began to bring food made specially to share, you began to bring desserts from your Earth for him to try.

You both started having lunch together after you told him how tired you were of eating while standing. Don't get me wrong, when you first told him he 'offered' you to go eat at the cafeteria if you wanted it so much. But when he dismisses you for the second time the next day with a 15 minute break to go find somewhere to sit, you, instead, sit down reluctantly at the very center of his work space, just a few meters behind him.

Miguel has to do a fucking double take to make sure he is seeing right before turning around at you calmly crossing your legs on the floor and unboxing today's meal with abrupt and resigned movements.

"Could you be so kind as to explain to me what you are doing?" He tilts his head with amusement when you take the first bite of your food.

"Eating."

"Sitting on the floor?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Sitting on the floor." You nod.

"Care to explain why?" He crosses his arms, pursing his lips when you refuse to raise your eyes at him.

"... Because of you." You murmur, taking another unnecessarily aggressive bite.

"Elaborate, please."

You keep on looking down, chewing the morsel in your mouth. Miguel awaits for you with well known experienced patience. By now, he recognizes when you are mad at him or the world, he sees how you fight to keep calm inside of all of this mess, that's why he always tries to encourage you to talk out the things that bother you, because he's there, he can listen; because he likes the way you smile after you let it all out.

And maybe...

"I don't care about eat sitting comfortably at the cafeteria. I want to eat with you. So if you want to stay here be my fucking guest. I'm staying here too."

Because you were the only one who could throw a tantrum at Miguel O'Hara without flinching.

You have earned that right. You didn't know when, because you insist you don't throw tantrums at him; you're a college student, basically an adult, you don't do tantrums. And still...

"Fine, spoiled girl..." He sighs, walking to get his own little box from the table and then coming to close the space between the two with a few long steps. He sits down right beside you, imitating the way you're crossing your legs. "If you want to eat on the floor, we can eat on the floor."

"I'm not spoiled." You hiss, giving him a deadly side eye that puts on a soft, almost unnoticeable grin on his face. Lyla had made fun of him a few days ago about him spoiling you, but instead of getting on his nerves he took a liking for the nickname. And now you suffer the consequences of it all. "And we wouldn't be eating on the floor if you decided to go to the cafeteria for once."

"... I hate talking to people."

You sigh, nodding. That's exactly why you never push him to do anything of that sort.

"I know." You turn to look at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how he keeps his head low while eating. "Hey" You call for his attention, smiling. He blinks up to you, tilting his head. "It's okay." Your shoulder drops to his arm. "I like being here. I'm not stuck with you, you're stuck with me."

That makes his eyes catch a little bit more of light.

"Thank you." He whispers.

You stare at him for a second more and he fights to put all of the mess inside his head, his feelings, into his tongue... But he can't. You continue eating, and he knows you would never hold a grudge on him for it, and he's so thankful for that, for you being able to understand the way his actions speak when his words can't. But he still aches at the thought of never being able to tell you everything he wants.

The next morning you walk in to find out a new cleared space beside the screens with an elegant glass table and two chairs. It surely looked expensive, like everything he does and has, but for you, it's just the little corner where you can leave that particular cake from your Earth he seems to like so much, and then go to the laboratory to see the cake you seemed to like so much.

After two more weeks enjoying the day-to-day in the usual things in your life, you and Miguel got to a mission which revealed as the true calmness before the storm.

The anomaly you had fought was stronger than expected, more aggressive, more letal. Everyone had run lucky at least two times to escape from its claws, but you can still remember their closeness, the screams, the sirens at the distance. It all almost ends up with another canonic event altered.

"There's always a first time." Jessica had told you when you finally finished off the anomaly. She was worried about you, and you can't blame her. You haven't even registered how bad you were trembling until it was all over.

"Is there going to be a last time?" You replied, looking up at her with big eyes. And Miguel, only a few meters behind you, still trying to give some last orders to every Spider there, felt his heart breaking at the very sound of your words.

Nevertheless, thankfully, the universe remained perfectly fine and just a couple of hours later everyone was back home safely again. Most returned immediately to their Home Earths, but you, Miguel, Jessica, Lyla and a couple more had ten thousand things to do in the HQ before calling it a day.

"I thought I told you to go home an hour ago." Miguel points, coming from behind you.

You turn your head to look up at him and you can't not smile at the sight. The feeling of safeness that floods you when you see his huge figure entering any room hasn't wavered for a single second. He's still that solid ground you can always rest on when the world is to heavy to carry alone.

"I'm serious. What are you doing here?" He continues, grunting in pain when he drops his weight beside you. You turn to him, furrowing your brows in worry again. He had seen that expression in you so often today... And he hates it so much. "I'm okay. Just little scratches here and there."

You withdrawn your feet from the edge of the building where you had them hanging for an hour now and crawl your way to him, sitting down on your knees to try to be eye height with him.

Your right hand wanders to his bruised neck, there where the anomaly had left his horrible mark of the violence it brought within. You follow with your index the way the clotted blood draws on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

"Does it hurt?" You ask.

"No." He responds in between goosebumps.

He loves the effect your touch has on him. He loves your little hands looking for him, tugging at his clothes to call for his attention, brushing against his when you pass him the tablet, documents, anything. He loves the busy days where he doesn't have time to eat, where he wouldn't eat if it wasn't for you sitting beside him as he works on the screens, you scrolling through your cellphone, taking little pieces of food with a spoon or a fork to bring them closer to his mouth so he could eat without even taking his eyes off the screen.

Ridiculous? Yeah. But he loved the intimacy within. The many forms your soft hands could soothe him.

But his? He hated them. He was scared of them. Their only use was to destruct, to tear flesh apart, not to...

"Show me." He asks, pointing with his chin at your left hand placed softly above your thigh.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see it." He insist and you carefully bring your arm up, placing your fingers against his when he holds out his hand for you. Your whole palm is bandaged, the work the doctor did on you was amazing, but he can still see dried blood on it.

He doesn't say anything when he finds your eyes on him, conflicted, hesitant. There is so much between both of you, so much unsaid, so much still to do. But he sees your doubt, he hates to be the cause of it. He stays still, but he wants to scream at you, to make your little head understand: "How can't you see?! Can't you see how much you mean to me?! You're the only thing in my mind when I'm fighting, because I know I have to win, I have to get out alive to see you again. Eres lo único por lo que mi corazón llama!... Can't you not hear it?"

Instead, the tips of his fingers brush on your skin, his eyes reflecting every single light of the city below.

"Come." It's only a whisper that leaves his mouth, and you need nothing more to jump into his embrace with a desperate sigh, immediately cuddling yourself up on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, looking for his warm.

Hold.

He loves to hold you.

His hands serve to hold you.

To hold you against him, to protect you from anyone who wants to rip you away from his arms. To keep you warm, to keep you safe, to let you know you're home.

"Aquí estoy." He whispers.

"I know." You reply.

You breath into his scent for a couple of minutes more, until the screams and the sirens fell low to the sound of Miguel's chest going up and down in a soothing swing, his breathing, turning into the only thing you could listen to.

By the time you got your head out of his neck, he was already waiting for you with a soft smile, smile that puts your attention on the deep cut on his lower lip.

"What happened?" You ask, carefully pulling from his flesh to see the whole extension of the wound.

He sighs, closing his eyes with embarrassment. "I bit myself during the fight."

You smile, shaking your head. Your fingernail taps against the right fang in question, testing the edge by gently pressing the tip into your fingertip.

"I hate them." Miguel breaths out. His eyes are now so dim that you struggle to say where are they looking at in the middle of the night darkness.

"Why?" You whisper, taking your finger back at his lip.

"Because I fear of them. I fear they'll hurt you like they hurt me."

You purse your lips and then take his hand placed on your hip, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Is the same with these?"

He nods.

"They are made to kill. I have done so many horrible things with, caused so much damage and pain, I..."

"Did you know I'm scared of heights?" His trail of words stop at your interruption. You smile, looking down from the edge, turning away form him just a little. "Ironic, for a Spider. But I still fight with it every single day. I always get so sticky when I'm on top of a building for too long it's embarrassing but..." You raise your hand in front of him, waving your fingers with a playful smile. "I'm not sticky now. And that it's because you're holding me." You cup his face. "Those things you're afraid of, are part of the person I love. And I wouldn't change a single thing."

"Mi cielo..."

"I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you, Miguel, so don't get all soft now. I'm not going anywhere..." You whisper. "Make me bleed."

He would be lying if he said he haven't thought about it, that he haven't succumbed to his most animalistic urges when alone in the privacy of his room, pretending it was you around his cock and not his fist. He wanted to bite, he wanted to fill you. And he wanted to tear apart with his bare talons anyone and anything that got in his way.

A part of him might be scared to hurt you, yes.

But a bigger part of him was actually scared of what he would do to keep you safe. Of what he's capable of... to keep you his.

He feels sorry for you when you cuddle against his chest in your sleep as he stands up and starts walking back inside the building, covering you with his jacket to protect from the cold wind of the city for when he swings back to his apartment with you in his arms.

He feels sorry for the innocence in your love.

Like a beast, that's what he was. A beast who loved the softness in your touch, the kind in your words. But cannot return the same love. The beast is possessive, jealous of the very air that caresses your hair. And it may act vulnerable only to you, letting you get as close to slaughter him, but knowing you'll place a kiss instead. The beast would hold you as his own treasure, a creature that must not be hurt, not even for his own hands. He would cut them off before.

He would cut them off from anyone before they touch you. For no one should ever touch what he decided, that very morning you asked how he had been, would belong to him.

AND EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE CONTINUED ON GOING SO SMOOTHLY... BUT THE DAAAAAAAAMN FINALS, ah, made their entrance.

You barely have time to sleep, to eat, to fucking breathe. Your levels of anxiety are higher than the HQ damn building and your brain is so overworked you cannot do more than what you're asked to in autopilot. You know that you're only going to be like this for approximately another two weeks, but your poor lover has suffered the last four days thinking you're sick, or sad, or worse... Mad at him. No, not in that order.

"Arañita..." He calls for you. Your hand moving over your notebook at one hundred km per hour concerns him.

"The reports are done. Peter from -5266 and Hugh from -1993 are out right now. They should be getting back at any minute. Anomaly #125 was sent to its original universe this morning." You push the tablet to him with your free hand without even looking up or slowing down your writing.

"Thank you, but..." He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just need to get this done before four. By the way, can I leave early today? I need to study for tomorrow's test."

"Again? Didn't you have one yesterday?"

"Yes. We're on finals, Miguel. We tend to have a lot of them these days. That's why I'm losing my mind over here."

"Just for some tests?" You have to stop yourself to remind you it's not his fault to be smart. It's not his fault being more intelligent than almost every person you knew. It's not his fault he doesn't know what is to struggle on school. It's not his fault, It's not his fault, It's not his fault... "You haven't even touched your food." He says, looking at the little box he got you with the meal now cold.

"I... I know. I'm sorry, Mig." You sigh, looking up at him for the first time in the day. "I'm just really stressed out right now. But I promise I'll take it back home later, okay?"

This was also the fourth day you didn't stay at his place. My man doesn't want to be a burden, but he has attachment issues, ok?, and after the week you spent sleeping in his arms, it may or may not be that Miguel has been having trouble falling asleep without the weight of your body on his chest.

After watching you leave that day, Miguel found himself staying till unreasonable hours of the early morning working in the lab. There was no point on going back to his cold apartment anyway... And he had a lot of things to get done. He didn't have time to...

"Oh, it's you." Miguel jumps in his place at the sudden voice calling from behind. "I thought that poor girl had stayed here, with all the things she seems to be doing these days."

The man shakes his head, ignoring Jessica closing the distance behind him, leaning against the door frame. Miguel can almost make out the little smile on her lips without turning around, and that only infuriates him even more.

"And why do you look like a caged lion?" She mocks. "Trouble in paradise?"

Miguel's first instinct is snap back at her and ask her to leave him alone. He knows she would comply, what he doesn't know is how benefic that would be for his current situation.

"I don't know what's going out with her." He admits, letting his head fall in irritation. "She says she's having some tests right now, but she's just to... Stressed? I don't know. She's so smart I cannot conceive how bad this is affecting her." The laugh that emanates from Jessica's throat makes his ears go red. "What?"

"Oh, babe, when was the last time you went to college?" Jessica puts both of her hands on her waist, pursing the lips to avoid smiling again.

"Why is that important?"

"When, Miguel?" She demands.

"Ugh... I don't know. Like four-five years ago."

"When was the last time you failed a class?"

"Never." He immediately responds.

"When was the last time grades were important on your Earth?"

Miguel frowns. "I don't remember. The path for learning had changed long before I was born. I don't even think I ever had something like a grade. We were judged individually for our skills and our intelligence type. Not memorization."

"Exactly." She claps, pointing at him with a all-knowing finger. "Thanks to that you got the chance to develop your true abilities as a student, but our girl from 2023 it is not beneficiary of this privilege. She doesn't get the chance to strengthen in what she is good, she must memorize and memorize and memorize over and over again. Because the tests on her Earth aren't done with the purpose of just checking how is her knowledge progressing, they are done to see if she's worthy of continuing forward in her very career."

Miguel remains silent for a minute, swallowing all the new information by pieces. For someone so smart, Jessica has never see him seem so lost. The nuts in his brain begin to turn and turn until his eyes seem to light up with the clarity of the light of the new world.

"Hm." He nods. "Thank you."

The woman knows he doesn't need anything more when he turns around, typing into one of the screens something that escapes from her eyes.

During the rest of the two weeks of finals, Miguel tried to do his best to support you.

He even read all of the information about your education system, striving to understand everything in just a couple of nights.

He's a man on a mission: letting you know he's there, that you're strong and smart, and you can do it.

While you study in the lab, he leaves you be. He gets you coffee, or tea, or anything you prefer. He might even hiss at people entering his space (your space) making too much noise, pointing at you with his chin and threatening eyes.

"Hey, girl..." Peter B. comes in one morning, moving nervously under the scrutinizing gaze of your lover. "Don't be so harsh on yourself..." He gives you some awkward pats on the back, smiling. "You're doing great."

That was all it took.

"No, I'm not!" You weep, letting your head fall on the desk, shaking between sobs.

"Great. Ya la hiciste llorar." Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Here, give it to her." He calls for Peter's attention, handing him an specific chocolate.

Peter takes it with confused eyes, offering it to you, reaching out his arm as if he were to touch you, you'll explode.

"Here." He says. "Look what I got."

You raise your eyes, meeting the little packing. Then, when you look at him, Peter almost thinks he just made all worst.

"Oh, Peter... Thank you!" You take the chocolate, pulling from him to a big hug. "I love these so much, thank you! You're so kind!"

Peter lets you be, looking back at Miguel who just nods at him to let him know this wasn't his first rodeo. He pats your back, soothing you with some more nervous words until you're ready to let him go.

If you're really struggling, Miguel won't think twice to help you. He's smart, it takes him nothing more than a look to his old notes or a quick search on the internet (specially if you're studying something science related or an engineering, if you're on law or arts, oh boy, you're gonna make this man suffer) to know exactly what you need and make sure you're taking that fucking project tomorrow.

Some other days, he just catches you sleeping with your hands crossed above the table and your saliva drooling out to your notes. His jacket would then come over you, after, he would take your pending stuff and start solving problems and making notes for you to have it easier at the memorizing part of the study.

You always wake up to see the edges of your paper full of arrows, little equations and encircled key words. And, sometimes, a tired Miguel sleeping uncomfortably by your side, just waiting for you to tell him it's time to go.

The day, a Friday, where you're finally done with college (at least for a couple of months) Miguel felt it like the day his soul came back to his body.

You are smiling all day again, calling his name, doing a mess all over the whole building. And he can not be more happy about it.

He might never tell you, me might even justify himself saying he had been staying up late working in the lab every time you ask for the bags under his eyes. Because he's definitely not telling you there were nights where he couldn't even close his eyes 'cause you weren't there with him.

"Time to go home." You hum behind him, getting all of your stuff inside your backpack.

"Thank God" He rubs his neck, walking closer to you to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'm dying."

You yawn, nodding. "Me too. These weeks drained me."

"Me too." He repeats, and you don't know how much he means it. "Let's just go to sleep, yeah? Hopefully tomorrow there won't be so much to do."

You smile, leaning into his embrace as you walk out the door, hearing the lights turning off as both come closer and closer to the exit.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Miguel steadies your body by pressing down on your hips, keeping your ass on the bed. You try to push his face out of between your thighs but he refuses to pull apart.

"Miguel!" You cry out, tears rolling down your cheeks cause of the overstimulation he was putting you in. "Too much, too much..."

His fingers curl inside you one more time, and your arch your back, almost rolling your eyes at the feeling. His tongue flicks over your sensitive bud again, dragging choked moans out of you. You try to squirm away but his hands pull you from your ass back at him as soon as you start moving.

"Easy there, Arañita. I'm almost done." He smiles up at you, letting you see the lower half of his face completely covered in your arousal.

"Mig... Mi amor..." You breath out, trying to push him out again when his chuckle crashes against your folds.

"One more, love, and you'll be ready for me." He sucks on your clit as he speaks, moving his fingers with an slower pace now. "Uno más, mamita, dame uno más."

He pushes his face down on you, working his tongue all around your most needy spot with his digits burying now deep inside you, hitting that soft place between your walls that makes you want to cry. You're a mess of moans and whimpers by now, but when his teeth slowly press on your clit, it's over for you. Your eyes roll back, your thighs tremble around him, encaging him in his favorite prison as he guides you through it, moaning into your skin when he feels your pleasure dripping on him, motivating his hips to hump against the mattress as a fucking teenager would do.

After you get down from your high, you look up at him to find him positioning himself between your legs, dragging the tip of his cock up and down on your folds.

"Miguel, wait, I'm..."

"You know your safe word, mamita, you can make me stop whenever you want." He places your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your hips, keeping you just as he wishes to. "I'm going in, and I want your eyes on me all the time I fuck you, ¿me entiendes, hermosa?"

You nod, watching the point where both of your bodies would join. He enters slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. But after the first hint of your hips trying to feel him even more, he pulls back and thrusts all the way in, making your head fall back as your back arches.

His right hand grabs you by the jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and observe how red his irises had turned.

"Eyes on me."

His pace speeds up, bottoming out with every thrust he makes. Your hands push at his lower abdomen, biting your lip to avoid crying out loud again.

"Too fast, Mig. Too much." You moan, your still overstimulated clit rips another whimper from you every time his happy trail and trimmed hair crashes against it. You were barely holding on, but your lover can't never get enough. His body reaches down, and as he places one hand around your neck, his other thumb toys at your clit in a excruciating pace. "Fuck! No, Miguel."

You tremble under him, wrapping your legs around his waist when you cannot think about anything more than cumming. Your nails bury on the skin of his back, dragging an out of breath grunt out of him.

"I'm, I'm cum-" You try to voice but nothing in your brain seems to work anymore.

"Do it, love. I got you." He keeps up his pace, almost kissing your cervix by now. "Cum for me, mi amor."

His hand squeezes a little bit harder on your neck and you need nothing else to see fucking white. Your mouth opens in a big O before your start trembling, shaking uncontrollably under his body, letting out the sweetest of sounds for him to hear.

He grunts, falling into the crock of your neck when you tighten your walls around him.

"I'm going to fucking fill you." He's out of breath and he curses something in Spanish you cannot make out. "I'm going to put a baby on your tummy, mamita..."

"Miguel..." You were on the verge of tears again, you cannot longer feel your legs but you surely can feel him deep inside you.

"Yes, love. Fuck... I'm cumming. I'm..." He bites down on your flesh, sinking his fangs into your skin when his hips stutter. His talons grow so big they dig into the headboard.

You moan at the feeling, hugging your body to his until he can breath normal again.

When he looks back at you his eyes have returned to that soft brown you're used too.

"Are you okay?" He asks, sending shivers down your spine when he caresses the sore skin.

"Yes." You smile and he traps your lips into a kiss. "And now I'm really fucking tired."

He chuckles, lifting his weight onto his forearms.

"Come here, amor. Let's take a shower so you can rest comfortably." He places another soft peck on your forehead. "I'll wash your hair."

You definitely know he will do more than that.

PD: Tbh with you guys, all I could think about while writing this was this tiktok:

[reiderwriter]

🫂 Transference 🫂

Pairing: Spencer Reid x virgin!Fem Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Summary: He saves your life, and he keeps saving it every day, but Spencer won't let you love him until you finally beg him to. Is transference really that much of an issue?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Mentions of Case details - reader is the unsub victim, mentions of rape and attempted rape, gunshot, death, kidnapping, imprisonment, parental neglect, abandonment, loss of virginity (positive), semi-public sex, bathroom sex, fingering, penetrative sex (p in v), missionary, praise kink (good girl), moaning kink (?), safe sex, slight cum play/ oral, aftercare.

A/N: I wrote a virgin reader fic for kinktober that people loved a lot (thank you all!), and I had a lot of requests for something similar, so please - enjoy!

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You'd met him at the library, as if the world wanted you to forever associate the comfort you found in between the pages of a worn book with the man that tried to end your life. At first, you'd thought it a coincidence, then he'd flashed a smile at you, and you'd believed it to be fate, drawn in by the charm he wore as a disguise. 

Your first date was sweet, flowers and dinner. Your second date was sweeter, and they kept on that way. Sugar dropped into your ears until you were floating on cloud nine, right as he turned his charm off. 

“Really?” He started one day, his tone accusing from the get-go. 

“What?” 

“You're really going to eye fuck that man in front of me?” His voice was loud enough to catch notice in the small café you'd joined him in for the morning, and all the life drained out of your face. 

“I'm not- what?”

“No, forget it,” he chuffed, taking another sip of his drink and turning away from you. 

You noticed it more and more from then on, how he would accuse you of small things like looking at other men, like you had the choice to ignore them when they were shop clerks, bus drivers and just fucking people living their lives. 

Your friends were even weirded out when you joked with them about it, telling them all about your silly boyfriend who ripped a poster off your wall because it had some actor or singer or something on it. It wasn't even that important to you, but as you laughed, you were greeted with silence, with sideways glances and concerning questions. 

It was all starting to crumble, and there was nothing you could do to stop it but cling on. 

The next thing was his pushiness. You'd been up front with him at the beginning of the relationship that you were a virgin, something that he was more than happy about. 

He'd said it was because he was a man of God, and he understood your commitment, which confused you as you weren't a virgin for religious reasons. But you brushed it off as everything else about him was so… gentlemanly? 

Until he started pushing his hands up your thighs when he kissed you. He tried multiple times to push his fingers into your underwear as you tried to pull back, each time apologizing immediately when you displayed more panicked displeasure. 

“I'm sorry, something must have… The devil got to me for a second there, Y/N, but I won't let him win.” He kissed the top of your head, and he walked you to your door before giving you another chaste kiss and leaving. 

They found the first body the next morning.

She was young, maybe 16 or 17. Beaten, raped, mutilated, and asphyxiated. They said he'd kept raping her body long after she'd taken her last breath. It took them two weeks to notify her parents because of the way he'd left her. 

You'd watched the news report the same week with your boyfriend, shocked and horrified at the news and cuddling closer to him for comfort. 

Each step you came closer to him, each time you allowed him to touch you, he took it as a sign of his ownership, his claim on you. Not a single other person could get in between him and his prize. Each time you rejected him, he killed another girl. 

By body five, they'd called in the BAU. 

“Did you hear they're bringing in the FBI to solve that Cathy Renaud case? It's all over the news. Apparently, the team is super special.” 

