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on-my-vigilante-sht · 4 months

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Moving on to You

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: Aaron finally tells his longtime crush about his feelings when he almost loses her (Sequel to Move On)

Warning: jealousy, pining, awkward dates, canon level violence, non-accurate medical stuff

Word Count: 4.5K

Masterlist

A/N I've had this in my drafts for months and I finally decided to finish and publish it per request

Aaron Hotchner is the definition of levelheaded. He’s renowned in the FBI not only for his success rate at catching criminals but also for his professionalism. And snapping a pencil with his fist whilst staring at his subordinate through his office window as she smiled up at an unknown agent was incredibly unprofessional. He knew this wasn’t the first man she had gotten to know over the past year but this was the first time he was forced to actually witness her flirting with another man.

He knew he had no right to be jealous, their relationship had never progressed beyond friendly in the year that Y/N had been on the team. Still he couldn’t help but feel the slight clench of pain in his chest every time he saw her smile at her phone or overheard one of her conversations with another team member about a new guy.

Nonetheless his professionalism prevailed as he began to review potential cases. He noted one regarding a serial killer just outside of DC, setting it aside to pass onto Garcia.

The next morning the team was assembled in the conference room as Penelope relayed the information about a killer who had been targeting strippers. Although Aaron’s attention was on Y/N as he observed her clearly exhausted body language. Probably a date night with that agent, he thought cynically.

Soon enough Penelope was done speaking. “We’ll head out in 30. Meet in the garage then,” he ordered as the rest of the team. He was headed out towards his office when he stopped as he heard Morgan’s voice.

“Up late with the new boy toy?” Derek teased.

“I guess you could say that,” Y/N answered casually. “I’m not seeing him anymore.”

“Wait why?” JJ asked suddenly. Similar to what Aaron wanted to ask.

He was still turned away from the group but Aaron could practically hear Y/N’s shrug. “Just weren’t clicking anymore.”

“What was he into something weird? Like a foot fetish?” Derek asked with full seriousness.

Y/N laughed. “I’m not answering that.”

“So he was!” Derek shouted as she passed Aaron down to the bullpen.

The rest filed out of the conference room as Aaron continued to pretend to be busy with the file. “She’s single again,” Rossi sung quietly.

“I am aware and I don’t see how that affects me,” Aaron tried to deflect.

“Oh come on, I see the way you watch her. I also noticed a broken pencil in your trash can. Did you Hulk-out when you saw her with that agent yesterday?”

“Wait why were you in my office?”

“Doesn’t matter. The point is she’s single, you’re single, and you’ve been in love with her for the past year-”

“No I haven’t,” Aaron suddenly cut in, sounding like a teenage girl. He cleared his throat. “I’m not in love with her. Besides she’s my subordinate-”

“And you don’t want anyone to think she’s on the team for the wrong reason blah, blah, blah,” Rossi finished. “You said that a year ago. Besides, at this point, no one would think that. You deserve to be happy, Aaron. Get out there and get the girl!”

With those words Dave left, leaving Aaron in his thoughts. Could they actually be together? Would she even want him?

He pushed those thoughts aside, getting ready to head out with the rest of his team. Including the girl who consumed his every thought.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, these are SSAs Jareau, Morgan, Rossi, L/N, Prentiss, and Dr. Reid,” Aaron introduced his team to the town’s sheriff.

“We appreciate you guys coming so fast. The people here aren’t used to this type of crime,” Sheriff Osborne explained, leading the feds through the police station.

Aaron tried to listen to the sheriff’s information but rather he was keenly aware of all the police officers stares. Pushing through it, the agents followed the sheriff into a conference room that would serve as their setup.

“Alright, JJ and Reid, head to the medical examiner. We need to figure out what exactly he’s doing to these girls. Morgan and I will go to the clubs these girls were working, see if there was anyone who stuck out to the other dancers. Rossi and Prentiss, head to the most recent crime scene. L/N, I want you to work on the geographical profile,” Aaron ordered.

That last order raised an eyebrow for everyone on the team. “But… Reid usually does the geographical profile,” Y/N suggested gently, a confused twinge in her voice.

“Yes, well since it seems you can’t stop talking about your personal life I figured it’d be best if you work alone for a little while.” The second those words left Aaron’s mouth he instantly regretted them. Y/N looked taken aback by his rude words but having never questioned his authority she just lowered her gaze to the ground. Looking around the other members of his team looked aghast at his words too. Aaron’s soft spot for the newest agent had been noticed by everyone on the team (except of course the agent in question) so seeing him be so outrightly rude was jarring. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, especially not humiliate her in front of the team, but he was so frustrated having to hear the others question Y/N on her love life around the office and in the car.

Seeing that he shouldn’t continue barking orders, Aaron turned to exit the room, the rest following. Unseen by him was every member of the team giving Y/N sympathetic looks.

Once buckled inside their SUV, Morgan began to question his boss. “What was that with L/N back there? We all talk about our personal lives all the time and it’s never affected our work, Y/N included.”

Aaron sighed, really not having a good reason for his outburst. “She brought that agent into our office unauthorized. He shouldn’t have even had access to our floor.”

“So you yell at her a day later in front of an entire precinct?”

“Morgan, drop it,” Aaron said sternly, not wanting to continue this. Seeing as there was no point in continuing, Derek kept his mouth shut but the ride to the club was tense the rest of the way.

“Hey, sorry about your boss,” a voice interrupted Y/N’s intense concentration on the map in front of her. She whipped her head around to look at him, a little startled. Seeing her alarm the young officer took a step back. “Didn’t mean to scare you, just thought you might like some coffee.”

“Hmm? Oh! Thanks,” she said, her brain catching up to his words. She took the coffee gratefully, taking a sip. It was made wrong but not wanting to seem ungrateful she gave the officer a smile.

“Thought you could use it after your boss treated you so badly,” the officer empathized.

Y/N sucked in a breath. “You saw that, huh?”

“I think everyone saw it,” the officer chuckled awkwardly. “I’m Officer Olson, but you can call me Cole.” Y/N took a second to observe the man. He wasn’t necessarily her type, her having a thing for the dark, brooding types, but he was certainly attractive.

“Agent Y/N L/N,” she introduced.

“So what are you working on, Agent Y/N L/N?” he asked, saying her name flirtatiously.

She let out a small laugh at his tone. “Um it’s called a geographical profile. We take every significant location like homes, workplaces, abduction sights, crime scene, disposal sights, etc. to get an idea of these killers comfort zones. Which often leads us to where they will either strike next, where they live or work, or what their holding place might be in cases where victims are abducted.”

“Wow, this profiling stuff is crazy. I’ve heard you guys can tell someone’s entire life story from just one look,” he teased.

“I don’t know about that but yeah, you can learn a lot about a person from just a conversation if you pay close attention.”

“What can you tell about me?”

Y/N looked him up and down. His body language screamed that he was interested in her but she didn’t want to embarrass him too much. “You have the confidence of a youngest son and let me guess, you were in a frat in college?” The officer blushed, surprised she sussed that out so quickly. “You’re here as an officer for glory and you got it, the people here already admire you. You actually got the chance to move onto something bigger, probably DC, but it’s easier to stand out in your small hometown.” Cole just stared at the pretty FBI agent, slightly mortified that she saw through him so clearly. His first instinct was deny it but something about her made him think twice. She just smirked at his silence. “Gotcha.”

Before Officer Olson could say anything, two other FBI agents walked into the room. “Careful L/N,” Rossi interrupted the pair, “Hotch was pulling up as we walked in.”

“Guess I better go,” Cole said sheepishly. “Nice to meet you Agent Y/N.” She couldn’t help the smile that found it’s way onto her face at the use of her title and first name.

“Damn, already moving onto a different guy?” Emily asked with a chuckle.

“No, he just came in and introduced himself,” Y/N brushed off. Emily and Rossi both just hummed in disagreement.

As the BAU chief walked in he didn’t notice the burning gaze of Officer Olson. What he did notice was the way Y/N seemed to shy away from his very presence. As he stepped into the conference room his heart clenched when she met his gaze but just turned away, busying herself with the board that showed the geographical profile.

After a fitful night of regret, Aaron decided to apologize to his young agent in the morning. But as he opened his door to his crappy motel room into the crappy hallway he could hear two voices.

“Thought I’d bring you some coffee that didn’t come from an old police station coffee pot,” a masculine voice flirted.

“Thank you,” came the giggle from Y/N. Aaron practically groaned to himself. This couldn’t be happening again.

“I was wondering… if you’re not too busy,” the voice changed, gaining a nervous lilt, “if you’d like to get dinner with me on a slower night before you and your team leave? I know you’re actively chasing a serial killer so it doesn’t have to be fancy.” The voice seemed to have caught themselves, changing their pitch. “O-or it can be really fancy! Whatever you want! I’m not picky I-”

“I’d love to have dinner with you,” Y/N’s calming voice interrupted, putting the boy out of his misery. “We can do tonight. Just grab something easy and nearby.”

“Ye- yeah, I’d like that.” Aaron internally rolled his eyes at being able to hear the bright smile in this guy’s voice. “I’ll uh see you then.”

“See you later.” Aaron sighed internally, hearing the door to Y/N’s room close softly. She had been single for what? 24hours? And he had still lost his opportunity? Deciding that his emotions were running too high to talk to Y/N right now, he just let his door fall back closed, deciding to just get ready for the day.

“When I graduated from the FBI academy I was placed in the Human Resources branch because of my psych degree. Obviously, that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to do so when I heard about an opening in the Behavioral Analysis Unit I jumped at it and fortunately my boss, Hotch, was willing to take a chance on me. Agent Rossi and the rest of the team pretty much taught me everything I know,” Y/N explained as her date stared at her in awe.

“Wow, that’s quite the resume you have,” he chuckled nervously, taking a sip of his drink. “I’ll admit it’s been a long time since I went on a date where the girl’s career was more impressive.” Y/N quirked her eyebrow at that but didn’t say anything. “Not that it’s an issue, just not a lot going on around here.”

She just hummed looking down at her food. She tried to covertly push away the peas in her food, not wanting to insult Cole’s food choice.

