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reiderwriter · 5 months

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Unhappy Holidays

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors dni, enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Prompt Request: #50"You're so fucking obsessed with me.” #82"Really? Because your pussy is saying something different, sweetheart.” #93"Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

A/N: This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins November/December Office Party writing challenge! I'm sorry I've been so busy recently, but the holiday season really does take a lot of effort to get through at work lmao. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more over my vacation! For now, enjoy some very unserious smut~♡ (as if I write any other kind).

Here's a link to my masterlist, where you can find all my work!~☆

Working with the FBI was no walk in the park, which, from your desk at the opposite corner of the bullpen, Spencer Reid sure made it look like.

Working on adjacent teams for the last three years had become gradually infuriating. You were forever in the man's orbit, stuck dealing with the other women on your team sat giggling about him and his many stupid haircuts, and wondering just how far you'd fallen to have to stare at his stupid face 5 days a week.

If you were unlucky. His team did happen to be out on cases a lot more, whereas yours handled correspondence and consulting cases, a cushy and safe job.

It annoyed you to no end that you had multiple field-based qualifications, extensive fire arms training and were top of your class at the academy only to be relegated yo desk duty whilst boy wonder with his doctorates was allowed to trip over his own feet catching actual killers.

Other people wondered where your dislike of the man sprang from, and you could only let out a disgruntled squeak and tell them your horror stories.

A few months into your job, your been fresh faced and bushy tailed or however that saying goes, and overly eager to take any assignment that came your way. Even if the assignment was baby-sitting an injured Doctor Spencer Reid. He'd been shot whilst out on a case whilst trying to talk down an unsub, and you'd jumped at the chance to get to know him.

He was an office legend, of course, though those days it was more for his characteristic lack of social graces rather than the beauty he'd grown into. You'd been so eager to get to pick his brains, find out how he'd managed to score the position on the BAU at such an early age.

Reality had hit you square in the face when he'd spent a week ignoring you, making you run around like a headless chicken searching for hard copies of documents the FBI had digitised a millennia ago, and hadn't so much as spared you a glance.

The straw that broke the camel's back came as you were running back to him triumphant with a document he'd requested eight hours before and had let yourself into Penelope Garcia’s office quietly, only to hear him bad mouthing you.

“She makes me uncomfortable. I've had her out searching for useless files all day because I don't know what to do with her.”

“She's trying to help, Spencer, it's her job right now, cut her some slack.”

“Her job is currently getting in the way of mine. I even tried writing my own doctor's note so I could get rid of her, but Hotch wouldn't allow it.”

You'd dropped the file loudly on the table, watched the two spin around with horrified looks and turned silently and left the room.

He hadn't once tried to find you after that, and you let your apprenticeship under Doctor Reid quietly fizzle out as you got back to your regular work.

Your resentment still burned though.

Each time you'd been caught in the same elevator with him, you'd ignored him to an almost insane degree, enjoying the way he squirmed and tried to make small talk.

You'd been in contact with JJ and his Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner as well, through cases you'd recommended, but always maintained your cold shoulder.

The one place you could not ignore him, however, was a Penelope Garcia party.

After you'd slammed the file down on her desk, Penelope had guiltily sent you a gift basket filled with sweet treats and books, and had hounded you for a week to make sure your feelings weren't too damaged by her friend's stupidity.

You actually liked her, and found at least one silver lining to the storm that was Spencer Reid ripping through your life.

In the three years since the “incident,” you'd found yourself at three parties where Penelope in all of her heartwarming ways had tried her best to force a reconciliation between the two of you, to disastrous results.

The first was a Halloween party, and you'd been incredibly proud of your Princess Laia costume when you'd arrived. Only until you'd gone to the kitchen to top up your drink to hear Spencer Reid boring some guest or the other about how Star Trek was more advanced, and had a richer plot line.

Penelope had stepped into the kitchen just as he'd caught a glimpse of your (rather skimpy) outfit - yes, you'd chosen swimsuit Laia, yes, you were going to own it - and had immediately jumped into introductions, as if you weren't already intimately acquainted.

“Spencer! This is Y/N! She loves Halloween, too, she makes all of her costumes. You guys should talk.” She'd led the other guest away and left you there with Spencer as you'd awkwardly looked upon his own costume.

“Are you the Tenth Doctor?” You asked begrudgingly, noting his pin-striped suit and the shorter hairstyle he'd chosen.

“Are you a fan? I prefer the original show run more than the current stuff, but David Tennant has really been doing a wonderful-”

“I'm sorry, let me stop you there. I don't watch Doctor Who. I guess I prefer something with a… How should I say, richer plot?”

He'd snapped his mouth shut and didn't have chance to open it again before you turned dramatically and walked away from him.

The second party you'd been cornered into was just over a year later.

Having been stuck in the office over Halloween, Penelope was determined to get in one last celebration before Christmas steam-rolled every other holiday, and thus you'd been invited to her single-people-only-friendsgiving-potluck, and you'd found yourself having to navigate knocking on her door with a casserole dish in your hands.

Luckily a large hand had appeared from behind you and knocked on the door for you. Unfortunately, the sudden shock from the silent appearance of a man right behind you startled you so much that the dish fell straight from your hands anyway.

Penelope opened her door upon hearing the crash and you whirled on your would-be attacker.

It was Spencer again, eyes round in shock, hand still curled into a fist.

You took a calming breath as you gathered yourself, trying not to bite his head off. You wanted to scream and shout and rip his head out but you didn't, instead letting the fury drip into your voice as you finally opened your eyes again.

“That dish took me four fucking hours to make.” You huffed in anger once more as Penelope guided you into the apartment and poured you a glass of wine before you moved back to the entry hall to clean it up again.

Needless to say he didn't care to converse with you after that.

A few small parties in between had been blissfully Spencer-less and you'd lulled yourself into a false sense of security. That's when you accepted the Christmas party invitation.

As one of the unlucky few members of the FBI who had to stay out over christmas in case of some emergency or the other, you'd been grounded in Virginia, unable to travel home for the holidays. So Penelope Garcia's singles-only-Christmas-fun-time-Party was your last ditch effort to spend the holidays actually resting and eating good food.

Learning from last time, Penelope reassured you that there was no potluck, that she had prepared all the food herself, and all you'd need were a bottle of wine and a willingness to party.

You'd taken those recommendations as law and had immediately let yourself into a glass of mulled wine as you arrived, and - noticing that the party was Reid-free - had allowed it to raise your Christmas spirits slightly more than you usually would.

By hour two of the event, you were full of yuletide joy and swaying freely along to the tune of Silent Night.

Spencer’s late entrance really would have gone unnoticed by you had you not bumped face first into his chest as you spun yourself around in your dance, his hands quickly falling to your hips to steady you.

The few moments it took you to gather yourself were about as long as you needed to realised that he'd caught you in his arms underneath the mistletoe. And with your mind fogged by mulled-whatever-it-was-Penelope-mixed-into-that-punch, the part of your brain that objected to the very existence of Spencer Reid went silent, and the incredibly tiny and somewhat damaged part of your brain that instead saw him as attractive started shouting loud instructions.

Before your common sense could return, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss the very warm, very close man holding you upright.

“Mistletoe,” you muttered as you clawed his arms off of you and took yourself straight to Penelope's bathroom to throw up.

So yes, your acquaintance with Spencer Reid had never been good, and you were perfectly fine with resenting him from afar, privately.

With three years of bad experiences under your belt, you weren't excited at completing your yearly tradition of horrendous interaction. Which is perhaps why you immediately and loudly protested Penelope’s New Years Eve party invitation.

“Y/N, it's a party. What's the worst that can happen?” She pleaded as she followed you down the corridors of the office building.

“I could see Spencer Reid. I could be forced to converse with Spencer Reid. I could get absolutely wasted and kiss Spencer Reid. There, three options, please accept my resignation from partying.”

“Y/N we both know you don't drink anymore, so at least one of those is unlikely to happen. And Spencer might not even come, he has tickets for an indie theatre from 6pm onwards, they're playing some Russian movie from the 60s that's like 4 hours long or something. So u retire yourself and tell me you'll come?” She had to take three or four steps for each of your own, not that you were so different in height but because you were practically marching in order to avoid the topic.

But you finally stopped and let out a sigh as you turned back to Penelope who stopped just before she ran into you.

“You're sure he won't be there?”

“I'm sure he RSVP’d no.”

“Fine. But I'm not drinking and I will still be expecting the Penelope Garcia virgin punch experience.”

“Bring the party poppers and you have a deal.”

“Done.”

–X–

Over the week since you'd accepted the invitation, you'd made peace with it. For the most part, you did love a Penelope Garcia production. There was something wonderful about your friend and her ability to brighten anyone's mood, an ability that was only heightened at holidays. She was like a glittered goddess gaining power when worshippers used her altar, except the altar was her house and the worship was a range of hallmark-induced holidays.

You arrived at the party at 10pm, and though that was the start time you'd been given, you weren't surprised to see a full house of Penelope’s team mates already in attendance. Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss sat spread across the sofa in the living room area, and you noticed a few techie friends also grabbing drinks and chatting.

“Y/N, I'm so glad you're here! You remember everyone on the team, right?” She pulled you into a hug and then sat you down in the middle of the group, waiting for you to mingle and become comfortable before she ran off to more hostess duties.

“Of course, nice to see you guys.” You grabbed your promised punch and sat back comfortably, striking up a conversation with Emily about how bleak the dating scene had been recently.

“It seems like all the men around me are jackasses,” Emily muttered and you giggled along.

“I'm wounded,” Morgan shot back, a hand pressed to his chest in faux pain.

“Good. You're like a lion out there in the clubs stalking gazelles, it's like watching a nature documentary when you're out there.”

You almost snorted your entire drink up your nose as Emily finished, needing to compose yourself for a second.

“I guess the men on our team aren't great with romance,” JJ laughed and took a swing. “Hotch and Rossi have four divorces between them, and Derek here is a lost cause.”

“Our only hope is young Spencer. May he grow into a respectful young gentleman and break out curse,” Emily toasted.

“Oh that ship has sailed,” your laugh this time was bitter, your mood immediately growing sour with even the smallest mention of Spencer Reid.

“Ah, Penelope mentioned you had a problem with our boy wonder. Care to share?”

You opened your mouth to give your standard non-answer and move the conversation along, but you were interrupted.

“Yes, Y/N, care to share? I am slightly curious about that as well.” You turned around and there he was, and your stomach turned in disgust.

Just one time, just one party. You'd been having fun, and here he was to ruin it.

“What are you doing here?” you gaped up at him, unsurprised to see him still decked out in sweater vest and slacks even in his down time.

“I was invited.”

“You declined, Penelope said you had movie tickets.”

“Ticket, singular. And it was cancelled so here I am. What's your problem with me, Y/N?” His jaw clenched and he grabbed the back of your chair and leaned down. It was supposed to be intimidating, but you rolled your eyes. When he looked that attractive, veins in his arms popping out of the sleeves he'd pulled up, you couldn't see him as intimidating. His arms were distracting yes, but God that was nothing compared to his thighs. His pants were tight, and you thanked whatever Clueless tailor had sewn them, because you now allowed yourself a momentary lapse to enjoy the appearance of his lower body.

You tried to shake the thought of his attractiveness from your mind, reminding yourself where you were and in what company.

“I don't think I need to answer that. I think I'll enjoy holding it over your head instead,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather your things.

“Wait, Y/N, where are you going? New Year isn't for another 30 minutes.” Penelope scrambled over and grabbed your hand, pleading with you to stay.

“I'm sorry Pen, but there's just this very annoying bug buzzing around me, and I think I need to get away from it.” You said your goodbyes and excused yourself from the party, happy to have walked away relatively undamaged.

Fate had other plans, and as you stepped out of the apartment building ready to walk yourself home, a hand caught yours from behind as a voice chased you.

“Y/N, wait. I'll go. You go back inside.”

“And return with my tail tucked between my legs after making a grand exit? I'll pass, thanks boy genius.” You shook yourself from his grasp and made to walk away again, but he quickly matched your pace and stepped into your path, cutting you off.

“I can't let you walk home. It's like 40° out here, and your coat is more style than substance.”

“Get into a car with a stranger? I'm sure you of all people know how stupid that sounds.” You stuck a finger out and poked his chest, but he grabbed your hand and held it in place as he spat out his next words.

“I'm not a stranger, I'm the man you're obsessed with, Y/N. Big difference.” You laughed, mostly in shock at his indignance, but he stared at your face as serious as could be.

“Me? Obsessed with you? I'm not the one who followed a woman they're barely acquainted with out of a party filled with all of my friends. Sounds like you're projecting, Spencer.”

“Am I?” He questioned, stepping closer and grabbing your hip as he continued his questioning. “I wasn't the one who was sat there talking about me with all of my colleagues.”

“Well, I wasn't the one who turned up to a party I'd declined an invitation to.”

He was imperceptibly close now, hand gripping your hip so tight you wondered if it'd leave you with a mark.