You'd brought up the words while cooking him breakfast. He didn't live with you, but any good girlfriend would feed their man, so he woke you up every day on his way to work to let you prepare him something. 

His whole attention was on his phone, though, as he nodded through your conversation, grunting and moaning at each word. 

It was only when you brought him his plate of pancakes that you realized that he was just as interested in the subject as you were. Because he was staring at the photos of the girl he mutilated the night before. 

You didn't want to think about everything that happened after that. After the plate fell to the floor and cracked, splintering into your foot and causing you your first injury in a long line. 

You didn't want to think about the things he showed you, the way he touched you, or at least tried to. You heaved and wretched and emptied your stomach every single time you thought about the restraints on your wrists, how he'd tried to rape you but couldn't bring himself to do it because you weren't young enough anymore. You weren't dead enough.  

Instead, every time you thought back to that week, you found yourself back at the end. You replayed the bullet lodging into his brain as a comfort, which told you more than you needed to know about your mental state. It was Spencer Reid who'd shot him. He'd been quick enough to realize that the man would never have been talked down, and he'd fired the shot as a mercy to you. He may have killed your boyfriend, putting him down like he was a sick animal, but you were the one put out of your misery. 

He didn't stop to watch the body hit the floor before falling to your side, the other agents clearing the room and checking the corpse. He'd helped you to your feet, drawn an arm around your waist and pushed your head into his chest so you didn't have to see the carnage on the way out, didn't have to deal with the camera flashes as the press scrambled for pictures of the monster's willing victim. 

“One step at a time, this isn't your fault. Just stick with me,” he said, moving you from the house to a waiting van as you clasped his vest desperately, needing the lifeline he'd thrown you. 

“Ma'am, ma'am. I'm a paramedic, I won't hurt you, I just need to take your vitals, make sure you're okay.” 

The voice was vague and in the distance, and you were so sure it wasn't directed at you that you simply let yourself wrap around the man who'd saved you when you got to the ambulance. Nothing else was around but his chest, his hand on your back, your legs wrapped around him as they finally gave out. 

“Ma'am… Please, you're injured-” 

“Y/N,” he spoke finally, and you grabbed him tighter, nails digging into the skin at his neck. 

“You're Y/N, right? We've been looking for you for a long time. I'm not going anywhere, I won't let anyone hurt you.” 

The words were enough to reassure you, pulling back slightly as the paramedics began working on you, but not enough for you to embrace their touch. You clambered away from the paramedic the moment you saw he was a man, close in build and coloring to the corpse in the building behind you. 

You screamed, you cried, you pounded at the doors as Spencer held to you him, letting the paramedics sedate you, rocking you to sleep on the step of the emergency vehicle.

He was by your bedside every time you woke up, too. It was funny seeing him there when you still didn't know his name. Your parents hadn't visited, too ashamed to be associated with the entire thing to even check in on you. 

He had himself assigned your emergency contact after six days of your parents not showing up. In all that time, he'd sat patiently by your side as you wailed and raged and went numb, and the cycle repeated itself in perpetuity. 

He was there, too, with a bag of clothes and a fresh start waiting for you when you were ready to be discharged. 

His team had since moved on to another criminal of the week, putting the lives lost behind them as they traipsed through more cases and corpses and killers. He was still there, though. Somehow. 

You were old enough to be able to discharge yourself from a hospital, old enough to not need a guardian to take care of you. Spencer stayed anyway, and you didn't bother asking why. 

“I don't want to leave the hospital,” you said, climbing back into the bed you'd forced yourself into for the last week. The same bed where the nurse had ran your rape kit even after you'd told her he'd never touched you like that, after you'd explained and denied and shouted to high hell that no-one had touched you like that and she sure as hell wasn't going to be the first. 

Spencer had put a stop to the traumatic experience when he'd returned with your coffee, always picking up something for you when he went out. 

The nurse had gripped and moaned and murmured an apology, and you knew you'd not been an easy patient, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel bad about it. 

That didn't mean you wanted to leave yet, though. 

“I can't leave, I have nowhere to live.”

“Y/N, you can't stay here forever.”

“Spencer, I can't go home. My apartment is a crime scene, I almost died there, and there are reporters posted there 247 waiting for me to come back. They think I'm evil, they-” 

“They think you're a victim,” he said calmly but firmly, cutting you off before you could spiral again. “Which you are. And you'll be a victim forever if you don't get out of that hospital bed and start moving on.” 

He dumped a bag on your bed, a bag you recognised as one of your own overnight bags from your apartment. He looked at you again, the question in his silence. 

Are you going to keep being his victim?

You huffed as you got out of your bed, throwing off the covers and standing in front of him. He didn't budge. 

“Well?” You asked, looking at him as he stood still, not moving even an inch. 

“Well, what?” He replied, eyebrows knitting. 

Instead of replying, you rolled your eyes and reached behind you to the ties in your hospital gown, opening it until you could pull it off your body before pulling out the clothes he'd left in the bag. 

You didn't glance at him again until you were fully naked, readying your underwear so you could pull it on. When you turned back to him, his gaze knocked the wind out of you. 

You'd stopped feeling like a woman the minute he'd carried out of that room. You were a child, a fragile doll, a specimen to be studied. For some of the nurses, you were an infection they could catch. 

Spencer Reid, against his better judgment, was looking at you like you were a woman. Like you were the object of his every desire. 

“S-Spencer…” you said suddenly feeling the shame and embarrassment of being naked suddenly in front of another person. You pulled the sweatshirt he'd packed you over your torso, covering all of your intimate areas as you stammered out your apology. 

“I- shit, I'm sorry-”

“I'll wait - I’ll wait outside. If you need anything you can… you can do whatever.” He said, dragging his eyes off of your body and letting them fall anywhere that you weren't. His eyes darted from the floor to the wall, to the air next to your head and finally to the door where he took himself out. 

You dressed in a hurry and followed him. 

“Spencer? Spencer, I'm ready,” you said, running down the hall to him and grabbing his arm, holding it for support and comfort, but mostly just to be close. 

Since waking up from that first sedation of many in those first few days, you hadn't been more than a few hours without having him hold you. 

His team had sent many warning looks watching you wrapped around him like a scared child, hiding behind him like a small, shaking dog. You hadn't seen a problem in it, truly clinging to him like a lifeline. 

After whatever the hell had just happened in your hospital room, though? Now you felt each solid ridge of him. You hadn't felt like a woman, sure  but you equally hadn't acknowledged Spencer as a man until then. A very attractive man. 

The stubble on his jaw only made it sharper. His gentle, curving eyes, cut at the corners by the start of laugh lines, his mouth straight and… and kissable. For the first time in months, definitely for the first time since you'd met your monster, maybe even for the first time ever, desire heated the depths of your stomach. 

Your breath hitched, and you held him tighter as he led you out of the ward and ushered you into your new life. 

“We're not going to your apartment. Your landlord released you from the lease for…obvious reasons after some persuading. Your parents-” 

“My parents?” You asked in disgusting, halting in the hall. For the first time since you'd left the room, he had to turn and look you in the eyes. He'd done his best to dampen the desire, but some part of you still recognised it, even as your logical brain fought to be heard. 

“Your parents agreed to fund three months in a new apartment. After which time, you will have a job and some stability, so you'll be able to pay for it yourself.”

You tried to argue and tried to talk back, but your tongue was thick. 

A new apartment. Living alone, being alone, for any amount of time, felt daunting. 

But Spencer took one more step towards the door and then another, and you had no choice but to walk with him, hand slipping down and grasping his like it was your lifeline. 

The drive to whatever new apartment your parents had leased for you was silent, and the storms in your head grew until they'd taken up so much space they erupted forth, darkening the actual skies. A crash of thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance just as he pulled into the building. Luckily for you, there was underground parking, so you didn't even need to contemplate letting the lightning hit you. 

There was one space left, and Spencer pulled his car in, flipping the engine off and getting out without another word. 

He led you up the stairs, then he led you to your floor, then he led you to your door and handed you the keys. 

You felt cold as you opened the doors, knowing you were about to confront items of boxes that had watched you be burned, cut, slapped, beaten.

There were no boxes behind the door. Everything had, to your shock, been unboxed and staged already. 

You recognised magnets on the fridge, stuffed animals on the bed when you made your way to your bedroom. Your toiletries were neatly tidied into your medicine cabinet, hell, even your bookshelves had your own dog-eared copies of books well past their prime. 

You had every comfort and joy without having to push yourself through the pain of thinking about where these items had last been kept. 

There were new things too. The couch was definitely second-hand, but it wasn't the one you'd brought at Goodwill the week after your college graduation. That one was stained red, no doubt, somewhere in a tip. There was bedding and sheets and blankets and plates and forks and knives - a whole household of items that someone had chosen. 

You turned back to Spencer and cried. You buried your face in his chest and wrapped yourself around him again as he held you. 

And then, realizing he'd been the one to orchestrate this, if not the one who had arranged everything himself, you pushed up on the balls of your feet, and you kissed him. 

For the few seconds it lasted, it was brilliance. The pressure on your lips after a second had your heart singing as he kissed you back, your hands balling into his shirt as you stepped closer and closer, needing to be wrapped around him, buried in safety and warmth. 

He pulled back and stepped out of your reach too quickly, the back of his hand reaching up to his mouth as if checking that it was still there, that he'd actually just been kissing you back. 

“Y/N, you don't…we can't do that.” 

“Do what?” You said, creeping forward, needing to feel him beside you again. 

“You're not… you don't feel about me the way you think you feel about me,” he said, pushing your hair behind your ear as you wrapped your arms around his waist again. 

“How do I feel?” 

“Grateful. Y/N, this is gratitude. I saved you, and so you think you are in love with me. It's called transference, and you will deeply, deeply regret this one day.” 

The urgency in his tone had you flinching, even if he was trying to talk to you as softly as possible. For a moment, you'd done as he'd asked and forgotten you were a victim. It was apparently something he himself would not forget anytime soon.

You stood around awkwardly for another minute or two. 

“What…what now?” You asked, avoiding the kiss and whatever lay in that direction.

“I'll walk you through the emergency contact numbers. The apartment building is pretty old, so there's a wall phone in the kitchen, but there are some modern amenities, too. The laundry room is on the first floor, next to the porters office. I'm in apartment 23 on the second floor, and-” 

“What?” Your entire body buzzed, hearing him speak, and you almost forgot to breathe, rushing to stand straight again.

“I… I live on the floor below,” he said, almost cautiously now that you'd thrown yourself at him. “I thought you might enjoy the company.”

He gave you a weak smile and you wanted to kiss him all over again, to press your lips again and again into the soft flesh of his skin, his lips, his nose, his cheeks, his neck, his chest. 

You wanted him to hold you. You stood by the sofa and let your grip on a cushion tighten to stop from throwing yourself at him again. One rejection was enough for the day. 

Not that you stopped in the weeks to come. 

Spencer had himself relegated to office work for the first month as you rode out the waves of your grief, sticking by his side for comfort.

Your friends came and went, but they wore the stench of ‘I told you so’ and ‘I saw that coming,’ and you suffocated on it after so long. 

Every day after he returned home, you arrived at him door and threw yourself into his open arms, sitting with him for hours. Most days, you read together, ignoring that the man flipped pages three times as fast as you did. Some nights, you watched shows or movies, making your way through three companions worth of “New Who” in a week.

Each time you came, he took care of your food, ordering or cooking simple pasta dishes for you. 

He told you about the time his coworker had taught him how to make the perfect pasta, berating him for putting oil in his pasta water, and damn near drawing his weapon while he made sure he salted it. 

You laughed together and ate together, and you forgot together. 

Your life was back to normal when you got your first job interview. It's nothing spectacular, but it was enough that it would pay the bills to the apartment whose lease is a ticking bomb counting down to 0. It was a normal office, where you would be doing normal work that you had absolutely done before.��

The interview was normal, the female employee that meets you first reassuring you that the company is safe, their employees vetted and supported. 

And the company makes feminine hygiene products anyway, so they don't attract too many men, or at least none like the monster you'd known. 

All in all, the interview went well. 

It went well all the way until you reached the bus stop. You felt eyes on you, watching your movements, but you couldn't see anyone else focusing on you particularly.

You felt the stares on the bus, and the stares when you got off the bus two stops early. You felt the stares walking around the block three times to throw whatever was following you around off your track. You felt the stares as you sat outside Spencer's apartment until 6:45pm, when he came home and found you there. Your interview had been at 1pm.

“Y/N, what's wrong?” He said, immediately holding you and guiding you into the apartment. 

Your anxiety and fear had settled into self-loathing and disappointment. You let him hold you quietly, rejecting food and conversation. 

You sat quietly with him on his sofa as he held a book in one hand, stroking your hair with another as you laid on his chest. 

The emotions of the day were overwhelming, consuming the part of your brain that had started being happy again for the first time. You grew angry at the sadness for seeping back in, and in an act of rebellion, you pushed back up and kissed Spencer once more. 

His brain was slower to react this time, even if his body wasn't. 

You straddled his hips as your lips joined his, melting together in a hot embrace. He dropped his book quickly, hand resting on your hip as the one that had been stroking your hair angled your jaw up so he could set the pace. 

All your emotions were swept away in a wave of desire as you slowly rubbed against him, butt shifting as you clumsily followed your arousal past your worldly knowledge. 

You couldn't even think about what was next because your tongue was clashing with Spencer's, and your brain was short circuiting. 

The second you let out your first whimper of pleasure, he pushed you away and stood up, crossing the room to put distance between you, just as he had a month beforr. 

“Y/N, you had a bad day, but this isn't… This isn't how you should make yourself feel better.” 

“Spencer-” 

“I told you about transference before, Y/N, you need to listen to me. I'm not… I'm not the one for you.” His voice shook as he ran his hands through his hair in stress, body tense in a way that informed you he was holding himself back. 

“Transference. Transference…” You sat upright on his couch and let all the logic rush back into your brain at once. 

“Y/N?” He asked, voice shaking as he watched you zone out of the conversation, almost afraid that he'd damaged you again. 

“Is there… Is there something wrong with transference?” You asked, voice impossibly calm as you still stared straight forward. 

He moved towards you again and knelt at the floor in front of you, clutching your hands in his. 

“Y/N, you don't really want me like that, you don't, you can't-”

“Love you?” You asked, your voice finally breaking, eyes finally meeting his.

It was as if you knocked the wind out of him. He sat there completely dumbstruck. 

“It might not be love, okay, I'll admit that. But you're… you're strong and smart, and you take care of me. And you're attractive, and you make me happy, which is something I didn't think I'd ever be again-” 

“Y/N, something happened to you today, and you threw yourself at me. You threw yourself at me when you moved into your apartment. You felt stressed, and you reacted, Y/N. You don't love me.”

You sat calmly listening to his words again, your body still aching for his touch, your heart still pounding in your chest. 

“Okay. Okay. So if I do…this when I'm not feeling vulnerable, then what? Then you'll believe me?” 

“Y/N…” he sighed in defeat, hand again raking through his hair. 

You grabbed your things and stood up off the couch, bending to press another kiss to his lips before you parted. 

He was shocked silent, but that didn't stop him from chasing your lips as you rose, rising to his knees and then his feet as you walked away from him.

“I'll see you tomorrow, Spencer. Get some sleep,” you said, letting yourself out or the apartment and carrying yourself, heavy and dejected, upstairs. 

If Spencer was anticipating seeing you again the next morning, he wasn't anticipating seeing you in his office.

“Spencer,” you called out as you walked into the bullpen, clipping your visitors badge into place again, making sure it wasn't crooked.

Immediately, he stood from his desk and rose to meet you, ignoring the looks from his coworkers as his hands landed on your arms, immediately checking on you. 

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He whispered, checking for tears, or injuries, or something to show him your motive for seeking him out. 

You just smiled at him, brushing a hair behind your ear when you saw him hesitate making that same gesture. 

“I was summoned. They need my statement to corroborate your weapon discharge paperwork, and Agent Hotchner called earlier.” 

His hands dropped as he breathed a steady sigh of relief, trying to make his reaction smaller than he knew it was. He was afraid something had happened to you again, and he was so caught up in his relief, that he didn't notice you moving closer until your lips were on his cheek and you were waving him off as you ascended the stairs to Hotch's office with your escort. 

“Spencer,” Morgan's voice called from behind him, and he turned hesitantly. 

“What was that?” 

He felt the eyes on him, and he pushed all thoughts of you to the side in place of total rationality. 

“I explained transference to her but… she doesn't seem to - she doesn't care.” 

“Spencer the last time I saw that girl, she was practically the walking dead. She just smiled.” Morgan said, shaking his head. But Spencer was watching you, and not his friend, and really, he wasn't even listening.

“Spencer? Spencer?” Morgan said again, rising to get in the man's face some more until he finally looked at him again. 

“She thinks she's in love with me.” 

“How do you know she isn't?” 

You kept working on him, little by little, day by day, until Spencer's field work started again. 

A little part of you was sad that he wouldn't always be around every day anymore. But you'd got that job and got over yourself as you started going out more. You made friends at your office, and you went out and laughed and joked with old college roommates. You felt like a human being again, and to no one's surprise, you still wanted Spencer Reid. 

He left every Monday on a case, and by the time Wednesday rolled around, you missed him. Going out to drinks with some coworkers after clocking off certainly didn't sate your appetite for him. 

“Spencer,” you said, breathily into the phone when he picked up, throwing yourself onto your bed. 

“Y/N, what happened? Is everything alright? Do you need me to come back?”

“No, Spencer, I just-” you hiccupped and giggled before continuing. “I just missed you so much.” 

The silence on the line was suddenly so funny to you, and you giggled again. Feeling hot, you stripped down to your underwear and started talking again. 

“I miss cuddling up to you and crawling all over you. You're really soft, you know?” You sighed, hands trailing up and down your stomach lightly. 

“Y/N,” he said in a warning tone. 

“I miss your face. I'm switching to video call,” you announced and fumbled with your phone. 

“No, Y/N, wait-” he said, but pulling the phone away from his ears, he realized his protests were too late to matter as he took in your half-naked form. 

Though your face took up the majority of the view on the camera, he could see the soft trim of your lace bra poking into the camera, and the generous push of cleavage your angle facilitated to boot. 

Checking around him for people looking, he tucked himself into a corner and scowled back at you. 

“Y/N, this isn't a game. Turn the call off and go to bed.” 

“But I miss you,” you whined. 

“Y/N,” he hissed, eyes falling to your hands where you'd begun massaging your heavy breasts. 

“When are you coming home?” You asked, whining again like a petulant child as the alcohol flushed through your system, bringing all of your desires to the forefront. 

“Soon,” he said, not trusting himself to say more than a word. 

“Good. Because I miss you. Spencer, I- I think I want to have sex with you.” 

His eyes shut as he tried to remain calm even as your words rang in his ears from 1000 miles away.

“We'll talk soon, Y/N. Good night,” he closed, finally hanging up and covering his face in his hands. He made his way quickly to his motel room, threw his phone down on his bed, and ignored as best he could his throbbing cock in his pants and the three pictures you'd sent him since he hung up. 

He didn't resist for long. 

Three nights later, you found yourself at a bar, living life to the fullest. You'd taken back to society like a swan to water, and you weren't letting the stern words of Spencer Reid keep you down. Knocking back another shot, you smiled and cheered with your friends until you felt the eyes on you again. It was different this time, though, hotter, and closer. You turned to look at the door and saw Spencer Reid and the other people who'd saved your life walking to a booth. It was Spencer's eyes on you. 

You definitely did not believe in a higher power - how could you, after all - but you did believe that this was fate. 

You blew him a kiss as he watched you walk back to your table with another cocktail in hand, letting a man who'd been trying to flirt with you earlier follow you to your friends. 

When you went for your next drink, you found him at your side in a heartbeat. 

“I'm not checking up on you,” he said, even though he was. “I'm ordering a drink.” 

“Two drinks,” you said, shooting him a flirty smile as you pressed yourself against him again, chest to chest. 

“You're ordering two drinks, Spencer,” you whispered into his ears as his head dropped down to within an inch of your own. The air felt changed, but you refused to move to close the gap. You'd put in the work the last few times. You needed Spencer to be the one to take the chance this time. 

He ordered your drinks, and still you didn't move apart, huddled together as if you were whispering conspiracies to one another. 

When your drink was firmly in your hand, he grabbed your wrist and led you to a dark corner of the bar. You sipped your drink quickly, managing two swigs before he took it and placed both drinks down - right beside Penelope Garcia - and dragged you out into the hall. 

The bathrooms were empty when he pushed you inside, and your heart throbbed as his hands pushed you into a stall, lifted your legs to wrap around him, and then his lips finally crashed into yours. 

Transference or whatever else it was supposed to be, you didn't give one shit in that moment as his tongue coaxed your lips apart.

His hands didn't stay in place for long as he dragged them up and down your body, exploring every part he'd memorized from the pictures. Every curve or inch he'd previously held tenderly, gently, he now raked over with the hunger of arousal, pushing your short skirt up until it was past your hips and his fingers could sink into you instead. 

You were soaked before he even had one digit inside you, his thumb rubbing roughly against your clit as you turned to jelly in his hands. 

You'd masturbated before, sure, you were a grown woman. But the feeling of someone else's hands, someone else's hest, the knowledge that someone else desired you so badly that they'd drag you into a bar bathroom just to sate their lust? That was new, and it was exciting. 

His lips covered yours as your legs shook, silencing every moan, every whimper with his tongue. It was wild, messy, your tongues clashing wildly and messily as your hips rocked violently, trying to reach that high, but also trying to make this last past his fingers. 

It wasn't to be though as you shuddered around his three digits, your orgasm ripping through you silently, leaving you wide-eyed and wide mouthed. 

“We're done,” he said, gently kissing your cheek as be stood you up, letting you stretch out the soreness in your muscles. 

“For now?” 

“Forever, Y/N. This was a mistake.”

Your heart hit the ground, and he stomped on it, but the anger filling your gut pushed up and out before he could completely bow out. 

“No,” you ground out through gritted teeth. 

“Y/N, you aren't in love with me. You feel grateful that I saved you, you feel attracted to me because I'm older and you think I can protect you, and a little part of it is that you've always been attracted to men who are dangerous. You're not in love with me, so-” 

“You sound like him.”

Shocked, he paused, and his grip on your hips tightened until his nails were biting into your skin. 

“What?” 

“You're telling me how to feel, you're telling me what to do. You sound like him.” 

“Y/N, that is unfair-” 

“Unfair is denying that I'd know how I'm fucking feeling to let you wallow in self sacrifice, Spencer. Unfair is playing the martyr when we can both see that you want this as fucking badly as I do.” 

You didn't give him a second longer to react, but grabbed him by the wrist and, making sure your skirt was once again in place, pulled him back out of the bathroom and into the club. 

Stopping by Penelope, you put his drink in his hand and grabbed yours, downing it quickly. He followed your actions, taking a sip until you were done and slamming your drink back on the table. 

Then you kept him moving, pushing doors open, hailing a cab, and climbing in with him hot on your heels.

You kept your grip on him tight until you'd marched him to his apartment. Releasing him, you flattened your back against his door, letting him slowly unlock the door as you spoke to him again finally.

“Do it, Spencer. Be my first.” 

It was like he was a different man walking over that threshold. His hand were on your face, his tongue again fighting yours as you stumbled back into the apartment, crashing into the wall, then the coffee table, and then the couch. 

You cursed in anger hitting his closed bedroom door and pushed him away to open it yourself, but his arms wrapped around you from the back and he sucked bruises against your neck as his hands grabbed your breasts and squeezed them.