There was an awkward beat of silence between the two that was fortunately broken up by Y/N’s phone ringing. She felt a sense of relief reading her boss’ name flash across the screen. “Hey Hotch,” she answered.

“L/N, where are you?” his stern voice cut to the chase.

“Um, this place called Vincent's with Officer Olson. It’s like 15 minutes from the station. Why?”

Aaron pushed through the reoccurring pang in his chest. “Some other officers cornered our unsub, James Stevens, in a strip club. He’s holding five girls hostage inside.”

“Where is it?”

“125 North St. 5 minutes east of you.”

“I’ll be right over,” Y/N quickly cut in.

“L/N, do not engage before the rest of us get there. Got it?”

“Yeah, I understand,” she agreed begrudgingly. She hung up the phone, already collecting her things. “I have to go, the unsub is holding a group of girls hostage inside a club 5 minutes from here.”

“Oh shit,” Cole exclaimed, grabbing his things and leaving some cash on the table. The pair quickly jumped into their respective cars, lights and sirens blaring as they headed to the club.

As soon as Y/N jumped out of the SUV several officers flocked towards her. “Scene is yours agent, what do you want to do?” Sheriff Osborne asked.

“Any shots fired? Do we have confirmation the girls are alive?”

“Snipers have eyes on three of the girls and we have no reason to believe the other two are dead. Upon entering he fired randomly, killing a few patrons per witnesses. Thing is, when he took control he let every man leave but held all the girls.”

“Okay,” she acknowledged, trying to figure out what her next move would be. Based on the profile she knew he was negotiable but if he felt any sort of threat he’d go down guns blazing, taking down anyone he could. “I’m going in to talk to him.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Cole’s voice suddenly interrupted. He had grabbed Y/N’s arm, looking at her with pleading eyes. She just stared at him, confused before sliding her arm out of his grip.

“Agent, shouldn’t you wait for your team?” The sheriff’s voice interrupted the awkward encounter.

“This guy’s going to get more agitated and unstable the longer we wait. I’m going in now,” she said, pulling the gun out of her waistband and handing it to the sheriff. “And don’t let anyone in there until I call for it. We could lose a lot of lives if we spook this guy.”

The sheriff nodded as she approached the door.

“Agent L/N is entering the building,” crackled over the radio as Hotch and the rest of the team raced through the streets.

“What?” Aaron’s mind was going a mile a minute. “Repeat that,” he called over the radio.

“Agent L/N has entered the building to begin negotiations,” the police reporter called over the radio again.

Derek stared at the radio in shock from the passenger seat. “Hotch-” he began, wanting to slam his foot on the gas.

“I know,” he said, already pressing the car to go faster than they had been going previously.

They arrived on scene in record time, Hotch barely taking the time to throw the car in park. He was immediately heading for the door, not bothering to get all the information he would normally wait for, too set on getting the woman he was in love with out. “Stop him!” he heard a sudden shout. Several officers flocked to him in an effort to block his path. Whirling around furiously he found a desperate looking sheriff. “Agent L/N said that if anyone goes in there a lot of lives will be lost. And I’m guessing your agent would be one of them.”

Aaron wanted to pull rank and argue but he knew the sheriff was right but he was desperate to get his agent out of there safely.

“I tried to stop her,” an officer interrupted. Aaron recognized the voice from the hallway. All he could muster was an annoyed look before turning his attention back to the sheriff.

“Do we have a line of communication?”

“Yeah, we have Stevens on the phone. No one’s talked in a while though, we’ve just been listening to your agent try to calm him down.”

Soon enough the BAU chief had the phone. “Agent L/N, exit the building, that’s an order.”

It took a second but he got a shaky, “Not gonna happen, Hotch.”

“L/N-”

“You heard the lady,” a new voice cut him off. James Stevens. “She doesn’t want to leave yet. C’mon, let me keep her for a little while longer?” he pleaded sarcastically. “The pretty girls rarely keep their clothes on nowadays. Agent L/N is a breath of fresh air.”

Aaron clenched his jaw at his words. “We can work something out James.” Covering the microphone he leaned over to one of the officers. “Tell the snipers to take the shot of they get it,” he whispered.

“Come on you know there’s no walking out of this a free man, just let us walk out and we’ll talk this out,” he heard Y/N’s voice. There was a minute of silence and Aaron could only imagine what the psychopath inside was doing. “At least let the girls go. I’ll stay, I’ll be your collateral.”

“Agen-” Aaron immediately began to reprimand.

“Shut up!” James shrieked through the phone so loud Aaron had to pull it away. “Fine,” he heard more quietly. “You five, go! You stay.”

Once again Aaron covered the microphone. “As they’re coming out, go.”

All the girls started immediately scrambling up, heading for the door. It happened so fast there was hardly time to register it.

The first girl reached the door, wrenching it open. She was immediately met with a wall of SWAT officers. They pressed inside, guns up as the girls shrieked and scrambled away. “No!” Y/N heard herself shout, going towards them. Mistaking her attempt to salvage the situation as an effort to escape, Stevens was on her in a second.

She felt a sharp pain pierce her abdomen as he tackled her to the ground. She then felt him slump against her before being quickly pushed off, a SWAT officer kneeling over her, calling for a medic.

“Agent down, agent down,” Aaron heard the report come over the radio. He was immediately tearing away from the phone, running towards the entrance of the club. But Rossi intercepted him before he could go inside.

“I know, I know, I heard,” Dave tried to calm down his friend. “But EMTs just went in and you don’t need to be in the way.” Aaron began to protest but was cut off again. “I know it’s hard to watch the woman you love be hurt again but Y/N will be fine.”

Before Aaron could continue arguing he caught sight of Y/N being rolled out on a gurney. Dave let him go as he followed the EMTs to the ambulance. But before he could climb in the same officer from earlier ran up. “I-I’m her boyfriend,” he explained as he tried to climb up into the ambulance.

With those words Aaron nearly snapped. Despite his insecurity in his place in Y/N’s life, he knew that was a complete fallacy. She would never move that fast with a complete stranger. “Officer,” he caught the young man’s attention.

Cole visibly paled seeing Y/N’s boss. “A-agent Hotchner.”

Satisfied with the boy’s scared shitless expression, Aaron turned back to the EMT’s. “SSA Aaron Hotchner,” he introduced, pulling out his badge. “This is my agent and I will be accompanying her to the hospital.” And with that, he sent Officer Olson one last glare before climbing in.

Upon entering the ambulance the EMT stepped out, shutting the doors. As he took a seat, he realized his agent was still awake, albeit in agony. “Y/N? I’m right here,” he said, taking her blood soaked hand. Her shirt had been removed, allowing him to see the stab wound that had been tightly wrapped with blood soaked bandages. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault, Aaron,” she said through gritted teeth, her face twisted in pain as they hit a bump in the road. “I’m so cold an-and tired.”

He couldn’t help but notice the way she said his first name. It was refreshing, almost a relief, to hear his name come from her lips. “Hey, no just stay awake for a little while longer. We’re almost to the hospital.” Y/N just nodded, tears of pain and fear running down her cheeks.

“Why’d you come?” she suddenly asked. “I thought you hated me.”

It physically pained Aaron to hear that. “I’m so sorry I’ve been treating you the way I have on this case. I just couldn’t help but…” Aaron hesitated with the next words. He didn’t want to be vulnerable but she deserved the truth. “…be jealous.”

That took Y/N’s mind off of the pain. “Jealous?”

Aaron hung his head. “Yes, I-I’ve had feelings for you ever since you joined. I understand if you want to take some time away after this or even transfer to another team of your choice. I just thought you were owed an explanation for my behavior.”

“Y-you’ve had feelings for me for that long?”

Aaron squeezed her hand again. “Please don’t make me say it,” he asked but inside, he’d humiliate himself a million times to make up for what he did and earn her affection.

“Just this once,” she requested, tears pricking her eyes, whether from pain or emotion. “I need to be sure it’s not the blood loss.”

Aaron sighed softly, admiring her face. “I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you for the last year.”

“I’ve felt the same about you,” she confessed.

“Say it,” Aaron pressed, his other hand now clutching onto their already joined hands.

“I love you, Aaron.”

A smile tugged at Aaron’s lips. He hadn’t realized how much tension had gathered and with Y/N’s confession it all dispersed. Reaching a hand up to her face he cupped her cheek, tangling his fingertips into her hair. “You’re gonna be okay,” Aaron promised. “You have to be okay.” But he could see her eyes slipping closed and he could feel how clammy her skin was. “You gotta stay awake, sweetheart. C’mon.”

“It hurts,” she groaned through half closed lids.

“I know, you’re almost there.”

It took a few hours of surgery and another couple days of rest in the hospital but Agent L/N was finally discharged to go home. Unfortunately, she had to have a caretaker for that period of time. Fortunately, her boss/the man who was in love with her, was more than happy to take responsibility for his agent.

“Almost there,” Aaron tried to soothe a very tired and pained Y/N. Taking a few deep breaths, she found the strength to hobble over to her bed with a lot of support from Aaron.

She let out a groan as Aaron helped settle her on the bed. As he gripped her hand, he couldn’t help but see flashes of blood, remembering that night in the ambulance. “I’m gonna grab your bag from the car. Be right back,” Aaron promised with a peck to her lips.

While grabbing her bag was a legitimate excuse, he really just needed a minute to calm himself down. He needed to remember that Y/N was safe, not lying on a surgical table or in the back of an ambulance bleeding out.

He quickly hurried back into her apartment after grabbing her bag, re-entering the bedroom. “Here you are,” Aaron said, leaning the go-bag up against her dresser which was placed next to the bed. “I guess I’ll um let you rest,” he murmured out awkwardly. As much as he’d rather stay over she probably wanted some time to relax. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Aaron,” her voice interrupted him as he turned towards the door. Pivoting on his heel, he looked back at her. “Can you… um… just stick around for a little while? Every time I closed my eyes when I was alone in the hospital all I could see was him.”

That surprised Aaron a bit but it felt as if his entire being melted. She wanted him to protect her?

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed. There was no place in her bedroom to sit so he settled on the end of the bed. “‘M glad you feel safe with me,” he murmured.