“I certainly was not the one who initiated a kiss last year, Y/N. You need to face the facts, you're so fucking obsessed with me.” If his hands had you feeling dizzy, his words were completely knocking the sense out of you. Suddenly you returned to the person you'd been under that Mistletoe, and everything from his closeness to the rough edge to his voice begged you to do it once again.

“Go fuck yourself,” was about all the words you could manage as he finally let his lips fall down and crush into your own.

You should've pushed him away, but instead your traitorous body wanted to prove his point, opening up for him faster than you'd opened up to anyone else before.

His tongue flicked against your lips and you gladly let him explore your mouth, opening up to tangle your tongue with his.

He tasted sweet, like the punch Penelope had handed you earlier, only now you wondered if someone had accidentally laced it with how free you were being with your affections.

He resurfaced for air, but you didn't care if there was nothing in your lungs at all if it meant that his lips would engage your own in battle once again.

“Look how much you want me,” he smirked. “Look how needy you are after a single kiss, chasing my lips like that.”

“You and your big fucking mouth. I wish you'd shut up once in a while.”

“I'll make it my new year’s resolution.” His lips joined your own again, and you clashed hard, exploring as much as you could muster as he pulled you in the direction of his car.

“I'm not driving… home… with you,” you growled between kisses, trying not to put your teeth to his neck and bite down hard. You're not sure if that impulse was a murderous one or a kinky one.

“I'm not putting you in the front seat, Y/N, I'm putting you in the back. You should be familiar with the idea.”

Heat sparked between your legs, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled into the beat-up trash heap of a car.

He'd not taken his hands off you as he got you in, pushing himself in first and then pulling you by the hand that you'd unconsciously gripped hard. You immediately straddled his hips, skirt naturally riding up in the process. He noticed and looked curiously down at you, growling as you pressed your lips against his neck and grabbed you instead by the hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of your head.

“See, you're obsessed with me. Just admit it.” Without breaking eye contact, he dug his fingers into the material of your tights and pulled in opposite directions, leaving your underwear exposed to his wandering eyes.

“I'm not obsessed with you,” your voice needed conviction to land, but it came out as a lusty whisper, especially as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear and finally touched your aching cunt.

“Really? Because your pussy is saying something else, Princess.” He found your clit faster than you'd ever expected, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you began rocking your hips back and forth.

It was becoming hard to disagree with him, with each flick of wrist growing the heat between your legs. You attacked his neck again, hands practically ripping at his top buttons so you could muffle the sounds of your arousal against his neck, collarbone, chest, any stretch of that pale skin available to you.

He forced your hips to a stop with one hand as he slipped a single digit inside of your hole, gathering your arousal as he set a steady pace, thumb keeping your bundle of nerves occupied.

“Listen, Y/N, can you hear that?”

“I can't h-hear anything.” You had to grind your teeth together to get the words out with minimal interruptions of moans bursting from the pit of your stomach.

He leaned in close to your ear, nuzzling your neck and placing chaste kisses up towards your ear, finally pulling away just enough to whisper a single word in your ear.

“Liar.”

His hand stilled and pulled off you quickly and your eyes broke open, hands unconsciously fitting into his shirt as if you were worried he was going to leave you there like this, on the edge of pleasure but still so far away.

“Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

“Jackass. You've only been here for like 20 minutes.”

“You can climb right out of this car if you want to, Y/N.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the death grip he had on your thighs, the very obvious tent pitched in his pants and the way his eyes couldn't go five seconds without undressing you told you you had more power in this interaction than he wanted to give you.

There was no way either of you were letting the other go unused tonight.

You relaxed your grip on his shirt and shifted your weight to one of his thighs. Lithe he may be, but lowering yourself down there was an unexpected strength there. He watched on curiously as you rocked experimentally against him. Back and forth you rocked, trying desperately to keep up his momentum or tempt him to help you out again.

It was time to let your voice back out, and you did, moaning without a care as you hummed his leg like a bitch in heat.

“You're enjoying this lot, huh, Y/N,” he muttered, and you watched as his hand worked his pants zip open, removing one of the barriers in the way between the two of you, as he began palming himself.

“What's that saying? Anything you can do, I can do better?” He growled at that response but didn't stop you. Instead he bought a hand down on your ass as you moved, so hard you jolted at the sudden pain. Your eyes shot open as your hips stilled, but you felt warmth grow between your legs.

“Yes, you definitely enjoyed that. Should I do that again, or do you think we should hurry this up and go back up for the countdown?”

You hesitated only a second before you pushed his hand off his lap, shifting your hips further towards his knees before letting your hand reach for where his had just been.

You didn't let yourself think about how big he was as you pulled his cock free, didn't let yourself wonder how he measured up against anyone you'd been with before. You didn't let yourself waste time thinking about how various office rumours were true, and definitely not a second was wasted feeling jealous about how those rumours were spread in the first place.

Instead you simply slammed your lips back against his, mouth opening to let your tongue engage his as you lifted your hips with his help and lowered yourself down on him.

You didn't have to rid yourself of sinful thoughts after that as he purged every single brain cell from your head, filling you so contently that there was simply no space for anything but him.

You locked up on top of him, clawing at his shoulders as you whimpered at the stretched, falling so he was balls deep inside you. You wanted to move, to use him for your pleasure, but your walls tightened every time you even thought about it as he stroked your hair through it all.

It had been some time since you'd last had a sexual partner, and you needed the few minutes to overcome the first uncomfortable bliss of it all.

“That good?” he whispered, but the harsh tone of earlier was gone, replaced only by unsure humour to break the silence.

“Been a while.” He nodded, kissing you again to distraction as he shifted your positions.

Cradling your neck and securing your legs comfortably around him, he lowered you against the backseat, pulling out slightly as you adjusted to the new angle.

“Better?” You nodded quickly, because it was. There was no more pressure on your legs, and despite the cramped space in the car, you had enough space to lie almost flat.

“Yes… thank you.” Just as his cutting tone had escaped him, you also heard your own tone softening, the sigh of contentment slipping past your lips almost sweet. Almost.

“Are you going to fuck me now, or what?”

He let out a shocked laugh, but lent down to shut you up with a kiss nonetheless. Bracing himself against the car door, his hips softly rocked into you, pace increasing until you were back to the edge of cumming, nails pressed hard into his skin until you were sure he was going to complain.

He didn't though, but kept up his thrusts, until your vision suddenly darkened and stars exploded in them, rolled back in your head as they were.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, where should I…?” He panicked, but you wrapped your legs around him, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down to swallow his moan as he shot his load inside of you.

“Birth control.” You whispered when you finally let him go, gasping for air. “Contraceptive pill. No need to get the car dirty.”

He collapsed on top of you then, forehead resting against your own as you both caught your breaths.

The moment was silent, and you found the synchronicity of your breaths almost calming. Eventually you had to break apart, and he helped you up to a sitting position, but didn't break eye contact as fell back into his lap.

His hands stroked your back, dipping to your ass at times, but he didn't talk. Neither of you did.

The eye contact between the two of you was possibly the most pleasant conversation you'd ever had.

“I'm sorry.” He blurted, just as fireworks erupted into the night sky. Your heart shook, and you weren't sure of it was the shock of the sound, or the way the rainbow of lights illuminated his sincere expression.

“You don't have to apologise for cumming in me, Spencer.”

“Not that. Before. The casserole and the mistletoe, and the Halloween costume.”

“Wow. Um, okay. Apology accepted, I guess, though I'm not entirely sure why you're apologising now.”

He took a deep breath just as another set of fireworks went up.

“I pulled you under the mistletoe. It was Penelope’s idea, she knew how stupid I was being around you and sent me over. I saw it and took the chance.”

“Fuck. Why?”

“Because I was pretty useless at being chivalrous the year before.”

You climbed off his lap in a scramble and sat on the seat beside him, mind racing, trying to figure out where the hell he was going with this.

He turned to you, trying to keep your attention as he stumbled over the words.

“You couldn't knock on the door, so I wanted to help you, but I didn't think I'd scare you so much you'd drop it.”

“You didn't scare me it was a momentary lapse in my observational skills.”

“You shrieked,” a smile threatened to pull his lips up, they twitched as you flushed red.

“And Halloween?” You looked at him again now, trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the two of you.

“You refused to look at me for a year after we stopped working together,” he shrugged quickly running a hand through his hair and expelling a breath. “I don’t really know how to talk to women.”

“You just know how to piss them off?”

“Morgan says it comes naturally.”

“Yeah, well, Morgan is very wise.”

A brief silence stretched between you, or as silent as a night full of cracks, pops, whizzes and bangs could be.

“I don't get it. You tried your best to get rid of me when I was there to help you. I wanted to impress you, and you kept sending me on meaningless errands, and now you're saying what? You wanted my attention?” There was a quiet anger to your voice, but you were surprised to find it diminished and tired.

“I wanted you gone because you were distracting me, Y/N, not because I hated you.”

“Well, what's the difference, Doctor Reid? Please indulge me.” You huffed a little but kept your eyes on him, trying not to seem too desperate for his answer.

“I have an IQ of 187. Emily says when I'm around a pretty girl it's more like 52,” he fidgeted with his pants, forcing the words out.

“You're a pretty girl. We had a case to work and all I could think about was how to get you to like me. Hotch chewed me out like three separate times for being absent minded.”

He was looking anywhere but you, trying his best not to appear like a fool but you were locked onto him.

“Oh my god you're an idiot.”

“When you're around, yes.”

“And that means I'm equally stupid.”

“No, you just jump to conclusions and hold grudges. There wasn't anything really that stupid about your actions, though it could be suggested that not thoroughly thinking through the wording of the conversation you overheard-”

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down again mlby his tie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you whispered as you broke apart.

“Does that mean we can do this again? Because I'd like to do this again?”

“Stop talking, start kissing jackass.”

He finally didn't argue with that, pulling you back into him as you sat under the stars in his car welcoming the new year.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #criminal minds smut #cm writing challenge

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itadorey · 8 months

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𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐄𝐘𝐄

pairing: fushiguro megumi x gn!reader summary: six times megumi gets caught staring at you and the one time you get caught staring at him. genre: fluff, fluff, fluff, friends to lovers. no angst here, originally a 5 +1 but i added another scene so it's a 6 +1. notes: a repost from an old blog, some scenes changed. nobara is a nosy wingwoman. mentions of minor injury, canon-typical violence, follows the season 1 storyline loosely. gojo + shoko being nosy as well. wc: ~6k

one.

Fushiguro Megumi is many things. To begin with, he's a talented jujutsu sorcerer, proven time and time again by the missions he gets sent on. He's also intelligent, observant not only in battle but also when it comes to others, always able to tell when something's wrong. However, his most noticeable trait, according to Itadori and Kugisaki, is that he's extremely secretive.

It's not a bad thing, not to him. There are better things to do with his time than sit and discuss his life story with his classmates, even though he thinks that Gojo might say otherwise just to piss him off.

Besides, keeping details about his life private means that no one can use any of his weaknesses against him. And that's especially handy considering that one of his weaknesses is you.

He's not exactly sure when it started. Maybe it was the day that Gojo sent him to pick you up at the train station alone, claiming that he had important business to attend to and that it was the least that Megumi could do considering the fact that Gojo had been going on so many missions lately.

Or maybe it was the day the two of you had been assigned your first mission together. You had been kind to him even when he remained cold and silent, eventually catching onto the fact that he didn't want to make small talk before switching the conversation to the mission at hand.

He had been mildly surprised when you came up with a foolproof plan to exorcise the curse, and the mission had gone according to plan with the exception of a gash on his upper arm. When you had knelt down to check on him, you had gently brushed him off, smiling widely as you complimented his technique and pet one of his divine dogs.

"Come on, let's get you back so that Shoko can check that out," you had said, gently grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. He had stumbled slightly upon standing, prompting you to wrap an arm around his waist to try and steady him. "Are you alright, Fushiguro?"

In that moment, Megumi couldn't stop the light blush that dusted his cheeks as he pulled away slightly, stating that he was fine and ready to go. Neither one of you chose to mention the fact that his hand didn't leave yours on the way back to Jujutsu Tech.

Ever since that day, he seemed to be hyperaware of your presence. If he was busy training with the upperclassmen and you happened to walk by, he knew. And he often ended up getting knocked down on his ass because of it. It bothered him to no end, and yet he couldn't bring himself to say that he hated it. Seeing your smile quickly became the highlight of his day, and he often found himself staring at you whenever you were around him.

Much like he was doing so at the moment.

"Eh? Fushiguro, what are you doing?" Nobara asks, leaning over to catch a glimpse of his face. Megumi scowls as Nobara's face comes into view, tearing his eyes away from where you were standing a few feet away with Maki.

"Nothing," he replies instantly, shoving his hands into his pockets as Nobara keeps talking. She goes quiet when Maki calls out both of their names, being met with a grin from her as she throws an arm around your shoulder.

"Good news!" Maki proclaims, smirking at the approaching first years. "I've just found our last team member for the exchange event. From now on, they'll be training with us."

Nobara cheers loudly as Maki gives you a friendly pat on the back, the two girls walking off towards the field and leaving you alone with Megumi. He meets your eyes as you approach him, a teasing smile on your lips as you elbow him lightly.