His cock was rigid in his pants, and your body ached for the unknown, the soon to come pleasure that he was to deliver. 

He pushed you down onto the bed quickly, and you rolled yourself over, pulling your own dress off as quickly as possible. 

“That's my job,” he moaned, meeting your lips again as his hands fell to your underwear once again. 

“You have a long to-do list, Spencer, I'm just helping,” you smirked as he kissed you again, your hands shakily working down each button of his shirt as you acted to tear it off of him. 

“We have all night,” he replied, fingers once again rubbing at your bundle of nerves, hips pushing up and into his hands. 

“No, Spencer. No, we don't. I need you now.” 

His mouth covered yours again as you finally, finally got his shirt off, letting him throw it to the floor as you started working on his belt. Your legs spread as he inched closer, sitting between your thighs comfortably as he waited with bated breath for you to finally touch his cock.  

You knew what dicks looked like, you knew what they were supposed to feel like, but you never realised you'd want to touch one so fucking badly until his sprung from his pants. 

He took your hand and spit in it before you wrapped your fingers around him and felt the heat of his cock pulsing against you. 

He was big, long more than girthy, and you wondered how thousands of years of women had managed to survive coupling if this was the weapon meant to numb them into horny submission. 

One stroke, and you were a mess, his fingers hooking into you as you flicked your wrist up and down. 

You watched his precum rise and swiped it up in one finger, tasting it as he groaned and started thrusting up, fucking your hand as he scissored his fingers inside of you. 

He stretched you out, readying you for his thick cock, and you gladly sat there, letting him use you and ready you all at once. 

When you were ready, he wrapped his arms around you again, lifting you onto the bed properly and laying you down softly in the sheets. Kneeling to roll on the condom he'd grabbed from his bedside table, you watched in curiosity as you tried to memorize every movement, every second of him sinking into you. 

The tears in your eyes were emotion just as much as pain, your heart hammering in your ears as he whispered praise into your ear, dropping confessions like bombs. 

“You're taking me so well, Y/N, that's good…” he moaned, pushing in one inch. 

“That's it, Y/N, just a little more. I love you, you can do it,” he said, sinking in two more. 

“You feel so good, Y/N, made just for me,” he said as he finally hit your limit. 

You knew the stretch wasn't the end, and he rested there for a second, letting you get used to him before you lost patience with him. 

“Spencer just, just push through,” you grit out, and he did, snapping his hips up just that.inch or two more and sending that spark of pain through you. 

In an instant, his lips were on yours, his fingers on your clit, flooding your nerves with pleasure as all you could think of was the pain. 

But when the pain faded, there was still him, and his cock neatly sheathed inside of you. 

His hips moved languidly at first, his entire body weight pushing down on you, lazily twisting and writhing as of this were just one of your cuddles on the couch. 

You whimpered, and he moved faster, and you learnt quickly that your noises and sighs to him were what his praise was to you - motivation.

You moaned, and he picked up his pace, moving faster as you whimpered a lustful ‘yes’ into his ear. 

“Good girl, good girl, Y/N, that's it. Good girl,” he repeated, unable to say more as you whimpered and cried under him, speech lost as he split you in half with his dick.

You grew louder, and his cock buried itself deeper, your moans dragged on longer and he picked up speed. 

He whispered that you were his perfect little slut, and you jolted in his arms, cumming on his cock and screaming his name. 

He kept pumping into you, careful to make sure the condom stayed in place as he finally bottomed out and let pleasure roll through him again.

Coming down from his high, your tongue pushed into his mouth, and you rolled him over, sitting yp on his dick as he watched. 

You rose off his cock, letting him stare in wonder as your own arousal dripped off of your skin, his cock coated in arousal, and spit from his fingers and, yes, a little bit of blood. 

You crawled back and peeled off the condom, tying It quickly and discarding it before you tasted his cum quickly. 

It was just a soft lick, but it had him declaring his love for you again, and you decided that there were very few things you wouldn't do to hear those words. 

As delightful as your lips felt, though, he quickly bundled you up and forced you to the bathroom, turning on the taps in the bath and placing you on the toilet before leaving. 

Even now, after everything, he was still taking care of you. Maybe especially now. 

You finished, and he came back. More stolen kisses and moans and a bath that turned into more later, and you found yourself bundled into his spare clothes and wrapped in his arms on his couch again. 

He clicked play on another episode of Doctor Who (you'd finally reached Donna, and he was excitedly introducing you to the new character), and you finally looked up at him again.

“I love you,” you said again, loudly this time, with no fear. 

Though his training told him the response he should give, Spencer just looked down at you again and gave in to his heart. 

“I love you, too.” 

You fell asleep quickly after that, head resting over his heart, the sound of the steady beats lulling you to sleep. 

[verstappen-cult]

I have a request for max!

Reader is a strategist for Mercedes. Max and her, they got married in secret and have a 2 year old daughter together.

I know this is not much to work with but you do you!

(I love your fics <3)

hi bestie! i left the mercedes’ strategist plot out of this, but i hope you still like it! btw this was gonna be really short and ended up being this other thing. <333

You look out the car window and then to your daughter playing with her favorite plushie next to you. She doesn’t know that you’re about to be the topic of conversation for the next week — month even. She only knows that there are gonna be a lot of people trying to take pictures of you both, and that you’re gonna see Dad’s friends too. 

“Hey, baby.” You whisper, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of her face. “You’re ready to see Daddy?” She smiles at the mention of her favorite person in the whole world, forgetting all about her toy. 

“Where are we?” She asks, looking out the window. 

You lift her up onto your lap, placing a kiss on her temple. “We’re gonna watch papa just like we do from home every Sunday.”

“We have fun watching papa.” 

“Yes, so,” You take your bag and her plushie before taking a deep breath. “let’s go and have some fun, then.”

It’s no secret to anyone that you and Max have been dating for quite a few years now. You used to be more public about your relationship, but then you got pregnant and Max decided that it was best if you kept things a little more private, and you were more than happy to do it until you started to miss going to the races and seeing him more often. 

Max was a bit reluctant at first, but after some — a lot — of convincing he accepted. The two of you agreed to put some boundaries and to take things slowly. The first step was going to the Monaco Grand Prix, so, you wouldn’t have to travel and he could be home by the end of the day with his favorite girls. And, if things become too much, you can just go home. 

The moment you set foot on the paddock, you know there is no going back. You feel nervous and like your whole body is on fire, but when you look at your daughter’s smile as you hold her in your arms, you forget about everything.

“Mama, look! Papa!” She points to the giant banner to your left. And there he is, alongside a few of the other drivers. 

“Oi!” Dani calls from a few meters away. You wish he would not have done it because it draws attention you really didn’t want. 

“Uncle Dani!” 

You see the exact moment people recognize you, reporters starting to make their way to you at the same time you hurry to Dani’s side. He has a big, bright smile on his face, he’s always smiling but you think he’s genuinely happy to see you and your daughter. 

“Hi, Dani.” The Aussie wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses your cheek as a greeting. 

“Hey, angel.” Your daughter makes grabby hands at Dani and, obviously, he immediately takes her in his arms. “Did you miss uncle Dani?” She nods, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck. 

“Have you seen Max?” You ask him, but he shakes his head, too busy paying attention to whatever your daughter is telling him in the ear. 

You don’t feel comfortable. It’s been so long since you’ve been in the paddock that now feels like you’re attending your first race for the very first time. You were nervous then, you are terrified now as you see reporters approaching, calling your name and asking about your daughter. It’s not that they don’t know you and Max have a daughter, you and Max have been pretty open about her but always leaving her face out of the family photos you share on social media. However, this is news to everyone. This is a headline. And you know they’re just doing their job.

“Let’s go find him, okay?”

You barely hear him, trying to politely tell the reporter by your left that you will not give any interview and to stop asking about your daughter. Daniel has to give you a little pat on the back to make you walk, sending death glares to the people surrounding you in the process. 

There are phones and video cameras following you along the paddock, and you think you should’ve accepted Max’s offer of waiting for you at the entrance. But you didn’t want to be a burden. You were pretty confident about handling things by yourself but now… not so much. 

“Hey, are you okay? You’re a little pale.” Dani’s voice is soothing. You’re glad he’s carrying your daughter because you don’t feel strong enough to do it. Someone behind you — one of the many, many people following you — pushes you, making you bump into another person by your side. “Watch out! There’s a baby here!”

Daniel is mad and doesn’t hesitate in wrapping an arm around your waist, guiding you inside the nearest place that turns out to be the McLaren hospitality. 

“I’m gonna call Max, alright?”  

“What’s happening outside? Oh, you’re here!”

“Uncle Lando!” Your daughter’s voice is what finally pulls you out of your head. 

You walk to Dani, taking her in your arms. “Did you miss Uncle Lando too?”

“Is something wrong?” Lando asks again, bopping the little girl on the nose. 

“So many people,” You breathe out, closing your eyes for a second. “I didn’t think it was going to be this way, really.”

“Well, it’s a big deal that you’re here. Both of you.” Lando looks outside, reporters and cameras ready to catch a glimpse for when you have to leave. “Do they know? The media, I mean, about…” He looks to your hand, right where your wedding ring is. 

You groan, hiding your face in your daughter’s neck, making her giggle. “No, but I’m sure it will be worse when they notice.”

There’s a huge commotion outside that draws your attention. When you look, you find Max trying to make his way through the mass of people. Seeing him makes you relax immediately, but then he’s pushing a man when this shoves a microphone in his face and you don’t feel so relaxed anymore.

“Shit, shit” Daniel is quick to open the doors and go outside, a few members of McLaren following him. “Can you hold her, please?” 

Your daughter goes willingly with Lando as you run outside. Daniel stands between the reporter and Max, his hand on your husband’s chest trying to stop him from jumping over him to get to the man. 

There’s a bigger commotion when they see you, everyone shouting your name and asking questions that you don’t pay attention to, but it’s enough to make Max forget about fighting the reporter.

Max runs to you, hands cupping your face. “Hey, baby. Are you okay? Something happened?” 

“I’m okay. Just—let’s go inside, please.” 

Max doesn’t hesitate. He grabs your hand tightly, not caring about being seen going inside McLaren hospitality, not when you and his daughter are there needing him.

“Papa!” 

Your husband’s face lights up, that pretty smile you love so much making its way onto his face. "Mijn mooie meisje.” The tension on his face goes away the moment he takes her in his arms. 

“You wanna go home?” Lando asks you, handing you a glass of water. 

“Yes, you’re going home.” Max answers for you, hugging his daughter tightly against his chest. 

“We are not. We knew this would happen, well, not at this scale but,” You shrug, taking a sip of water. “I don’t wanna go. We should’ve planned this better.” 

“Yeah, you should have.” Daniel jokes, but when no one laughs he just stands there awkwardly. “Look, she’s already here. You’re not gonna send her home, are you?”

Lando bites his lip before saying, “You won’t be able to hide forever.” 

“I know!” Max sighs, putting down his daughter on one of the sofas. “Why don’t you play while I talk with your uncles for a bit?” Unaware of everything, she just takes her plushie and waits for you to be finished. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or feel unsafe.”

“We’re safe here. Everyone will take care of us, I know that.” You take his hand, thumb caressing the back of it. “It was just the shock of experiencing all of this again. It reminded me of the first time I attended a race.” You say, shyly. 

“Oh, I remember that.” He has that special glint in his eyes that tells you that he remembers every little detail of that day. 

“Uh, gross.” Lando pretends to throw up, earning a playful push from Daniel.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“Yes, love. Besides, how are you gonna tell her she won’t be watching papa race?” You look at your little baby, talking with her plushie and showing the toy around. “I don’t know which one of us is more excited.”

“You know it’s only a matter of time before they notice this?” Max takes your hand to his lips, kissing your wedding ring.

“I want them to know.” 

“Oh, thank God!” He exclaims, peppering kisses all over your face. “I hate not wearing my ring on race weekends.”

[peanutpinet]

Little Things - Sylus x Isekai Fem Reader

Summary: When your consciousness somehow ended up in the LADS MC’s body right as Sylus’ character was released. You went through what the MC was supposed to do in the game and while waiting for the next update, you’ve gotten closer to Sylus that he treats you with everything you couldn’t have in your world

A/N: I can’t help but make a fic where you took over the MC’s body and became the MC. Though in this fic, Sylus already knows that you’re not exactly the MC yet he’s also not complaining about your company and even started to open up to you and even allow you to use his money but he’s confused as to why you’re not spending as much as he thought

I was inspired by a fic that I read on Tumblr by @atoltia

Sequel: Welcome to My World

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest.

Warning: will be using MC instead of (Y/N) as it’s easier for me, fluff, slight angst (no character death), overthinker MC, soft Sylus

“You go talk to him” Luke nudged his twin brother who stared back at him thinking that he was crazy

“Are you crazy? I’m not talking to him. Have you seen how he’s been the past few weeks? He’s been on his phone, checking something out almost every day unless he’s with MC” Kieran replied back as both he and Luke were eyeing Sylus who was in his study, wearing some comfortable clothing and glasses while scrolling through his phone

“Do you think that he’s planning to do something for MC? Like maybe propose to her? I mean. ever since their first meeting, he’s been different? More attentive towards MC. He even gave her the brooch which is the direct access to the N109 zone. He even let her drive his cars and do whatever she wanted with the place though I like her style. It feels more homey nowadays” Luke pointed out and Kieran agreed with his twin

The twins kept on talking in front of the study room until Sylus had it and called the twins inside. “I know you both are out there. Either come in and report what you want to report or leave before I stop letting either of you peek around”

Immediately, the twins walked into the study where they saw their boss still not looking up from his phone. The twins looked at each other before agreeing to speak at the same time.

“We cleaned up at the next like you said” Kieran mentioned

“Are you going to propose to MC?” Luke mentioned

The twins looked at each other, confused that their twin telepathy was not working when they needed it. Hearing a grunt, the twins immediately apologised and begged Sylus to not hurt them or worse; make them clean the entire penthouse.

“What Luke meant was how is MC?” Kieran quickly changed his twin’s wording

“Yea. That’s what I meant. I mean, you seem to be glued to your phone boss. We assume that it’s because of MC so we were wondering if anything happened to her or if you need us to watch her?” Luke added on

“Actually, perhaps you can watch her for me” Sylus mentioned and the twins sighed of relief until they heard the next words come out of Sylus’ mouth. “I’d like to know why isn’t she using my card like I expected her to”

The twins looked at each other, confused once more. “What do you mean she’s not using your card, sir?” Kieran asked

“Do you think she lost it? Or perhaps she gave it to someone and that’s why her spending is crazy” Luke added on and for the first time, the twins saw their boss put his phone down only to open up several holographic files; specifically transactions from his card

“No. It’s quite the opposite actually. She has my card. She uses it but not as much as I thought. She’s only spending on the daily necessities and occasionally a book or two. Never any jewellery, any new clothing. She only bought one hairdryer set and never any other hair tools except a brush and clips and even those are cheap. The most she spent was just a water dispenser and an air fryer. What, does she think that she’s being stingy if she were to spend a lot of my money? Or perhaps she wants to seem more independent? What if she thinks that I’m in debt?” Sylus kept going on until the twins stopped him

“Uh, boss. I don’t think it’s any of those reasons” Luke mentioned, catching Sylus’ attention. “What do you mean, Luke?”

“I mean. I’ve, we’ve, talked to her sometimes and she just mentioned that she doesn’t know what to use all the money for. I don’t think that she thinks you’re in debt or feel bad about using your money. It’s just that she’s not used to it. Not used to having a lot of money that she’s overwhelmed?” Luke explained while Sylus had a deep thought

“Overwhelmed? It’s the first I heard of this. You would think that when someone has this amount of money in the palm of their hands, they would go crazy almost immediately” Sylus replied

“Well, she’s not like most people, sir” Luke added on and that’s what got Sylus to get up from his study room and go to find MC

Sylus looked around for you in the penthouse from the kitchen, living room, the guest bedroom where you typically like to be when you’re alone, and finally, his bedroom which is practically your shared bedroom ever since an incident that happened early in your meeting together.

As he was walking towards the master bedroom, Sylus could hear some music playing. Slowly opening the door to the room, Sylus peeked in and saw your small figure on the bed, humming to the music that was playing from your phone at the same time doing something.

Smiling to himself, Sylus decided to lean by the door as he made himself noticed by you. “Sweetie, what are you doing in here all alone?”

Looking up from your hands, you looked at Sylus who put on that soft smile only for you. “Hi Sy. I’m just trying to stitch up a T-shirt of mine. I’m almost done. Do you need help to make dinner?” you asked, finishing up the T-shirt you were stitching as Sylus made his way towards you

“No. I’ve decided to order in for tonight. I got your favourites” Sylus mentioned as you hummed

“There we go. Finally done. So, dinner?” you mentioned, placing down the T-shirt you were sewing which made Sylus chuckled

“It’s on its way, sweetheart. Which means…” Sylus grabbed your hand and yanked you towards him, laying down on the bed together as he held you close. “We have a bit of time to ourselves before dinner comes”

Giggling at his clingy behaviour, you accepted defeat that you couldn’t fight him on this and just leaned your head to his chest, listening to his slightly abnormal fast heartbeat while feeling Sylus’ fingers going through your hair.

“Sweetie…” Sylus called you while you hummed, feeling a bit drowsy

“Why do you work so hard to sew your T-shirt when you could’ve bought a new one? You know that I can find someone to make the exact same one with the same materials and everything” Sylus mentioned

“I know” you answered, drawing circles on Sylus’ chest while continuing. “I know that you could most probably buy anything I want and more. But while all that sounds good, it’s the little things, the memories that come with what I have now that matter”

“Is that so?” Sylus asked, as if he was still unsure of your answer and the tone he used made you look up at him. “Is there something wrong with my answer? Was it not what you expected? Along with how I’ve been using your card?” you asked back which made Sylus chuckle

“You know me so well, don’t you kitten?” Sylus chuckled, caressing your cheek with his large hands now making you giggle

“I mean, I’ve been observing you longer than you observing me. But you should know, I’m more than grateful for you giving me your card. It’s an incredible privilege and it makes me know how much trust you have in me. Though, I don’t need all that when I can do all the little things with you. Even as simple as cleaning together or moments like right now is what I cherish the most” you mentioned and using his hand that was on your cheek, Sylus gently lifted your face as he gave your lips one of the softest kisses you ever had whilst caressing your cheek at the same time

Pulling away, you were met with Sylus’ soft gaze and smile once again and instantly felt the heat rush to your cheeks as you questioned him. “W-what’s with the sudden affection”

Smirking, Sylus pulled your smaller body with him as he sat on the bed, leaning at the headboard. “Why not? You said you cherish the little things and moments. If you won’t accept being spoiled by my wealth then I might as well spoil you with what you actually want, isn’t that right?”

Hearing those words out of his mouth made your head feel light. Throughout your life back home, you rarely get any affection from those close to you; resulting in indulging yourself with what used to be a “silly game” until you somehow ended up in the silly game yourself.

You closed your eyes, worried that water that was building in your eyes would spill because of the constant worry and thought that this was all just a dream. Noticing your quiet self, Sylus grew worried and cupped your face with both his hands and saw that a tear managed to slip out of your eye. “Sweetie? What’s wrong? Was I pressuring you?”

Shaking your head, you managed to reply to him. “No. You’re not. It’s just…I’m, I worry”

“Worry? About what sweetheart? Take your time. I got you” Sylus replied

“I…you know I don’t belong here and yet you still spoil me. What if one day, I somehow wake up and I’m back in my own world? What if one day when you wake up, it’s who you were supposed to meet that greets you? What if…” Sylus didn’t let you continue as he immediately kissed you once again, though this time was slightly rough with a sense of urgency

“I don’t want any what ifs, kitten. You’re here. In my arms. My lips are on yours. Your body might be someone else’s but your soul is what I care more about. Even if one day you go back. I’ll find a way. Against all odds, I’ll find a way back to you even if it’s against the universe” Sylus stated, his grip on your face getting a bit tighter as if he was afraid that you’d slip away

“Sylus…” you softly called him, holding his hand that was on your face when Sylus grabbed your hand, interlacing your fingers together

“You feel this? It’s real. Just like me. Just like right now. So stop saying these things or do you need me to show you how real this is?” Sylus mentioned, his tone was a bit harsh but soft at the same time

“You’re crazy you know that. Defying the universe to go to another” you pouted but it successfully made Sylus chuckle

“I am. I would do that you know” Sylus took your hand and kissed the knuckles. “I’d do whatever it takes to find you”

“But you don’t know what I actually look like” you argued

“I know your name, your age, how you act” Sylus replies, making you chuckle

“You really are a stubborn crow, aren’t you?” you teased and Sylus leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Only for you, sweetie”

“Come. Dinner should be arriving. We can put on that show you’ve been wanting to watch. Or we can do something else” Sylus mentioned, picking you up so suddenly that you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck

“Can we just chill on the sofa with some chill movie and cuddle?” you asked

Smiling, Sylus kissed you again. “Anything you want, sweetie. We’re making the most together and appreciating all the little things, remember?”

Sylus then brought the two of you to the living room where he let you turn on the TV and ate dinner together, wrapping a blanket around the two of you as you both enjoyed the rest of the night basking in each other’s embrace and enjoying these small intimate moments together.

A/N: OMG thank you so much to everyone who has been reading, liking, and reblogging my Sylus fics T^T I truly did not expect so many people enjoy my writing especially the fact that I'm new to the LADS space. If anyone wants to be mutuals on the game, do message me!! Otherwise, thank you for reading and hope this fic managed to brighten your day!! xoxo peanutwott

[goldfades]

★ YOU AND ME, WE'D BE A BIG CONVERSATION─── PB⁵ (part 1/3)

❪ requested -> "paige x famous!reader (singer, actress, up to u) inspired by endgame by ts where p reveals that r is her celeb crush in an interview and a few days later theres a vid of r responding to it saying shes been obsessed w paige lately / its such a big deal bc r has been involved in a lot of romantic drama lately so everyone is kinda iffy abt her rn, causing her to put up a tough guard. but p sees thru the facade when they start talking and allows her to be herself, making r fall even harder 🥹 " ❫ for my disco nonnie!

─ warnings | gossip, a lot of drama and random ass names (sorry i get confused when i don't name them), mention of panic attacks, hurt to comfort, pretty sure nothing else?

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

"Y/N L/N, ONE OF the biggest names right now in the music industry has found herself at the center of yet another romantic scandal involving her ex and now, reportedly a new lover."

The 22-year-old pop sensation, who recently topped the charts with her latest single, was spotted last night leaving an upscale Los Angeles restaurant with actress and heartthrob, Camilla Harrison. The two were seen getting into the same car, sparking rumors of a budding romance.

This sighting comes just weeks after Y/N's highly publicized breakup with fellow musician Lauren Marie, with whom she had a tumultuous on-again, off-again relationship for over two years. The split was reportedly mutual, with both parties citing busy schedules and the pressures of their careers as contributing factors. However, sources close to the couple suggest that Marie was unhappy about Y/N's close friendship with Harrison, which began on the set of her recent music video where Marie made a cameo appearance.

"Y/N and Cam have undeniable chemistry," says an insider. "They've been spending a lot of time together, and it's more than just a professional connection. They're trying to keep things low-key, but it's clear there's something more than friendship between them."

Despite the drama, Y/N continues to thrive professionally. Her upcoming album set to release in the next couple month, is already generating significant buzz. Critics are calling it her most mature work yet, with deeply personal lyrics that reflect her recent experiences.