“I do,” she confirmed. “You’re like my personal bodyguard,” she said, recalling memories of him barking orders at doctors when she was in pain or when annoying officers came to visit.

“I’m glad,” he smiled. He helped her settle into a lying position before resuming his place at the foot of the bed, regretfully letting out a yawn. After all, being a personal bodyguard was exhausting.

She noticed his yawn and immediately began demanding he lie down too. “You’ve been up helping me for days. Help me by sleeping now, please.”

“I really don’t want to intrude,” Aaron excused. “You don’t need me accidentally hurting you.”

“You won’t,” she swore. “Please. I’ll feel better knowing you’re resting too.”

Sleeping with her did sound nice. An irrational part of him thinking he could keep her nightmares away by doing so. So he complied, sliding under the covers she had pulled back for him. As he settled, she scooted closer to him as much as her surgical wounds would allow. Until she ended up tucked under his arm, head resting on his shoulder.

“Sleep,” he murmured the order, thumb stroking her cheekbone. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Masterlist

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #x reader #bau #bau x reader #hotch #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader

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storiesbyrhi · 1 year

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In progress series Total word count: 83,064 thus far Witch!reader x bat/vampire!Eddie Munson

No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople's wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Warnings: canon typical violence, swearing, horror genre typical violence/infrequent gore, death/dying, animal death, suicide, abusive parents, death in childbirth (mentioned - not described), spiders/bug, no beta, grief/mourning; light smut; warnings updated each chapter.

Extras: From 1586 to 1986 - our story's timeline The Grimoire - all the magical references ^updated with each chapter Book cover art Eddie art

Chapters:

one: Eptesicus fuscus 2809 words A voice calls to you.

two: From sickness a reprieve 3443 words There are many different ways to heal.

three: A drop of witch's blood 2755 words When is a man, not a man?

four: Deserving of hex or death 3371 words An ye harm none, do what ye will.

five: A gateway to the woods 2562 words In honour and love.

six: To symbolise atonement and reconciliation 2714 words Death and transformation, or: how to unhex.

seven: I wasn't your burden to bear 2740 words Bury a candle and give allegiance.

eight: Lux solis urere hic malum 3051 words Death is here.

nine: That's the real monster 2962 words What is expected of us?

ten: This is holy work 2909 words Violence comes twofold.

eleven: A carnal fight of bodies 3046 words A witch will not fight alone.

twelve: I remember destruction 2777 words The timeline narrows and questions begin to find answers.

thirteen: A question of morality 2882 words Warning... answers may lead to endings.

fourteen: The natural laws of magic and earth 3294 words We are our memories.

fifteen: Fade to black 3170 words Before death.

sixteen: Everything all at once 3515 words Liminal spaces.

seventeen: Where there is death 3668 words We speak to those beyond.

eighteen: A ghost in the memory 2552 words Magic for magic.

nineteen: Love and be loved 2292 words It's time to wake up.

twenty: Slit the throat of fear 3635 words A non-linear and incomplete series of vignettes.

twenty one: Your defense is me 2590 words Looming doom.

twenty two: I will not survive you 2918 words It's time for a family reunion.

twenty three: Our mutineer fate 3390 words In coven we trust.

twenty four: Come pleading for absolution 3124 words Pulling strings and aura reading.

twenty five: Continue to delight me 2738 words Homeward bound.

twenty six: No new monsters 2994 words Life goes on.

twenty seven: Deep, dark catacombs of my soul 2888 words To build a home. (bonus: Little Witch's Moody Midnight Mix Tape)

twenty eight: A monument to witchcraft and love 2340 words. You are wide awake. (bonus: Little Witch and Eddie's Home inspo board)

twenty nine:

thirty:

thirty one:

#Mine #Rhi Masterlist #Eddie Munson #Bat!Eddie #Vampire!Eddie #Vampire!Eddie Munson #Bat!Eddie Munson #Witch!Reader #Witch!Reader x Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You

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lucybronzey · 8 months

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new beginnings I - lucy bronze

pairing: Lucy Bronze x fem! reader (she/her) warnings: fluff, mention of children and alcohol word count: 3,446 author's note: This one probably comes in a few parts so be ready! I have also put some personal views into this as I really wanted to bring in some Northern European vibes into this. Please note that my dyslexia still affects my writing and there can be lots of grammar/vocabulary/phrasing mistakes. Feedback is always welcome! Please do not translate, copy/paste or take credit/ownership of any of my stories! summary: The brisk Estonian air swirled around Y/N as she walked through the charming streets of Tallinn, lost in her thoughts. She smiled to herself, thinking about the remarkable journey she had embarked upon with her beloved wife, Lucy Bronze. Their love had blossomed over time, transcending borders and cultures. Lucy, a world-renowned football star, had captured Y/N's heart with her determination, humour and kindness. Despite their demanding schedules, they managed to build a life together, supporting each other through thick and thin.

Tallinn's cobblestone streets echoed with the sound of Y/N's footsteps as she strolled through the charming Old Town. The medieval architecture and the scent of good food wafting from nearby cafes and restaurants created a picturesque backdrop. It was a city she loved dearly, a place where her roots intertwined with her aspirations.

Y/N was a woman of quiet strength and boundless dreams. With wavy (your hair colour) hair that framed her face and thoughtful eyes that held the wisdom of experiences beyond her years, she had an air of grace that drew people toward her. A proud Estonian, Y/N felt a deep connection to her homeland, carrying its rich history and vibrant culture within her heart.

As she walked, Y/N's thoughts drifted to Lucy Bronze, the woman who had captured her heart and had been married for a year. Lucy, with her radiant smile and eyes that sparkled like the clearest skies, was a force of nature both on and off the football field. Y/N had first seen her play during a televised match, a fierce determination emanating from her as she led the Lionesses to victory in the Euros. From that moment, her admiration for Lucy had blossomed into something more profound.

Flashback.

It had been a night of celebration, euphoria filling the air as England's triumph was celebrated throughout the women's football world. Lucy Bronze's exceptional performance earned her accolades and the hearts of fans worldwide. The victory had been hard-fought and the joyous energy of the achievement had translated into an unforgettable afterparty held in an elegant hotel overlooking the bustling city of London.

Y/N had been immersed in the celebratory atmosphere. She had attended the afterparty through a connection with mutual friends, her excitement palpable as she mingled with fellow football players, team members and mutual friends. Being in the presence of such a remarkable athlete as Lucy was an honour in itself and Y/N had never imagined that fate had a different kind of honour in store for her that night.

Amid the lively music, clinking glasses and bursts of laughter, Y/N's eyes eventually found Lucy across the room. Her heart had raced at the sight of the defender, whose exhaustion from the game seemed to only enhance her magnetic presence. Lucy's genuine smile and easy laughter were contagious, spreading like wildfire through the gathering.

As the night progressed, Y/N found herself drawn into the same circles as Lucy. It was a stroke of luck, or perhaps destiny, that had allowed them to cross paths. When they finally connected, Y/N felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement. She had followed Lucy's career, admired her skill on the field and now, here she was, in the same space as the person who had become a source of inspiration.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly as if they were old friends catching up after a long time apart. Y/N learned about Lucy's journey in the women's football world – the sacrifices, the hard work and the unwavering determination that had led her to become one of the sport's most formidable players. Lucy, in turn, was intrigued by Y/N's stories of her Estonian heritage, her passions and her dreams beyond the football field.

Amid the celebratory atmosphere, they found a quieter corner where they could hear the distant rhythm of the waves crashing against the shore. The twinkling lights above them cast a warm glow, creating an intimate space where their connection deepened. Glasses filled with a mix of beer, rum and wine sat before them, each sip accentuating the thrill of the moment.

Their laughter mingled with the night air, creating a melody that was uniquely their own. They shared stories of their lives, experiences that had shaped them and dreams that had carried them through challenges. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring them together on this lush night, where time seemed to stretch, allowing them to explore the depths of each other's souls.

As the hours ticked by, Y/N and Lucy felt a bond growing stronger with every word exchanged. They laughed, they debated and they shared moments of vulnerability that left an indelible mark on their hearts. Underneath the starlit sky, they discovered that their connection was more than just admiration from afar – it was a genuine and profound spark. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, a moment that sent an electrifying shockwave through both their bodies. It was a kiss that held the promise of everything that could be, a glimpse into the future they hadn't yet dared to imagine. Time seemed to stand still as they shared that stolen moment, a testament to the chemistry that had ignited between them.

As they pulled away, their breaths mingling in the hotel air, Lucy's fingers gently brushed against Y/N's cheek. The intensity of their connection was mirrored in their eyes, a silent acknowledgement of the path they were about to embark upon.

In the days that followed the unforgettable afterparty, Y/N and Lucy found themselves navigating the complexities of long-distance communication. They exchanged numbers and began sending messages that ranged from playful banter to heartfelt confessions. Despite the geographical distance that separated them, their connection only grew stronger.

Lucy's rigorous training schedule and Y/N's demanding work commitments meant that their conversations often spanned across time zones that were only two hours ahead or behind, but they made the effort to bridge the gap. Video calls became their lifeline, a way to see each other's smiles and hear the genuine laughter that had first drawn them together. In those moments, the miles between them seemed to vanish.

Their conversations were filled with shared dreams, whispered promises and the building anticipation of a future that was slowly taking shape. They found solace in each other's words, in the way they could confide in one another and in the reassurance that they were not alone in facing life's challenges.

As the weeks turned into months, Y/N and Lucy's bond deepened, the foundation of their relationship growing stronger with each passing day. They learned each other's quirks, shared their favourite books and talked about their hopes for the future. The distance that had once seemed daunting now served as a reminder of the strength of their connection.

As they continued to share their lives from across the sea, Y/N and Lucy's connection deepened into something neither of them had ever experienced before. Their messages and video calls became the highlights of their days and the promise of their future together seemed more real with each passing conversation.

Amidst the late-night talks and virtual laughter, Y/N and Lucy found themselves facing the practical challenges of a long-distance relationship. The geographical separation, while bridged by technology, was a reminder of the physical distance that kept them apart.

One evening, as they shared their dreams and aspirations over a video call, Lucy's voice took on a thoughtful tone.