"How lucky are you?" you tease as the two of begin to follow after Maki and Nobara. "Now you get to see my pretty face more often!"

"That's the problem," Megumi mutters as he came to a stop, sighing softly at your statement. He could already feel himself getting distracted during training, and he didn't want to think about the punishment that Maki would surely give him is he allowed himself to get distracted at the actual event.

"What was that?"

He straightens when he hears your voice, shooting you a strained smile as he catches up with you. "Hmm? Nothing."

You give him a funny look as you start walking again, the two of you being met with the sight of Panda and Nobara facing off against each other as you approach the field. A giggle escapes your lips as you watch Panda toss Nobara around, and Megumi can't stop the fond smile that spreads across his face as he watches you.

"Well, that fight's over," Maki says with a grin before motioning to you. "You're up."

"Against who?" you ask, shrugging off your jacket and letting it drop to the floor. The grin on Maki's face turns almost evil, and Megumi fights off a shiver as she shifts her gaze towards him.

"Against Megumi. Who else?"

Megumi trudges towards you as Nobara and Panda arrive at Maki's side, and he finds himself growing tense at the thought of fighting against you in front of everyone.

"Excited?" you ask, a grin present on your face as you stretch your arms. Megumi responds with a silent nod, feeling his cheeks grow warm as you study him from head to toe before nodding to yourself.

"Are you two ready?" Maki shouts, arms crossed as she looks at the two of you. The two of you give her a thumbs up, and she nods at the sight before waving a hand. "Begin."

To say that Megumi is shocked when you manage to take him down in less than five minutes would be a lie. Everyone else however, is surprised at the outcome and Megumi can't hide the embarrassment on his face as he walks back to the sidelines. He comes to a stop when Maki grabs his arm gently, pulling him close to whisper in his ear before he can get too far.

"I hope that your personal feelings won't be an issue the actual day of the tournament."

Megumi pauses, scowling at her and ignoring the smirk on her face before pulling away and taking a seat a few feet away. His eyes remain on you for the rest of training, and he does his best to ignore the fact that he can feel Nobara's curious gaze burning into him.

"You're doing it again," Nobara sings, bouncing up to Megumi when the training session ends. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were staring at them the whole time."

"Good thing you know better then," Megumi bites back, hoping that Nobara hasn't noticed the way he flinched at her words. (She has.) Nobara laughs as she pushes past Megumi, walking up to you and proceeding to strike up a conversation. The two of you look over at Megumi before turning back to each other, causing Megumi's heart to speed up the slightest bit. He watches as you walk past him, giving him a soft smile as you made your way to the dorms.

Nobara gives him a simple thumbs up as she trails after you.

two.

Things had been... complicated since Yuuji's death, and neither Megumi, Nobara, or you had found the time to truly sit around and mourn.

Training for the exchange event had taken up more time than you care to admit, and you were slightly disappointed at the fact that you hadn't even gotten the chance to truly say goodbye to your friend.

But luckily, the students from Kyoto were a good distraction.

"What kind of woman is your type? Hurry up and answer, if you prefer men that's fine too."

The silence that follows Todo's words is awkward, and you can't help the way your cheeks heat up when Megumi's eyes drift over to you. Todo follows Megumi's line of sight, eyes taking your features before he nods firmly and turns back to face Megumi.

"I don't have a particular preference," Megumi says before Todo can speak. "As long as they have an unshakeable character, I won't ask for more."

"Not a bad answer!" Nobara chimes, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you contemplate his words. "If you had said something like 'big boobs', I would've killed you."

The snort that leaves your lips brings Megumi's attention back to you, and the way his eyes soften as he watches you giggle at Nobara's words doesn't slip Todo's attention.

"I knew it! You're boring, Fushiguro," Todo proclaims, his chest puffing up as he approaches the shorter boy. Once he's close enough, he lowers his voice, granting him the courtesy of not having you hear his next words. "You spend all your time admiring them from afar, but I doubt you'll ever actually make a move."

Megumi bristles at Todo's words, opening his mouth to speak before getting thrown back by a powerful punch.

"Megumi!" you cry out, trying to rush over to him before being stopped by Nobara's cry. You turn to see her being held tightly by Mai, her pistol aimed at Nobara's side as she pulls her close.

"Move and I shoot," Mai says, smirking as she sees the irritated look on your face. You glance back at Megumi for a split second before lunging at Mai, causing her to release Nobara as she reels back at your sudden action. You manage to grab Mai's waist, pushing her down to the ground and falling on top of her at you try to snatch her weapon.

A knee to the stomach has you grunting, and you find yourself rolling over to avoid another strike from her. By the time the second years show up, Nobara has Mai's hair clutched tightly in her hand, earning an amused smile from Maki as she swiftly breaks up the fight. You check on Nobara first, and once you make sure that the only damage she took was to her ego, you set out to locate Megumi.

You pause slightly when you see him, walking alongside Panda and Inumaki with a slight limp, before you sprint over to his side. You immediately begin to fuss over him, reaching up to wipe away the blood that was dripping towards his eyes with your sleeve.

"Megumi! Oh my god, are you okay?" you ask softly, cupping his face with your hand and turning his head side to side to look for more injuries. Megumi slouches slightly to give you a better look, unwilling to swat you away as you mutter your concerns out loud. "Do you need anything? Water, or maybe some medicine. We should visit Shoko."

Silence ensues as the three of you await Megumi's response, but his eyes remain on you as you give him an expectant look.

"Mustard leaf," Inumaki's voice breaks the silence, and Megumi shakes his head lightly as he pulls away from you to look at his upperclassman. Inumaki's eyes are slightly crinkled, and Megumi can tell that Inumaki is smiling at the scene that had just played out in front of him.

"Oh my god, you're right," You say to Inumaki before turning back to Megumi. "What if you have a concussion?"

"I don't have a—"

"Salmon," Inumaki chimes in, cutting Megumi off as he nods along with you.

"You're right," you sigh, grabbing Megumi's hand in yours before turning around. "That blank stare was a little worrying. C'mon, we need to get you checked out."

Megumi shoots one last look at Inumaki and Panda, a little peeved off with the sudden turn of events. The only thing he's met with are the snickers of both second years, along with a thumbs up from Panda. Inumaki simply gives him a playful wink, sending him a wave as you drag him away.

three.

"You know, if you keep staring at them, they're going to think you're a creep," Nobara says, interrupting Megumi's thoughts as she plops down on the step next to him. He tries his best to ignore her, giving up when she leans over and plucks the book he was holding out of his grasp, tossing it to the side with a small huff.

"I was reading that," Megumi hisses, a scowl making its way onto his face as he leans over to try and grab it.

"No you weren't, you were holding it upside down" Nobara scoffs, ignoring his mildly horrified look as she pushes him back into his seat. "Now spill. Why do you keep staring at them?"

The large grin on Nobara's face lets Megumi know that she already knows why he's acting like this; she just wants to hear him admit it. He refuses to speak, leaning back on the steps they're sitting on and crossing his legs. He looks off to the side, grunting softly when Nobara begins to poke his cheek.

"Fushiguro! I'm talking to you, don't be rude," she whines, gasping when his hand comes up to envelope her face to try and push her away. She struggles against him, failing miserably and only stopping when you approach.

"I'm sorry, I need to pass through," you say, stifling a laugh as they freeze. The two of them scramble up from their seats when they realize they've been blocking the entire pathway, bowing their heads slightly in apology as you pass by. You nod in thanks, your lips twitching as you give them an amused look. You come to a stop when you notice the book lying on the ground, picking up before turning back to face Megumi.

"This is a good book!" you chirp, your eyes lighting up in recognition as you gently dust off the cover. You hold it out to Megumi, waiting for him to take it from your hand. "It's one of my favorites."

He stares at you for a few seconds, and you find yourself shifting your weight from one foot to another as you wait for him to take the book from you. Nobara springs into action when it becomes clear that Megumi isn't going to move, grabbing the book from you as she chuckles softly.

"It is a good book!" she agrees, smiling a little bit too widely as you nod in agreement. You look back at Megumi, opening your mouth to speak before pausing and turning around.

"Well I'll see you two later," you say, waving to the two of them before walking away. As soon as you're out of sight, Nobara smacks Megumi with the book in her hand, effectively breaking him out of his daze. He gives her a glare, huffing lightly when she shoves the book into his chest.

"You're pathetic," she mutters, walking off in the same direction you had. Megumi sighs before taking his seat once more and cracking open his book.

four.

"That's a really nasty bruise."

You're met with silence as you move through the infirmary, grabbing the first aid kit, before turning back to face Megumi. His eyes are still focused on the ground when you step closer to him, causing him to jolt as you let yourself settle in between his legs. He swallows harshly when your hand comes up to cup his cheek, tilting his face up towards you to get a better look at him.

"You need to start being more careful," you chide, using an alcohol pad to wipe at his face. You give him an apologetic look when he winces, and his eyes dart up to your face when you pull your hand away slightly.

"It's fine, you can continue," he says quietly, leaning into your palm when it returns to its previous spot. He watches the way you bite your lip in concern, your eyebrows furrowing as you gently brush his hair out of his face.

"You're injured too," he comments, his eyes tracing over the faint bruising on your jaw.

"I'm fine, I was with Toge," you retort, letting go of his face to grab some ointment.

"Toge?" Megumi asks absentmindedly, wondering when you had gotten on first-name basis with the second year. He tenses when you tilt his head back up again, the focus clear on your face as you do your best to gently apply the cool gel to his face.

"Yeah," you respond, pushing his hair back again to get better access to the gash on the crown of his head. You freeze for a moment when you catch his eye, shaking your head lightly before focusing on the injury. "I wasn't alone during the tournament but you were. You fought Kamo all on your own."

"I did," Megumi mutters, his eyes still on your face even when you pull back slightly. His lips twitch when he sees your mildly irritated look, speaking the first words that come to mind. "Were you worried about me?"

Megumi watches as your eyes widen briefly before you compose yourself, nodding softly as you reach for some band-aids. "You're pretty reckless, y'know? You can't blame me for being worried, especially after what happened with Todo."

You don't miss the way Megumi winces at your words, thinking about his confrontation with the older boy. He starts to turn his head away, only to be stopped when your other hand comes up to his cheeks to keep him in place. He holds his breath as you study him, feeling vulnerable under your intense gaze.

"Promise me," you finally say, breaking the silence. "Promise me you'll at least try to be more careful."

"I promise," Megumi murmurs, releasing the breath he had been holding. You nod in satisfaction before finally separating yourself from him, turning to put the first aid kit back in its place. Neither one of you notice that Shoko has been leaning against the doorframe the entire time, observing the two of you as you tended to his wounds.

She watches you flit around the space, putting things back in their proper places as Megumi watches. There's an awestruck look on his face as you talk about something random, trying to fill the silence as he mindlessly hums in agreement with whatever you're saying. It isn't until Shoko actually takes a step into the room that Megumi finally registers her presence, and she watches with thinly-veiled amusement as his cheeks flood with color.

A smirk pulls at her lips as she takes note his bandaged injuries, and she can't help the playful lilt that tinges her words as she finally speaks.

"I was told that Megumi had been injured and needed my help but I can see that you've been well taken care of."

"Shoko!" you yelp, whirling around and leaning against a table as you give her a flustered wave. "When did you get here?"

"A couple of minutes ago," Shoko confesses, schooling her features as she approaches Megumi. She studies him for a minute before turning back to you. "You did a really good job. He's free to go if he doesn't want me to use my technique on him."

"Well, I'll leave you two to discuss that," you say laughing nervously as you inch towards the door. "Bye Shoko! I'll see you later, Megumi!"

Shoko snorts when she sees the way Megumi tries to hide a smile at your use of his first name, shaking her head before slipping on a pair of gloves and prodding at the bruising on his jaw.

"Are you okay, kiddo?" she asks flatly, watching him closely for any signs of discomfort. He grumbles under his breath before pushing himself to his feet, nodding his head in response to Shoko's question.

"'m fine," he grunts, earning a skeptical look. He sighs after a few seconds, crossing his arms when Shoko doesn't back down. "I promise I'm okay. I don't need you to heal me. Can I go now?"

"Sure," Shoko concedes, stripping off her gloves and throwing them into the trash. "If you feel any pain or discomfort you know where to find me."

Megumi nods once before making his way towards the door, pausing in the doorframe to send Shoko a wary look.

"Don't tell Gojo anything," he warns lowly, shoulders tense as she shoots him a blank look.

"I won't."

Megumi gives her a thankful look before leaving the infirmary, and Shoko merely smiles to herself before whipping out her cell phone.

Gojo was going to have a field day when he heard about everything she had witnessed.

five.

"I still don't understand why we have to be here," Megumi grumbles, exasperation laced in his words as he trails after Gojo. Your so-called teacher had pulled you, Megumi, Yuuji, and Nobara out for a day in the city, claiming that he wanted to see how much all of you had improved. It wasn't until you had all arrived in the city that Gojo had admitted that he was only really testing Yuuji and Nobara, especially since the former had been missing for a while.