Meanwhile, Harrison, 26, known for her roles in blockbuster films and her good looks, has remained tight-lipped about the rumors. Her publicist declined to comment, stating that Marie is concentrating on her upcoming film projects.

──

"Okay, next question," the reporter smiled as she scrolled through her phone as Paige gave a tight-lipped smile toward the camera. "Oh! Found a good one, okay. Who is your celebrity crush right now."

"That's easy!" Paige laughed as she glanced toward the reporter. "Y/N L/N, she's beautiful and insanely talented,"

The room filled with laughter as the reporter raised an eyebrow, clearly delighted by the response. "Y/N L/N, huh? That's a popular choice these days, a lot of people are big fans. Have you met her?"

Paige shook her head, her cheeks slightly flushing. "Nah, I wish. But I'm a huge fan of her music. Every song is a masterpiece and I'm not usually into pop,"

"Interesting," the reporter leaned forward, intrigued. "You know, there are rumors about Y/N's love life all the time. How do you feel about all the speculation surrounding her personal life?"

Paige shrugged, maintaining her relaxed demeanor despite the stupid question. "I think it's tough being in the spotlight like that. People forget that celebrities are human too. Everyone deserves a bit of privacy, I'm more interested in her work and what she brings to the music industry rather than whoever she's dating."

The reporter nodded, appreciating Paige's perspective. "Absolutely. It's refreshing to hear someone focus on the artistry rather than the gossip!"

──

"Okay, quick. Who's your celeb crush right now, other than Cam," Bowen Yang, grinned at you, raising an eyebrow as the audience laughed, eagerly awaiting your response.

You laugh (and decide to ignore the comment about Cam), feeling a slight blush creep up your cheeks. "Oh, come on, Bowen, you can't put me on the spot like that!"

Bowen leaned in, his grin widening. "Come on, Y/N, the people want to know!" He pointed to the crowd as they cheered, causing you to put your face in yours hands.

You then take a deep breath, pretending to think hard. "Fine, if I have to choose... I'd say Paige Bueckers. She's incredible on the court, and I've seen some interviews with her ─ she seems like such a cool person."

The audience erupts with loud cheers, causing both you and Bowen to laugh. Bowen's eyes widen, clearly delighted by your answer as he clapped. "Ooh, scandalous! Paige Bueckers, I love that! Have you met her?"

You shake your head, smiling. "No, not yet. But I did see a clip of her saying some really nice things about me recently. It was super sweet."

Bowen's face lights up with excitement. "She was practically gushing over you, this is perfect, we need to make this happen. Maybe you could collab, I don't know how but uh, if anyone could make it happen, it's you."

"Thank you, I think?" You laugh, nodding. "Totally, we'll see what happens."

Bowen turns to the camera, his enthusiasm infectious. "You heard it here first, folks! Y/N and Paige Bueckers, the crossover we never knew we needed but now desperately want!"

The audience erupts in applause and cheers, and you can't help but smile at the idea. Bowen turns back to you, his tone shifting slightly more serious. "Alright, before we wrap up, I have to ask ─ how do you deal with all the attention and rumors about your personal life? It seems like you're constantly in the spotlight."

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, caught off guard by the serious question. "It's um, definitely challenging at times, but I try to focus on the positive aspects. I love making music and my fans. As for the rumors, I just remind myself that I can't control what people say or think. I stay true to myself and the people who really know me, and that's what matters most."

Bowen nods appreciatively. "Wise words, Y/N. And that's why we love you so. Thank you so much for being here tonight."

"Thank you for having me," you reply, genuinely touched by the support.

"And that's Y/N L/N!"

The crowd erupts in cheers as you genuinely smile, happy for the support, waving toward the audience.

──

"Hey everyone, welcome back to the podcast I'm Lila, and today we've got a lot to talk about. Y/N L/N is at the center of yet another romantic scandal, and there's even a new twist involving basketball star Paige Bueckers. Let's dive in!" Lila said, her enthusiasm palpable.

"Yaya, so excited," Maya chimed in, adjusting her headphones. "So, Y/N was spotted last night leaving an upscale LA restaurant with actress Cam Harrison. They got into the same car, which has everyone buzzing about a possible new romance."

"Yeah, and this is just weeks after her very public breakup with Lauren, I think that's her name? It's been a whirlwind, to say the least. But honestly, I think Y/N is handling it all pretty well. She's focused on her music, and she's just living her life. What's your take, My?" Lila asked, leaning in slightly.

Maya sighed, her skepticism evident. "I don't know, Lila. I get that she's young and living her life or whatever, but it feels like there's always some new drama with her. First Lauren, now Cam Harrison? It's starting to look like a pattern."

"But that's thing, with being in your early twenties. Figuring out what you want, who you want to be with? I mean, she's also incredibly talented and driven. Her new album is generating a ton of buzz and it hasn't even been released yet," Lila countered, her voice full of admiration.

"Sure, but it seems like she's always entangled in some romantic drama. Maybe it's just the nature of fame or whatever, but it can also come off as messy. And now, with Paige Bueckers gushing about her in that interview, it adds another layer. I just hope she’s not stringing people along," Maya replied, her tone annoyed.

Lila nodded, annoyed at Maya's words but maintaining her supportive stance. "I get where you're coming from, but did you see Paige's reaction? She was genuinely excited about Y/N. It was sweet. Plus, Y/N responded so positively on the SNL interview. I think it shows she's got a good heart and she's just navigating her way through a complicated life!"

Maya hesitated for a moment as she glanced at the camera, then continued. "I mean, look at Taylor Swift. She's known for her string of high-profile relationships and breakups, and it hasn't always been received positively. It feels like Y/N is heading down a similar path- What?"

"Come on, Maya!" Lila glared at her, clearly displeased. "Comparing Y/N to Taylor Swift isn't fair. Taylor's faced a lot of unfair criticism for just living her life and expressing herself through her music. Y/N is her own person, with her own journey. She's navigating her twenties in the spotlight, and that's not easy."

Maya just shrugged as she glanced toward the camera, before adjusting her mic. "Well that got awkward, moving on..."

──── COMMENTS

sela 🐾 | is she wrong though... love her music but why'd paige gotta get involved too? ♡ 108

↳ l/nslover | cause they like each other???

↳ 🦕 | has bro ever heard of a pr relationship 😭

↳ ari! | THEYRE NOT EVEN TOGETHER YET BROOO😭😭😭

sarah™️ | LILA GET THE HELL OUTTA THERE BROOOO 😭😭 i never liked maya tbh this is just a weird ass take ♡ 1.7k

kayla 🎀 | listen as a y/n girly i also understand maya's point of view cause.... shes kinda for the streets ♡ 879

↳ ™️ | dont call yourself a """"" y/n girly """""" if ur gonna say she's for the streets??? the fuck??

⭐️ | i was understanding maya's pov up until she started saying all that taylor swift bullshit, they're two separate artists LET US LIVEEEEEEE ♡ 2k

josie may | hardest watch of the day 🥲 maya u let us down with that dumb ass take

──

"I just kinda... wanna disappear for awhile," you confessed, your voice quiet as you pressed the phone to your ear. "Don't know why this keeps happening, you're the only that can... help me through it. Sorry if I woke you up-"

It happened again ─ over the last couple of months (ever since you'd broken up with Lauren) you'd gotten pretty severe panic attacks. You were told by everyone on your team to just stay off social media and what had you done... exactly the opposite of that.

"No, no, I was awake anyway, promise," Paige's voice echoed through the phone. You heard shuffling through the phone as you sniffled, sighing. "And I don't mind, like at all. I meant what I said, I'm always here for you,"

Your heart swelled as you managed a smile, as tears began to build in your eyes. You and Paige had only been talking a month and she already understood you more than anyone had in what felt like forever. Her steady presence was like an anchor in the storm of your life.

The constant media scrutiny and the aftermath of your breakup with Lauren had left you feeling alone, but Paige’s calming influence was slowly becoming your safe haven.

"I just... I don't know how to deal with all of it. The rumors, the pressure, it's all so overwhelming," you admitted, wiping away the tears that had started to fall. "Half of it, it isn't even true."

"Hey, it's okay, I know, I believe you," Paige's voice was soothing, almost like a warm embrace over the phone. Even the smallest affirmation from Paige made you feel all okay again, even if it was just for the moment.

"You're not alone in this. We can figure it out together, step by step."

That part made your lips twitch up in a smile, feeling yourself relax again. You took a deep breath, feeling a bit of the tension ease from your shoulders. "I just feel like I can't breathe sometimes. Like the walls are closing in, y'know?"

"I get it," Paige replied softly. She'd know about it all too well, she'd been through it herself plenty of times. "Sometimes it helps to focus on the small things. One step at a time, remember? Have you tried any of those breathing exercises I taught you?"

You nodded, even though she couldn't see you. "Yeah, a little. They help, but it’s hard to remember in the moment."

"Next time you feel a panic attack coming on, call me. Anytime, okay? We'll get through it together," Paige's voice was firm, reassuring. "You don't deserve the shit they give you, like at all."

"Thank you," you whispered, feeling a surge of gratitude. "I don't know what I'd do without you, P."

"You don't have to thank me. I care about you, and I wanna help. Plus, I like hearing your voice," Paige added with a light chuckle, trying to lift your spirits.

You couldn't help but smile at that. "Me too, especially your cute tired voice."

"Cute, really?" Paige laughed through the phone and you swore you felt like your whole world felt even again. "But uh, if you do really wanna disappear you can always come to Connecticut."

The thought of escaping the relentless spotlight, even for a little while, sounded like a dream. "Really?"

"Yeah, you can stay with me for a bit, if that's uh... what you want." Paige explained through the phone. "My friends are super chill and it's always a fun time, if you ever wanna come. Think about it?"

The idea of spending time with the basketball player you'd quickly become enthralled with, seemed almost like a dream. And getting away from LA and all the madness that came with it sounded heavenly, you were going to give Connecticut a thought.

You sighed, feeling a warmth spread through you that had been absent for far too long. "Yeah, I will. And Paige?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. Really."

"Anytime, Y/N. Sweet dreams."

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[kdinjenzen]

My final words on Rooster Teeth & just SOME of my experiences there.

I’ve been waiting to say anything directly for a long time on this subject in hopes that something - anything - would change and get better, but it’s obvious that this is just “how it is there.”

So it’s time for me to finally say something about Rooster Teeth.

I joined the company, officially, as a contracted content creator and editor in February 2013. I worked to create a monthly video game news/release series. I produced episodes every month until I was officially hired as a full time content creator/editor in November of 2013.

From February 2013 until November 2013, I went entirely unpaid for all of my contract work. I was never given the payment promised for anything I did. When I was hired full time and I brought that up, I was told that “it’s been so long already, it’s not really a big deal is it?” And then the subject was never brought up again.

Within a few weeks of working at Rooster Teeth I was given a nickname, that nickname was a slur. Every day I came into work I was called “Fggt” - but they could not use that name in content so when anyone was recording I was called “Fugz” instead. For any fans who used that nickname for me for years, that’s what you were calling me. I couldn’t say anything about it, I had reported the use of that nickname for years to HR, and nothing was ever done about it and the videos that use that nickname for me are still up.

When Christmas rolled around my first year, 2013, I was given a “bonus” of about $100. Any money I had at the time was extremely helpful as I had nearly nothing to my name, so I was grateful for it. But a long time member of the company looked at me as I was handed my small bonus and scoffed “Why do YOU get a bonus? You’ve only been here for five minutes.”

In my first years there I would arrive at work around 7am (two hours before everyone else) to begin editing videos and would often have to stay until 9pm to get as much work done as possible. This was actively encouraged so we could have a backlog of content, but I was always given “rush orders” to edit more important videos to go out either the same day or next day. That’s when the crunch began for me and it did not end.

From that point on harassment started, and not just toward me. Any time I brought up mistreatment or that “making fun of people in content only encourages the community to hate us” - I was waved away saying “IT’S JUST A JOKE! Ignore the comments!”

This “ignore the comments” mantra was a way to excuse their own behavior. Anyone who was not “important” was constantly made fun of with no way to defend themselves or be part of the content in a way to defend themself even jokingly so. We were silenced at every turn.

Jeremy, Matt, and I tried to make content together as often as we could in those earlier days. And we rarely got the chance to do so. I remember being yelled at for making the Zelda video with Matt after it had already gone up because it was a “waste of time”.

During that time I was put into a position where I ignored my own physical health to focus more on work, which eventually caused me to come down with pneumonia. I spent several days in the hospital with a fever over 112F. When I was released I was back to work only a few days later and with the same work schedule.

Eventually I had enough from the department I was working for at the time and moved departments in hope that I would be better treated elsewhere in the company. I still loved the work I did, I loved some of the people at the company, and I believed that if I put my effort into it I could make things better for everyone.

The department I transferred to promised me a producer job and show running their new podcast while also being tasked to edit videos and sometimes write stories for news channel. I was never given the producer position in that department, I was never allowed even near the podcast unless they were “desperate for a last minute person”, I went entirely uncredited for anything I wrote for them, and I was pushed to edit 3 videos from start to finish every day with little to no turn around time so they could be posted immediately.

My hours in that department were 7am until 11pm.

I was crunching harder than before.

I wasn’t allowed to be in anything.

I had my name removed from everything I worked on.

I was put in an office where I was forgotten about and swept under the rug, people even IN the company forgot I worked there with how sectioned off and pushed aside I was.

In 2016 I came out as trans and many people at the company publicly voiced their support on social media.

Inside the company however, things got worse.

People had no idea how to deal with a trans woman, so I was interacted with even less and only trotted out every so often to show off “We Hire LGBTQIA+ People!”

It was only at this point where the nickname “Fugz” finally stopped being used all the time. Three years of content with that name being used toward me and all that content is still up.

During that time my acting manager began to harass me and lie to the community any time I was “planned to be on camera and couldn’t show up” - many times it was said to the audience watching that I “had already gone home” when I was in the other room crunching to finish my job and the work of my manager.

The harassment continued and I began to spiral into a deep depression, wondering what I could do, I eventually reported it to HR and the “solution” was that they brought in my manager who was harassing me into a Two-On-One meeting where the manager said “oh I’m sorry” and that was it. The way I was treated did not change at all and actively became worse.

I then went to one of the founding fathers of the company to express my concerns, and was told that I was “too nice to work at Rooster Teeth” and that I should “just quit and find somewhere else to work” - I was horrified.

At the moment I couldn’t do anything but feel horrified and powerless. I was an out trans woman in Texas in 2018 and was told “just quit and find work elsewhere in Texas” a state that actively finds ways to keep our rights from us.

Throughout my employment I also struggled to get the company insurance to cover my transition despite Rooster Teeth telling me that “Oh it’s all good” - because of their inaction and lack of help in this matter I amassed horrible amounts of medical debt despite being “completely covered” by them.

I still am recovering from this debt now as Rooster Teeth has been underpaying me for years, my raises were frozen by my manager at the time, and because of that I never received a proper raise even up until I quit earlier this year.

Until the end of 2020 I was paid around $40k per year as a Producer/Director. Far below the industry standard. If not for the help of one person fighting for me to be paid properly, I wouldn’t have gotten bumped up to the pay of the lowest paid person next to me. Which was nearly $70k. I was shocked that I was being underpaid by nearly $30k.

During the 2019 layoffs, I was actually one of the people affected. I was very nearly laid off as well, but was told to either move to LA and work there (at the $40k per year rate which is UNLIVABLE in LA) or be laid off immediately.

I agreed to move to LA, Rooster Teeth said they would be giving me $5k moving costs to pick up my life and move to LA by March of 2020. The money never was given to me and then COVID forced the company into moving to remote, meaning my job was actually saved by COVID happening.

Crunch during the height of COVID was monstrous. Every department was forced to push out more and more content and do more and more work to make up for “losses” - many of us were working 7 days a week and extremely long hours.

I helped run the 2021 Anniversary Stream Event, but in the middle of production I had to undergo life saving surgery and was told I needed AT LEAST two weeks rest before going back to work. The person I was working with to schedule that event took credit for all the work I did up to that point and then BLAMED ME for anything that went wrong with it because “I wasn’t doing my job” while I was recovering for major surgery and was on mandated medical leave.

BRGs (Business Resource Groups) were created at this time to help with representation issues inside the company. I did everything I could to help the other BRGs as well as the Queer BRG I helped lead. By mid 2021 I was told “we’ve done enough for the queer community” - which hurt to hear as I felt like we had barely accomplished anything and were still struggling to have accurate representation on screen as most of our PRIDE stream events featured mostly Cis/Het talent still.

During this time there was a lot of outspokenness for the mistreatment of minority groups inside of Rooster Teeth from former employees, lots of fans asked “Why didn’t you all do anything about it?”, to which I say actual ground level employees did everything they could. But we could only do so much.

At that moment I asked for transparency for how others, not just one or two employees, were treated in the company - myself included - and was essentially told that “the company is going through a lot right now just leave it alone”. How I was being treated and how others were being treated was once again swept under the rug.

I left Rooster Teeth because, despite thinking I could make positive change in the company, they proved that I couldn’t every step of the way. From 2013 until 2022, I did what I could to help my fellow employees, make positive change, and help the industry.

It’s also worth mentioning that for every bit of VO I did before I left Rooster Teeth, I wasn’t actually paid for any of it under the idea that “I was an employee, so I don’t need to be paid for VO.” In that case and the way it was viewed, I was paid less than $30 per hour for each of my VO sessions. Which is well below any industry standard.

But I was ultimately silenced and pushed aside.

This is all really just the surface level, there’s so much more I want to say but honestly it’s all so exhausting at this point and I’ve done everything I can.

I still struggle regularly with the emotional, mental, physical, and financial damage that was done to me over those years.

There are good people still working there, I’m friends with them, and I wish them the best.

TL;DR

Feb 2013 - Nov 2013. Unpaid Contract Work

Fugz = Fggt, reported to HR nothing was done

2013 Christmas "Bonus" $100. Long time members disapproved of said bonus

14hr work days, rush orders for same or next day videos

"Any time I brought up mistreatment or that “making fun of people in content only encourages the community to hate us” - I was waved away saying “IT’S JUST A JOKE! Ignore the comments!”" RT crunch caused pneumonia, no recovery period on return

Crunched harder, physically isolated "people even IN the company forgot I worked"

RT never fulfilled their deals promotion deals

15 hr work days

2016 came out as Trans, Transphobia harassment started

Acting Manager lied to the community and harassed me, HR did nothing and enabled harassment

Founding Fathers knew and did nothing. Said “too nice to work at Rooster Teeth” and "just quit and find somewhere else to work"

RT did not properly support medical insurance coverage

End 2020 Position Producer/Director, paid $40k. Next lowest paid person was $70k.

2019, forced to move to LA or get laid off. RT never paid moving costs. COVID forced remote jobs thus SAVING my job

RT INCREASES crunch during COVID

2021 Anniversary Stream Event. Had LIFE SAVING surgery, majority work stolen by coworker and blamed production failures on me during MEDICAL LEAVE.

BRG created to help with representation issues, mid 2021 RT said "we've done enough for the queer community" PRIDE stream events still mostly Cis/Het talents

Mistreatment of minorities in RT ignored "“the company is going through a lot right now just leave it alone"

Unpaid for VO work during tenure at RT, May Marigold and RWBY Fairy Tales included.

Handful of good people. Bad Company.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 29] || [Chapter 31]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.4K~ cw: injuries + recovery Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: johnny is a filthy man :) but also we love him so is that a problem? no, it's not.

Chapter 30: Playing House

It took a while, but, Simon got healthy, and John and Kyle got their soreness’ settled enough to be able to go back to work.

Johnny, however, needed a little extra TLC. Being shot in the shoulder involved a longer period of medical leave, paired with a long while of physical therapy…

And that means that he decided to make himself your problem.

The rest of the lads left on a mission a few days after being cleared and, as such, left Johnny with you. Not because the lad is incapable of looking after himself, but more so because he, himself, decided he didn’t want to be away from you.

And so, whenever you leave for work, Johnny leaves for PT, then, goes to base for a bit, mostly doing work on things that he can feasibly do without straining his left shoulder/arm… Like doing paperwork and reports, going to the gym for cardio, crunches, and leg and hip workouts… Then he comes home to you.

He goes shopping for you, cooks you dinner, cleans after the two of you, despite your insistence that he rest… But, as it turns out, Johnny isn’t good at that.

Nonetheless, the flat is cleaner than ever before, Johnny’s drawing supplies are permanently stationed on the dining room table, next to your laptop, and some of his clothes have taken a permanent spot in your closet.

And, of course, he spends every night in your bed, spooning you from behind and hiding his face in your neck while you watch tiktoks, talk, or he regale you with the most ridiculous of puns.

In a way, it’s like Johnny MacTavish is your live-in boyfriend. Or, rather, that you’re playing house with him.

You wouldn’t say you hate it. In fact, it’s quite nice to have someone staying with you all night… Johnny is a good partner, he’s helpful and chill and provides wonderful cuddles…

Though you’ve jokingly started calling him ‘Johnny Price’, because, since he hasn’t been working for a month now, he’s let his beard grow out. And he looks like Price more often than he does not.

It’s on week three of your new routine with Johnny when you’re at work, that you get a text from him:

Johnny: guess what bonnie. Johnny: [1 Video Attachment]

You definitely should’ve put on some headphones before you watched that video during work… His grunting and groaning was almost pornographic and definitely earned you a few confused/worried looks from your coworkers…

But all you could think of was how he was finally easing back into his arm/shoulder workouts, which meant he finally got cleared by his PT to do as such!

you: did you finally get cleared johnny? 🥺 Johnny: cleared at 50%. Johnny: not there yet. but soon. you: I’M SO PROUD OF YOU! 🫶🫶🫶 Johnny: thank ye bonnie  you: this calls for a celebration! Johnny: i like how ye think bonnie but im not cleared yet to be able to manhandle ye 😏 you: get ur mind out of the gutter johnny price!!!!!!!! Johnny: oof not ye still calling me that! you: ur beard is looking like his what do u expect of me! 🙄 Johnny: yer right idk what i expected. Johnny: so about this celebration. you: i was thinking we go out for dinner? Johnny: are we going to dress up nice? you: i wasn’t thinking we’d go somewhere super fancy because i do not have money johnnyyyy Johnny: oh good because i dont think i can button up a shirt my shoulder is sore 😖 you: okay then! nando’s!!! 🫶  you: and i’ll give you a shoulder rub when we get home Johnny: speaking my language bonnie.

And so that’s what you did. You went home in a hurry to shower and change, and, for once, Johnny wasn’t there, having chosen to shower and change at base.

You met up in front of the Nando’s closest to your flat and you immediately chuckled at the sight of him. Sure, he had changed, but he was still very much wearing a pair of jeans, sneakers and a grey zip-up hoodie… Although you could very obviously tell he was naked beneath the hoodie.

“Mo leannan.” He murmured in an exaggeratedly polite tone as he popped the door open for you with his good arm.

“Thank you, my good sir…” You joked, which caused you both to chuckle and shake your head.

You got inside, ordered your food and, as you talked, you site adjacent to him, right on his left side, so you could gently rub his arm with your hand.

“Do you miss the lads?” You ended up asking him as you caressed his bicep and shoulder with your hand, watching him wince a bit at it, because he felt so sore from his first workout.

“A little.” Johnny admitted as he looked toward you. “Do you miss ‘em?” He returned the question. You found yourself nodding in reply.

“Having you here is wonderful though… I… quite miss you lot when you’re all gone together. Not to mention I worry sick for you.” You admitted and pressed your lips together a bit awkwardly.