"Y/N, I've been thinking," she began, her eyes earnest as she looked at the screen. "What if... What if you moved in with me?"

The idea hung in the air, a beacon of hope that illuminated the path before them. Y/N's heart raced at the thought, the prospect of waking up beside Lucy every day filling her with a mix of excitement and longing. The idea of a shared life, of intertwining their routines and dreams, was both exhilarating and humbling.

"Move in with you?" Y/N echoed, her voice tinged with a blend of surprise and delight. "You mean in London?"

Lucy nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, London. My flat has enough space and I've been thinking that it could be a way for us to be closer, to really build our life together."

The idea resonated with Y/N. Moving to London, where Lucy's presence was a constant reminder of the love they shared, seemed like a logical step. And of course, you would be able to apply for jobs there or do some sort of remote working from there. It was a chance to bridge the gap that the miles had created and to start creating a life that was truly their own.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N and Lucy brainstormed logistics, discussing the practical aspects of Y/N's potential move. From finding a job in London to making sure Y/N felt at home in a new city, their conversations were filled with excitement and careful planning. The idea of building a life together became a reality they could almost touch. Although, as much Y/N knew about life in the UK as she had lived in the north before, everything was still very new to her in London.

However, just as their plans were taking shape, life threw a curveball. Lucy's football career took an unexpected turn – an opportunity to play for Barcelona arose, a move that would take her to a different country. While the news was met with excitement, it also brought a touch of bittersweet reality to their plans.

Y/N and Lucy faced a difficult decision. Their love was strong, but the practicalities of life sometimes required compromise. They discussed the possibility of Y/N moving to London as initially planned and after a few months, relocating again to be with Lucy in Barcelona. The prospect was challenging, but they both believed that their bond was worth every obstacle.

The idea of Y/N moving to London remained a beacon of hope, a step that would bring them closer together despite the uncertainty that loomed. They envisioned a life where they could explore the vibrant city, create a home filled with shared memories, and immerse themselves in the simple joys of being a couple. The prospect of Y/N moving to London was tantalising – a chance to build a solid foundation for their relationship before embracing the whirlwind adventure of relocating once more to Barcelona.

Their conversations shifted from hypotheticals to the practical aspects of Y/N's move. They researched neighbourhoods, scoured job listings and even discussed the interior design of Lucy's flat. The process of planning this new chapter of their lives was both exciting and nerve-wracking, as the reality of change began to take shape.

Yet, as their plans gathered momentum, so did Lucy's impending move to Barcelona. While the idea of Lucy playing for one of Europe's top clubs was exhilarating, it also brought a hint of sadness. The distance that would separate them once again felt like an insurmountable hurdle.

With open hearts, Y/N and Lucy revisited their original plan. They discussed the possibility of Y/N moving to London first, giving them a chance to settle into their new dynamic and create a home together. After a few weeks, Y/N would then make the move to Barcelona, solidifying their bond and facing the challenges that awaited them as a united front.

The prospect was both exciting and daunting. Y/N's heart ached at the thought of leaving behind her Estonian roots yet again, but she also recognised the significance of the opportunity. Her love for Lucy was steadfast and she knew that the challenges they faced were minor in comparison to the depth of their connection.

Lucy, too, grappled with the complexities of the situation. The career move was a dream come true, a testament to her hard work and talent. Yet, the idea of being separated from Y/N for another stretch of time weighed heavily on her. They had already navigated the waters of long-distance once and the idea of doing so again was a reminder of the sacrifices they were willing to make for their relationship.

As they continued to discuss and plan, their love only seemed to grow stronger. They were acutely aware of the challenges that lay ahead, but their shared vision of a future together, where the love they had nurtured would flourish, gave them the strength to face uncertainty head-on.

Their conversations transitioned from late-night calls to earnest discussions about the future that lay ahead. Y/N and Lucy strategised ways to make the upcoming separation more bearable, using technology and virtual dates to bridge the gap between them. The promise of reuniting in Barcelona after a few weeks became the guiding star that would help them navigate the challenges that lay ahead.

However, life has its own way of unfolding plans and destiny seemed to have a slightly different route in store for them. Y/N's priorities shifted as she realised that her move to London could be expedited. There were responsibilities to address in Tallinn before she could embark on this new chapter of her life and Y/N knew that taking care of these matters was essential.

With a heavy yet determined heart, Y/N made the choice to forego the original plan of moving to London first. Instead, she made preparations to join Lucy in Barcelona as soon as her Tallinn commitments were fulfilled. While the immediate reunion was a tantalising prospect, it also meant that they would be stepping directly into a new environment together, a leap of faith that they were both ready to take.

The last few days and weeks in Estonia were filled with happiness, desperation, sadness and enjoyment. It was of course saddening to leave the friends and families behind yet again but they were aware and knew that you could only find yourself and your happiness somewhere else rather than in a grey, cloudy Tallinn.

When the time finally came, Y/N boarded the plane to Barcelona with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. The journey felt like a whirlwind, the culmination of months of planning and heartfelt conversations. She carried her dreams, her love for Lucy and a suitcase filled with memories from Tallinn – the city where her roots were firmly planted.

Upon arriving in Barcelona, Y/N felt a sense of awe as she took in the vibrant city that would now be her home. The energy of the place matched the rhythm of her heartbeat and she knew that this was where her journey with Lucy would truly begin. As they settled into their shared life, Y/N felt a sense of calm and contentment wash over her. Everything seemed to fall into place as if the universe was aligning to support their love story.

The challenges they had anticipated were met with a united front. Navigating a new city, establishing routines and creating a home together became a collaborative adventure. The daily rhythm of their lives, from morning coffee to late-night conversations, solidified their bond even further.

As they walked the streets of Barcelona hand in hand, Y/N and Lucy's love seemed to expand, filling every corner of their shared space. The challenges that once seemed daunting now felt like mere stepping stones on their journey. Lucy's longing to marry Y/N grew stronger each day, as she realised that their love was unshakable, a force that could weather any storm.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of gold and pink across the sky, Lucy turned to Y/N with a smile that held a mixture of vulnerability and certainty.

"Y/N, there's something I want to ask you," she began, her eyes locked onto Y/N's.

Y/N's heart raced as she looked into Lucy's eyes, feeling a rush of emotions that words couldn't capture. And then, in a voice that trembled with a mixture of excitement and sincerity, Lucy spoke the words that Y/N had secretly hoped to hear.

"Will you marry me, Y/N?"

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as the weight of the moment sank in. With a joyful heart and a voice that quivered with emotion, she responded, "Yes, Lucy, a thousand times yes."

Their love story had come full circle, from an electric encounter at an afterparty to a life built on shared dreams, challenges and unwavering support. As they stood on the streets of Barcelona, their fingers intertwined and their hearts intertwined even further, Y/N and Lucy knew that their journey was just beginning, that the love they had discovered was bound to transcend every obstacle that came their way.

Back to the present day.

Their love story evolved from a chance encounter to a shared life filled with dreams, challenges and unwavering support. Since Y/N had moved to Barcelona to be with Lucy, their journey had taken them to new heights, cementing their bond in ways they could have never predicted. As they celebrated their first year of marriage, Y/N's heart swelled with gratitude for the love they had nurtured.

One of the pivotal moments had occurred shortly after Y/N's move to Barcelona. With a job at FC Barcelona Femení, Y/N had become immersed in the world of women's football. It was a passion that she shared with Lucy, who had always been an advocate for women's rights and equality in the sport.

One day, while scrolling through Facebook, Y/N came across a post that caught her attention. The Estonian Women's National Team was organising a football charity event in Tallinn and they were looking for foreign guests to talk about women's football and rights. The opportunity resonated deeply with Y/N and she couldn't help but think of Lucy.

Excitement bubbled within her as she reached out to Lucy with the idea.

"Hey, my darling, I just saw this post about a football charity event in Tallinn. They're looking for speakers to discuss women's football and rights. It's organised by the Estonian Women's National Team. What do you think? Would you be interested in being a guest speaker?"

Lucy's response came swiftly, her enthusiasm evident in her words. "Absolutely, my love! I'd love to do it. It's such an important topic and I'm really keen on sharing my thoughts and experiences."

With Lucy on board, Y/N reached out to the organisers, offering Lucy as a guest speaker for the event. The invitation was accepted with a massive gratitude and lots of 'thank yous' and soon plans were set in motion for both Y/N and Lucy to attend the charity conference in Tallinn.

The day of the event arrived and Y/N and Lucy found themselves surrounded by a number of football players, management members enthusiasts and advocates for women's rights. As they took the stage to share their views and experiences, the room buzzed with anticipation. Lucy's eloquence and passion shone through as she spoke about the importance of empowering women in football and breaking down barriers.

After the conference, Y/N and Lucy attended a friendly game between the Estonian Women's National Team and a visiting team. As they sat together in the stands, the thrill of the game mixed with their shared sense of purpose. They marvelled at how far the world of women's football had come and discussed the work that still lay ahead. There was still a lot of work to do on an Estonian level but Y/N could not help it and see how the admiration and passion for women's football had taken the route to new heights.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over A Le Coq Arena and Tallinn, Y/N turned to Lucy with a smile.

"You know, Lucy, I can't help but wonder about the future. When we have kids, I wonder how they'll take upon your admiration for football, your skills and our passion for women's rights."

Lucy's eyes lit up with a mixture of excitement and contemplation. "I've thought about that too, Y/N. It's a beautiful thought, isn't it? To imagine our children carrying on the legacy of love for the game and the fight for equality."

Their conversation lingered on the possibilities that lay ahead, a future where their shared values and passions would shape the lives of their children. As they gazed at the skyline, Y/N and Lucy felt a deep sense of connection – not just as partners in love and marriage, but as individuals committed to leaving a meaningful impact on the world.

In that moment, surrounded by the energy of Tallinn and the shared dreams of their future, Y/N and Lucy's love story continued to unfold, each chapter building upon the foundation they had built together. The Estonian sky above them stretched limitlessly, mirroring the vast possibilities they saw in their future – a future where their love, admiration and shared aspirations would continue to be a guiding light. And possibly something more.