"We can go get food while they deal with the curses," you whisper, coming up beside Megumi and nudging him with your shoulder. He merely hums in response, trying to act unbothered as Nobara shoots him an amused look.

"Doubtful. We're probably here to act as backup," he whispers back, earning a muffled laugh from you.

The five of you come to a stop in the middle of an empty street, being met with the sight of a deceivingly cozy house. You shiver as a breeze blows through the street, shooting Yuuji a kind smile as he comes to a stop next to you.

"Oh, are you cold?" he asks, eyes wide with concern as he looks at you. "Here, you can have my jacket!"

You smile gratefully as he begins to unzip his hoodie, flinching when you hear a loud yell.

"Itadori! Get over here!"

"Just a minute!" Yuuji yells back, ignoring Gojo's call as he fiddles with his zipper.

"Now!" Nobara snaps, her foot tapping against the pavement impatiently as she beckons Yuuji over to her side.

"Why are you being so— oh!" Yuuji says, his eyes lighting up with some sort of realization before giving you an apologetic smile. "I'll be right back."

You nod in understanding, watching as Yuuji joins Gojo and Nobara a few meters away. You wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to shield yourself from the cold, Yuuji's body no longer present to block the air.

"Here, you can have my sweater."

You turn your head at the familiar voice, being met with the sight of Megumi holding out his sweatshirt. You hesitate slightly before taking it from him, quickly slipping it on and giving him a blinding smile.

"Thanks, Fushiguro!" you chirp, unconsciously snuggling into the fabric before taking a seat on the curb. Megumi remains standing for a few minutes, sending one last look towards his classmates before taking a seat next to you. He lets his elbows rest on his knees, his chin sitting comfortably on his palms as he observes the house Yuuji and Nobara are currently approaching. He takes note of the fact that Gojo had chosen not to mention what grade the curses were, and he mentally prepares himself to fight just in case.

He lets his gaze drift back over to you when he realizes you haven't spoken even once since sitting down, the slight concern on his face melting when he sees you staring intensely at the ground in front of you. Feeling the weight of his stare, you glance up to meet his eyes, sticking your tongue out at him and giggling when he huffs in amusement. He watches as your gaze drifts back to the concrete in front of you before your eyes dart back to him, the back-and-forth motion continuing for a bit before he finally speaks.

"What are you looking at?"

You lean forward slightly, reaching for something on the ground before turning to Megumi with a smile.

"This," you say softly, holding out your hand. He looks down to see a flower, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he looks back up at you.

"It's... pretty," he says, watching as twirl the flower between your fingers.

"Yeah, it is," you agree, giving him a shy smile. "It's the color of your eyes."

Your words cause Megumi's cheeks to burst with color, and clears his throat before he murmurs a soft thank you. You grin at his reaction before scooting closer to him, your elbow brushing against his and causing him to stiffen when you lean in slightly.

"You're welcome," you say quietly, raising your arm before pausing and giving him an uncertain look. "May I?"

Megumi nods silently, holding his breath as you lean in even closer to tuck the flower behind his ear. His eyes never leave your face as you busy yourself with the task at hand, softening when he notices the way your tongue peeks out from in between your lips in concentration as you do your best to position the flower.

There's a sparkle in your eyes that threaten to make his heart race, and Megumi finds himself wondering if you knew just how much of an effect you had on him. His eyes widen when your fingertips brush against his cheek, and you quickly draw your hand back down to your side as you take in the sight in front of you.

"It looks perfect," you finally say, your eyes never leaving his as you speak. There's a beat of silence before Megumi opens his mouth to respond, the words spilling out from his lips before he can stop them.

"I think you loo—"

"Hey! Lovebird! Get over here," Gojo shouts, his voice causing the two of you to scramble away from each other. Megumi closes his eyes for a second, mentally thanking Gojo for cutting off his statement as he gets to his feet. He turns to see Gojo wearing a big smile, seemingly satisfied with the reaction he had gotten from the two of them. "Hurry up! I think Yuuji and Nobara might need some help."

"Told you so," Megumi says, a smile on your face as you roll your eyes at his statement.

"Good luck, Fushiguro," you say, your quiet words drawing his attention to you. He looks down to see you giving him a thumbs up, and he simply smiles and nods before making his way over to Gojo. The older sorcerer's smile doesn't fade even as he approaches, and it only get wider when he holds out an arm to stop Megumi.

"Nice flower, it matches your eyes!" Gojo says slyly, plucking the bud from behind Megumi's ear and earning a scowl from him. "I'll take care of this for you. After all, you wouldn't want this to get ruined would you? Although I'm surprised it didn't spontaneously combust from how hard you were blushing."

Megumi gives Gojo one last scathing look before heading towards the entrance of the house, doing his best to ignore Gojo's laugh and focus on the mission at hand.

six.

You stop in your tracks when you hear a call of your name, the sound of Yuuji's voice bringing a small smile to your face as you turn around. Your smile only grows wider when you notice Megumi trailing behind him, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he looks down at the ground.

"Are you busy right now?" Yuuji asks, coming to a stop in front of you. You shake your head slowly, sending a glance at Megumi that Yuuji doesn't miss. "Fushiguro and I were about to get some food. Do you want to join us?"

"I'd love to," you utter, earning a wide grin from Yuuji. You snicker under your breath, his excitement reminding you of a puppy.

"Great! Then let's go! I've been wanting to check this place out for ages."

You trail behind Yuuji, throwing the occasional glance back at Megumi until you eventually slow down to walk beside him. The messy-haired boy shoots you a quick glance, looking away when he sees you giving him a curious look.

"What's up?" you ask, stepping closer to him and nudging his shoulder with yours. He shakes his head silently, raising his eyes to look at you as he steps closer to you to avoid crashing into somebody.

"Nothing," he says after a while, wondering if you would keep the conversation going. He's a little disappointed when you don't, but you also don't move away from him, instead choosing to call out your replies to whatever questions Yuuji asks as he walks ahead of the two of you.

"Oh, I almost forgot," you suddenly say, coming to a stop a few shops away from the restaurant Yuuji was heading towards. "I need to buy some stuff for Nobara, but you two go on ahead without me! I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Are you sure?" Megumi asks instantly, receiving a nod from you. He hesitates slightly, causing you to roll your eyes with a smile before waving him away. Yuuji gives you a sound of acknowledgment before tugging Megumi away, laughing quietly when he keeps looking over his shoulder in your direction.

"Come on," Yuuji says, opening the door for Megumi before stepping inside after him. "They'll be fine without your watchful gaze. Do you have any idea of what you're gonna get?"

"No," Megumi replies, taking a seat at an empty table and looking out the window. "I think I'll wait for them to get back before ordering."

Yuuji smiles at Megumi's words, forcing himself to look down at his phone in an attempt to act nonchalant. "So, how long have you had feelings for them?"

Megumi's eyes widen at Yuuji's words, and he finds himself mentally scolding himself for being too obvious with his feelings. He has to be, especially if Yuuji had been able to figure it out. He remains silent, letting his eyes drop down to the table.

"You should tell them," Yuuji says earnestly, all hints of teasing gone from his tone. His words still manage to catch Megumi off guard, and he glances at Yuuji to see him still looking down at his phone, the screen dark.

"No."

"I'm serious," Yuuji whines. "You should tell them. I think the two of you are perfect for each other."

"What exactly am I supposed to say?" Megumi asks, shifting uncomfortably in his seat before attempting to make eye contact with Yuuji and sighing when the pink-haired boy doesn't look up. "I really like you and and I stare at you like a dumbass because I don't know how to tell you how I feel?"

Yuuji snorts at his words, opening his mouth to tease Megumi before being cut off.

"You like me?"

The two boys look up in a panic when they see you standing close to their table, a small bag clutched tightly in one of your hands. Yuuji gives Megumi an apologetic look that he chooses to ignore, knowing that the both of them had been too caught up in their conversation to notice you approaching.

"I'm gonna go order," Yuuji says quietly, sliding out of his seat and heading towards the counter. He turns back to give Megumi a thumbs up behind your back, nodding his head as he mouths the words 'go for it!'. Megumi turns his attention to you when you slide into the seat across from him, giving him a smile before picking up one of the menus on the table. An awkward silence settles upon the two of you, and Megumi can't help but notice the furtive glances you keep sending his way.

"So," you finally say, breaking the silence as you put the menu down. He looks up, his eyes meeting yours as you sigh softly. "You like me?"

Megumi hesitates, watching the way your eyebrows furrow slightly as you wait for his response.

"Yes," he finally says, looking back out the window to avoid your gaze. He stiffens when he hears you let out a relieved sigh, giggling softly before speaking.

"Well that's good," you breathe, causing Megumi to whip his head back around to look at you. He watches as you rummage through the bag you had been holding, pulling out a book before handing it to him. It was the sequel to the book he had been reading a couple of weeks ago, the one you had picked up when Nobara had tossed it aside. "I was hoping to give this to you at some point, and maybe even ask you out when I did so."

Megumi's cheeks warm as he smiles at you, neither one of you noticing the way Yuuji pumps his first into the air a few feet away.

+ one.

You let your eyes drift up from your phone and land on Megumi, who is currently lying next to you as he reads the book you had bought him. The two of you are lounging in your dorm, your back pressed up against the headboard while he lays down on your pillows.

His eyes are focused on the words he's reading, and you take the opportunity to study him quietly. His hair hangs messily like always, but you choose to hold back from running your hands through it in order to keep watching him. Your eyes trace the slope of his nose, trailing down to his lips before following his jawline back up his face and finally settling on his eyes. You sit there admiring him, thinking about how unfair it is for him to have such long lashes.

You bite back a gasp when his gaze suddenly snaps to you, and you quickly look back down at your phone in an attempt to hide your embarrassment. You can still feel Megumi's eyes on you, and you shift uneasily in your spot before shyly looking back up at him.

"What?" you ask, your cheeks burning as you try to play innocent.

"I was just wondering if you were done staring at me," Megumi says casually, a faint smile on his face as he looks back down at his book. You gape at him for a few seconds before responding.

"I was not staring!" you cry out indignantly, scrunching your nose when Megumi gives you a knowing look. "Besides, if my memory is correct, you got caught staring at me by literally everyone else!"

Megumi rolls his as he sits up, sitting shoulder to shoulder with you before shaking his head lightly.

"Besides," you continue, not giving him the chance to speak. "What's so wrong with staring at my boyfriend."

A red tint fills Megumi's cheeks at your words and he merely scoffs before turning the page. You rest your head on his shoulder, glancing down at the book and attempting to read along with him. When he fails to turn the page after a few minutes, you glance up, only to see him staring at you with a soft smile on his face. You smile back at him before leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and you watch as he tosses the book to the foot of your bed before cupping your face with both hands and pressing a kiss a to your lips.

You give him another soft peck before you pull away from him, your eyes fluttering open to see Megumi studying your face. There's a smug smile on his face as he takes in your dazed state, and he opens his mouth to comment on it before you beat him to the punch, your words causing his smile to drop as he groans.

"Now who's staring?"

reblogs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!

#fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #fushiguro imagine #megumi imagine #jjk fluff #megumi fluff #fushiguro megumi fluff #fushiguro fluff #fushiguro megumi

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castielsprostate · 2 months

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supernatural season 17 episode 5 concept, evil dog that's actually just possessed but no one believes that the dog is actually evil except for dean so sam takes care of the dog and every time dean and the dog are in a scene together the dog is doing something evil and then someone walks in and the dog pretends to be innocent. dean pulls a gun on the dog and everyone goes insane and shuns dean

uhh anyway the dog possesses sam at the end of the episode and the evil spirit stays in the dog. sam runs through a field, chasing things, to end the episode. two episodes later he's back to normal because the dog couldn't live with the inner monologue of sam

#sjonnie.text #spn #supernatural #sam winchester

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upthebluess · 4 months

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Opportunities (Arsenal wfc x teen reader) p1

In which you get the chance to train with the first team.

This was it. The opportunity you had been working for your whole life.

Well, not quite. You hadn’t made it yet, but this offer was one huge leap closer.

Your coaches had sat you down after your last training session of the week, and explained to you that next Wednesday evening you were invited to train with the first team. You eagerly accepted, trying to act as nonchalant as possible in that incredibly exciting moment.

Your U16s teammates were the first ones to know, proud smiles appearing on their faces as you told them outside the meeting room. It was a bittersweet moment for them though, because despite being happy for you, it meant another day had gone by with someone else excelling in front of them. You were now closer to professional football than anyone else in that room.

Regardless of the overwhelming enthusiasm that you felt towards the training, it also came with a profound amount of nerves and anxiety.

You expressed your apprehension to your parents, with resulted in them reassuring you that all you could do is your best. That didn’t really help though, because what if your best wasn’t good enough? What if you didn’t even play your best? What if the team got frustrated with you?

Wednesday came round quicker than you’d hoped, and you’d barely had enough time to put extra training minutes in due to a maths exam on Tuesday afternoon. The added stress of your inability to do maths certainly didn’t help, but after all football would always be there as an escape when you needed it.