“You do?” He asked you, to which you nodded. So, he continued. “Well.. I guess I understand. I imagine my mam and sisters worry about me too… As do the Kyle and the Captain’s families.” He conceded.

“That’s actually…” You found yourself trailing off as the waiter brought you your orders and you thanked him, unboxing your food so you could dig in.

“As I was saying…” You trailed off. “That’s actually an interesting point… I feel like I know very little about you and the guys’ when it comes to your personal lives… Outside of hobbies and what you do with me.” You mused as you glanced at him as he dug into his double chicken burger one-handed.

“I don’t know much about the others myself to be honest with you.” Johnny admitted as he stole one of your chips off your plate.

“Really?” You asked softly as you ate your own sandwich yourself, nodding along as he continued speaking.

“We try to keep our… ‘outside’ lives under wraps. Even being a team… what we talk about is always very superficial.” He trailed off.

“So you don’t know anything about the rest of them, nor them about you?” You cocked a brow in confusion.

“Oh, no, bonnie, I talk about myself a whole lot, I’m a blabber mouth, me.” He joked and winked at you. “But family is one of those topics that’s best kept under wraps in our line of work.” He told you as he leaned in, rubbing his thumb on the corner of your mouth to wipe it clean of peri-peri sauce. Then, he sucked his own thumb clean.

“What about me? Do I get to know about you?” You asked him playfully as you leaned forward, setting your elbow on the table as you lean in to him, eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“Tell ye what, bonnie.” Johnny leaned toward you too, licking his fingers clean and then wiping them on a napkin before he set a hand on your thigh under the table. “Anything I tell ye about my family is not going to do them justice… So how about I take ye up to meet my family over the summer… And ye meet them directly? Could even take the Captain, Simon and Kyle with us.” He offered.

Your eyes widened a bit and you blinked away the surprise, staring at him like he had grown a second head.

“Meeting your family? Really? Isn’t it a bit early for that…?” You chuckled a bit sheepishly.

“Aye, maybe it is…” He trailed off. “But at this point, I’m basically livin’ wit ye and ye’ve looked after me in sickness, haven’t ye?” He joked. “And I’ve fended off yer ex… so I’ve looked after ye in health, haven’t I?”

Rolling your eyes in amusement, you shook your head. You knew he was just joking, the look in his eyes showed it… “Are you implying that we’re married, Johnny?” You teased him playfully.

“I’m just saying…” He trailed off playfully, a playful smirk on his lips. “And, if we were married, not saying that we are,… I’d make sure to take ye home tonight and rearrange yer guts if ye let me, mo leannan.”

Looking away and biting your lip, you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Shut it…” You trailed off. “You need to rest, your shoulder’s bad still.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t use my mouth on ye… and that you can’t be on top.” He added before he grabbed another one of your chips and popped it in his mouth.

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If the video doesn't work: TUMBLR LINK

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taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling ,

@tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva ,

@emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes ,

@irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary ,

@leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @xxshadowbabexx , @severenswife , @enarien ,

@agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind ,

@neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine ,

@kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 ,

@gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 ,

@kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust ,

@thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#399

“Oh man, Fuck!...  Oh sorry you had to hear that call.  Didn’t mean to interrupt you enjoying your brew.  It’s just that my girlfriend makes me so fucking pissed off….  Get this, she knows I work 14 days straight busting my ass on that drilling rig.  I am about to head home for four days of rest.  That’s a 7-hour drive, each way.  So she tells me that her sister and mother are in town staying with us.  My days of relaxing are shot to shit.  And worse yet there’s no way I’m getting her pussy.  I probably won’t even get head.  Ain’t that shit?...

“Oh sorry.  I forget that I’m not with a dozen or so other roughnecks out in the field.  All they talk about is pussy.  Most of them don’t have a girlfriend, let alone a wife.  Hearing them go on and on about fucking and getting a blow job, I forget that other people might talk about something else.

“My god, I just wanted to get home and kick back with a beer and get some head.  You know the kind of blowjob that goes on for an hour and it relaxes your entire body.  That doesn’t even include blowing your wad.  You know what I’m talking about?

“Oh there I go again.  Sorry if I’m telling too much....  I do that when I start drinking.   Do you care if I talk about getting blown?...  Good.  Thought so.  What man doesn’t want head at the end of weeks of working damned hard? 

“…Here’s to blowjobs!  Cheers! 

“Hey Frank! Get my friend here another beer….  Nah!  Put your money away.  I got this. 

“So your car broke down?...  We are one of two taverns for twenty miles.  The other is by the interstate one mile away.  At this time of day it’s quite deserted.  We typically only get locals in here.  That is, unless you are having work done at Mike Larson’s garage.  There’s not that much out here, just the garage, Frank’s tavern, the lodge, and the oilfield’s main office over there across the creek.  Was I right?  Is it your car?

“…That was not a happy nod.  So, you’re here for tonight… Oh wait, the garage is closed for the weekend.  You are here until Monday?  …Again, that nod tells me everything.  Well to make matters worse, there are no available women for at least 50 or 60 miles.  This is what this hellhole has to offer. 

“I don’t know about you but it looks like it’s going to be an evening of pounding the pud.  And when I get done, I’ll use my other hand to make it feel like I’m getting a handjob from someone else.

“Goddamn my girlfriend fucked this all up.  I only had this weekend off, before I have to report back here to start filling in for a bud on Wednesday.  She thought that I would want to spend time with her fucking family.  Sometimes I wonder why I’m still with her.

“You have a wife or girlfriend?... 

“…Huh!  Well, sometimes I wish I was like you, single.  But sometimes I really need to get my balls drained.  She gives great head though.  She’s the only girlfriend I had who can take my head in her throat.  I have a big schlong, and every woman I dated complained about its size.  It takes her a long time to throat me.  Most of the time I get frustrated, and I wind up grabbing her head and fucking her mouth.  Eventually it ends in her throat.  She has never taken me down to the root.

“But I really have to be buzzed to get into skull fucking the bitch.  The part she really hates is me dick slapping her.  As I said, I have a gigantic dick.  Smacking her upside her head with my cock usually throws her off balance.  So does a face slap with my hand. 

“When I get in the zone, I am all kinds of aggressive.  I am only after one thing, to bust my nut.  If that means roughing up the bitch, then she’s going to get roughed up.  If I’m drunk enough, I’ll not only fuck her cunt, but she’ll take me in her ass.

“Right now, if she were here, I would be fucking her in every position in every hole.  I wouldn’t care if she was enjoying it.  I’m so fucking horny.  I would use any woman right now.  I can’t have a weekend of jerking off.  Hell, if there was a faggot, I would use him the same way. 

“And it’s a good thing that I have a faggot sitting not ten feet away from me, paying attention to every word I say, licking his lips every time I mention blowjobs, and responding with awkward silence when I asked if he had a bitch back home.  No straight man acts this way.

“I would ask you if you are a cock sucking faggot, but we both know the answer.  Don’t we?  So this is what is going to happen.  I’m going to walk over there, to the men’s toilet.  You want my fat hog in your faggot throat, you follow me in.  Don’t say a word.  Get on your faggot knees and open your faggot mouth. 

“I’ll give you until I drain my piss.  If you don’t come in at that time, then you better be out of here and hide in your room at the lodge.

“I really got to piss, so you don’t have much time….

“…Well fuck.  I would have thought you would have taken some time to think about it.  But OK.

“I really have to piss.  While I do that get in the stall and on your knees.  Be ready for me.  I swear, the beers just pour right through me.  Oh, this feels good—

“What the fuck?  I’m not done pissing….  Oh?  So, you are one of those kinds of faggots.  Nasty piss drinking faggot!  Oh fuck, your mouth feels good.  You are definitely getting a reaction out of my hog.  That’s it for my piss for now.

“Faggot, see how big it is?  You think you can take it?

“Jesus fuck!  Right to the root with no problem!  Holy shit.  You faggots know what you are doing.  Oh man.  This is… fuck!  Oh my god! 

“Bob up and down.  Go head-to-root-to-head-to-root.  Fuck!  This is the blowjob I have been looking for all my life.  Lucky me I found me a faggot with car problems.

“Pull off.  I said, ‘Pull off!’  Look up at me.  Hold still…. 

“…What?  Nothing?  I just gave you one of the hardest bitch slaps I have ever given and you just take it….  Wait, what did you just say?  Did you just thank me… for bitch slapping you?

“Get up.  Get your faggot-ty ass up.  Let’s go.  Move!

“We are going to my room at the lodge.  You are going to spend your night with me. 

“Pay Frank your tab and leave a good tip.  Meet me outside…  A fifty?  You know what a good tip is, that or you didn’t care to wait for him to give you change.

“OK faggot.  I have never used a fag before.  But damn, that one minute in the toilet told me I have been missing out. 

“Over here.  I’m the last room.  The lodge is free for us roughnecks.  The company pays for our housing.  My room is at the end.  It’s a glorified motel room.  I have tons of beer.  You won’t get any, at least not without it going through me first.  Never did that before, but fuck I liked it.

“I plan on being here for four days.  You are going to spend your time with me and my cock down your throat.  You probably take it up your ass.  I will definitely try that out.

“Now listen up.  I have no interest in you or your dick.  I ain’t sucking you or getting fucked by you.  You try anything like that, and I will beat the shit out of you.  Understand me?...  Understand me faggot?

“And keep up the ‘Yes Sir!’  I like the sound of that.  Here we are.  Faggot this is all new for me.  But I will tell you this, I am liking what has been done so far.  I’m so ready to do this.  My cock has not lost it’s hard on.  I may never go back.  Faggot get inside and strip!”

[a-mint-bear]

Her Favorite Employee

Female Yandere x Female Reader

You're the personal assistant of your company's CEO. She's controlling, married to her job, and runs you ragged. But you're good at your job, and she loves to let you know how much she appreciates you.

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"What's on my schedule for this afternoon?"

A quick recap of what was on the docket for that day as you dropped off her coffee order. Soon she’d be in back to back meetings while you handled her calls and made the rounds to the various teams she oversaw. Same as most mornings.

“Wonderful. Make sure to have the Hillmore reports on my desk by three, and send a nice gift basket to Reynolds in Sales. His wife just had twins.”

You told her the reports would be done before her lunch with R&D, and you’d already sent a basket with her name on it two days ago which included a gift certificate to a local spa for the new mother.

“I knew you’d be on it.” She smiled into her coffee. “Much obliged, love.”

You nodded behind your tablet, trying not to be obvious about your lack of eye contact. It was torture when she called you that.

It was a lot, working under her. But at the same time, it was oddly… fulfilling. She gave you so many responsibilities and trusted, more expected, you to come through. Every time.

Not even six months ago you'd been just another employee. It was a decent job; Good pay and benefits, and the work was easy enough, the hours sucked sometimes but it wasn't like you had a rich social life it was cutting into.

You didn’t make any friends in the office, you weren’t sure any of your coworkers even knew your name. To them, you were just “that one girl who refills the paper in the copier”. Because someone has to, and you work with a bunch of animals who think that the paper just magically replenishes itself. Now you were “The Boss’ secretary”, that was at least more respectable? Maybe?

But before you were her assistant, you were just her “favorite employee”. And that was more trouble than it was worth.

She didn’t care much for being called by her surname like most of the superiors in the company, but no one was brave enough to call her by her given name. So most in the company just called her Boss or Miss. And she liked it that way. You were pretty sure she just liked how intimidating it made her seem.

She was always around. At first, you thought it might've been because she was your boss. She was probably just trying to see if you were any good at your job, maybe looking for a reason to fire you if she noticed anything off. But ever since you were hired, it just kept happening. Your first days in the office quickly turned into weeks and she was still circling you for seemingly no reason.

You could excuse it to yourself, maybe she was the micromanaging type. But her attention always seemed to be on you, almost exclusively, more than anyone else in the office. And it was… intimidating. For a couple of reasons.

She seemed to love… picking on you, if you could call it that. Any extra projects she needed done? You were her first choice. Fixing the new guy's botched paperwork before a big deadline? You were on it, of course. Overtime? Yup, you. It would be more annoying if you weren't getting paid overtime. But you always got it all done, ahead of schedule, without any complaints.

And if she wasn't being oddly petty, she was being… oddly flirty.

Sitting on the edge of her desk when she talked quarterly reports over with you. Leaning a little too close when she took something off your desk. Her fingers brushed yours when you handed her things. A bump to your arm with hers here, a touch to your shoulder there… Every time you wondered if you were just imagining things, it happened again. She never did anything overtly inappropriate or pushed past any sign you were uncomfortable, but the truth was… you weren’t. It was a bit much to have this beautiful woman pay so much attention to you, but you weren’t going to lie, it wasn’t… the worst thing in the world.

It contrasted hard with her usual put-together image, prim and proper and out of reach from the mere mortals in the office. But as far as you’d noticed, she didn’t act this way in front of anyone else in the office. And you didn’t know what to do with that information.

You weren’t sure if any of it was on purpose, or if she was just flirtatious by nature. It was always hard to tell with women, as a woman. Was she into you? Was she even attracted to women?? Or did she get her jollies by flustering the office loner?

She stayed just as late as you most nights, if not longer. And checked up on you. And chatted with you when she had a minute. You just didn't get why. You weren't anyone special. And she was so…

She was gorgeous, always so well put-together and stunning. You'd never met a woman who was so beautiful it made you nervous, like a dumb teenager. But it couldn't outweigh how much she got on your nerves with how she was always in your business, so the conflicting emotions just made for long, exhausting workdays.

If she knew you were annoyed with her, she never let it show. But it wasn't long before you realized just why she'd been watching you so closely.

One day, all the creeping around and odd attention she was paying you started to make sense. The Boss Lady called you into a meeting with herself and the head of H.R. and just…

Offered you a promotion. Just like that.

"I've been really impressed by your work ethic.” She was being so poised and professional, every word out of her mouth sounded so assured, even though you were very much a deer in the headlights at the moment. “I need someone with a work/life balance that matches my own and can work with my schedule to be my personal Executive Assistant. Your hours would increase, but there will be a significant pay raise and company benefits.”

And boy, what a significant pay raise it was. You'd have to be a complete idiot to turn it down. It meant more responsibilities in the company and you'd be expected to dress up a bit more for appearance's sake, but a few suit jackets and skirts with nice dress shoes would be more in your price range now. It would mean spending A LOT more time with her though, and you weren't sure if your weak heart could take the damn near constant presence of this woman.

But maybe, SOMEHOW, it really was all in your head. Maybe the proximity to her while she was vetting you for the position just had you all mixed up?

Maybe the money was making you too eager to accept, but accept you did.

And it was normal, or as normal as things could be around that place, at least for a little while.

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

You were scheduling some meetings for her and logging them in her calendar when another co-worker knocked on your office door.

“Oh hey, do you have a minute?”

You recognized them… You didn’t remember their full name but everyone called them Jay.

They started a few months after you did, and they seemed nice enough. Right now they looked a little out of sorts, which was unusual. They were usually the cool, flirty, sporty type who was good friends with everyone, not an awkward bone in their body. The two of you weren’t friends or anything, but there was no bad blood between the two of you.

You asked them what was up, and it took them a minute before finally spitting it out.

“Okay, so… totally tell me to screw off if I’m barkin’ up the wrong tree here.” It was kind of funny seeing them so nervous. “Would you wanna… go to dinner tomorrow?”

Without thinking, you pulled up your planner, asking if there’d been an email you’d missed about some team-building thing. But they just laughed.

“No, I meant… Just you and me.”

You froze, wondering if you had heard right. You cut to the chase, asking if they meant like a date?

“We don’t have to call it a date, if you don’t want to!” They held up their hands defensively, like you were someone they were worried about offending with this. You wondered how people saw you around here for them to be so nervous. Or maybe they just… really liked you that much. “But… yeah. I wanted to ask you out.”

You gave it a moment to sink in.

You weren’t automatically thinking of saying no. Did that mean you wanted to say yes? They were tall and attractive, in a “soft beanpole with a cute haircut” kind of way. They looked good in their usual button up with the rolled-up sleeves, and pulled the look off better than half the people around the office. The opposite of your very feminine boss. Looks-wise they were nothing alike, but both had the same confident, assertive air about them. Maybe that was appealing to you, and Jay was just as much your type as the Boss was.

You scolded yourself. Why were you thinking about her? Now?

At the end of the day, you didn’t see any reason to say no. It could be a nice time. This stupid not-a-crush you had on your boss was never going to go anywhere, so why not try and see someone who went out of their way to ask you out? If it didn’t work out, you would handle it like an adult.

Jay looked nervous that you’d been thinking for so long. You told them you had a pretty packed schedule, but if you could get a night off, it would be nice to have dinner with them tomorrow. You half-jokingly told them that if it went well, you’d slap the “date” label on it. Their cheeks went a bit red, but they were grinning ear to ear.

“Cool!” They laughed, a bit too loud before catching themself, playing it cool. “I mean uh… That sounds good. Let me know.”

They quickly left, muttering to themself to “keep it together”, probably thinking you couldn’t hear. It was kind of cute, in a weird way. Maybe they were shyer than you’d originally thought.

But now came the hard part. Getting a night off.

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“No, that won't do.” She didn’t even look up from her computer.

That’s all she had to say to your request. At first, you felt disappointed but you were ready to just turn around and leave, accepting it. But this was just... bothering you. You piped up, trying to reason with her. Her schedule was free tomorrow night and you were a week ahead on all the reports she’d put you in charge of. You hadn’t had a night off in a few weeks.

And you’d never complained. You’d even kind of liked the challenge, the effort you put into your work gave you purpose. Working as her personal assistant was the most rewarding job you’d ever had. And you even told her so.

So why?

She sighed, she seemed almost… annoyed?

“I heard some chatter in the hall this afternoon.” She just kept typing away. “Someone was asking about restaurant recommendations for a big date. They seemed excited about having finally asked out the CEO’s assistant. And that they were so surprised she’d said yes.”

So she knew? She knew you were asking for a night off for a date? What did that have to do with anything? But you kept quiet for the moment, wondering where she was going with this.

“Maybe it’s my fault.” she sighed, sitting back in her plush office chair. “I was too…generous. I wanted to make you feel comfortable working for me so I let you do what you wanted. I can admit to my mistakes.”

Generous? By working you like a dog day in and day out? By keeping you from doing something as simple as going on a date with someone who was interested in you?

You asked her why. Why was she so against you having a life? Why was she doing this?

You knew it was a bad-no, a super bad idea to be mouthing off to your boss. Possibly career-ending. But you’d done so much for her, every day for months on end and never letting her down no matter how difficult or grueling the task. And she couldn’t even give you this one night off?

You needed a reason.

“Oh, it’s quite simple.” She smiled her usual stunning smile. But you weren’t going to let it get to you this time. No ma’am. But as she got up from her desk, coming around to stand too damn close, you felt your resolve slipping.

“From the day you started working here, I knew I wanted to keep you by my side.”

As an employee, right?

. . .

Right??

“You were… quite the sight.” she sighed, a dreamy smile as she looked at you from beneath her long, dark lashes. “So put off by everyone. Always on your own. Uninterested. Unengaged. Unmotivated. At first I just wanted to frazzle you, make you lighten up a bit. You seemed so isolated, I figured a strong personality like mine would rub you the wrong way. But you had such an… interesting reaction.”

The both of you knew what she meant. The blushing, the nervous energy, all the times you tried so hard to act like you weren’t bothered by her attention. And most likely failed miserably.

“I saw how hard you worked. I could see your untapped potential. You were exactly what I needed. I knew I had to make you mine.”

You told her you didn’t understand. And maybe that was a lie. You couldn’t stop your thoughts from racing. She… wasn’t talking about work anymore, was she?

“I made you my assistant. You’re by my side, day in and day out. And… I thought that would be enough to satisfy this feeling. This... need. But it just wasn’t. And when I heard someone had taken an interest in you, I found myself quite…”

The intensity in her eyes felt so suffocating.

”Infuriated.”

You couldn't help but flinch when she laid her hands flat on your chest, just below your collar bone. Her touch burned itself into you, but you couldn’t take your eyes off hers. It felt like she’d devour you if you did.

“No one…” She grabbed you by your collar and yanked you closer, whispering in your ear. You hated the shiver it sent up your spine. “No one will ever take you away from me. Not another company. Not another department. And certainly not some little upstart from Sales.”

… She wasn’t talking about work anymore.

“If someone else took you from me... there would be no point in any of this. This job. It was so… stuffy and boring before you came along. Every day was just office politics and saying the right things to the right people.” She loosened her grip, straightening the collar on your suit jacket with an airy, light touch. “But you… You changed something. So I brought you to my side. And I’ve been watching, getting to know all about you. You play down your talents so you don’t draw any attention. But you can’t help yourself. What you want more than anything is for someone to say they appreciate you, that they need you.”

She had to know how this sounded, right? She almost sounded like…

“And I do.” She held your face in her hand, her thumb grazing your cheek so gently you could’ve convinced yourself her touch wasn’t real. “I need you, love. Without you, none of this means anything.”

Your breathing was shaky, you never imagined that this would- could ever happen in a million years.

She drew you closer, a soft gasp slipping out when you realized just how close. If anyone else popped in, it would be completely obvious what was going on. But you didn’t push her away. If anything, you wished she would just close the gap and take it out of your hands.

“So what do you say?” She whispered in your ear, the warmth of her breath making you feel weak. “Are you mine?”

As if you could say anything else.

Yes, Miss.

It was so soft a response that you weren’t sure you’d said it out loud until you saw her smile. A finger to your lips, she laughed. Not her usual teasing, mischievous laugh when she was trying to get a reaction out of you. It was sweet, delighted and charming.

She was so close, her breath on your lips, her lashes just barely brushed your cheek.

“And I'm yours, love.”

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

this one has been a long time coming, writing femme yanderes is difficult lol

this y/n ended up being a lady, and it didn't come into play much. but the hypercompetent assistant girl in love with her powerful boss lady is a wlw pairing near and dear to my heart.

Boss Lady's tentative full name is Lenora. she doesn't care for it, she goes by Nora. i originally gave her a last name to be called by in the story to make her seem more imposing, but it came off as awkward, like she has a name, but i didn't want her to be known by an unimportant surname

Jay started off as a lady, but i wrote her as more androgynous and it felt right to make them nb instead. it helped keep the reader's sexuality more ambiguous. i wanted to write them as wlw, but not strictly a lesbian. but she reads very much as a "useless lesbian" trope lol. Boss lady had to flirt with her for literal months on end before y/n caught on

i don't quite know how old Boss Lady is, i imagine her as late 30s, very early 40s, and there could be an age difference here, but it's not a necessary part of the story.

this Boss Lady COULD be the same Boss Lady as the one in Boss Lady has a House Spouse, sometime in the future of their relationship. maybe y/n gets burned out or quits for some reason and then becomes a domestic partner. But Boss Lady who obsesses over her employee was imagined as a separate Boss Lady originally. you can never have too many boss ladies.

and that header. i've said it before that editing the femme yandere headers is so awkward because the office lady ones just turn into their chests in tight button-downs lol

*whispers* would you guys find it weird if she called the reader "good girl"? 'cause i almost included it at the end there but thought it might be a bit much. i have a problem✌️

[coco-loco-nut]

We Can’t Be Friends

Pairing: George Russel x Reader

Summary: George’s girlfriend, a former child actor, is not well liked by the public

TW: mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, implied child exploitation

A/n: going off of the more popular interpretation of the song (ari vs the public)

requests open!🫶 masterlist

———————

You just finished filming a short interview in a docuseries with some of your former colleagues, those who fell into the same trap and downfall as you did. You prefer not to air everything out, but you knew your statement would support the others.