#mine #read #masterlist #lucy bronze #lb #lucy bronze x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #lucy bronze imagine #lionesses #fc barca #fc barcelona #fc barcelona femeni #woso fanfics #wwc 2023 #lucy bronze one shot

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steveharrington · 17 days

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thinking about spring 2022 when i was in my last semester before graduating college. i was spending all day every day listening to lord huron, going to the river after class, and playing red dead redemption 2. i’d been playing rdr2 that entire year, and my favorite thing to do in the game was (and still is) to just roam in the woods with arthur and spend long stretches of time between missions to find all the smaller details and plots and happenstances that you can stumble on. and i was playing in my apartment i shared with my 3 friends, very well aware that we had limited nights left to watch movies and play games before i graduated, moved home, and didn’t see them anymore beyond the very rare occasions we could all line up our schedules to meet in our college town for a weekend, which i don’t think ever happened. as much as i tried to keep arthur in the woods, the game kind of insists on progressing and i found myself doing missions that pushed me closer and closer to the end. i already knew arthur would die, and i was experiencing like an insanely dramatic sense of dread unlike anything ive ever felt when just partaking in a fictional narrative. i felt like i was running out of time in real life, and then i’d play my cowboy game every night and i felt like arthur was this tangible symbol of time running out, and i felt like when he died that would just be it for this whole stage of my life. and i finished right before graduation and wept the whole time. but………now ive had a scary full time job for a year. and my own apartment. and i don’t get to see all my friends consistently, but some of them i do, and i started a new save file to play all over again with arthur miraculously revived. and i know he’ll die again, if i finish this file, and i know ill move out of this apartment eventually. but i can start a new save file in whatever new place i end up in, and it’s kinda like my little digital cowboy friend can always start over with me <3

#arthur: seems like times are changing… the world don’t want people like us no more….#me crying: i know what you mean arthur they’re gonna force me to graduate college

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stylinsoncity · 10 months

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This SEL timestamp takes place about a year after the events in Rio and a few months after they've toured the rest of South America. As mentioned in chp 25, they've started traveling to preternatural villages around the world. This covers some of that.

This is sort of integral to stories about vampires, but there's a lot of talk about feeding, etc. Just fyi!

Enjoy!

The Inner Village might be Harry’s favourite of all the preternatural villages they’ve been to. He’s not saying he’s ready to move to New York City and he can’t imagine Louis is either. But there are pockets of the Inner Village that are incredibly wonderfully gay and coming from their close-minded town, it’s a relief. There, they attend a drag show operated entirely by witches. They also meet Kristen and Teo from the Stonewall Coven, a found coven made up of queer witches. Harry has never met or heard of a found coven, at least not in Europe. He has a loving coven of his own, but the idea that there are witches uniting to support and love each other as family nearly makes him cry. Seated at their dimly lit bar table, the emotion is so obvious on Harry’s face, although only Louis catches it. He smiles and gently squeezes Harry’s hand in his own. The two of them garner some attention of their own, although they’re used to it by now. Even here in such a progressive place, a vampire and witch coupling up is rare.

“Like, sex is a different story,” Teo says. “Obviously, we’ve all fucked a vampire.”

Louis lifts his brows, his lips curling. “Are we just a fetish to you?”

Harry sputters, trying to complete a sip of his martini.

“I mean…” Teo shrugs. “I think most vampires would say fucking a witch is a fetish to them. And listen, I’m trans. I have to deal with men fetishizing me for that too. None of it’s ideal. But when it comes to witches and vampires, it’s like fire and water. Anything beyond a hookup is uncharted territory. And no one ever dares to try.”

“You should,” Louis says. “You’ll have more men to pick from. Ones who aren’t dickheads.”

“Well, if you have a twin brother, send him my way,” says Teo, their gaze lingering on Louis for a second longer than Harry likes.

“We were a bit like that at first, fire and water,” Harry cuts in. “But now, nothing makes more sense than this. We’ve just been told for centuries that witches and vampires can’t get on. And it’s not true.”

“And how long have you been dating?” Kristen asks. “Because if you say it’s only been a month or so, I’ll need more proof than that.”

“It’s been a little over a year officially,” Harry says.

“And also,” Louis says, lifting their joined hands from beneath the table, turning their hands so Harry’s ring catches the scarce light in the room. “We’re engaged.”

“Well, fuck,” Kristen says. And when Louis presses a kiss to Harry’s hand a second later, she adds, “Okay, I’m sold.”

It’s not to say that great love only exists between a vampire and a witch. Harry’s parents had a beautiful marriage, exactly the kind he wanted for himself. And Louis’ mum and Perry love each other deeply.

It’s only to say that great love exists in places some might not think to look. Sometimes it starts between rivals. Sometimes it takes years to flourish. Sometimes it feels like the universe is completely opposed. But sometimes it’s there waiting, in the most uncanny places, if you want it badly enough.

†

Every day in New York, they get up to something new. They tour museums and art galleries, including one where Louis buys him a painting and has it shipped to the estate for safekeeping. They dine at restaurants from Michelin-starred rooftop establishments to hole-in-the-wall haunts. They day drink (and night drink) and nap in parks in between. They make the most of their month-long stay. No, they won’t be relocating but Harry already knows they’ll be back. Often.

That day, after brunch and a bit of shopping, they retire to their rental penthouse to escape an incoming thunderstorm. The day isn’t a loss at all. He found the stick and poke kit he wanted so that Louis could attempt to tattoo him. After an order of sushi and a shared shower, they get started.

“Was nice to see Teo and Kristen again last night,” Harry says, mostly to distract himself from the initial shock of pain. “And all their friends too.”

“Yeah, they’re a fun lot,” Louis says. “Fucking crazy too. Crazier than us when we want to be.”

“I think Teo has a tiny crush on you.”

“Yeah, but it’ll go away.”

“Oh, so you agree?”

“When we hugged, their heart did a bit of a thing. That’s all.” Louis looks at him. “Now yours is too.”

“Do you think they’re attractive?”

Louis exhales a small laugh. “They’re objectively good-looking. Haven’t thought about it beyond that.”

“Everyone has a crush on you. It’s annoying,” Harry says.

“Who’s everyone?”

“In every place we’ve been to, there’s always someone who starts to fancy you a little. Isabelle in Argentina, remember? Damien? I think he was in Peru. Oh, when we went to Italy. The twins we met? Justine and Luca? They were both into you.”

“Isabelle was technically into both of us,” Louis says. “And I’ve got a list of my own, love. You’re just a bit better with names than I am. The girl with the pink hair last night? She couldn’t stop looking at you.”

“Venus?”

“Should’ve remembered that, to be fair. But yes.”

Harry doesn’t remember her looking at him, but maybe that’s the point.

“I don’t mind, so long as none of them get too close,” Louis says. “I know you’re all mine.”

Then he glances at Harry. Harry actually feels his heart skip a beat. Louis smiles and refocuses on his work. He’s tattooing a bird to match the one Harry tattooed on him a year ago. It’s just a simple outline and for his first shot at tattooing, it’s looking quite nice already.

“Does it hurt?” Louis asks.

Harry shrugs. “Not too much. You’re gentler than I am when I tattoo myself,” he says. He watches him wipe blood and ink away. A thought strikes him. “Do you feel thirsty doing that?”

Louis’ hand stills momentarily.

“Just a question,” Harry says tentatively.

“I always feel thirsty around you,” Louis says, his gaze focused intently on the tattoo. “I’ve said so before.”

“But not literally.”

“No, literally.”

“So, even after you’ve fed?”

“I’ve said so before,” Louis says again. “Even when I’ve fed, the thirst is still there. Just…quieter or something.”

“So, if you could keep drinking, you would?”

Louis pauses and looks at him, lifting the needle away from Harry’s skin. “I don’t get the question.”

Harry's senses tingle slightly due to a subtle shift in Louis' mood. He tries to choose his words carefully, but no matter how he twists and shapes the sentences in his head nothing really works.

“I’d never hurt you,” Louis says. “It’s impossible for me to hurt you. Because I love you and you’re my mate. And if something were to happen to you and you weren’t here, I wouldn’t want to be either.”

“I know that,” Harry says quietly. And he should leave it there, but— “I don’t know if that fully answers the question.”

“Have you got infinite blood? ‘Cause that’d be news to me. There’s no universe where if I kept drinking, it wouldn’t kill you, is there? So, no. The answer is fuck no.”

“Why are you getting so angry? It’s just a question.”

“Why are you asking me if I want to drain you of blood?” Louis fires back.

“It’s not like it’d kill me, Louis. I’d come back.”

Louis blinks. “What?”

“I can’t die. We’ve established that.”

“But you did die!” Louis says. His voice breaks. His jaw locks. Willow finally appears in the room and curls herself around Louis’ ankle. After a breath, Louis tries again. “Your heart stopped for long enough that you were dead. I know it.”

“Yes, but I came back,” Harry says.

“But you still died, yeah? Whether you came back or not, you’d be dead. So, no, I don’t want to fucking kill you. I don’t think about it. I don’t want to think about it.”

“Okay.”

“Now, explain to me why it sounds like you want me to?” And when Harry doesn’t immediately refute that, Louis’ eyes go wide. He puts the needle down on the sterile tray beside them with the small ink pots and stained tissues. “Are you actually serious right now?”

Harry just wants to be honest. Because truthfully, he never considered these thoughts so egregious, but he also never dared to share them with Louis either. Now, that he mostly has, it feels deceitful to not come out with all of it. And he’s also learned that it’s better to expose the whole truth as uncomfortable and as painful as it may be. Better to do that than spend an eternity keeping this to himself.

“Before, when I thought I’d die from the curse, I thought about it,” Harry says. “But only ‘cause I feel safest with you, and it seemed like the most ideal way to go if I had to go at all.”

Louis laughs. Actually cackles. And stands. “Good thing you didn’t think to ask. I would’ve assumed you’d gone completely insane.” He yanks his latex glove off and tosses it onto the coffee table.

“Where are you going?”

“I need a drink,” Louis says, strolling off towards the kitchen.

Harry puts his face in his palms for a moment. They bicker on occasion, solely because they’re both stubborn, highly opinionated people. But he can’t remember the last time either of them was genuinely cross with the other. He feels Louis’ cloying anger even when they’re in separate rooms.