After giving up on question 11 of your test, you sat with your head on the desk and imagined every possibly scenario that could come from the training. But after 45 gruelling minutes of overthinking, you came to the conclusion that the players were human too. They would make mistakes, they would miss shots and they would lose duels, just like you.

Besides, it was rare that U16 players got the chance to play at this level, so you must be good enough, right?

As you slipped your new boots on (courtesy of your dad when he heard about the news), you took a deep breath as you finished your second and final loop of your laces.

Jonas and a few other technical coaches had come and spoke to you shortly before, explaining that the training wouldn’t be an intense one and that you’d be introduced to everyone briefly before the session. He also congratulated you for the opportunity, and stated that he looked forward to seeing what you could create on the pitch.

The butterflies were back, only this time, you didn’t have any time to dwell on them.

The grass under your feet felt perfectly manicured as you took the taunting steps towards where most of the girls had begun to crowd. Thankfully, you had spotted a girl called Sophia, who you knew from playing up with the U18s a few weeks ago. At least you knew one person.

The rest of the girls made their way to the field very shortly after you arrived, and before you knew it you were stood in a team circle next to Sophia and the one and only Jen Beattie.

Jonas began to speak.

“Ok good morning everyone, today we have two of our academy girls joining us, Sophia from the 18s and Y/N from the 16s.” He began to gesture towards you as he announced your names, everyone giving you small smiles to say hello.

“We are going to go straight into the warm up now and then into small sided matches. Due to international break coming up, we are going to use this session to get a fresh look at everyone ahead of the second half of the season”. The circle was dismissed and the other coaches split you all into warm up groups and ordered lines behind rows of cones carefully placed into the ground.

Steph lead your group and the rest of you followed. You weaved in and out of the cones in different aerobic movements.

You were separated again for matches. You were playing 5 aside matches on what seemed to be 7 aside pitches. Now you were glad that you’d done all that fitness training a few months back.

You were on a team with Viv, Alessia, Amanda and Sabrina. There were two pitches with four teams playing, the remaining one team having a break on the side playing two touch.

Your team (the red bibs) would play against the blues first. Alessia was up top, Viv and you playing in midfield but you were tracking back to defend when necessary to help Amanda.

The whistle blew and the first 8 minute half begun. The blues took small touches to attempt to work their way around your structure, but their shot was a tame one and Sabrina easily rolled it out to you on the right.

Your touch was perfectly out your feet, and you began to push into the space in front of you. You knew you wouldn’t have long on the ball, so when Lina from the other team began to close you down, you fainted left but went right. You did a quick scan and instinctively put a perfectly weighted cross into the box and it landed practically perfectly onto Alessia’s head and into the net.

1-0.

A small and humble smile crawled onto your face as you turned around to run back to position. Alessia chased after you and offered a low high five, which you happily reciprocated. The ball was back at the centre, and before play re begun, Viv breathed out “good ball”.

The game remained at such a high intensity that you felt it was becoming really hard to keep up, but you were reluctant to let it show. You continued to take on players in duels if you felt it would help the team, but knowing to play the pass if more suitable.

The game ended 5-4 to the reds, you coming away with 2 assists: one to Alessia and one to Viv.

Your confidence continued to rise throughout the session due to the applause you received from your teammates and the shock from your opponents as you played pass after pass and won tackle after tackle.

In reality, you were not a stand out player compared to everyone else, but as a 15 year old training with some of the best players in the world, you were pretty damn good.

It felt like your teams turn to sub couldn’t come quick enough. As you made your way off the pitch you immediately grabbed your bottle and leaned against the fence to try catch your breath.

Sabrina and Amanda went straight to kicking a ball on the sidelines, whereas Viv and Alessia came over to where you stood and took a drink each. They exchanged a quick glance and a small bubble of awkwardness formed. Luckily, this was quickly popped with Alessia sparking a conversation. “What age group did you say you played?”

Thankfully you were now able to speak “I’m 15 so Im supposed to be playing U16s but if they don’t have enough players I fill in for the 18s or 21s” you responded with a small smile.

“You’re really good, better than I was when I was your age” Alessia replied. Your small smile grew into a large one. Viv was yet to properly speak to you, but you put it down to her notoriously introverted nature.

Alessia went to join in with 2 touch and you leant down to re tie your shoes. Viv stayed put with her bottle.

“Do you usually do little tournaments like this?” You broke the silence that was paining you.

“Not often. Only when we don’t have any matches upcoming that we need to be reserved for”

You only gave her an understanding nod, not really sure what else to say to that. Feeling a little defeated at her lack of interaction, you stood up to walk over to play with everyone else.

“Were you not nervous today? You seem to have fitted right in. Youth players usually seem a little more shaken than this” Finally, she speaks.

“Um yeah I was beforehand, but it sort of goes away when I play”

“I get that. When I was playing football at 15 I let my nerves get the better of me sometimes and it affected my performance, but you’re handling it really well” Viv gave you a really sincere smile as she spoke, and now it made sense.

Viv had been playing professional football from such a young age that she knew the troubles and baggage that came with it, she was looking out for you.

You all went on to play a heated game of two touch, Sabrina doing you dirty a few times with some dodgy passes practically to the ground, resulting in accusations and laughter.

Once it was your time to return to the pitch, you felt more content than the first time you step foot there. Viv and Alessia had actually made an effort to ask about your life, and you had begun to develop a decent link up on pitch as well.

Your final game was slightly rockier than the others though. The other team consisted of Katie, Vic, Gio, Kim and Manu.

Your body was tiring quickly. You were starting to feel less able to run at speed and less confident going in for tackles, resulting in your head going down and performance dipping.

The game ended 3-3 but you’d missed a few chances that could’ve won the game. You thought you could feel judging eyes pierce through your back as you walked back to grab your jumper prior to heading off the field.

Defying your expectations, you saw that Beth, Viv and Alessia had stood and waited for you before they exited the pitch.

“Well done today, kid. You were hard to get past” Beth said with a skip in her step and a tone of comfort in her voice.

“Thank you”

“Did you enjoy it?” Alessia asked.

“Yeah, definitely. I’m knackered now though and Jonas said this wasn’t even intense” you spoke with a small laugh.

“It’s never supposed to be but we are all so competitive that each game ends up like a World Cup final”. You noted how Beth was such an easy person to talk to, you felt at ease near her and you’d known her personally about 10 seconds.

“Will you be back tomorrow?” Alessia pondered. She seemed like such a lovely person you thought, she had encouraged you all night as you played and was always there to help you up when a tackle sent you to the floor unfairly.

“I’m not sure yet. Depends if I’m invited back and if my school will let me have another day off” you hummed, stopping your walk at the gate as your development coach called your name from the academy entrance.

“Oh you’re still at school. That makes me feel old” Viv breathed, bringing her hand to almost slap her own face.

“You will be. See you tomorrow Y/N” Beth responded, looping her arms around Alessia and Viv. All the girls gave you genuine smiles as you walked in opposite directions.

Today was a good day.

A/N

If this does well I might make it a part 2 or maybe even a story. Tips/requests are welcome, but I’m only comfortable doing platonic ones 🫶

Update: P2 UP NOW!

#woso x reader #arsenal wfc #beth mead #woso fanfics #woso community #vivianne miedema #katie mccabe #womens football #arsenal academy #arsenal #woso imagine #woso soccer

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conflictofthemind · 28 days

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TL;DR: HNL was studying how to give human subjects electromagnetic, most specifically visible light based, powers in order to bend space-time for their needs.

I’m going to try and condense this as much as I can because considering electromagnetism as a major force in ST (pun intended) opens up so many potential areas of analysis that can only be a brief cover of without turning into multiple essays.

Let’s go over the electromagnetic spectrum:

I hope you might already be recognizing some symbols we see often in Stranger Things, especially if you’ve been following the BTS and some location and set leaks from Season 5.

The electromagnetic spectrum encompasses the different frequencies of electromagnetic radiation - waves of energy that travel at the speed of light (and produce visible light to us at certain frequencies). You’ve probably heard of most of these, including cancer-causing gamma rays and x-rays, the visible light spectrum (the rainbow), microwaves, and radio waves.

In S5, we have the radio station as a main location for the characters. They’re also driving around in the radio station’s van, which has an image of a hawk emitting a rainbow (visible light radiation). Steve’s car also has a massive antenna on top of it. My first thoughts were that the team was trying to keep in contact with Max in hopes of her being able to hear them in her coma, considering she has a radio near her bedside. While that still may be a reason, I think the characters may have come to realize how important electromagnetic fields could be in their fight against Vecna (this where leader of the AV Club also focused on electromagnetic objects Scott Clarke may make his triumphant return).

Now to pivot onto why electromagnetism is so important to the lore of ST:

What the scientists in Hawkins Lab are likely studying is a way for human brains to produce or manipulate certain types of electromagnetic waves through telepathy. Most obviously this is seen by them having the kids try to manipulate and turn on a circle of light bulbs. Our brains actually already produce electromagnetic waves, but at a very slow frequency. The scientists are constantly measuring brain waves while conducting these experiments. We even get full shots of El’s brain waves during NINA, for example. We also see similar shots in S2 while Will is in the HNL.

You can also observe that the Hawkins National Laboratory has absolutely massive satellite dishes on it’s rooftop; ones that do not exist on the real life building but are added in post because they pose some sort of significance. Nudge, it’s because they are transmitting and receiving massive amounts of electromagnetic waves.

Why are they studying electromagnetic waves then?

They are studying electromagnetic waves because they are a method in which time travel can theoretically be achieved - the focus of the Montauk Project in which Stranger Things is based on. The military likely is investigating time travel as another war tactic against Russia.

Let us take a look at the first chapter of the Montauk Project: Experiments in Time book (they are seriously plagiarizing the living hell out of this thing):

Also, did you catch the whole 'attaching a massive antenna on the hood of my car to pick up a secret signal' thing? That's suspiciously similar to the state of Steve's car! Anyway...

The story of Stranger Things starts chronologically, as does Montauk, with the disappearance of the USS Eldridge and Project Rainbow (named after the bending of the visible light spectrum). Brenner’s father was revealed to have captained the boat in TFS, which disappeared for 12 hours into Dimension X and when it came back, the crew was killed or driven mad (except for Brenner Sr). This inspires Brenner to continue onto the Nevada project, and eventually, Hawkins National Lab’s studies. The USS Eldridge / Philadelphia Project conspiracy from real life went as follows:

They were studying electromagnetism, specifically the bending of light, to make objects invisible. This was only the first step in the experiments. Once Henry got involved and came back from his trip to Dimension X with powers, Brenner must have realized he could potentially use human subjects to manipulate electromagnetic fields themselves. Human subjects didn’t require machinery or set up and could bend space-time wherever they pleased, as long as they were able to learn the ability.

The more conspiratiorial side of Theoretical Physics proposes using circulating light beams to warp time-space, creating a wormhole in which one can literally walk through time. This is pop-science, likely not true but interesting for fiction purposes. This method of time travel being used is heavily implied due to the fact that the USS Eldridge was already able to disappear into another dimension by the bending of light.

This is how it worked in the Montauk Project book (absolutely ridiculous how much they took from this honestly):

My guess is that in the Stranger Things universe, they have not yet managed to time travel, only to create portals into this alien Dimension X. Previously, said portals were only made twice by highly advanced technological equipment. El demonstrated that she was able to open a portal all by herself - another step to achieving time travel with singular human subjects. Season five is when we will see the beginning of the time travel plot line, though it like in Montauk is likely already in a loop.

That’s where we get the name for the Rainbow Room, named after this Project Rainbow. The rainbow represents the full spectrum of visible light, and the goals of the project to bend said light into portals and eventually time travel wormholes.

Implications?:

-Well, first of all it seems very obvious by this point that we are going for a time travel plot line, and this is how it will be achieved.

-Will is heavily connected to light in general, the sun, and of course… the rainbow. He is also implied be the one involved in the time travel plot line. This will be very relevant going forward and deserves it’s own post. Potential funniness of defeating Vecna with the power of the rainbow afoot.

-Coma patients are known to have odd, barely detectable brain waves. The kids will be able to communicate with Max in her coma using the electromagnetic spectrum somehow, probably through the radio waves.

-On the farthest end of the spectrum, we have ionizing gamma ray radiation, which is known to cause cancer in humans. Expect Hopper’s daughter Sara to connect to this plot line (and perhaps Sam Owens’ dead son). There is a whole theory on this site already called radiationgate. I have not managed to look into it yet but I think they are probably onto something there. The original al pitch mentions the UD leakage into the real world causing cancer as well.

#stranger things #dr brenner #will byers #max mayfield #byler #<- fuck it intended audience #el hopper #st theory #electromagnetismgate #:)#tagging them for the exposure cause idk who is going to see this #time travel

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perpetuallydaydreaming · 1 year

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i cant focus because i cant keep you out of my head.