The industry basically forced you into a drug and alcohol addiction, one that you thankfully beat, but you went from someone who was once loved to someone hated, just from how the media spun your name.

You met George at a hospital event -you now work as a biochemist and bioengineer- and he immediately recognized his childhood crush. You dated for a year before feeling strong enough to go public, but ever since he posted a very cute picture of you, the hate has started again.

“I’ll make a statement asking them to leave you alone,” George offers but you shake your head no. He hates seeing you upset, but both of you didn’t expect the backlash on you.

“They won’t understand, they could never even try. They will never know what it was like to grow up like that, even the docuseries won’t help,” you start to dismiss the thought.

“We can’t do nothing,” he tries to reason, wanting to protect you.

“I don’t want to tiptoe around the public, but I don’t want to hide, either way I’m feeding this fire,” you groan, running your hand through your hair as you pace the room. You had to call off of work today, the entrance to your townhome being blocked by paparazzi.

“The story is gonna die, and we’ll be alright,” George stands up and pulls you into a hug. In your mind you picture the public liking you again, waiting for their love again.

A few days later, George drags you out of the house for lunch, you had only been leaving for work. The two of you step out, a reporter immediately coming up to you. You ignore the first few, sitting in your silence.

“It’s just me and you, Baby girl,” George whispers to you, supporting you however you choose to respond.

“Y/n, is it true that you have been in and out of rehab for the past year? You are in and out of hospitals,” one reporter, who always hounds you, asks causing you to whirl around. You don’t want to argue, but you don’t want to bite, so you choose a confusing answer.

“You’ve got me misunderstood, but at least I look this good,” you smirk, watching their face scrunch in confusion, gripping their paper and pen, before continuing your walk.

The next day a clip of one of your short interviews drops, taken while you were in college, as a trailer for the docuseries release the following week.

~-~-~-

I don’t like how this industry painted me, but I’m still here hanging, just not what they made me. It’s almost like a daydream sometimes, finally leaving that world. I feel so seen, I am everything that I defined myself as, not all that the industry made me be. My truth and I may always sit in silence, but one day I hope I am brave enough to say it out loud. For now, it’s only me on the road after recovery, but maybe that’s all I need.

~-~-~-

buzzfeed.com/uk

A list of every child actor we need to apologize to after watching “Drugged: The Truth Behind the Lives of Child Actors”

1. Y/n Y/l/n

~-~-~-

“Are you sure you want to go out there?” George asks, looking at the crowds of journalists. You nod, tired of being silent and waiting for things to be better, not caring about feeding the fire anymore.

“Let’s go,” you release a shaky breath, stepping out behind your boyfriend as he walks you to work.

“Y/n! Anything to comment regarding the documentary that’s been released and the allegations made by your former colleagues?” A journalist asks, the rest hoarding, pens at the ready.

“Actually, I do. You owe us an apology. Villainizing children who needed someone like you to expose how awful our working conditions were, that’s sick and cruel. You wrote lies about us, and instead of apologizing, you want to ask us for statements and exploit our names more? You’re sick. We can’t be friends,” you chem them out before continuing on your way to work. A part of you will always wait for their love, but you are tired of waiting for them to like you.

“You’re a badass. I hope they will see you are the biochemist and bioengineer, not the child actor. You’ve come so far and I’m so proud,” George says once your breathing steadies from the adrenaline.

“Thank you, Georgie,” a small part of you wants to flip them off behind you, just like you would’ve done ten years ago, but you don’t, finally moving forward.

[berriweb]

Hello, how are you doing? If it’s alright with you, may I request pavitr, miles e-42 and 1016 and Hobie headcanons where their s/o doesn’t contact them for a week and the boys haven’t seen their s/o during that period and no one knows where they went (so pretty much went of the grid) and then one day the reader shows up and turns out, they have become the permanent host for Venom as they are completely compatible with one another and the reader apologies to the boys for not contacting them cause they were scared and had to deal with the whole symbiote thing and Venom didn’t trust the boys

╰┈➤ ❝ i have your best interests in mind ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. pavitr prabhakar, hobie brown, earth-1610! miles, earth-42! miles

: ̗̀➛ synopsis. reader goes missing after becoming a host for venom and the boys are unaware of this

: ̗̀➛ a/n. okay so im actually madly in love with idea?? many kisses to you for this request anon, hope it’s worth the wait

— PAVITR PRABHAKAR

There would absolutely nothing more devastating to Pavitr than the worry he had when you initially disappeared

He’s a super affectionate boyfriend meaning you two would likely hang 24/7 and if you’re not together then he’s always texting you or randomly calling to check up on you

So from the start when you aren’t at home for him to walk you to school and then don’t show up at school he’s caught off guard, surely you would’ve let him know if you had other plans or were sick like you always did?

He’ll text you that morning asking if everything’s okay and where you’re at, and by noon when he doesn’t get a response he slowly starts losing it

Probably checks his phone every 2 minutes, turns it off and on to see if it’s messed up and he just hadn’t received your message, etc.

By the evening he’s contacted all of your friends and family to see if they knew where you were. When it becomes apparent that none of them know where you’ve gone either is when he starts officially freaking out

Files a missing person’s report that evening and spends the rest of the night swinging around Mumbattan looking around for any sign of your face, to no avail

It only gets worse the next few days, he starts slipping up and focusing more on finding you than any Spider-Man work he normally would’ve been doing, hoping every time that he’ll catch even a glimpse of you

It wasn’t until nearly a week later that he finally got answers, having just finished up helping a woman who’d gotten mugged when he notices someone in a familiar shirt ducking into a nearby alley

The same shirt you were wearing the last time he saw you

There weren’t enough words to describe the relief that washed over Pavitr when he rushed for the alley and saw your face just as you turned your back to the road.

“Y/N!”

That relief turns into confusion when he notices how hard you jump at the sound of your own name, as well as he notices the hood from your jacket pulled over your face as if you were trying to stay hidden. When you turn to look at him, the fear in your eyes makes him stop in his tracks, and luckily so because you throw your hands up before the spider can get any closer

“Get back!”

Pavitr doesn’t understand your vagueness at first when you apologize for going M.I.A but still seem hesitant to come back with him

Until you offer to explain but only after he promises not to freak out when you show, not tell

He agrees, but doesn’t wrap his head around it until your body is suddenly engulfed in a sea of black (tentacles? liquid? he couldn’t tell) and your face is covered by rows of sharp, menacing teeth containing a slimy, and slightly unnerving, tongue and jagged white eyes

Despite the warning he still gets initially defensive, and seeing that was enough for the monster who took over you to loudly vocalize their concerns

“I told you he could not be trusted.”

For a moment it seemed like the being and you must’ve been arguing, but he could only hear it’s side of the conversation, and from the sounds of it the monster was the reason you’d gone missing

As fast as it had appeared, the demon disappeared you were standing in it’s place again. He relaxed, and you finally explained to him why you hadn’t gone back

Pavitr still seems a bit freaked out at the thought of another being living in your body, but after the initial worry he seems to be less on guard about the whole ordeal

Pavitr rushes to pull you into a hug before you could even get out your last word, tight enough to make you pat his back to try to tap out after the first few seconds. “Pav…”

He acts like he doesn’t hear you at first, but the second time you call his name he reluctantly pulls away, but only enough for you to breathe properly, and gets sheepish.

“Sorry, I just really missed you.”

Pav assures you that you have nothing to worry about and as long as your new parasite doesn’t cause any trouble he can manage, but makes you promise to never leave him worrying like that for so long again

— HOBIE BROWN

It would take him a while longer to realize something was wrong like Pav did

There have been times where the two of you haven’t talked for days due to him being off doing Soider-Man work or you just having your own life keeping you busy so not talking for a small period of time isn’t completely abnormal

The only difference? You’d always tell each other before it happened

On day one Hobie didn’t take much note of it when he came over by your place to visit after a long night fighting as Spider-Man. You’d probably been out running errands or out with friends, nothing worth stressing himself out over

Hobie wasn’t a fan of texting and calling as he preferred seeing you in person, so his phone mostly went unused unless it was an emergency

The next day Hobie decided to drop by in the evening to hang out with you in his free time, yet when he tried knocking the lack of an answer gave him the unknown feeling of something being wrong

When he resorted to the normal route (that being climbing in through your window) Hobie was surprised to be left standing on the side of the building because the window was locked

He didn’t understand the random change of heart when you almost always left it open for him to enter if he ever dropped by as Spider-Man

Hobie picked the lock and managed to slip in regardless, but the signs showing that you hadn’t been in your apartment in a while were starting to make him suspicious. All of the belongings you’d normally take with you when you left your home were still in the home, that much he realized after finally trying to call you, only to hear your phone buzzing in the room, fishing around and finding it still plugged into the wall under your sheets

You hadn’t even taken your phone?

That’s when he started to worry

With no way to contact you, Hobie chose to spend the rest of that day and the following night lounging around your place, hoping to see you walk in and explain that you’d been in a rush and give some reasonable explanation as to why you disappeared

But you don’t

He doesn’t want to entertain the thought that something bad could’ve happened to you, and even more so, he doesn’t want to believe it could’ve been related to someone finding out your relation to Spider-Man

Hobie resorts to asking around and doing his own investigating to figure out what happened to you (which mostly involved him interrogating any criminal or villain he encountered while out as Spider-Man, but that was besides the point)

He also abandons his home entirely and spends his time at your place instead in the off chance that you’ll show up

Which ends up being exactly what happens

With his feet kicked up on the arm of the couch and his head half-hanging off of the other end, Hobie found himself mindless strumming at the strings of his guitar to fill the silence that’d overtaken the room. His eyes were glued to the clock silently ticking that you’d hung up above the door to your bedroom, showing just how far into the night it was.

It’d been days since he’d seen you, and with no way to reach you and no leads on where you could’ve gone, he was running out of options to consider aside from sitting around hoping you’d return one day. He hated that option.

In the middle of running over every possibility for your disappearance in his mind, the sound of a lock clicking pulled him out of his head and his head snapped towards the door. His heart stopped for a moment, yet his hope that you’d finally come home was demolished the moment the door opened.

Hobie jumped up before he could think, guitar long forgotten, as instead of seeing you walk in, he witnessed a large (at least 7 feet) monster seemingly completely made out of black goop and baring razor sharp teeth come barreling through the door. It’s movements were calculated but it made a mess the moment it entered the door, slamming the door so hard there was an audible sound of wood splitting from the doorframe.

“I need food! Do you expect me to starve?! I can’t survive on stolen chocolate!”

Hobie had crawled up the wall and crouched from an upper corner in the room, silently wishing he’d brought his suit with him, but in no way could he have predicted this. He watched as the monster stomped around the room, seemingly throwing a fit as it argued with itself. It ran into a shelf and knocked over all of the trinkets on it, whether or not that was intentional or not. Just as he readied himself to attack was when the being turned and it’s head shot up, only then noticing the stranger who’d been watching the entire encounter.

In the blink of an eye he’d shot webs that connected to both of the monsters arms, limiting it’s movements and lunging forwards, kicking it to the ground. Unluckily for him, he couldn’t use the element of surprise twice, but the conversation that followed as he jumped to avoid it smashing him with it’s fists was more alarming than anything else.

“What about him, can I at least eat this one?”

Hobie was seconds away from flinging the monster into the wall when the black ooze started to melt away, and his movements came to a screeching halt when he realized it was your face under the mass.

To say he was surprised would’ve been a heavy understatement

“Tell me I’m dreaming.”

He was, in fact, not dreaming

He immediately backed off upon realizing what he was about to start fighting was his s/o, but demanded an explanation before he lost his mind trying to come up with one himself

When you explained how you’d become a host for the symbiote and why you were so afraid and couldn’t come see him, his reaction was more collected than you were expected even considering his calm personality, but he did proceed to lightly scold you for not coming to him in the first place while understanding why you would’ve been scared to do so

When he finds out about how Venom didn’t trust him, Hobie offers to make a deal to keep the symbiote in line and keep you from having issues dealing with the being not liking your boyfriend

What exactly was the deal? Hobie let’s Venom eat all of the corrupt government officials he ends up defeating, that way everyone’s happy

— EARTH-1610! MILES MORALES

Poor Miles would be going through it

He’s not as clingy as Pav but he does get worried since you guys talk nearly every day, so just like him, when you didn’t show up to class he was beyond worried

He’d try to call and ask if something was up since you two had plans for later that day, but no answer. Alongside that, no one else has seen you around either

When he calls your family and they voice their concerns about you not coming back home the day prior is when his nerves get the better of him

Miles is a smart boy so one of the first things he does is immediately go to his dad to file a missing person’s report

Alongside that, he’s questioning any and everyone he comes in contact with about whether or not they’d seen you around

As he clapped his hands together to mock wiping dust from his palms, Miles searches for his phone that he always seems to pull out of his suit from no where (because seriously, where does he have room to hold it?), ignoring the angry curses from the bank robber he’d webbed to the outside of the building.

“Yeah yeah yeah, that’s nice and all…” he mutters while typing away on his phone, which only seemed to anger the criminal anymore, evident by the vein popping in his forehead and the increase in words that definitely weren’t meant for children.

As the police sirens grew louder and the citizens who’d previously been the gunman’s hostages stood around anxiously, some attempting to get the heroes attention to ask for photos, Miles held up the phone to the man’s face and zoomed in.

“You seen this person around lately?”

It takes a week for him to finally find you (one of the worst weeks of his life), albeit it wasn’t you he was looking for initially

After being stopped in the street by an old woman complaining that she’d seen a monster lurking around the abandoned building near her apartment home and heard weird noises coming from it, Miles had gone to investigate in order to come back and happily report that there was nothing for her to worry about

Unfortunately for Miles, however, he was completely wrong, as when he crawled into the run down storage center through the roof, he caught a full view of a gigantic, inky black creature crunching on what was once the full body of a man

He would’ve been more concerned over the fact that there was a man-eating monster lurking the streets of Brooklyn had he not focused on taking down the monster first, but just as he dropped down from the ceiling is when it became aware of its presence and what he assumed was the creatures skin started to peel away until you were left standing in its place

The mask prevented you from seeing his full expression, but the way the eyes widened was enough to show his mixture of shock and confusion

Miles could only stand there, baffled as he listened to you explain your situation and how you’d become their new host. When he got a chance to speak, the first thing he brought up was how he’d technically just watched his s/o eat a man alive, only for you to reassure him that it was the only person you’d ever eaten and that he was a really bad criminal you’d had eyes on for days

It was hard for him to make sense of it and while he didn’t exactly enjoy the thought of you having to eat people to survive now, Miles will admit that as long as you aren’t devouring the innocent he can manage

“So…does this make you like- a zombie or something?”

You tried (and failed) to resist the urge to roll your eyes at his comment as the two of you sat atop the roof of the old building, watching the city. “Miles.”

“I’m just saying, Venom eat brains,” he raised one hand, “zombies eat brains,” he raised his other, then pushed the two together, “you’re kind of like a zombie. You come become a hero like me! Maybe keep the ‘eating heads’ part on the down low, though. I can even come up with a cool zombie name for you! We could be a team.”

“One, I am not a zombie, and two, what’s wrong with the name Venom?”

“It’s fine I guess, not nearly as cool as a zombie name would be though-” he stopped when your hand suddenly shot up before his reflexes could kick in and smacked him in the mouth. “-hey!”

“Sorry! That was Venom.”

Miles made a face at you, but you knew it was more or less directed at the symbiote.

“Venom said that’s a terrible idea and you’re an idiot.”

That’s not what I said.

“-in more vulgar words that I’m not going to repeat.”

He raised his hands defensively. “That’s a genius idea! Would you rather be named after brains or chocolate or something instead? Chocolate and spiders don’t go together at all.”

“Neither do zombies and spiders.”

“Point taken.”

“…”

“…what about Spider-Zom-”

“Miles.”

“Alright alright, Venom it is.”

— EARTH-42! MILES MORALES

Miles would get straight trying to find you the second he realized it’s been hours since he’s seen you and no one else has a clue where you’ve gone too

He’s not the type to be too overbearing but he is really overprotective considering you’re associated with him and the type of danger he gets himself involved in, so making sure you’re always is a number one priority for him and when he has no idea what you’re up to for a long enough period of time he gets worried

Especially considering the amount of crime in the city, for all he knows anything could’ve happened to you and if he finds out that something did and he wasn’t there to protect you he’d be devastated

Immediately let’s Uncle Aaron know to keep an eye out and that most of his Prowler business would be put on hold until he finds you because you’re more important than any vigilante work

The longer you’re gone, the more anxious he becomes and while he might not show it most of the ones he’s close to will be able to tell that something’s up

“Cálmate, Miles. The more you sit around stressing yourself out the harder you’re being on yourself for no reason. I’m sure they’ll show up any day now.”

Miles tried to take his mother’s words to heart, but knowing that you could be out there anywhere in pain or worse because of him leaves him no room to relax.

“No puedo, mamí. I have to know that they’re okay.”

His worries were starting to manifest physically, the tightness in between his brows, constant bouncing of his leg and the tapping of his fingers on any surface he could reach being clear signs of it. He was sure he’d checked his phone nearly a hundred times in the last hour alone, waiting for a call from you saying you were okay or a text from Uncle Aaron letting him know he’d found you. Something, anything. It was the fourth night in a row he’d spent up all night, completely abandoning his bed when he realized he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

His mother leaned down and placed a hand over his own to stop him from the finger tapping he hadn’t realized he’d picked up again, turning over his phone to lay it flat on his desk.

“And it’s my job to make sure you’re okay. Get some rest, I’m sure if we get any updates it won’t be in the middle of the night.”

He looked her in the eye for a moment, but any attempt to disagree was futile as he knew he couldn’t argue against her.

“Okay, fine, I’ll get some sleep.”

“¿Juras?”

“Lo juro.”

With a kiss on the cheek she left him to his own devices in his room, but as soon as the door shut and he was sure he’d heard her footsteps retreated back to her room, Miles grabbed his claws and mask and headed straight for the fire escape.

All attempts at trying to find you were futile, and while he refused to lose hope Miles was beginning to assume the worst

He never wanted to entertain the thought that you could’ve died or worse, but thankfully for him that worry was squashed when in the middle of yet another restless night, Miles suddenly heard tapping coming from his window

The one clawed glove he always kept on him was the first thing Miles reached for when he heard the initial taps on his window, but as he slowly approached the window, he paused with the glove half on when meeting your gaze as your head poked over from the edge of the windowsill.

With a mixture of confusion and surprise, he rushed to unlock and open the window, watching in awe as you climbed through, rising to your feet. He looks out the window, taking note of the fact that there’s absolutely no way you could’ve climbed up given that there was nothing to climb on and his window was far from the ground.

When you look at each other a long moment filled with silence follows, and he can’t help but notice if you’re studying his looks or judging them.

“You look tired.”

Possibly both?

“I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to wake you, I shouldn’t have come.”

He seems to snap out of it as soon as you start heading back for the window, reaching out to grab you by the arm.

“Wait! Stay.”

Miles would have loads and loads of questions to ask you, starting with “are you okay?” and ending with “why did you disappear on me? i was worried sick!”

Listening to you explain how you’d become a permanent host for the symbiote was almost just as hard to comprehend as when you showed it off and allowed Venom to momentarily take over you

He’d unconsciously move back without realizing it, but you retreated back to your normal self moments after just for the sake of not freaking him out

It’d take a moment to process, but when you’d show signs of guilt and mentioned leaving again and understanding if he didn’t want to be associated with you he’d stopped you again

“You really won’t mind?”

Shaking his head, Miles pulled you in for an embrace, nose pressed into the top of your head for a moment before a placed a kiss on your forehead.

“You come as a package deal now, right? I don’t really have a choice of not being cool with the whole Venom thing, no way I’m leaving you. Somos tu y yo.”

When he pulled back he noticed you make a funny face and muttered a quick no, only for a moment, and wondered what was wrong.

“It’s nothing, Venom just asked if they could eat you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“I mean, I guess that means they think you’re tasty so probably good, take it as a compliment.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

[felassan]

Snippets 🐺💜

Users report that pre-orders they made to TFAW of the DA:TV artbook The Art of Dragon Age: The Veilguard have been cancelled (since its listings were taken down like Dark Horse's were)

Blair: "The Shadow Dragons have some great black leather combos, less feathers though." [source]. shrl: "The Mourn Watch have leather and skulls." [source]

John: "it's been a pleasure and an honor working on this with you Brian" [source]. Brian: "The feeling is mutual." [source]. Trick: "It's been amazing watching it all come together, and I am so grateful for everything you've done to make that happen." [source]

John: "the day this game ships is the day i will finally retire the sleeved blanket i bought back in 2019" [source]

John: "the wildest thing about being creative director is that about once every two weeks someone says 'hey this bizarre thing here is part of your job can you do it'. and it is a thing that you KNEW someone did but you never thought about which someone. congratulations, you are that someone" [source]

User: "The Evanuris are banished forever, he says. 👀". Trick: "Forever-ish" [source]

John: "me: it’s weird how a lot of fans think I hate Solas, it’s absolutely wild. also me: I should photoshop Solas into the ‘we demand to be taken seriously’ picture" [source]

Carly: "i can see the light at the end of the tunnel, everyone,,,, s o o n 🥴" [source]. / "I honestly can’t wait til we share more !" [source]. / User: "do you ever look at people’s reactions and theories on here like 🙂‍↔️ you people have no idea what’s coming". Carly: "Oh absolutely lmaooo" [source]

Carly: "I deleted it but I posted in our slack like “pls just tell them smtg, the clowns make me sad ):” lolol" [source]. (note: fans have been joking around and calling themselves clowns hhh, in the age-old tradition of DA clowning) "this is me empathizing and feeling bad we aren’t giving as much info (altho epler be goin off), rereading it sounds like I’m going *points* look at how pathetic those clowns are lol" [source]. / "its like we can finally yell about our work but only in limited quantities and basically at the same time fans find out things lolol oh ya and the ea snipers" [source]

Violet: "I might be screaming into the wind, but there's nothing underhanded going on. Release date is coming in August like we already said (so very soon)" / "roadmap will be very soon with some nuggets of what will be coming in August." [source: the official BioWare Discord]

Violet: "I made the announcement [in the Discord about Edge magazine's article], and it's kinda damned if you do, damned if you dont. If you do, people that ONLY want the biggest beats get mad. If you don't, people that want any scrap of news get mad. Personally, I think going towards the latter is better overall. But I'm sorry it wasn't what you expected. I am also a DA fan and care enormously about this project." [source: the official BioWare Discord]

User: "How do we all think the companions for Veilguard flirt?". Violet: "depends on the companion fsfs" [source: the official BioWare Discord]

Violet: "soon™️" / "(not trying to be a shit, it will be soon! its a holdover joke from my last studio, i have to put the ™️ every time, its a sickness)" / "real talk, im just as feral as you guys when it comes to DA" / "[re: John being aware of a meme] that doesnt surprise me, [John] gets around 👀" [source: the official BioWare Discord]

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things : chapter one

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in the first two chapters, sorry gang :)

masterlist | next chapter

Prome Medical Devices hired you as a personal assistant to the CEO, Toshinori Yagi, shortly after he was diagnosed with his second bout of prostate cancer and shortly before they learned it had metastasized to bone. It was a tragic, yet expected turn of events.The man had been sick most of his life, they told you, he's probably slept in hospital beds more times than he's slept in his own. It was, like most things, inevitable.