Willow lingers in the corridor, visibly uncertain about who needs the most comfort. Mentally, Harry sends her to Louis. He could use a drink himself. He loiters there on the couch for a minute or two longer, waiting for Louis to come back. And when he doesn’t, Harry sighs and goes after him.

In the kitchen, Louis has a beer open in front of him while he taps away furiously at his phone.

“Will you please relax?” Harry asks.

“No, I don’t think so,” Louis says. “Here we are having a nice night and you reveal you’ve got a death kink or whatever it is.”

“I haven’t got a death kink,” Harry says. “For fuck’s sake…”

Louis sets his phone down. “When you had that thought back then, did you also consider what it’d be like for me? To watch you slip away? To be the cause of that?”

“I did, actually. Which is why I didn’t bring it up back then. I knew you wouldn’t do it.”

“Because I can’t.”

“Fine. But you clearly don’t know how it feels for me either. On the receiving end of things. It’s like…euphoric. It feels like I could just sink into it and stay there forever. And I’m sorry if that worries you or whatever. I’m not saying I want to die. I’m not saying I want you to kill me. I’m saying when you feed, if there was a way to feel the way I feel infinitely, I wouldn’t be opposed to it. I’m just saying I’ve thought about it. That’s all.”

“But that’s impossible. Without me killing you.”

“Yes, you’ve said. I get it.”

“I could never.”

“You said that too,” Harry says. “There’s the blood curse anyway, so—”

“Even without the blood curse…never.”

“Okay,” Harry says. “I’m sorry I mentioned it at all, alright? Can you finish my tattoo, please? Before you get drunk?”

Louis rolls his eyes and has another swig of his beer.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says again. “Come on, Lou, please?”

Louis looks at him, his eyes slightly narrowed as he thinks. With a shake of his head and a sigh, he says, “Yeah, alright,” and starts back to the living room. Quietly he puts his glove back on and sterilises the needle. Then he starts on the tattoo again.

Harry pushes his fingers through Louis’ fringe. “Are you cross with me?”

“No,” Louis says. “Just let me concentrate. Or I’ll tattoo a penis here and be done with it.”

“I don’t mind a penis, though, do I?”

“A lopsided one,” Louis clarifies. “With very hairy wrinkly balls.”

Harry laughs and relaxes his arm. “Such an arsehole.”

“I can add one of those too.”

When they laugh, the tiny hint of tension left between them is hardly of any consequence at all. And later, when they crawl into bed, Louis draws him into his arm like always. Harry traces his collarbone with his fingertip while listening to Willow scurrying about on the floor. For a cat who can phase silently through the air, she’s making plenty of noise with every move. When she darts up onto the bed and then immediately flings herself to the floor, Louis laughs.

“You wouldn’t think a familiar would get the Zoomies, would you?” Harry says.

“She’s just like any cat, I guess,” Louis says.

“I don’t think she’d like that,” Harry says. “I think she considers herself a very unique, one-of-a-kind cat.”

“Makes sense, considering who she’s bound to.”

“Are you saying I think too highly of myself?”

“No,” Louis says. “You should think highly of yourself. And you’re definitely one of a kind.”

Harry smiles. “So are you. There could never be anyone like you.”

Louis turns and presses a kiss on Harry’s forehead. Harry nestles more comfortably into Louis’ side, his eyes slipping shut.

“I’m sorry I lost it a bit earlier,” Louis says quietly.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t share things with me. Even something like that.”

“I don’t. But if it’s something you’re uncomfortable with, I should be more careful. And I will be.”

Then there’s silence and more inexplicable tension. Harry suddenly feels less sleepy than he did seconds ago. He lifts his head off Louis’ shoulder and looks at him.

“It’s impossible for me to do it, I mean that,” Louis says, meeting his gaze.

“I know, Louis,” Harry says. “And I’m not asking you to.”

“But I am who I am,” Louis goes on. “Or what I am. So it’d be a lie to say I haven’t thought about it.”

Harry hesitates. “About draining…”

Louis pinches his eyelids. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Okay. How would you put it then?”

“There’ve been times after I’ve fed, especially…if we’re fucking at the same time, when I want to drink again or I want to keep drinking, even though I know… And there was a time when I was drunk and it was a little hard to stop.”

As he speaks, he doesn’t look at Harry. As if he’s ashamed. Harry reclines again and takes Louis’ face between his palms.

“Look at me. That’s alright,” Harry says. “I love you. I love how much you want me.”

Louis winces at that. “That makes it sound more innocent than it is.”

“Whatever. I won’t lie and say it’s not…sort of exciting? And like…It’s not that much different from when you choke me a little, is it?”

“It’s completely different.”

“Not to me. Not completely. You say you wouldn’t hurt me but spanking hurts,” Harry says with a laugh. “And I like it.”

“Also, different.”

“If you say so,” Harry says. “I know that for you it’s something you have to control. For me, I know you’re in control, so I don’t worry. I just let go. And it feels nice to let go. I know you’ve got me.”

“I do,” Louis says. “Always.”

“You’re getting enough to drink, though, yeah? Like that’s not the reason you want to keep going, is it?”

“Trust me, it’s not. I get enough,” Louis says.

“You’re just greedy then.”

“I’m a vampire,” Louis says. “Greed is what we’re all about.”

“You’re not like most vampires, though.”

“Maybe not, but there are things that are just biological. Like my bond with you. Can’t do anything about that. And no matter what, if you say something like you said today, offering yourself up like that, there’s a part of me, even if it’s small, that wants to take you up on it. And just…devour you.”

Harry looks at his mouth. “And I’m meant to be afraid of that?”

“Maybe,” Louis says. “Not of me, but the general idea of a vampire wanting you in that way, yeah.”

“You’re the only vampire that matters.”

Louis grins, his ego visibly stroked. Harry can’t take his eyes off of him.

“If it were any other vampire, I’d never say the things I said today. It’s only because it’s you. I trust you. Completely.”

Louis looks at him. He takes Harry’s hand and presses a quick kiss to his palm. “I can’t do it, though.”

“I know,” Harry says. “I thought I lost you that day too, you know? I felt like I couldn’t breathe. And like the world was closing in on me or something. So, I know what it’s like. And I’d never want you to have to go through that again.”

Louis nods. “Me neither.”

Harry looks at his mouth again. “But I think you should feed,” he says. “Right now.”

Louis lifts his brows. With a small exhale, he says, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Literally the opposite. I’m offering you a late-night snack.”

Louis laughs. “You’re definitely that,” he says. He licks his lips. Then, after a second, he leans in and kisses Harry slowly, capturing his jaw between his fingers and his thumb. He kisses him for so long Harry nearly forgets what they were talking about at all. He’s hypnotized by Louis’ tongue against his own. He’s lulled by the comfort of their bodies close.

Their lives are not perfect because no one’s is. They still have occasional worries, especially when they have to decide which parties and gatherings to attend back home when everywhere they go, they’re a topic of discussion or gossip. Returning to Ravenoir even for short periods is often stressful. And like earlier has proven, they can still misunderstand each other.

Life might not be perfect but being with Louis is. There’s nothing questionable or unsatisfactory about this kiss or the way Louis holds him. There’s nothing as sublime as the moment he pulls away suddenly, holds Harry’s jaw firmly and sinks into his jugular.

Harry shudders and digs his fingers into Louis’ bicep. The burst of pain is quickly washed over with warmth that floods his whole body. His head feels light and airy as if he’s floating on a cloud. Weightless and worriless with nothing to fear. With Louis’ need so evident and certain and all-encompassing.

Louis pulls away with a deep breath and kisses him again. Now that Harry can move, he moves with purpose, shoving Louis' pyjamas down past his waist, wrestling with his own.

“Thought I was only getting a late-night snack,” Louis says.

“It’s more like a late-night buffet,” Harry says. “All you can eat.”

Louis laughs as he sinks down Harry’s body, leaving kisses all along his chest and abs. “Mm, I do like the sound of that,” he says.

Harry will have to blame it on all the pent-up tension, good and bad, but when Louis deepthroats his cock, he thinks he could come with just another second more of that pressure. Then Louis pulls off, smiling as if he knows it, and licks a few times along the length of his cock instead. Because as he’s clarified thoroughly today, Louis is a vampire. Vampires like to toy with and tease their prey. And Harry knows Louis doesn’t think of him as prey, but sometimes Harry feels like he is. And he doesn’t mind at all.

The truth is that Harry would bare every part of himself to Louis without hesitation or fear. He would accept whatever Louis wanted to give or take from him. Maybe if it were another vampire, that sort of thinking would be insane. But it’s solely this vampire who matters. No other would do.

He often likes to hold Louis atop him after they’ve come to prolong the closeness. He likes the weight of him. He likes running his fingers through his hair until Louis drifts off. "Louis?"

"Hm?"

“It’s not difficult, is it? Feeling thirsty all the time?” Harry asks quietly. Because the thought is on his mind and if he doesn’t ask, he’ll just stay awake worrying about it.

“No,” Louis says sleepily. “Not at all."

"You're sure?"

"I promise," Louis says. He draws a breath. "Thirst is tied to emotion. Like lust and love… And you’re a triple threat, that’s all. You’re hot. You taste incredible. Can’t help that. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Harry smiles. "Makes sense..." He listens to Louis’ breathing evening out. He feels his limbs loosening further. “Wait, what’s the third thing?”

“What?”

“You said triple threat.”

“Oh,” Louis says. “You’re hot. You taste incredible.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you fishing for compliments?”

“Just tell me,” Harry pleads.

“You’re the love of my life, Harry,” Louis says. “I reckon that’s the biggest one of all.”

It’s not the first time Louis has said so, but it’s also impossible to get used to something like that. Hearing the person he loves most affirm the inverse is true will never cease to amaze him. So, he feels his eyes prickle slightly, but he doesn’t actually burst into tears or anything. He simply wraps his arms more tightly around his fiance. “And you’re mine.”

“I know,” Louis says. “Can I sleep now, babe?”

“Yeah. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Good night.”

“Night,” Louis says.

“I love you so much.”

“Harry.”

“Okay. Sleep well.”

“You too,” Louis says. And then after a second, he whispers, “I love you.”