5 times james potter got distracted because of you.

warnings: overly dramatic james || 3.3k words || james potter x you || fluff fluff fluff, getting together, friends to lovers

a/n: this is the first work i’ve posted on this fandom, i have alot planned!! so please dont be shy and drop some messages! i also feel like i have to clarify, any dialogues that’s italicized means james isn’t listening

i. missing his games

“and another bludger hits potter on the shoulder! it is not his night folks! will this be an opportunity for hufflepuffs to get ahead?” the speaker hisses, loudly echoing throughout the field. along with the empathetic oohs of the crowd.

james groans rubbing his shoulder quickly, for what seemed like the nth time tonight, before going into the scoring formation as practiced.

usually, he wouldn’t even hear the commentator during the game, he would be too into the game to notice any other noise other than his own breathing . but tonight’s game is different.

tonight, you weren’t there watching him.

he knows this for a fact, as he had been continuously looking in the stands. his focus foregoing the incoming buldgers, instead hoping to catch a glimpse of your messy hair and the abundant layer of clothes, you always wear to combat the cold in the stands. his eyes would quickly scan through the students, in hopes to spot you cheering and grinning as you have always had.

he had circled the area you usual vacant four times now, and still no sign of you anywhere.

he could hear geoffrey shouting at him to focus, zooming past him with the quaffle at hand. he could practically hear the hissing complaints and grumbles of minnie in the stands but when he fails to see you, he’s not inclined to care at all.

“james! what in the bloody hell are you doing?!” he could hear marlene shriek in frustration as he skidded to a stop, and pondered your whereabouts.

where were you?

you had always watched his games. always. even when you two were fighting or not talking to each other, you would always be there cheering him on.

he was sure you weren’t in detention, professors were usually more lenient during quidditch season. not to mention you don’t really get into much mischief as he, himself does.

“mckinnon scores even with a distracted captain!”

merlin, were you sick? is that why you were a no-show? he had heard you sniffling the other day, but you said you were fine. james knew that you rarely ever get sick, but when you do—it was the worst it could ever be.

knowing you, you had probably reassured your friends that you were fine and to leave you be. you never did know how to take care of yourself. so, james being the self-appointed best friend takes this responsibility of nursing you back to health very seriously.

he was about to go fly over your dormitory window and help you but then a heavy speeding bludger came speeding into his way. he had barely dodged the thing and suddenly all the noises of the game came rushing back into his ears.

right, he thinks. he should probably finish this first and then go see you straight after.

ii. passing notes with a person that isn’t him

james was having a particularly pissy day.

when he had the epiphany on why you had missed his game. james had rushed points after points, in hopes to end the game as quickly as possible. the game ending with gryffindor as the winner, by 120 points.

never mind celebrating, he hadn’t even thought of the fact he had broken an all-time scoring record in a single game and came rushing to your dorms. thoughts of you lying sick in bed, swimming in his mind.

but you weren’t lying sick in bed.

in fact, you weren’t in the dorms at all. or the common room. or the library. or the hospital wing. or even in the entire bloody castle (he checked). not only were you not in breakfast, the morning after the game you didn’t watch. now, he has the pleasure of seeing you blush and fuss, passing notes with a bloke from ravenclaw during potions.

“now this is detrimental to the potion, some have lost fingers when they neglected this step so pay attention—“

when did you even meet this guy? you were always hanging out with james. so it’s rare for him to see you with somebody he hasn’t met before.

especially, someone this ugly.

“who’s the arse talking to y/n.” james whispered harshly to sirius.

sirius, who for once, was listening in class had to stop and look at james with a confused look, from the sudden conversation.

james gave no clarification, his eyes still glaring heavily at the offending sight.

ah, sirius thought. an almost laugh leaving his mouth. “that’s charlie wilson, i reckon.” sirius whispered back. fighting the strong urge to grin as he added, “birds quite fancy him, i heard. something about how dreamy the lad is or something.” twirling his quill. already satisfied with the impending chaos he had stirred.

meanwhile james could hardly sit still, seconds away from erupting. he scoffs when he sees you blush.

pale hair, pale eyes and an even paler skin. he looked like a white bedsheet, is what he is! nothing dreamy about a bedsheet! james certainly hadn’t thought his bedsheets dreamy. surely you hadn’t either!

“failure to follow these steps strictly can be harmful.” slughorn droned on.

but it was nothing but a buzzing noise to james, as he feels the sudden urge to grab the silly paper full of your beautiful handwriting and his chicken scrawls and rip it to shreds.

iii. going to hogsmeade without him

james was forced into the trip to hogsmeade by remus. claiming some rubbish about how james has become a shell of a man, or how he dampens the mood. and some borderline blasphemous statement about how snivellus seems to be better company than him lately.

so to prove all the nay-sayers wrong, here he was trudging along the stoned pathway. looking gloomy as ever, as his friends drag him from store to store.

nothing seemed to be cheering him up, remus had thought. but james have always had the flare for the dramatics, so remus wasn’t too worried. instead continued on like his friend isn’t unraveling like the threads in an old sweatshirt.

“why am i even here?” james had groaned, eliciting an amused smirk from sirius and a wry smile from remus.

he was on the verge of insanity, really he was. when he sees it in his peripheral. the unquestionably familiar layers of clothing and your giddy smile as you went into a bookstore with the same gremlin from class.

stopping abruptly, garnering the attention of his friends and walked briskly to the store. offering no sort of explanation, but his mates followed anyway. having seen you enter too. busybodies as they are, they’re curious how this will play out.

“it’s the same lad,” hummed sirius, peeking through the door.

remus raised a brow, interest piqued. “same lad? what’d you mean?”

“wilson was having a quick bants with our dear y/n the other day.”

“really now,”

sirius wolfishly grinned, “you reckon y/n fancies him?”

james scoffed, sounding very closely to a growl. “as if.”

“now, james, no need to be narky.” remus teased.

all three hiding two shelves away from you. james couldn’t hear you but he could see you through the crack of the books, if he crouched down. he saw your mouth moving and smiling. a view, he realized he hadn’t seen in a while.

“now that i think about, y/n hasn’t been around lately, has she?” remus had voiced, his tone feigning an air of innocence and ignorance.

sirius, then followed suit, rubbing his chin looking forlorn. “now that you mention it moony, that sounds about right.”

“prongs,” they called out, hoping to see james puff out, red in the face and stomp away like a petulant child. but instead their teasing was met with silence.

he couldn’t believe this! you haven’t spoken a word to him all week and here you were cozying up to a practical stranger! yous had the audacity to even laugh at whatever pathetic excuse of a joke he just said to you. albeit, he hadn’t heard the joke but he sure it was trash either way.

“think we lost him padfoot.” remus snickered at the glowering and helpless look james had etched on his face.

the two of you walking to the counter, holding piles of parchments and paints and laughing and blushing and standing way too close to each other.

really, have you no shame?

iv. biting your lips

james had a mission. to finally talk to you after two weeks of radio silence. to corner you, no matter what, and demand explanation for your recent rendezvous and the lack of his presence with said rendezvous.

but you were making it hard for him to find you, let alone talk to you. he can’t seem to find you in the map anywhere either. lately not finding you and not talking has becoming an unwelcome norm for him.

classes you two shared was almost non-existent since all of the classes you attended were all advanced classes.

he had hoped that during potions would be the time to talk to you but before he could even say hello to you, chalk had taken your attention and quickly pulled him down to sit with you during class.

you always seemed to be whispering about something whenever he sees you two. heads close to one another and soft laughter always leaving your lips. it’s like you didn’t even notice you haven’t talked to him for weeks now.

“oh there you are james! i wanted to discuss some strategy for the finals against slytherins.” john bell going into spiel of his tactics for the game.

did he do something that put you off? i mean, yeah, you two were only friends but he was hoping that he was starting to be more than that to you. at least, the same way that you became more for him too.

or was it just him?

“i heard evermonde complaining during breakfast that regulus black had to sit out of the game because he’s sick. so they replaced their seeker with a total novice!” bell excitedly recounted the information, unaware that their captain couldn’t be bother to listen at all.

if you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, then you should’ve said so in the first place. instead of making him look like a fool!

and like some sort of miracle there you were at the end of the hall, alone.

breathing in deep and gathering all the courage of gryffindors and marched over to you with purpose and bouts of confidence blazing in his eyes.

“james, mate!” bell called over to james, his voice like water off of a dolphin’s back.

he was a bout to tell you off, maybe along the lines of how could you? or why did you miss my games? you always watch my games. or am i even your friend anymore? do like hanging with that cauliflower more than me? does he even play quidditch? can he even turn into a stag? is he even that funny. i bet i’m funnier.

“y/n!” he beckoned, jogging over to you in a hurry. you turned, books held tightly to your chest.

“james,”

once he was in front of you, breathing in deep. staring into your eyes and seeing your soft pillowy cheeks and soft smiles.

“how are you?” you breathed, shifting from one foot to the other.

he inhaled, how are you? after weeks of nothing—! he was about to tell you off real good but he forgot a crucial thing.

the slight tension and silence makes you nervous, so rather blabbing about nonsense to fill the silence, you opt to bite your lips and cheeks instead.

suddenly all thoughts seem to fly away from james. your nervous habit becoming more important to him rather than letting you how he feels. it seemed more interesting to him than anything he had ever seen before.

which was crazy, because this wasn’t the first time you did this! or is it because you haven’t been around lately that made his immunity to your distracting quirk lessened?

eventually the silence became way too unbearable, not to mention the staring from james getting too intense. you just had to get out of this really weird and quiet interaction.

“well, james, i have to go now.” you gave a polite and shaky smile, “see you ‘round.”

v. when you watch his games.

today was the last game of the season. everyone on the team was buzzing with nerves and excitement. john bell had made it his mission to let everyone know of what he learned about slytherin yesterday.

“ambrose greengrass is going to play seeker for the time being.”

sirius snorted out a laugh, “greengrass can barely get on his broom!”

“well talkalot was desperate for replacement so soon before the game.”

dawson rolled her eyes and smirked, “well, whoever they send out we’re still going to beat the crap of them!”

the team cheered in agreement.

sirius noticed the lack of quips from james, like he usually does before each games. he sighed, already knowing the root of it. if his mate’s wanly expression had anything to say about it.

going up to his broom at hand and grabbing james’ shoulder, shaking him rather roughly. as if to physically wake him up out of stupor.

“mate, this is your first finals as captain, what the hell are you doing moping like some grandma?”

james looked up and saw the entire team looking at him. breathing in deep. “you’re right, pads.” grabbing his broom and bellowing in his loudest voice, “let’s win this!”

as much as it pains james, he had to forgot about you for a moment and focus on the game. his teammates are counting on him. chanting in his mind that it wouldn’t matter if you were out there or not.

although a very tiny voice, had called out this lie.

it had already been 30 minutes in the game when you had finally arrived. a fragile thing held gently in your hands.

“john bell knocked out euane evermonde with a bludger!” you can hear the announcer scream, a disbelieving laughter echoing. “30 minutes into the game, it’s a blood bath out here folks!”

the crowds surrounding you in the stand were going wild with screams. the players zooming back and forth as they exchanged the quaffle. you looked up and saw james in the air, the wind tousling his already messy hair into knots. he was shouting orders to his team. eyes busy chasing players, all the while dodging bludgers too.

when he flew close enough to your area in the stands, you can see him subtly check out the crowd. your face warming against the cold at the thought of what you are about to do. his eyes quickly meeting yours and then physically stopping his slow glide in the air. as if he couldn’t believe you were there.

biting your cheek and slowly raising the large parchment, the written words charmed to glow and change every few seconds the words: i like you james potter! and go and win this!!! showing up interchangeably.

you watch him look at you dumbfounded until a dazzling grin erupted on his face once he read the words.

you see him spread his arms, and point at himself abashed, as if saying, me? you like me?

and you nodding exaggeratedly.

feeling the flurry of butterflies in your stomach watching him whoop and laugh twisting and looping on his broom. as if re-energized. you laugh too, his mirth too infectious. the others in the stand with you looks at the parchment in wonder and cheer along with you.

you can hear geoffrey shout profanities at james seeing him steady in the air not moving away form your sight, “not this again potter!”

it had taken you two weeks to finish this little project, the idea coming from a muggleborn friend that said they used to do posters when they watch games like these. that’s when you decided to do the same for james.

at first it was only supposed to be a simple parchment with words to cheer james on, for his first game as captain, against the hufflepuffs. but you decided to make it even more special and unforgettable.

granted, you weren’t all that creative in terms of crafts, so you enlisted a ravenclaw to help you put it all together. as much as you didn’t want to, you had to forgo watching the game so you can have some moment alone to get the poster started.

you were confident enough to know that the gryffindors will win and go straight to the finals. with hundreds of students coming to watch the game, you knew james wouldn’t notice your absence.

so the entire week you had committed your time into creating your first poster. trying desperately to hide your activities from james to surprise him. and when you had ran out of materials, you had gone to hogsmeade with charlie to guide you on what you should buy.

you knew james had caught on your weird behaviours. you were sure simple words from him and little pleas would get you to spill the beans but thankfully he had been distracted enough by something else that opened a way for you to leave.

now, here you were clutching the paper like a lifeline, the words you had written with so much care glowing through the fog. you had even drawn james on his broomstick along with his wild hair and glasses askew on his face. although charlie had helped draw it much nicer and life-like. each line moving and dancing across the paper to capture his attention.

with a new sense of motivation, james started to play the game the best he had ever played. zooming right above your area in the stand with a quaffle in his hand and a wink your way, he easily maneuvers over the other players and score.

with the slytherin keeper gone he had easily gathered up score after score.

and each time he did, he would stop a couple of feet in front of you and do a victory dance of some sort, eliciting a giggle and wide giddy smiles from you.

the crowd going crazier and crazier as james seemed like an unstoppable force in the field. eventually the brutal game ended with gryffindor as the winner by 530 points. breaking an all-time record.

gryffindors with some ravenclaws and hufflepuffs scatter to the field to celebrate the win. grabbing unto james, patting him on the shoulder, messing up his hair even more and cheering his name.

even with everyone around him, he managed to lock eyes with you again. quickly pushing other off him and running to you, a smile etched on his face.

you barely had anytime to prepare yourself as a sweaty, large, giddy man hurdled towards you. but james ever so gentle with you, grabbed your waist and lifted you up from the ground, twirling you around, looking at you with absolute glee. you can hear wolf whistles from the others but james barely acknowledges them.

he sets you down, hands still firmly on your side. the parchment now folded haphazardly, clutching it to your chest. wrinkling his nose in a low chuckle before looking down at the paper. “is this why you’ve yet to speak a word with me?”

you breathed, suddenly embarrassed. “i’ve been perfecting this for two weeks.” looking down on the paper leaning into him just a tad bit more, “i ran into some trouble with making the text stay on the parchment rather than fly away.” you muttered, cheeks aflame.

looking up at him through your lashes, having half a nerve to look bashful. “did you like it?”