Over the following weeks, through chemo and taps and rotating hospital doors, he began working from home and handling only the absolute basics, and your silly assistant job evolved into more. You had only planned to stay for a couple months, but then another horrible thing happened.

You became Somehow Important. 

Days went from scrolling on Twitter between writing notes to juggling everything that no one else could handle. Sitting in for meetings, handling calls, scheduling reviews and system checks, running to the pharmacy midday: there's nothing you haven't done. It’s a lot, but in the grand scheme of it all, it's nothing-- especially compared to the things that everyone else gets done here. 

8:35am. The security man gives you a nod without checking for your badge. Engineers skitter around the office like cockroaches. It's always a good sign when no one immediately comes to find you; that means your boss is still alive and doing about the same as he was yesterday. No updates, you’ve found, are good. No one bothers to tell you when good things happen: you’re the fixer, the emergency contact. When you’re being informed of anything, it’s because someone else wants you to clean up the mess.

(The only exception is from the man himself. Toshinori sends you the best kind of updates; mundane things from his life that he needs to share, like pictures of his duck pond or his review of the new coffee shop in town. It’s enough to keep you going, even when the day absolutely blows. You only had a few months working directly with the man, but he was fond of you-- and everyone was fond of him.)

Outdated filaments thrum down the halls. Your heels click against the tile with every step, a slow march to another day of monotony, a kind of dread that not even your phone can distract you from. Because your position is rather undefined for the corporate world, your desk is in an awkward spot, sandwiched in the hall, equidistant from the engineering department, the CEO's office, and the coffee machine. In terms of convenience, it's lovely, but it also means you have nowhere to hide.

Before you can even make it to your desk, a young man pops into the way and heads straight for you, a bit too quickly to be passed off as casual. Your heart sinks, then you realize it's just one of the interns: a college kid who's clearly had too many energy drinks already.

“Hey,” Denki smiles with too much gum, so wide his cheeks almost swallow up his eyes. He’s a scruffy, dirty blonde, a patchy black streak on one side of his head. His button down is obviously unironed, so crumpled it almost looks like a pattern, matching perfectly with his untied tie. It’s a good thing that he’s cute; you doubt he’d have gotten this far in life if he wasn’t. 

“Good morning, how are you? Have a good night? You look so pretty this morning. MILF town over here.” he says, twiddling the toe of his shoe into the carpet. “I made the pot of coffee for you,so you don’t have to worry about that-”

You cut him off. “What did you do?” 

The interns don’t report to you. If anything, they run parallel to you. If there’s anyone they should be ass kissing, it should be the department head, not some personal assistant, but the group considers you an ally. Maybe even a friend.

“I wouldn’t say that it’s something that I did,” the boy explains. He sucks air in through his teeth. “It’s more like what I didn’t do.”

“Denki.”

“It’s just the reports! I have to submit them end of day and it’s just not--” He juts out his bottom lip. “Can you proof my work? Please? The Eraser’s going to have my head if I make another mistake.”

The lead engineer is infamous for deleting whole chunks of code that the interns have made and ruining months of their work. Last month it was Ochako's work, who then spent the rest of the day at your desk, sniffling. The four others  were equally terrified of the man, constantly fretting and bitching about the ‘cruel working conditions.’ If Prome wasn't so prestigious (and internships weren't necessary for graduating) there’d be no interns left. You’re sure Eraser would prefer it that way.

“Please?” Denki clutches his hands together in prayer. “Please, please, please?”

 You don't even pretend to hem and haw.

“Email it over before lunch.” you say and he lights up. 

“Aw, you’re the best!” He turns away and practically skips down the hall. “I’m gonna drop off Izuku’s stuff too, okay?”

There’s no chance to say no before Denki’s gone. You flop into your chair and kick off your heels, trying to convince yourself that you don’t already regret saying yes. You catch your own appearance in the black screen of your computer. Makeup doesn’t do much to cover up the fact you’ve been crying. You can see it in your eyes, in the creases of your skin that you wish weren't there.  Even as the screen lights up, you can still catch your own face, starting back with that sad, sad expression. 

It's been mostly sleepless nights since Touya left, but you push through and ignore whatever you can. You miss your travel mug, the one that matched the coaster on your desk. You miss your forks, the ones that weren’t the awful ones from the thrift store down the road, bought solely out of panic when you returned to an empty apartment.  Most of all, you miss him, how the apartment felt warmer with two bodies instead of one, and how secure you felt with someone who loves you.

Your screen loads and a big, red 24 flashes in the corner-- fuck, the works already piling up. You try to squish any thought of Touya’s disappearing act into the back of your head. Like a dog, Touya always comes back home to you. He just needs to be wild for a bit, play off leash, and then he’ll crawl back like always. 

You check your phone. He’s still saved under “AVOID AT ALL COSTS” and the last five texts you sent are all unread. Your thumb hovers over the delete button for a moment; it’d be easier to cut him off and end this cycle. You can stop pushing the boulder up the hill,  just for it to tumble back down again. You could pursue someone else, maybe someone nice or smart or at least not rude-

 Focus. Compliance is raising concerns about the new platform and manufacturing has CC'ed you into an issue about screw heads, two things that you know nothing about. You flip your phone over and push through. What’s the difference between a hex and a truss and why should you care?

..

11:59. You’re none the wiser about either topic, but the dust seems to be settling and everyone seems to be happy enough. Denki’s reports are an absolute mess, bad to the point you start to wonder if he even tried. The pages aren't even formatted correctly, so it’s going to take most of your lunch to iron out the wrinkles. Luckily, Izuku is a bit more competent and his tasks look great, so-

“Oh, baby girl!”

You stop typing and sit straight up to peer over your computer screen, hiding the remnants of your microwaved lunch. With arms raised high and dressed in his finest ironed button down, Yamada Hizashi enters. Tall, blonde, thin, and leggy: Hizashi would have been a Victoria’s Secret model if he wasn’t a man. His long hair is tied back into a messy bun, a couple of loose tendrils floating  around his face in an effortlessly, annoyingly charming way as he marshes straight for you. 

“Let me see ‘em!” he demands loudly, a smile on his face and his hands on his hips. “Come on, baby. You know what I want.”

If it was anyone else, you’d think the man was a creep, but Hizashi is just so earnest about the way he lights up a room. With a belabored sigh and a grin, you roll your chair back a bit and stick your leg to the side to reveal your pink, fluffy slippers. The man claps his hands together and laughs a deep, hearty chuckle, genuinely bemused. 

The bunny slippers had started as a secret. The original dress code had required women to wear heels to work, which was fine, until the back of your feet became nothing but blisters. To give yourself some respite during the day, you had hidden a pair of slippers under your desk, just a little treat to make it through the day. It seemed like a genius idea-

Until the day the fire alarm went off. In the surprise, you had forgotten to change your shoes back, and proceeded to spend the next half an hour outside with the entire company in your violently pink shoes.

Luckily, everyone thought it was pretty funny.

Especially Hizashi.

“Seeing my work wife is the best part of the week.”

You throw a hand over your heart and gasp, trying to hold back your smile. “Only your work wife?”

“Oh, babygirl, I’d marry you in an instant.” He leans over your desk with another sigh, this one heavier. “I’d make you the trophy wife you were born to be.”

“Cool it, Mic.” Your heart sinks a bit at the voice.  “HR is going to have your head if you aren’t careful.”

Aizawa “The Eraser” Shouta makes his third appearance at the coffee machine this morning. He’s an average sized man, if not slightly short, with dark hair and the beginnings of a salt and pepper beard. The muscles in his jaw flex whenever he looks your way, almost as if he’s chewing away his annoyance. The most notable thing about him is a scar on his high cheek bone, long healed and silver in the light. He sits his coffee cup - a beat to shit Stanley thermos from long before they were cool- under the tap and lets the java pour, that sour expression never leaving his face.

Aizawa has worked here since the beginning. As one of the founding members of Prome and a lead engineer, he’s had his hands in absolutely every machine the company has produced, and yet he carries himself with none of the pomp and circumstance he deserves. Instead of abiding by the strict dress code, he wears a bright yellow sweatshirt that has an obvious coffee stain on the pocket.  It’d be charming if he wasn’t an infamous dick. The two of you rarely interact, despite the fact he visits the coffee station next to your desk multiple times a day, offering you no more than a nod most days. The interns are terrified of him-- and rightly so. You’re also scared of him. You’ve never met anyone else as tightly wound or as obsessed with work as him; there’s a rumor that he even sleeps here some days.

“Don’t listen to him,” Hizashi says. “He’s just jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, I’m protecting the company from potential litigation when bunny slippers over here-” he juts a chin your way- “ decides your flirting isn’t fun anymore.” 

You knew he wasn’t jealous. It’s an open secret that Aizawa doesn’t like you very much. Unlike any other of the department heads, he never allocates you work or stops by to chat. There was even a rumor that he wanted to eliminate your position last year; you wouldn’t care so much if he didn’t have the power and sway to make that happen. 

Hizashi pops a hip to the side. He isn’t afraid of anyone it seems; he even claims to be the man’s friend after hours.“Would you rather me go back to flirting with you?”

Aizawa stares back, only the trickle of coffee echoing in the hall. Finally, when it almost reaches the top, he shuts it off and glares. “You’re not even supposed to be in office today, Mic.” 

Hizashi had always been the most notable salesman in the company, but once the CEO’s health went downhill, he had taken over a lot of the speaking roles as well. Interviews, speeches, and the like: Toshinori Yagi had dubbed him Mr. Microphone and the name had just stuck. From what you can tell, he’s actually pretty close with Aizawa and the other founding members outside of work as well.

“I have a quick meeting with the marketing gals in a couple minutes,” Hizashi explains. He brings his attention back to you, brows waggling. Fuck- you know what he’s about to say.

 “And I wanted to wish my wife an early happy birthday.”

Oh, god. Your face flushes with heat-- you had hoped he had forgotten that. You glance over to Aizawa, who seems more interested than usual.

“It's tomorrow,” you explain. He nods curtly.

“Our office darling is going to be thirty, flirty and feeling fine!” Mic explains further. Ugh. You wish he didn't sound so happy about it. When you think about it for too long, turning thirty feels like the end of the world, an evil you just can't avoid. It's better than the alternative, you guess. 

“Are you and the boyfriend planning on a romantic night?”

A second gut punch of a statement.

“Oh, no, I’m just-- he--” You almost get emotional for a moment. Thirty years old and single: it feels like the end of the world for some reason. Everyone else is getting married or having kids or living some dream life. Fuck-- even two of the goddammit interns are engaged and they're practically babies! At this point, you might as well give up and die alone; no one else is ever going to want you, are they? 

 The glimpse of Aizawa in the corner, watching you with those judgemental eyes, sobers you up quickly. 

“We broke up, so I’m just staying in.”

The two snap their heads towards each other. Mic waggles his eyebrows, not so subtly gesturing to a non receptive Aizawa. You know that look, the excitement and relief. It’s not a secret that no one really liked Touya-- people have been openly voicing their contempt for years. He wasn’t a bad guy, except for the times he was, but people only ever remembered the bad things. 

“Oh, is it…?” Mic bites back his words, debating how harsh he should be.  “Is it for real this time?”

Touya always comes back. Everyone knows the routine by now. 

“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m done with him.”

“Good.” Aizawa says. You grimace at that; even he knows? You didn’t know he paid attention to anything outside of work, let alone your shitty interpersonal drama.

“More than good. Amazing! Spectacular! I’m so, so, so proud of you!” Mic adds on and you pretend it doesn’t bother you. It’s strange; the more others despise him, the more your heart aches. Touya needs you and you need him; who else will have him?

Who else will have you?

“That means we can go out for drinks to celebrate!”

“Oh, it’s okay, you don’t have to do that.”

“Too late, nope. We’re having a two-for-one birthday single bash tomorrow.” He’s on his phone, typing wildly. “I hope you have something pretty to wear because I’m going to show you how you deserve to be treated.”

Fuck. You’d rather be alone, sniveling and waiting for Touya’s return in your apartment, but Hizashi is smiling. His intentions are good; it’d be cruel to deny him. 

“Nemuri knows some awesome spots-” The man is a whirl, typing and talking and walking. “You better get excited, baby girl.”

“Oh, yay,” you offer weakly. Hizashi isn’t listening anymore; he’s caught up in his own plans, briskly walking down the hall. A breath you didn’t know you were holding sneaks out and you slump back down to your seat.

“You really don’t have to let him walk all over you like that,” Aizawa says. He swirls his cup slowly, watching the rim.  

You try to offer the man a smile, but you can tell it looks forced. Sure, Hizashi can be a lot, but he just wants to help, as misguided as that urge is. 

“It’s okay.” When he doesn’t look convinced, you add. “Really.”  

“Are you sure?”  he presses, voice tight. 

“Mhm.” You return to your keyboard and start typing, hoping that he understands the social cue. “Thanks though.”

Thankfully, he lets it go. Turning down the hall, he starts to sip his coffee, but then freezes mid stride.

“You make this?”

“No.”  

“I can tell,” Aizawa says, examining his cup. “It’s fucking dog water.”

That comment is so off kilter that you can’t help but snort. Aizawa watches you for a beat more, maybe bemused, maybe not, then nods. With that, he leaves, an empty coffee pot in his wake.  Another item to add on your growing list. 

-

The rest of the day goes by quicker than you need it to. Denki leaves a little bit after lunch for a doctor’s appointment and the rest of the workforce trickles out after. The head of development, Nezu, has you run through potential presentations before you follow up on compliance’s worries again. The coffee pot was refilled four more times, all by you, and your messages to Touya still sit delivered and unread. Two hours after the work day was supposed to end, you slip your heels back on. Denki’s files are pretty much unrecognizable now, but that’s a good thing.  All of the college students are intelligent and more accomplished than you’ll ever be, but you’re not sure why they can’t figure out basic busy work. There’s nothing hard about it, other than focusing.

With a final press of a key, your personal printer hums to life. A staple and a paperclip and you’re done: now it’s just a quick trip to engineering and you can finally go home. Your work isn't physical, but God, hunching at a desk all day takes a toll on your body. A flare of something eats at your lower back as you stroll the empty building and try to rub the grit from your eyes. You think there’s a frozen pizza at home or maybe some pasta-- though, you can’t remember if that was from this monday or last monday. Maybe it’d be safer to just throw it away.

The department itself  is a long row of cubicles, with miscellaneous machines and computers littering the other side of the room. You recognize old prototypes and parts of Prome's most famous product: a hospital bed. 

Before you had set foot in this building, you never thought a bed could count as a medical device -- or as something highly complicated and thoroughly engineered -- but this bed is different. It’s comfortable, lightweight, and durable, all while able to track a patient’s movement and comfort. It even records a patient's glucose, body temperature, SPO2, and many other medical things that go over your head. When used correctly, bedsores rates have been reduced to nearly zero and hospital related illnesses are caught significantly earlier.

In about three months, the newest model will be released, complete with full integration into electronic record systems. If everything goes according to plan, it’ll be revolutionary. Working here is a headache, but you do take pride that it's a company that does good. 

“Do you need something?” 

You jump at the sound of the voice, flipping around to search the room. Tucked at the end of it all is an open office door. Inside, Aizawa is perched at his desk, head in one hand, reading glasses in the other.  He’s illuminated only by the computer screen, his deep, dark eyes bouncing side to side as he carefully reads.

 Aizawa always looks tired, but now so especially; his heavy lidded eyes are drooped with fatigue and his skin is pallor, black stubble dusting his unshaved cheeks. There’s no bite or annoyance to his voice-- maybe even a little levity. For once, you don’t want to scurry away from him like a mouse, hiding in the shadows and corners to avoid his claws.  You still approach cautiously, heels sharp against the tile. The silence in between each hit makes your skin prick with an unknown nausea. 

“I thought everyone went home.” You say. 

“Everyone did. Just me-- and you, apparently.” He taps out a word or two. His office is devoid of personal items, desk covered in nothing but stacks of papers and illegible post notes, nothing to hint to his personal life. It’s been three years, yet you have no idea what his personal life is like-- if he even has one, that is.

“No slippers tonight?”

That was either a dig or a joke. You aren’t sure either way, but the way your shoes sound when you walk even closer feels like its own answer. When you reach the corner of his desk, he finally looks your way. It hits you that you've never actually been this close to him before. It's always been passes in the hall and distant conversations. His skin is smoother than you'd thought it'd be, with creases between his brow that fill themselves when he-

“Do you… need something?”

“Oh, uh-- Denki left these at my desk by accident,” you lie, sliding the file on to the corner of his desk. “I think they’re for you.”

He regards you again, more thoroughly this time. With a tilt of his head, he inspects your face, eyes flickering between your two. In the dim, they’re nothing but black dots, an inkinesss that you could fall into if you were any closer. 

He’s pretty.  And that’s an unsettling thought. You’ve never allowed yourself to consider that before. Immediately, you walk the thought back. No. Nobody with his personality is attractive-- hands down. Touya is the only dick you need in your life. 

“You should go home. It's late.” he says before turning back to his work. He types a couple things, then hits the backspace and deletes it all again. “Go home.”

Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you sigh, the workday catching up to you. “You should too.” 

“Hm,” he grunts. He takes a long sip from his thermos, tipping it back to suck the dregs. You’d never noticed the sticker of the bottom before- a faded and torn image of an orange cat.  “Maybe.”

That’s a no. You don’t push the issue. You start towards the door, then pause. 

“Do… do you want me to make another pot of coffee before I go?” You’re not sure why you offer. Everything’s been put away and cleaned for tomorrow. It’d take at least 15 minutes to set up again. 

Aizawa slides his glasses back on, adjusting them by the bridge, only for them to slip right back down the flat bridge of his nose.

“You don't have to do that.” 

With that you leave, no proper goodnight dismissing you. The tap of your heels and the clack of his keyboard mix into some sort of soft, unbalanced rhythm. Despite yourself, you think of Touya, of where he is and where he isn’t. Is it also quiet there? Has he thought of someone else in the same way you just did?

When the doors of the building close and the security guard nods your way, the sound of percolation echoes behind you, the final drops falling into a freshly brewed pot.

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter fifteen

Summary: After the sudden deaths of her mother and grandmother, y/n is forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke her heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, she vows to get to the bottom of her former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what she’s expecting.

a/n: Will I remain posting regularly? That remains to be seen by everyone, myself included....Because every single time I say something, I end up accidentally not posting for weeks. Anyways, enjoy!

Series Masterlist

word count: 2.7k

Two nights later, all Bruce could think about was that Alfred had been right. 

He should have told y/n the truth while he had the chance.

“Where are you going?” 

A full day had passed since y/n found the picture in the elevator, and she half-expected Bruce’s voice to be a dream when she turned around. She hadn’t slept much, except for a brief few hours where her body literally had shut down and forced her into unconsciousness. Fear was her constant companion, but now, when she turned to see Bruce standing behind her with his arms crossed, anger cut through the fog of fear like a spear of flame. 

She mirrored his stance and crossed her own arms. “I’m going to let it slide since we’re all stressed, but try to boss me around again and see what happens.” 

Both of their jaws were clenched tightly shut. 

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. She could practically hear the words come out of his mouth, That’s not an answer. 

“I asked Gordon to come up,” she finally said, caving, though the anger still simmered below the surface. The nerve that Bruce Wayne had to barely be home, to barely care about her, and still try to boss her around all the same. She was this close to punching him in the face or pushing him down the stairs. Or maybe she would pour ice cubes in his bed next time he was asleep. “And if you’re going to bother me every single time I’m next to the fucking elevator, think again.”

Bruce relaxed marginally, completely ignoring her barbed comment–which was probably for the best. She had no energy left to really fight, anyways. 

Most of that energy had gone towards a preliminary article she had just submitted about the Gallo family. She hadn’t released any details about her involvement with them, merely reporting the fact that they were trying to make a move on Gotham. 

She had debated doing the article at all. Was it better to pretend like nothing was happening? Was it better to keep her head down and wait for it to resolve itself, whether because of Gordon and the Batman or through the Gallos finally getting to her? 

But then she realized that the people of Gotham deserved the truth, or at least as much of it she could get away with. She was already a target, but she didn’t need everyone else knowing that. 

So she had simply decided to send an article to print that Gotham was on the brink of another mob takeover, just like all of the business with Falcone and Maroni and everyone else who had corrupted their city. 

If only half of the city shared her views, y/n knew that they wouldn’t be happy with someone else trying to worm their way into their city. Gotham might be a shithole, but it was their shithole. 

The moment she had hit send, it had hit her. 

She didn’t want to be a sitting duck. She wanted to do something about it. She wanted those bastards gone. She wanted the work Bella Real and the Batman and cops like Gordon had done in the last year to stick–or at least have the chance of doing so. 

She had called Gordon, told him she wanted to talk over some things, that she needed company anyways. 

And now there she was, staring down the man who had broken her heart, waiting on Gordon to arrive on the elevator behind her. 

“Gordon and I are going to have a private conversation,” she said pointedly as the elevator doors slid open behind her. 

“Y/n,” Gordon said in greeting, but she still didn’t turn around. She and Bruce were still in the middle of their standoff. “Mr. Wayne. Good to see you again, at least under more…normal circumstances than last time.” 

She raised an eyebrow at Bruce. She could tell he wanted to argue, wanted to stick around and stick his nose even further into her business. But after a long silence, he inclined his head and said, “Detective,” before turning and disappearing back the way he had come. 

Once Bruce was safely out of earshot, she gave Gordon her full attention and said what had been on her mind the past couple of hours. Or, if she was being completely honest, the past several days.

“I want you to use me as bait, and I don’t want you to argue about it. I want you to help me actually figure out how to get rid of these motherfuckers.” She crossed her arms again for good measure.  

Gordon sighed, long and loud. She expected an argument or a lecture or a combination of the two. But instead, all he said was, “We better bring our other friend into this discussion.” 

–

“Absolutely not,” was the very first thing the Batman said when she laid out her plan. 

“Yeah, well, as I like to point out to certain other people in my life, you’re not the boss of me. I’m going to do something stupid with or without your help, because I am fucking sick of this. Alright? I can’t live like this.” She shivered as a particularly brutal gust of wind cut through her. 

They were on top of the signal tower. She and Gordon had decided together that it was easier to smuggle her out than it would be to smuggle Batman in. Besides, she didn’t want those two parts of her life mixing. God forbid Bruce find out what she was up to. She was arguing with him enough already. 

Not to mention the fact that she didn’t want to disappoint Alfred, or cause him any more stress than she already had. 

The smuggling had taken a willing female detective–a nice woman in her late thirties name Lori Ayers–trading places with y/n. They were relatively the same height and build luckily enough, and Detective Ayers was already assigned to the security on Wayne Tower. An outfit switch, a fake detective badge, and lots of praying later, and there they were. Y/n had asked Gordon and Ayers if she could have a gun, but both of them had practically shouted no in her face. 

Gordon held up his hands, ever the peacekeeper. “Listen, man, I’m not saying we should put her in any unnecessary danger, but–” 

“The whole idea is unnecessary danger!” The Batman cut in. His voice echoed in the darkness of the night around them. 

Gordon continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “–but all I’m saying is that we aren’t any closer to catching these guys. None of us are. So if we can do something we know will draw them out…why not do it?” Gordon gave her a wry look. “And, like she said, it’s probably better to have us for backup before she does anything stupid on her own.” 

Y/n gave Batman a triumphant look as if to say See? I’m right. 