Willow hops up onto the bed in the midst of their laughter at which point, they mutually decide to turn their love on her. Because great love is also infinite, which means there’s plenty to spare.

#sel #the school of extraordinary lovers #stylinsoncity #sel timestamp

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the-garbanzo-annex-jr · 7 days

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by Christine Rosen

It’s not as if their readers and viewers are unaware of the problem. According to Pew Research, the percentage of Americans who say Jews face discrimination has doubled from 20 percent in 2021 to 40 percent in 2024. And yet, for some reason, mainstream-media outlets seem to be the only ones who haven’t drilled down on the issue.

In fact, the decision to downplay the anti-Semitic threat from the left is deliberate. Left-leaning media do not like to cover the behavior of their own, as the inconsistent coverage of the Jew-baiting members of the Democratic Party’s “Squad” during the past several years attests. Mainstream reporters at outlets like the New York Times take great pains to provide context and explanations for Representative Ilhan Omar’s blatant anti-Semitism, for example. A 2019 piece gave Omar and her defenders ample space to claim she was being unfairly targeted for criticism because she was a progressive Muslim woman while glossing over the fact that she had repeatedly accused Jews of having dual loyalties.

Amid the current conflict, it’s evident there is tacit agreement among most in the mainstream media that because Israel is defending itself by trying to root out Hamas in Gaza, the behavior of protesters is somehow justifiable and acceptable—but only because it involves Israel and the Jews.

This goes well beyond the deliberately misleading stories and factual errors about the war that have appeared in outlets such as the Washington Post. As Zach Kessel and Ari Blaff outlined in National Review, in a deep dive of the Post’s coverage of the Israel–Hamas war, the newspaper “has been a case study in moral confusion and anti-Israel bias” and has “violated traditional journalistic principles that have shaped coverage of foreign conflicts by American newsrooms for decades.”

Similarly, a recent story in the Free Press by Uri Berliner, a long-time editor and reporter at National Public Radio, described how NPR “approached the Israel-Hamas war and its spillover onto streets and campuses through the ‘intersectional’ lens that has jumped from the faculty lounge to newsrooms,” which meant “highlighting the suffering of Palestinians at almost every turn while downplaying the atrocities of October 7, overlooking how Hamas intentionally puts Palestinian civilians in peril, and giving little weight to the explosion of antisemitic hate around the world.”

#media bias #israel #jews #double standard #hamas #gaza

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pendarling · 2 months

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The Town Theatre

Hero had to keep themselves level-headed as they watched the portrayal of their hero persona up on stage. They didn't think the town would actually take it this far, considering they were the only hero to save the citizens from Villain. Clearly, it didn't deter the townsfolk from writing a reconstruction of the events they saw into a play.

So when Hero sat down excited to view the story from the citizen's perspective, their jaw could not drop any lower.

"Oh, Villain, I know our love can't be understood," the actor that played them leaned up against the supposed version of Villain, their faces only mere centimetres apart. "But I'll do anything to be with you."

"I don't care, my love. They won't stop us."

Hero internally cringed, but looking around them, the audience silently watched with awe. Was this honestly how they saw Villain and them whenever they fought? Or were they so blinded by fantasy that it blurred the lines for them?

Hero would never act like this in a million years. Sure, there was occasional banter, but never to a romantic degree.

The crowd clapped as soon as the actors on stage kissed. They wanted to leave so badly, but curiosity kept them seated. They paid good money for their seat, and they would not waste it just not to see this through. Their hand went up to their mouth as the show kept going. They might have to barf sooner rather than later.

Hero had to wonder, however, if they could even make their appearances the same again; knowing what they know now, their interactions with Villain would have to change by force. It was the only way to stop people from making further assumptions about their relations. Besides, this was supposed to be a strictly work-related exchange, nothing beyond it.

As the play progressed, it kept getting worse. Eventually, Hero opted for a break; maybe a walk outside would do the trick. They stood from the chair and walked up the aisle to the double doors. By the time they had gotten out, the sun had just started to set.

They sat on the sidewalk's edge and stared into the sky, reeling from the dramatic play.

What were they even supposed to make of it?

"Crazy people…" They slowly shook their head in disbelief and numbly began walking back home. They would likely never recover from this again and probably refrain from fighting Villain in public spaces any longer. The risks were too high, and they didn't need the distraction.

It hadn't even been three minutes until the loud ringing of their phone went off, and as they checked their phone, it alerted them to a nearby police station in trouble. Hero worked with the police force, so for them to warn Hero directly meant trouble was up, and by the look of the locations, it was directly behind the theatre they left.

"Are you serious?" They mumbled and tapped on the screen. Villain was up to no good again and, as usual, had made their grand entrance by blowing up an entire row of police vehicles. Hero wasn't sure why Villain did the things that they did. Maybe it was for a form of satisfaction; the majority of the issues they've been causing were pointless and never led up to anything more remarkable than it.