“like it?” he scoffed, “i bloody loved it,” he grinned, forehead now leaning into yours.

you grin up at him, unaware of the still swirling questions he had for you. but for now holding each other like this, is enough answer for him.

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katiesyellowcardcollection · 21 days

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ill call your mom

trigger warnings - lots of mentions of suicide and the thoughts od doing, bad mental health. please dont read if you feel you cant handle this.

AN: this was written in one siting, not the best just me getting my own feelings out in a fic of some sort

Happiness.

You're not sure the last time you felt true happiness, maybe when you signed for arsenal when you were 10, maybe when you made your senior debut 7 years later or maybe when you were first called up to England, but you weren't happy now, you hadn't felt true happiness in such a long time that you're not sure what it feels like. You weren't sad either though, you were just empty, disconnected from the world, your family, your teammates.

You think it's how you've ended up here, curled up in your wardrobe, pills in front of you, you're not entirely sure what pills you've even picked up, you just grabbed every single one in the medicine cupboard that Beth and Viv had been stocking up for you since your injury.

Your injury.

It had come at the worst possible time, you were on your way to winning the wsl with Arsenal, on the form of your life, the world cup was just round the corner and everything you'd worked so tirelessly for had come crushing down from a movement you'd done thousands of times in your career.

You think of that day now as you swallow the pills, you think of the days leading up to it, how you hadn't been feeling quite right, Jonas wanted you to come off minutes before the injury you'd refused and then there was the pop followed by an indescribable pain, pain you'd never felt before and then nothing. You knew as it happened that your world Cup dreams were over, your season was over, everything was over.

You think of the days after, when you couldn't get out of bed, you couldn't cry, you couldn't feel anything, you haven't felt anything since your mind constantly frozen on that night, on the movement of your knee, one movement that had ruined everything.

Football was your lifeline, it was all you had ever known, growing up in sporty family you'd been kicking a ball since you could stand, joining a team when you were just 5 year, up until that night there hadn't been a day go past when you hadn't kicked a ball or been out on the grass doing some kind of training drill. When you were being bullied as kid, football was how you coped with it all, when the shouting and slamming doors got too much you had football and when you needed football the most you didn't have it, you didn't have an escape.

You were struggling to breathe now, gasping for air you couldn't breathe, and you didn't care, you were content with dying, leaving everything behind, your teammates, football that was really all you had, you wondered if anyone would truly care, if your death would leave them unsettled you think your teammates would be upset but you didn't think your death would life altering for them, they only care because they have to, because your their teammate and they have to care to some extent.

You were losing consciousness now, you hadn't expected for it to happen this quickly for the side effects of the pills you'd taken to work this fast, as you faded in and out of consciousness you felt nothing but relief, it was a feeling you'd been craving for since your injury, previously you thought youd feel relief when you stepped on the pitch for the first time since the injury, except you hadn't felt anything, not relief or joy instead it was almost like a chore being subbed on, two years after you'd first tore your acl, two years of hell, two years begging to run again, two years of wanting nothing more than to be on a pitch again, yet you felt nothing as you high fived Leah letting you onto the field again, both sets of fans applauding your return back. it was like your injury had stripped everything good about you away from you, turning you into the silhouette of the girl you used to be.

in hindsight you should've known that Viv would come knocking when you didn't show up for dinner forgetting she owned a key to your apartment, you should've realised that when you ignored your teammates numerous calls and texts that they would come running, always wanting to help the people they loved most.

You could hear distant banging, desperate pounding at your door, then the click of a lock, your lock, then the shouts of your teammates screaming your name, the urgency in their voices becoming clearer.

You're not sure how they knew that something was seriously wrong, maybe it was instinct or the way your bathroom had been torn apart, the beer bottles that were scattered around your living room or maybe it was your silence.

You should feel someone shaking you, this wasn't death, you could feel the floor of your wardrobe, the clothes hanging up above you, you weren't meant to be back here.

You were supposed to be dead.

You could hear someone screaming at you begging you to open your eyes.

“Oh god y/n wake up for me”

They were crying and shouting for help, shaking your fragile body, you wish that they would stop and shut up for one second, but you couldn't speak, you couldn't move, you were just led there, listening to their desperate cries for help.

You wish you had taken more at that second; you didn't want to have to deal with your teammates finding out, talking about your feelings, you didn't want that, you wanted to be dead there was nothing more you wanted at that moment.

.........................................................................................................................

You woke up to beeping, loud harsh beeps, wires wrapped around your body, you wished you were mistaken, you wished so desperately that this was some kind of afterlife and not a hospital.

A hospital meant you were still alive and still breathing.

It meant it hadn't worked.

Youd failed. Failed at something else again.

You couldn't even kill yourself right.

“Hiya y/n” You heard Viv whisper out.

Slowly you opened your eyes, you noticed the bodies of your teammates laid out on chairs, each with the same concerned facial expressions, they smiled up at you. You turned your focus to Viv, she was sitting next to you holding your hand, you realised, she gave you a sympathetic look, you could see the worry in her eyes, she'd always been a worrier, always wanting to make sure the people she loved most were okay.

“Why am I not dead.”

You croak out, wincing as you do so your throat hurting.

your words hung in the air for a few minutes, none of your teammates quite sure how to respond to such a question. In their minds the answer was easy, you weren't ready to die, you had a life worth living for, you were the most loving, thoughtful person, they knew how could someone so young and ‘innocent’ want to not be here anymore, not want to do life anymore.

It was Katie who spoke first, her accent thicker than normal, her face full of worry.

“Because you have a life here with us kiddo, life is so much more than what you may think it is, you still have so much left to do before you leave y/n.”

You're not sure why or how but her words bring you to tears, she hadn't said anything groundbreaking, yet here you were moved to tears for the first time in two years, you hadn't cried since the night of your injury.

You can feel Viv rubbing your back as you continue to let out tears, you're sobbing now, everything that had happened to you in the past two years coming out, everything the club psychologist had tried to get you out was spilling out of you, the thoughts of your teammates witnessing this sent you into another set of tears, you didn't want them to see you like this, you were a mess, you didn't want them knowing just how much you were struggling.

Viv seemed to have sensed this as she forced everyone out of your hospital room leaving just you and her.

She didn't say anything at first, she just continued rubbing your back, whispering soft Dutch words to you in hopes to calm you down slightly, remembering when you had a Panick attack before you made your debut that speaking in her native language had help you to calm down.

Eventually your sobbing eased off and all that could be heard was your heavy breathing.

“What happened y/n?”

You're not sure how to answer that question truth to be told you didn't know, you remember grabbing the pills and swallowing them, but you don't remember what had switched that evening why you'd decided to go through with it.

You had thought of doing it before, but you were always too scared to actually follow through, you'd written notes, gathered the supplies but you'd never put the plan into place before and you're not sure why you decided that today you would actually follow through.

“I don't know”

She just shakes her head in response.

“You do sweetheart, you don't just try to kill yourself”

You nod in agreement, she's right someone doesn't just do it, there has to be things leading up to it, you're just not sure why tonight, what had happened today that left you so ready to leave

“I've been thinking about it for a while Vivi just today I actually tried I don't know I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to say sorry kiddo, your still here and that's what matters the most to me, to us, were going to help you through this alright darling, I love you so much.”

She says removing her hands of your back and going in for a hug, kissing your head as she does so.

#arsenal women #leah williamson #woso #awfc #alessia russo #awfc x teen reader #katie mccabe x teen reader #katie mccabe #vivianne miedema #beth mead #woso fanfics #woso community #womens football #viv miedema #caitlinfoord #woso x reader

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readingcoco · 3 months

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Painted Red 🖤

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader (f)

Words: 3444 words

Ao3 Link

Summary: When a new sandy-haired Deputy Sheriff arrives in town, you can't figure out why he gives you and the other Working Girls so little attention. It becomes your mission to figure him out and hopefully make some money along the way.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, eventual smut, sex work, period typical attitudes, strangers to lovers, medium honor Arthur Morgan, angst, mutual pining, Deputy Callahan.

Thanks to @rivetingrosie4, @redwritr & @shootybangbang for all your help on this story and for being dreamy angels.

Chapter One - The Deputy

[chapter 2]

“Guess who’s downstairs!” a voice interrupts from behind your door.

The autumn sun sits heavy in the sky, casting a warm pink haze that spills in through your bedroom window. You were supposed to start your shift an hour ago, but instead, you are here, sprawled out on your bed, hair undone, counting the money from the evening before. Muffled notes from the piano downstairs drift softly into your room. You inhale deeply on your cigarette, resenting all things that pull you away from these precious sleepy moments before you have to head downstairs. Make conversation. Smile. Perform.

Timekeeping has never been your strong suit, and you have lost count of the times Lulu had threatened to dock your tips for tardiness. These were empty threats, of course. You knew your position was secure - Even if Lulu liked to kick up a fuss in front of the other girls.

Brow furrowed, you take another drag from your cigarette. $15. $75 total from the week so far. Money hadn’t been flowing as freely as it had done seasons past. The drought had hit everyone hard, and you knew, sure enough, if the boys were feeling it in the tobacco fields, it wouldn’t be long till you were feeling it in the cat house, too. Seemed everyone was praying for rain. Still, Saturday meant full pay packets and men eager to let loose after the working week - something you were more than happy to help them with.

“Who!?” you call out, just as Minnie peeps her head around your door.

“Christ! You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge ass backwards! Lulu’s been askin' after you?”

You hum in response, dragging a comb through the bird's nest atop your head sweeping it up into a loose bun. “Who's got you all giddy? Surely not some John?”

“That new Deputy’s back!”

You roll your eyes. “How big’s the pot now?”

“$5. $5.25, if you still fancy your chances”, Minnie smirks, perching herself at the foot of your bed, watching as you put the last of your face on. “but Ida says she’s out. She don’t wanna waste more time on a Trick who don’t want tricking.”

“Tricks always want to be tricked,” you say, rooting through the collection of bills and coins laid out haphazardly across your bed, handing Minnie 25¢, which she slips into her coin purse.

Men were mostly the same. Sure, some might pretend to be respectable in the streets with their wives or taking their mothers to church on a Sunday, but you’d had every colour and creed between your legs. This deputy would be no different, and you were going to relish claiming the prize pot for yourself.

With a final drag of your cigarette, you smooth out your skirts and collect the pile of money on your bed, stashing it in your linen drawer - making a mental note to deposit it in the parlour safe before the night was out. Keeping that much money in your room is foolish, and if you were more sensible, you would deposit your tips between each John. But then you’d miss out on watching the pile grow. Evidence of your labour, your time, your craft. It wasn't like you worried you wouldn’t get it back as soon as requested - Lulu’d always been good about things like that, but to hand it over before you’d even had the chance to feel the paper fully in your palm seemed like it would make it less real somehow.

You turn to Minnie-

“You ready?”

“Girl, I’ve been waiting on you!”

“Let’s give that deputy the night of his life.”

Although the sun is yet to set in the sky, the house is already live with music and laughter, the mezzanine balcony providing the perfect vantage point to assess what the evening might have in store. There are men fresh from the fields playing Faro, Lemoyne Raiders several whiskeys deep, a few of the younger, more boisterous Grays and the creepy gunsmith, Mister Feeney. Not amazing pickings, but not dire either. Then you spot him, sitting quietly on the table closest to the door, hat pulled low, scribbling something furiously into some book. An odd sight, all considered. You weren’t sure most of the men in this town could read, let alone write.