She studied him while he worked his jaw in annoyance. Was he sick of looking out for her? Because she was certainly sick of needing to be looked out for. She wanted to end it. 

“Fine,” he said, the word a growl he spat out. She tried to resist pumping her fist in the air, she really did. He gave her a Look with a capital L that had her lowering it immediately. “But let me just–let me follow this last lead, alright? If it doesn’t pan out, we’ll make a plan. Give me tonight before you do anything stupid.” 

She nodded eagerly. “Great, fine. I needed to get out of the house anyway.” Gordon was also giving her a Look. “What?” she said a bit defensively. 

“You’re awfully upbeat for someone who wants to offer herself up for bait to the mob.” He raised one dark eyebrow above the frames of his glasses. 

She shrugged. “Well, I have cabin fever, so this helped my mood immensely. Plus, the end is in sight. It’s about to be over, one way or another.” 

Later, when she thought back to that moment, she would wonder if she had jinxed it. Or maybe she was simply jinxed all along, one thing leading to another, leading to its inevitable end. Leading to the only possible way it could play out. Her luck, ever since stepping foot back in Gotham–and even before then, ever since Alfred had knocked on her apartment door–had been nonexistent. 

“One last lead,” Batman repeated, holding her gaze steadily for once. Something ran through her like an electric current at that look. Like he was trying to tell her something. 

“One last lead,” she said, crossing her heart for good measure. “I promise I’ll be good.” 

Gordon chuckled like he didn’t quite believe her. “Alright, let’s get back.” 

“I’ll follow you,” Batman said, interrupting her thoughts of how she was going to get Gordon to sneak her past Bruce and Alfred both. She hadn’t told either of them she was leaving, and she didn’t want to think about what they would say to her if they found out. It would only make her life that much harder. 

Her ride back with Gordon was mostly quiet. 

“Where did you get this fake badge anyways?” she asked when Wayne Tower’s doors finally came into view. She toyed with it, noting all the ways it looked like the real deal. Maybe she could hold onto it…just in case. 

“Confiscated it from a kid caught forging all kinds of stuff, including badges she used to get classified materials.” 

She. Interesting. Sounded like somebody y/n would like to hang out with. 

She didn’t say any of that out loud, however. All she did was hum and put the badge back on her belt. 

“And no, I won’t give you her name,” Gordon said. Their eyes met and they both laughed in tandem. 

“Fine, fine. I might be able to find it on my own anyway.” She winked. 

They parked in an alley where Gordon or the other detectives on stakeout duty usually parked. As they stepped out into the cold air, Gordon’s phone rang. 

“Just a second,” he said, stepping further towards the mouth of the alley. “I have to take this. Don’t move.” He pointed at threatening finger at her. She held up both hands in surrender. 

He needn’t have worried–the sound of an approaching motorcycle reached her ears as Batman pulled into the alley behind them. The noise reverberated off of the building walls for a moment before abruptly shutting off. Gordon locked eyes with him, inclined his head, and then answered the phone while striding towards the street ahead. 

“So,” she said casually to Batman as he stood broodily in the shadows. “Think I could have been a detective in another life?” She struck a little pose in her smart, borrowed business suit and trench coat, imagining the fake badge glinting in the low light. 

Batman made a noise that could have been a scoff or a laugh. “Sure, except you would have been fired for repeatedly breaking the rules. And laws.” 

She laughed delightedly. “You’re probably right.” She definitely had chosen the only profession that suited her nosiness and penchant for getting into trouble, something Bruce had pointed out years ago. 

“I’m definitely right.” 

They were closer together than she expected, the toes of their shoes almost touching. She wasn’t sure how that had happened. It was if they had both been drawn in by the other’s gravity, invisible and inevitable. He stared down at her for a moment before, of course, turning his face away. 

“There you go again,” she murmured as she memorized the line of his jaw. “Scared to look me in the eyes.” She reached out and poked his stubbled cheek gently. He froze, but didn’t make a move to step away. 

“I’m scared for you,” he said in an equally soft voice that sent shivers over her skin. “I don’t want you to have to offer yourself up. I don’t like thinking that I might not be able to keep you safe.” 

Y/n felt each of his words sink into her like rocks in a deep lake, sinking down and down and down until they settled at the bottom, heavy in her stomach. She was staring up at him now, their breath mingling, and he was finally, finally looking back. 

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. 

Instead, she did the next best thing. 

She stretched up onto her toes and kissed him. 

He went so still she immediately knew she had overstepped–and had overstepped badly. She quickly pulled away, face on fire, eyes straining to find anything to look at other than the rejection in his eyes. Stupid, that was so stupid. Just because he wanted her safe didn’t mean that he wanted her to kiss him. 

But before she got too far, his gloved hand caught her arm and tugged her closer. And then he was kissing her.

She inhaled deeply, her stomach doing somersaults in a way it had never done before. She was flying above Wayne Tower yet still somehow firmly rooted to the ground. It was like she could finally breathe again and yet somehow she was gasping for breath. His lips were gentle. One of his hands cupped her elbow while the other splayed across her upper back. She wished he had his gloves off, like that moment in another alley on another night. She wanted to feel his skin against hers. 

Then he was gone, a full step away. 

She couldn’t help it–her fingers traced her lips in a daze. 

They were staring at each other, both breathing slightly heavier than they had been before. 

“Alright, let’s go,” Gordon called from behind her somewhere. She couldn’t bring it within herself to care if he had seen or not. Her and the Batman were still staring at each other, in their own world, a seismic shift between them. 

“Goodnight,” she said, her voice low and raspy with want. 

“Be safe,” was all the Batman said as he watched her go. 

Gordon didn’t look at her like he had just seen them kissing, but she felt as if it were written all over her face. 

“Crime never sleeps,” he said to her as they walked the short distance to the doors. His head was constantly swiveling, searching for danger, and she knew a certain vigilante was watching from the shadows as well. 

Her entire body was electric, every nerve ending on fire, heat settling in her face and chest and lower, too. 

For once, she wasn’t wondering about who the Batman was. Her mind had been rendered totally blank by one kiss. She wasn’t even thinking about how he wasn’t Bruce Wayne, like every other kiss of her life. 

Instead it simply felt…right. 

She blinked and they were somehow inside. 

“Blake, can you escort Detective Ayers upstairs? I have to go to a crime scene.” Gordon gave Blake a long, searching look. Y/n knew that the moment the security guard looked up, he would recognize her. 

Sure enough, he did. His face did something complicated before he realized what Gordon said and stammered out, “S-sure. This way, Detective, um, Ayers.” He hit something on the computer keyboard, scrambling, having to hit whatever button it was a second time. 

“See you later,” Gordon said to her, the words full of meaning. 

She turned towards him and nodded. “Goodnight.” 

It felt stupid, pretending to be someone else in the lobby of her home, but they still didn’t know who had breached security two nights earlier. She knew it was better to be safe than sorry, but Blake knew who she was. What was to stop whoever worked for the Gallos from recognizing her as well? She imagined their pub, Maverick’s, covered in hundreds of stalkery photos of her. 

Gordon waved over his shoulder as she and Blake stepped into the elevator. As soon as the doors slid closed, y/n relaxed a bit. Everything was almost over. 

And she had kissed the Batman.

A smile grew on her face before she could stop it. 

When she glanced up, Blake was watching her. 

His upper lip and his hairline were beaded with sweat and he was much paler than normal. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, wondering if maybe he was sick. Something in her gut shivered with warning. 

“I’m so sorry–” he said, the words choked. “I’m so sorry. They have my sister.” 

That’s when she saw the glint of a needle in his hand.

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[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 90)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (68) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (23)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((3.4k))

Due to popular demand, I'm going to post a chapter bi-weekly, every Thursday and Sunday night until we hit Part 100!

YFN POV

“For someone so independent, you’re very needy,” Jordan chuckled.

YFN pouted, looking at her watch again. “They’ve been gone all fucking day. Surely that’s a bad thing?”

The slightly smaller woman shrugged. “Not necessarily. I mean, what if they’re just tying everything up with a pretty bow to make sure that it’s all sorted today? With both Lucy and Leah speaking, and then our testimonials, along with Ridley and Alexia, and your injury report, surely that’s enough to have Kristie locked up for the foreseeable future.”

Kristie. She never wanted to hear that name again. Lucy had no intention of letting her be in the same room as her, and Leah had offered to go as a character witness, knowing that her fame would make them realise how important of a case it was.

Jordan reached out and squeezed her hand. “It should be an open and shut case. Especially seeing as you didn’t want to go for the harshest punishment.”

“I just didn’t want her doing it to anyone else. She needed to know it was wrong.”

“Some jail time and community service will definitely get the message across.”

“And restraining orders…” she murmured. That had been Lucy’s non-negotiable.

“Leah there is going to throw a spanner in the works too. Her platform is massive. No one in their right mind will want her publicly speaking about how Kristie got away with her friends being stalked and then assaulted to the point of this.”

She gestured to YFN sitting up in the hospital bed.

She squeezed her hand. “Thanks for being here, Dory.”

Jordan’s little smile took over from her serious, friend look. “Of course, mate. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

A few minutes later Lucy’s doctor returned, or rather, her doctor too.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” he said as he stood next to her bed with a gentle smile. He was one of those men that you were always comfortable around. The benevolent type. “The scans are good - better than I expected given your… history.” Another smile, though this one was sympathetic. “Would you like the good news or the very good news first?”

She felt herself let go of tension she didn’t realise she’d been holding.

“Save the best for last.”

“Very well.” He put the scans up on the light box and pointed to her collarbone. “The second surgery went well. The screws are holding, though I’m afraid I need you in the sling to keep it immobile for the next 4 weeks or so..”

She sighed, though knew it was the case. Her Christmas was officially in a sling.

He continued. “Unless there’s an incident, or any issues with pain, I won’t need to give it a check-up until just prior to Christmas, and then I’m hoping to have you out of it for the new year.”

She smiled and nodded. “Well, that’s positive…”

He moved onto the next two x-rays. “Your forearm and wrist are healing well, though I’m afraid the cast will need to remain on for the next 6-8 weeks. We’ll give you a check-up when we get rid of the sling. Your jaw is also healing nicely, I know the bruising has been persistent, but expect it to be gone in the next week or so..”

“I can handle the cast,” she chuckled. “My shoulder is just in need of a good movement.”

She’d just wanted to swing her arm around, to roll her shoulder, instead of having it stuck where it was. It was a level of frustrating that bordered on pain.

“There are a few small massages that you can do to help, though you’ll need to be quite gentle with them, and careful not to shift your collarbone too much.”

He handed her a sheet with the exercises.

“Lucy can help with these. Any issues, give me a call.”

“Thank you,” she replied, gratefully. She was always grateful at the opportunity for Lucy to touch her more.

Jordan took the sheet interestedly and looked over it.

“Now onto your ribs. They’ve been thrown around a bit…” he looked at her with eyebrows raised and she blushed, knowing full well that she’d been abusing them a little too much with Lucy. “…which I understand.” He was politely giving her an out. “You already had several past injuries and you’re very limited with your movements given your state, and so it’s understandable that your ribs are catching the brunt of it. Though, you’ll need to be more mindful. No overexertion. No twisting yourself. No…excessive movements.”

To his credit, he did seem entertained by it.

“I think you should call Lucy and tell her that directly,” Jordan joked.

YFN’s mouth dropped open, though he and Jordan shared a good chuckle at her expense. She made a mental note to not tell Lucy so that she didn’t lose any part of her sex life.

“Now onto your kneecap…”

She braced herself for bad news, but how could it be, when he’d said the worst of it first?

“It was only ever a minor crack, however I wanted you to keep your full weight off of it as you can’t exactly use crutches. I’m going to keep the brace on, however you can walk on it again.”

She grinned – her first thought being that Lucy was going to be so happy. She could picture her face lighting up now.

“Now don’t overdo it. Don’t put all of your weight onto it at once. Place your foot on the ground and ease your weight onto it. It’s a slow process, but you need to build that habit up so you’re not overdoing it. The brace will be on for another few weeks, and I’m hoping to take it off just before Christmas.”

No brace for Christmas. Lucy was going to be thrilled.

“Hoping…” he said again, making sure she understood that it was only a possibility at this stage. “…and you can take the brace off for showers now, just don’t put all of your weight on it in the shower.”

No more garbage bags. She nodded. “Thanks, Doc.”

They finished up with him, getting her scripts for medication and some more information. Lucy, ever the anatomy fanatic, would want to know every detail possible. Especially because it was her.

She walked slowly to the car, relished the feel of being able to use her legs like legs again. She was officially The Little Mermaid.

She groaned the relief for her hips and lower back as she did so, knowing this would take a lot of strain from Lucy needing to carry her around.

She slipped into Miles, Lucy’s car, and Jordan slipped into the driver’s seat. The footballers had taken Leah’s Mercedes as it was lower to get into and Lucy hadn’t wanted her dropping into the seat and struggling to get out.

It was later in the afternoon now, and she looked at the time, wondering why it was all taking so long.

“Celebration dinner?” Jordan asked.

“Why do I feel like you all had this planned already?”

“Maybe. You know Lucy…”

“Has she messaged you?!” She looked over at Jordan who seemed to barely be able to see over the steering wheel. She gave a sympathetic smile. “No, sorry. But the table is still booked, so maybe we should see if they make it? I would suggest Katie and Caitlin but they’re not in town. Most of the girls are with their international squads. We can ask Alex but Jill is in Manchester. There’s a few other’s in town.. LJ and Keira, maybe?”

“Oh, that’s an idea!”

Jordan gave them both a call. LJ wasn’t available, however Keira and Georgia were. They met them at the Italian restaurant Lucy had booked and made a night of it. The girls joked about how they’d be in trouble if they were caught eating carbs when they were in season, though YFN had convinced them that they’d deserved it after their hard fought victory over the Netherlands. The more she got to know Keira, the more she got along with her. She opened up slowly, though at the end of the day, they both thought similarly, and had a similar sense of humour.

It was also one of the first times she’d been close and in intimate conversation with Georgia since she’d caught the first kiss between her and Lucy. They spoke about the game, Scotland, how much they needed to win by, Lumos and the interviews. The three footballers had a good catch up now that they all played for different teams, and they saw less of Jordan.

The two opted to skip dessert as they’d apparently already been too bad, though once they saw Jordan and YFN’s desserts, they couldn’t help but try a taste.

When their dinner was ending, she checked her phone and her stomach sank.

“Still nothing?” Jordan asked, seeing her reaction.

She gave a sigh. “No. You?”

She shook her head.

“Doesn’t usually take this long, surely?” Georgia asked. “What, are they hand delivering her to jail?”

“There must be a good reason…” Keira comforted. “Either way, we have time to do the interview if you want?”

They were being efficient, with Keira offering at dinner to come over and do the couch interview that YFN had suggested was best to ease the ‘Wonze’ fanatics of the internet. She still didn’t know Keira well, though she could see that she’d offered partly because not only did she want to get it over and done with, as she hated interviews, but she knew YFN needed a distraction from the current legal situation that Lucy and Leah were tied up in. She called Bridget and Emily to see if they were available last minute for the interview. They were more than eager, as she knew they would be, though still offered them extra pay for the inconvenience.

After dinner, they made their way to Lucy’s and settled in, Bridget and Emily setting up for the interview while she ran through queries with Keira prior to it.

“Did you read the questions and prompts I sent..?”

She hadn’t expected her to, as the interview wasn’t supposed to take place until later in the month, however things seemed to be working this way for her for some reason.

Keira nodded, asking questions and YFN couldn’t help but be impressed at her eye for detail.

She’d said that Jordan and Georgia didn’t have to stay, but they’d insisted, wanting to catch up on lost time.

The interview went for just over an hour, though it was exactly what she’d wanted. Keira had not been tense at all, and she was proud of herself for creating such an environment. To be fair, she even felt like she’d flirted with her a little, which had surprised the Australian. She’d never seen an interview with Keira so comfortable before. Hopefully that would suppress the ‘Wonze’ fanatics who’d been sending her so much hate on social media.

Keira took photos for their interview, while she answered Georgia’s questions about the content process. She had very little content outside of the Lionesses as she played at Bayern Munich and they weren’t exactly known for their social media. They didn’t have time for another interview that night as the girls had training the next day before flying out to Scotland, and needed to get rest.

They all left, though Jordan stayed with her. She looked at her watch as they walked out of the door. 8pm. She hadn’t heard from Lucy since 7am.

She sighed, dropping her hand in defeat. Jordan gave her a cuddle. “They’ll be home soon..”

She cuddled into her friend, allowing herself to relax when her phone buzzed. She jumped immediately and grimaced at the pain that shot through her body as she grabbed for her phone.

Joe calling…

At this time of night?

“Hey, Joe,” she answered, feeling awkward calling her that.

“Hello, YFN. How are you?” Her voice sounded as soft and regally calm as ever. It was comforting to her.

“I’m doing well. It’s late – is everything okay?”

“Oh, yes. I was calling to check in on the hearing today. Did it go well?”

She wondered if she’d used any of her influence to help the situation. Her voice suggested that perhaps she had, though just a little.

“Luce and Leah aren’t home yet. They’ve been gone for over 13 hours.”

“I see. It’s not unusual, though. I’d like an update when they’re done, please. I need to make sure this is all wrapped up so that you’re safe.”

Seeing as you don’t want the security team I offered, she could practically hear her saying. Catherine was worried about her, which made her feel loved. She’d never had that from a mother figure beyond her grandma. Her heart softened.

“Thank you…” she said, gratefully. “I’ll let you know when I know. Also, I had a check up today. Everything is healing well, and I can now walk, albeit gently.”

“I read the report you sent through,” YFN could hear the smile in her voice. “I was very happy to read that. Hopefully you can be moving a bit more freely by the new year.”

“Fingers crossed!”

She gave a light laugh. “Mine certainly are. Now, I was thinking about the Gala event this week that Lucy and Alessia are doing this week. We’re a bit on the back foot with everything since there’s so much going on, however I was hoping that the timing will work out to have our own Lumos event this week, on Friday or Saturday perhaps. Do you think we could get any high profile players in that time?”

“How many were you thinking?”

“Ten maximum. I don’t want the focus to be lost if there are too many.”

“Well, Lucy will be with me for a little before headed back to Barca. Most girls will be back with their teams by then. I think I can get Jordan Nobbs, Leah Williamson, potentially any players from the WSL, and also perhaps… perhaps…”

“Perhaps?”

She pondered. “Perhaps… Alexia. That’s a big maybe, though.”

“Alexia would be the white whale, if we could get her on. Otherwise, it sounds great. Perhaps some other nationalities too, if you can?”

“Coaches too?” She asked, trying to think who would be available at a moment’s notice. “I could ask Sarina. Emma. I could get Caitlin for Australia, Katie for Ireland, Yui for Japan, Ashley for Canada, or similar if they're not available?”

“Brilliant. I do hate to drop this on you last minute, though I have been wanting to get it done before the rush prior to Christmas. If you could look through availability and give me a date and names, I’ll work on booking a location for Friday or Saturday so we can start promoting it.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thank you, YFN. About tomorrow night, I have a location to meet. I’m assuming Lucy will be coming also?”

“I think Leah and Jordan have a right to be there too.”

She could practically hear her nodding. “I’ve sent the location and time to Mark. I have an aircraft departing at night for you. I’ll put you all on the manifest. You may need to clear it with the Lioness management.”

“Leah will handle that…”

“Perfect. I’ll send you the flight details.”

“Cath-” She cut herself off. “Are you sure about this?”

“There’s only so much hiding I can do. This is an unnecessary evil, unfortunately. You’ve been through too much already. I won’t have you fighting him too. I’m hoping to finish this once and for all with him tomorrow night, though from then on, my intention is still to be the silent partner while you are the face of Lumos. Has anything changed for you in regards to that?”

The empathy in her voice had YFN feeling comfortable. Comfortable enough that she could have said no, and Catherine would have accepted it without question.

“Nothing has changed on my end. I’m just very eager to get us onto a schedule where I’m not chasing my tail with interviews and events.” She chuckled. Catherine shared in her chuckle.

“Oh, I know. I’ve been hoping the exact same. It’s good to hear we’re on the same page, though. We’ll speak more tomorrow night. Until then – keep me posted on the hearing and anything you need at all, let me know.”

YFN and Jordan fell asleep on the couch, their feet overlapping under the blanket they shared as their heads were at opposite ends. She wasn’t sure how long she slept for, however she was woken by a warm kiss to the cheek and Lucy’s deep, comforting voice. “I’m here, little one. Everything’s okay.”

“Luce?” She mumbled, half asleep. She opened one eye, followed drearily by the other as she looked at her favourite person. Her expression was peaceful, which calmed the Australian.

She looked down at Jordan who was sitting up with Leah next to her, the two talking quietly. She looked back at Lucy.

“What happened?”

“It’s done, little one.”

She tried to prop herself up, and Lucy helped her, wrapping a strong arm around her waist to pull her up into a sitting position. “It took that long?”

“The incident happened in Spain, so we were delayed due to that, however someone pulled some strings for us.” Catherine. Lucy gave her a knowing look. “Without her, this would have been dragged out for weeks.”

“It’s done?”

She nodded as she reached out to stroke the yellowing bruises on her jaw. “Jail time for a period. Community service for the rest, as you didn’t want her to be stuck in there for the maximum time. Restraining orders for life. She won’t be attending any games in the future. And she apologised. It’s done.”

“She…apologised?”

“Mainly to me, but yes. She cried a lot.”

“That must have been hard…”

“Yes and no. I don’t like seeing someone upset, but she did hurt the person I love so… my empathy was not there for her. I’m just happy it’s all over.” She leant forward and gave her a soft kiss on the temple. “What did you two get up to, love?”

“We had dinner with Keira and Georgia,” Jordan said from across the couch.

Leah gave YFN a smile. She looked tired.

Lucy was caught off guard. “Oh?”

“It was great,” she reassured, putting her hand under the collar of her shirt, and on that strong collarbone of hers. “I did my couch interview with Keira after it.”

Lucy looked impressed, though like she had questions for when they were alone. She didn’t blame her.

“And?” Jordan prompted.

“Oh! And Lumos wants to host a public event with 10 female footballers in London this Friday or Saturday. Are you all free?”

“You know I am,” Lucy murmured, leaning her head against hers.

“I’ll be in town.” Leah answered.

“You already know I’m in.” Jordan agreed, looking at Leah. YFN hadn’t realised until just then that it must have been a while since they’d done something like that together in public.

“And I messaged Riddles, hoping to get Alexia if she’s back in town…”

“Mmn. I’m sure it’ll all be perfect. You’re good at the last minute organising,” Lucy teased.

She rolled her eyes. “And whose fault is that?”

She gave an innocent look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I do wonder how the doctor went today? I have an email titled: ‘No funny business.’”

Jordan cackled. Actually cackled. YFN blushed, a little embarrassed and frustrated that she had to tell her. Lucy didn’t understand. Bless her, she was incredibly smart, though a lot less quick for these types of situations.

“Everything is healing well apart from my…ah…ribs. They’ve not been having the rest they should.”

“I believe he said they’ve been ‘thrown around a bit’…” Jordan offered.

Lucy clicked and gave a guilty look. Before she could speak, YFN jumped in, trying to distract her with ten different things to keep her mind away from limiting sex with her.

“But everything else is healing well… hoping to be out of the sling by the new year and the knee brace by Christmas. Also, I can officially walk.” She gave a proud smile. “No more looking for the wheelchair in Scotland, Luce. I’ll be the one-armed flamingo with the Australian flag.”