Minnie squeezes your arm before descending the spiralled staircase, the Deputy firmly in her sights. You lean back to watch as she glides effortlessly across the room—a vision in teal silk taffeta.

As you settle onto your hip, the fine hairs on your neck abruptly stand to attention as the air pressure changes behind you.

“So kind of you to grace us with your presence.” Lulu’s voice drips thick with syrupy disdain. Smile remaining tight. Never in front of the guests.

“Punctuality is a virtue of the bored, Miss Lulu.” You smile sweetly.

She’s not impressed.

“Just get to work. Make Some Money.”

As you look back down to the floor below, a dispirited Minnie is walking away from the Deputy, his nose still firmly in his book. You bristle slightly. Did this man think himself better than the women who worked here? Sure, he was paying for drinks, but a man could drink at home if he was looking for solitude. In a parlour house, it was polite, proper even, to tip the girls, whether you require our services or not. And if the deputy didn’t know this etiquette, you were more than happy to educate him. Prize pot be damned.

It was your turn to make the night’s debut down the curve of the parlour’s stairs, something that on an ordinary night, you liked to draw out for as long as possible. Feel the eyes of each man gaze up at your form like they were watching a goddess descending from heaven, blessing them with your time. True power. But tonight, it takes everything in you not to stomp down the last few steps onto the floor.

That cad still isn’t paying you a lick of attention.

“Deputy.” Your voice comes out curter than you intend as you reach him. You hope Lulu isn’t close enough to overhear.

“Maybe another time, Darlin” " the man responds without looking up.

Make conversation.

“Deputy” You try again. “Are you aware of the price on your head?”

The sound of pencil scratching comes to a halt as he turns to face you. To your surprise, you notice that he was drawing rather than writing as he snaps the leather-bound book shut—the sound startling your gaze upwards to meet his own. And for the first time, you take in the scale of the man. Built like an Ox with broad shoulders and a barrel chest, upon which the words ‘Deputy Sheriff’ shine out from his silver badge. From this proximity, he looks unlike any lawman you’ve seen.

He watches you intently as though trying to predict your next move - eyes a piercing shade of azure blue, locked dangerously onto your own. You have his full attention, but now you’re unsure if you want it.

“Excuse me?”

You swallow and try to make your next words lighter in tone.

Smile.

“Nearly five and a half dollars, in fact.”

His shoulders loosen ever so slightly. Eyes still on you but less predacious, perhaps even the suggestion of a smirk beginning to form at the corner of his mouth.

“Five and a half dollars? That’s some bounty. What I do, rob a bank?”

“Worse,”

He rubs his jaw.

“Oh?”

“You got five whores questioning our faculties. There’s a sweep on which lucky lady’s gonna be the first to get you upstairs, but so far, no one’s got as far as your name.”

A low rasp of a laugh passes the Deputy’s lips, and you feel a sense of relief as the danger in the air dissipates. Bluntness- this man responds to bluntness. And you wonder if you can hold his attention long enough to work your magic.

Perform.

“There are normally two reasons a man mightn’t want to lay with a girl like me…”

You pause for effect, starting to have fun now.

“He’s broke. Though that don’t stop most from pushin’ their luck. Or they’re queer.”

The Deputy straightens and clears his throat. There is something delightful about making a man like this squirm, and you can’t help but sense that he may be enjoying it too.

“So which is it, Deputy?”

You give him your most innocent of smiles. Hand finding purchase upon the swell of his shoulder, knowing full well that its removal could signal the latter of your accusations. You are being cruel now.

There is a moment of hesitation before the man can find the words to respond. Your unassuming smile not giving him an inch of wiggle room. Thumb beginning to make slow circles atop his shirt.

“I-It’s just not really my thing. Payin' for it, I mean. Not that I can’t, or - or-”

“Oh? There’s some third thing I ain’t privy to? A sweetheart somewhere you’re keeping true for?”

“Not really, no.”

A hint of regret in his voice.

“Then why deny yourself a bit of company?”

You notice the tips of his ears turn pink and leave his lack of an answer to hang in the air for a moment before taking pity-

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasin’, but you ought to know it’s customary to buy a girl a drink, even if you ain’t planning on laying with her. We all have to make a living, Deputy, and this is my house.”

And you're not sure if it’s out of a sense of gratitude at you relenting your line of questioning or because he has started to enjoy the warmth from your hand on his shoulder, but that’s when he motions for the barkeeper to bring two drinks over to the table.

Your eyes dart over to Minnie, who is sat between two Grays. She throws you an encouraging wink, and you become keenly aware of the four other sets of eyes watching too. This is the furthest any of you has got with this man, and a wave of responsibility washes over you. You are going to earn that $5.25 plus the additional $5 when he fucks you. You feel foolish for ever doubting your ability in the first place. A man is a man, is a man.

“Ethel White”, you hold out your hand “but call me Ettie.”

“Arthur Callahan.”

Arthur.

He nods to the chair across from him as he removes the leather book from the table and puts it away in his satchel. You pull out the chair next to him instead, purposefully pinning him between you and the wall.

“Christ woman, you ain’t coy, are you?” he laughs, removing his hat, revealing a sandy crop of hair.

Without his hat, you are better able to take in the details of his face: the strong brow, the crook of a nose broken one too many times, a smattering of sunspots across his crown. Quite handsome, you think to yourself, a welcome change from the interchangeable looks of the Grays or Braithwaites who make up the bulk of your clientele.

“Not at all,” you smirk. “Besides, I want to take a look at what you were scribbling away at in that book. Must be awfully interesting to hold your attention so well.” You glance down at the journal now peeking out the top of his satchel. “Is that watercolour paper?”

“Huh?”

“Watercolour paper, you know, to stop the paint seeping through and spoiling the rest of the pages? I saw you were drawing and-”

He looks at you then, and you can see a slight flicker of shame cross his face momentarily. The feeling of someone pointing out the unfamiliar to a previously known thing, changing it somehow, making it less your own. You feel guilty. Watching him squirm was fun, but you never intended to make him feel foolish.

“I don’t paint. It’s for sketching mostly, keepin' track of the people and places I’ve been.”

“You do a lot of travelling, Deputy?”

“A bit.”

That instinct again, that there is more to this man than meets the eye. The lawman artist a walking contradiction.

“What do you paint then?”

His question catches you off guard. Men like to be asked about themselves. They rarely ever show interest in you. A prick of heat flushes across your cheeks, and you hope the rouge of false abashment covers its authentic companion. It’s you who is in control here - not him, goddammit. But his face is filled with genuine curiosity, like he wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t interested, and that’s what puzzles you further.

“Um, landscapes mostly, but I prefer painting people.” The words spill out before a filter of allurement or double entendre can be applied. “It’s just difficult to get people to sit for any length of time. Though I’ve painted all the girls here at some point or another.”

“Where’d ya learn?”

And that is a question too far.

You’d been gifted a great many things over the years, some thoughtful, most not, and learned the hard way how easily something given could be taken away. You’re art though, no one could take that. You wondered sometimes if that had been an oversight when you’d been promised lessons. The techniques acquired the only remaining thing worth a damn apart from your horse. Leftovers from another life.

“Don’t change the subject, Deputy. Are you going to show me your sketches or not?” Before you can stop yourself, you are leaning over him to grab at his satchel, totally aware that the danger this man displayed to you only moments earlier still lies just below the surface. With lightning-quick reflexes, he grabs the wrist of your right hand, firm in his warning. Do not push me, girl. But you have never been one to know when to stop. Your eyes are locked onto him as your breath comes in quick and heavy to your chest; You notice his start to slow. He’s read you like a book. Left hand spearing from under the table to meet your secondary attack, pinning it against his thigh.

You look down at your fingers splayed out under the weight of his own. Knuckles scarred and calloused from a lifetime of work not typically required by law enforcement. The warmth from his thigh radiates beneath your palm, and it takes everything in you not to edge your fingers closer to the source of his heat.

He meets you with an expression you struggle to place. Not anger - though you couldn’t blame him if it was. Amusement maybe?

“Think careful about your next move now, Miss. I wouldn't want to have to arrest you for larceny.”

You give him your widest of smiles and look carefully over your shoulder behind you. And as though suddenly clocking the inference of your shared position, Arthur lowers your right hand so it rests on the table rather than in the air. The grip still firm.

“If I let you go, will you behave?”

“Will you show me your drawings?”

“Woman-” But he doesn’t say no.

“I’ll behave.”

He looks at you, trying to figure out whether he trusts you.

“I promise.”

Gaze still set, he experiments loosening the grip on your wrist and then shadows the hand on his thigh - awaiting any sudden movements. You hold still. And for a moment, you see him grapple with himself as though he can’t quite believe what he is about to do. He releases you fully, and you take back your right hand, leaving your left firmly in place.

“Now, if I show you, you gotta promise not to go grabbin'? There’s stuff a man should be able to keep private.”

You nod.

He grins as he bucks his thigh, dislodging your rooted palm.

“Hands behind your back.”

With a playful huff you acquiesce, putting both arms behind you as though bound and look back at him coquettishly. And although he feigns disinterest at the way this new position pushes forward the peak of your chest, you catch his eyes dart across them, guilty in their haste.

He removes the leather-bound journal from his satchel, smoothing open two pages carefully on the table.

“Here. But that’s your lot.”

Spread across both pages is a beautifully rendered sketch of the parlour’s exterior, and you don’t know how to react. He stiffens slightly beside you.

“Just a silly doodle,” he says, moving to close the book. Clearly reading your quietness for disappointment, disgust, something else?

“Wait-”

To see the parlour captured in such effortless detail; The ornate carvings of the porch where you take your morning coffee, the Virginia Creeper that had to be cut back for fear it’d engulf the entire house, the hanging baskets of petunias that Lulu so lovingly tended to - feels exposing in a way you’d not expected. What other unnoticed minutiae had his perceptive eyes picked up on?

“It’s beautiful. You’ve captured it just right.” You half-whisper.

“Ain’t as good as a paintin’.”

“Different thing entirely, but if you can draw like this, I’m sure you’d make a fine painter.”

He gives you the smallest of smiles as you catch sight of Lulu’s permeating glare as she sweeps down the central staircase. You are on the clock. If he’s not biting, move on. And you remember you are not here to discuss painting or art unless it serves your more explicit purpose.

“See that top window at the back?” You make sure to graze his arm as you remove one hand from behind your back, bringing it slowly to the open page.

“That’s my bedroom.”

“Oh?”

“Might you like to come up and see some of my work?”

You can see him contemplating the thought over in his mind, and you start to wonder if there really is some poor woman he is betrothed to… or perhaps your prior insinuation was correct, for you have never met a man so ill at ease at being in close proximity to a woman-

“Mister Callahan!”

You are both pulled away from each other's gaze as you turn to face your intruder. Sheriff Gray. And you are up and on your feet in an instant. Eyes twinkling with faux excitement to welcome this invader of fun, spoiler of all things delightful and new. Arthur straightens to attention.

“I see you’ve met Ettie. Ain’t she a peach? I hope she’s been treatin’ you with all the hospitality we here at Rhodes can offer.” As he slurs his words, it is clear he’s already halfway soaked and once again, you feel Lulu’s watchful eyes on the back of your neck. You have a responsibility to your house, and Sheriff Gray isn’t any regular John. To keep him placated is to keep the house protected, and it is your duty to ensure the Sheriff remains happy and drunk, coddled and empty.

“Oh, stop it!” You coo in his ear, wrapping your arm up tightly in his. Voice layered thick with honey.

The shine on his breath hits like a train, bringing tears to your eyes that you mask by nuzzling your head to his shoulder. He sags heavy on your hip, oblivious.

“You didn’t tell me you’d hired such a handsome new Deputy-''

Arthur shifts in his seat, and you wonder what detail of your performance his observant eyes have picked up on.

“You keepin’ secrets from me, Sheriff? Or do you just want me all to yourself?”

“I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t.” Sheriff Gray hiccups and turns to face Arthur. “Do you mind if I accompany the lady upstairs?”

Arthur stands, towering over the Sheriff by quite some measure and places his hat back atop his head.

“Course not. You both enjoy your evening. I’ve to be headin' back anyway.”

For a second, your eyes meet Arthur’s, but his expression is impenetrable. The Sheriff speaks again.

“Safe travels, Deputy. Rhodes is honoured to have such honest men like you and Mr Mackintosh about. Your work rootin’ out that shine is already being felt around the county.”

Arthur nods. The effects of the shine are certainly being felt.

He hiccups again. “Don’t be a stranger, now.”

“Don’t be a stranger.” You repeat, all traces of the sickly sweet affect gone from your voice. You yip as the Sheriff swats your backside, but you keep your head high, eyes still held on this curious lawman artist.

Don’t be a stranger.

“Miss.” Deputy Callahan touches the brim of his hat as you lead Sheriff Gray upstairs to your room.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 smut #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x oc #painted red

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