Hero reflected on the chances of being caught out in the public's view again, especially after promising themselves a change of pace. They couldn't mull on it any longer, though; it was better to deal with it now and confront Villain about their actions. Hero spun on their heels and turned back around; whether they would be embarrassed or not was out of the question.

~~~ MASTERLIST

#fluff prompt #enemies to lovers #hero x villain #villain x hero #villainxhero #heroxvillain #hero x villain community #unreciprocated love #unrequited love prompts #unrequited pining #pining prompts #pining

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ladamedusoif · 11 months

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Visiting - Overview and Masterlist

(moodboard by the wonderful @cutesyscreenname)

*cross-posted on AO3*

*Series In Progress*

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in a small New England town, to spend a year expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor of art history at a small liberal arts college. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

About Lydia: A couple of years ago she'd have told you her life was over. Now, at 41, Lydia has realised the future is hers to make - even if that means never opening her heart up again.

She's an art historian and European - though this should not be taken to imply a specific appearance or ethnicity! Her family and other aspects of her background are established.

You'll notice that the physical descriptors for Lydia are deliberately loose, other than: her age, that she's fem/AFAB, her hair is starting to grey, and she's got stretch marks and a whole metric ton of issues with her own body. In other words: she can look whatever way you want her to look in your own imagination, bearing these aspects in mind, and be from wherever you want her to come from.

Rating: Explicit (18+) - individual chapters will have their own ratings (there's a lot of fluff and angst ahead) but smut will be very clearly signalled. Expect bad language throughout. If you read beyond the warnings on each chapter, you are agreeing you're 18 years or older.

Content: Professor Ben College AU; smaller-than-usual-for-this-fandom age gap (she is 41 and Ben 47 when the story begins); canon is not a thing here; slow burn; explicit smut (eventually); discussion of infidelity and emotional abuse; discussion of self-esteem issues; references to body issues; strong language; alcohol; I'll update if I need to as the fic continues

A/N: My love for Mr Ben is well-known but I couldn't stop thinking about him as a literature professor and, well, here we are. This is my first fic, and it's written as an AU with nary a sprinkling of canon about a character who existed for five minutes in a sketch. Make it make sense, Rose.

This is going to be a multi-chapter series (I have a plan and an outline document and everything). I plan to add some headcanons for Professor Benjamin at some point, and will pop some little drabbles in amongst the full chapters.

There will be smut - but this is a slow-burner. You have been warned.

Main Series:

Chapter 1 - The Visitor

Chapter 2 - Bright in the Sea

Chapter 3 - Ghosts

Chapter 4 - Save Me

Chapter 5 - This Must Be The Place

Chapter 6 - If You'd Accept Surrender

Chapter 7 - Forget Who We Are

Chapter 8 - Sister Winter

Chapter 9 - Open Your Eyes

Chapter 10 - Something About You

Chapter 11 - My Favourite Work of Art

Chapter 12 - If I Must Have A Future

Chapter 13 - Coming Soon!

One-Shots and Drabbles:

An Inspecteur Calls: A Pedrotober One-Shot

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to a taglist!

Thanks: to the people who made me feel less bonkers for developing an entire world around Ben and Lydia - @cutesyscreenname, headcanon collaborator, moodboard creator, and Prof Benjamin E. Morales enabler supreme; the incredibly encouraging, kind, and heroic fic writers whose understanding of how to embrace the sensitive and emotional hidden side of 'canonical' characters is an inspiration - @lunapascal, @imaswellkid, @julesonrecord

(bookshelf divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more)

#visiting fic #visiting masterlist #mr ben snl #professor ben x OFC #mr ben #pedro pascal character fanfic #mr ben x ofc #pedro pascal fanfiction #new fic announcement

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sunshine-theseus · 4 months

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Slow | Chloe Logarzo x Reader

Words: 1.9k Summary: despite a rough relationship with your parents, your closeness to your sister brings you Chloe, the only girl for you. Warning: NOT PROOF READ I have no clue if this is any good and I’m so sorry I think it might be one of my worst ones😭, I know the WBBL started in 2015 but who fucking cares, I changed it – no COVID but Olympics still postponed for some unknown reason :D Requested by - @charligrantismygirlfriend - not happy with this one at all i'm genuinely so sorry

Sport wasn’t something I was unfamiliar with. In fact, it was my favourite thing. As a kid, my mum and dad put me through many different clubs for different sports, from tennis to AFL. We always landed back at the same lush green cricket pitch in the western suburbs of Sydney on a Saturday morning, surrounded by other girls of all ages who shared my passion.

On Sundays my younger sister would play her soccer games, so we’d spend the weekend in a hotel in the city, then go to each other’s games, pretending to do our homework as we watch.

Not long into Ellie’s soccer journey, our parents decided the move from Cowra to Sydney was necessary for her to develop. The hours long trips to and from training in the depths of Sydney every afternoon proving to be more difficult as she progressed in school.

I no longer lived with them when they made the move, but I resented Ellie for a while. I’d been playing cricket before she could walk, albeit poorly as a 6-year-old, and had moved up through the stages into the best group in the academy by the age of 14. My parents insisted nothing much would come of it, so there was no reason to make such a drastic move and leave the farm and small-town life behind.

I started playing professionally for Sydney in the Twenty20 Cup at 17, the same year I got my first call-up for the women’s national cricket team. We, or they, still didn’t live in Sydney, so I dropped out of high school my senior year, and lived with one of the older girls who was also on the national team. I made my national debut a couple months after in a test match against England. My parents didn’t come, Ellie had some important game on that was simply impossible to miss.

At 15, when they finally joined me in the city, Ellie joined her first W-league team, and had her first senior team call-up. I made sure to be there for both debuts, avoiding my parents who sat in the crowd nearby. I cried the moment she first touched the pitch in a Matilda’s jersey, and rushed down from the stands to pick her up and hug her when the match was over.

That’s when I first met her… Chloe. My age, a beautiful brunette in the midfield who celebrated with my sister after their 9-0 win against Vietnam. We introduced ourselves and exchanged numbers but nothing much came of it. I can’t deny the many nights I spent awake dreaming of the girl.

The next time I saw Chloe in person was a Sydney Derby. Naturally I’d come to support my sister, but I couldn’t help but cheer whenever the older girl got a touch on the ball. I met up with her and Ellie again after the game, shouting them both dinner. That’s when Chloe asked me out on our first date.

It was somewhat rushed. Her departure for Newcastle was pending and it limited our options, leaving us to grab some shitty take away and dance around in a field down the road from where I lived. The sun was bright, but her smile was brighter. I stumble on my own feet whenever she looked at me, her beauty beyond compare. The beginning of a sunburn kissing my cheeks only provided me so much of an excuse as to why I was so red.

“I’m going to come to every single one of your games.” She whispers in my ear as we lay on the picnic blanket, beneath the over looming gum tree, me playing with her hair as she rests a hand beneath my loose linen shirt.

“You have your own training. And you can’t drive 2+ hours back and forth once a week. Also we have away games you can’t possibly make...” Despite my desperate want for her to be there every game, I begin to list all the reasons it wasn’t logical.

“I’ll find a way. And if not all, most home games.” She gives me a satisfied smile, one that tells me she knows she’s won whatever little argument we had.

Chloe keeps her promise, and I join her in my own. We both attend each other’s home games as often as possible, and very rarely, we managed to catch an away game. It usually happened when we were both playing a game in the same city, but we took whatever we were given.

Things went down hill when she moved to Sweden.

She hadn’t been the one to tell me. Ellie was spending a week with me after returning from the Olympics, which I had managed to attend most of, and asked me how I felt about the move. Chloe and I had been dating for a year, so the shock that she hadn’t told me was bigger than the shock at the news.

“What do you mean? She would tell me if she was moving to Sweden.” The pity in my little sister’s eyes is enough to break me. She pats and rubs my back as I sob into her shoulder. My whole body shakes as I moan and weep, and by the time I stop my eyes burn and there isn’t a dry spot on her shirt.

“So this is it? You’re breaking up with me because I’m moving?” Chloe looks at me like I’ve got 2 heads as I stand on her front step.

“No, I’m breaking up with you because I had to find out from my little sister, by accident, that you’re moving. Were you ever going to tell me? Or was I just going to have to find out when The Jets removed your name from the squad list?”

“I’m going to come back for the A-League season anyway! It’s not like I’m never coming back, I’ll barely be gone 8 months. And I was going to tell you!”

“When? Once your plane touched down in Stockholm or wherever you’re going? In 5 months when I called you so you can explain why you didn’t come to my game? When were you going to tell me Chlo?” I’m met with silence.

“That’s what I thought.” I turn and walk away, never expecting to see her again.

I can hear her shouting something at me as I continue to walk down the road, droplets of rain beginning to fall on the pavement in front of me. Nothing really registers until I’m standing in front of my sister’s apartment door, clothes heavy with rain and a face void of any other emotion except heartbreak.

I don’t see Chloe for years to come following the tragic end of our relationship. Despite her coming back during the summer to play for Sydney, I had no reason to watch her games, Ellie having moved to Portland to develop her career.

Then Ellie moved to Lyon, and I decided to move with her, putting a pause to my cricketing career. Further away from Chloe and closer to Ellie seemed like the perfect deal.

So I helped Ellie move and meet her new teammates. Every morning I’d make her breakfast and then walk around the city, usually finding myself in a café or museum and writing a book. Something I never planned on doing anything with, but found a solace in.

That’s how I found myself in the same café I go to every Saturday, typing in the same document I have been typing in for 5 months. Desperately pressing the backspace as I sip the now cold coffee, I don’t notice someone sliding into the seat across from me.

“Fancy seeing you here.” I’m surprised I didn’t get whiplash at the speed in which my head snapped up to look at the girl across from me.

She looks different. Not really, just… older. And her hair is bleached, skin just a fraction more tan, eyes still that shimmering blue. Still beautiful

“Chloe- what the fuck are you doing here?” the words nearly get caught in my throat as I try to process what’s going on.

“Well, I’m playing for Bristol now, in case you didn’t know. Only spent 2 seasons in Sweden then went back to Sydney, went on loan to Washington for a season, back to Sydney, now I’m in England. We have a small break so I thought I’d come see Ellie. Planned everything around you, knew you wouldn’t want to see me. I didn’t take into account you might still like coffee as much as you used to.”

“How’d you even know I’m with Ellie?” it’s a dumb question but I ask it none the less.

“You think I stopped tracking your career because we broke up? I have to say, when I read the “renowned cricketer Y/N Carpenter taking a break for an unforeseen amount of time to help her little sister, Matildas star Ellie Carpenter, settle into the big leagues at Olympique Lyonnais.” headlines, I was shocked.” I finally managed to meet her eyes, the crow’s feet that crack at the corners making her ever the more pretty. It’s aggravating.

“Thought it’d help me get away from Sydney.”

“Sydney? Or me?” I almost want to grab her by the shoulders and scream at her how much I miss her, but I stay sat and silent. A satisfied hum escapes her lips and a smile graces her face.

“I miss you.” She says what I’m thinking, and I begin to think how much of a coward I am. It was so easy for her, why am I struggling?

She doesn’t let me reply, getting up and walking out. I get up to follow her but she’s vanished in the crowd, so I sit, letting my coffee grow colder, thinking about her.

~~~~~

“Ellie this is a bad idea.”

“Common. Meeks is bringing Harley and Kirstey. You love Harley. You can babysit!” my little sister is determined, although my fighting is useless as we drag our suitcases through the airport.

“Chloe is going to be there El.”

“Chloe is going to be here.” I nearly bump into her as she stops in front of us.

“And she’ll be your plane buddy.” The cheeky grin I was once so familiar with graces her face and I can feel the corner of my own lips twitching as my heart clenches. Fuck.

“Oh goody.” I try to ignore the sweat that begins to prick through my skin as Ellie stalks away from us to meet Emily Gielnik.

“Real talk.” Chloe’s face is serious as soon as we take our seats on the plane.

“I miss you, and I want to try this again. I get you may not want to but you can’t tell me you don’t still feel even the tiniest bit of love for me still.” Her finger waggles back and forth between as to indicate exactly what she’s talking about and I sigh.

“I miss you too…” I meet her eyes and I can see the hope that grows behind them.

“But if we try this out again, we have to take it slow. Like go out on a few dates to start with.”

“I can do that.” She eagerly nods her head in agreement.

“I’d really like that.” I smile back at her, and that seems to end the conversation.

As the engine rumbles and we begin moving along the tarmac, I rest my arm on the armrest. I gently slide my hand into Chloe’s and rest my head on her shoulder, closing my eyes. Maybe slow wasn’t necessary, I love her too much.

#woso x reader #woso #womens soccer #woso fanfics #wsl #olympique lyonnais #the matildas #chloe logarzo #chloe logarzo x reader #the matildas x reader #2020 olympics #olympics 2020

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whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst · 17 days

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My Five Headcanons for Beyond Evil (because I apparently just enjoy 🎶 pain and suffering 🎶)

1.) It’s almost five years before Dongsik can go visit Jeongje in the mental institution on his own. He’s learned what the limits of his mercy are, and so for those first five years he brings people with him when he goes. It’s usually just him and Jihwa, so it’s not bad; they sit together in an atrium open to visitors and talk for a while about what’s new in Manyang while Jeongje sketches. During one particularly bad day, Juwon’s lingering insecurity and guilt complex makes him confront Dongsik over whether his own offers to come along to these visits have been rejected because it would be Dongsik sitting with two reminders of Yuyeon’s death: the son of the man who ran over his sister, and the other man who ran over his sister. Dongsik explains (gently) that his worry is over triggers of a different kind. Because back when they were still flirting with (investigating) each other, he’d called in a few favors to figure out certain sealed parts of Juwon’s family history. During visiting hours, the atrium is full of institutionalized women who are about his mother’s age, as well as their visiting families.

2.) Kwon Hyuk is a survivor. Ambition requires adaptability. He bounces back from setbacks and disappointments (like his mentor/father figure), and he cuts people out of his life if they threaten his progress forward (see: previous). Rich people are tools that can be used or discarded along the way, except for one (1) poor little rich boy with a bad attitude who nevertheless starts calling him hyung one day when he’s fourteen. So while it doesn’t make sense for his career to continue a relationship with a demoted officer who abandons ambition and voluntarily (???) gives up one bad job in a small town for a worse job in a smaller town, deep down Kwon Hyuk knows that he’s hanging on to Han Juwon (hyung’s rules, nonnegotiable, die mad about it Juwonnie).

3.) The first time Juwon laughs—like, fully and genuinely laughs—in front of Dongsik is when they’re at the Chief’s lake-house one evening in early spring. They’ve had a couple of drinks and Dongsik is trying to show a cringing Juwon his interpretation of a Stray Kids dance choreo out at the edge of the water when he accidentally trips over his own fishing line. He stumbles for a few steps then star-fishes into the muddiest part of the water half way through the chorus, but the water’s shallow so he surfaces fast like a playful dog, shaking his hair out cheerfully. He’s just opening his mouth to claim it’s all part of the dance routine when he hears a soft sound from behind him. Juwon has waded into the water with a hand extended to help him up, and he’s laughing, and Dongsik finds himself at a rare loss for words. Juwon’s face is lit up, eyes scrunched and shining, with one arm pressed over his mouth, like he’s used to muffling the sound. So naturally, when Dongsik accepts the outstretched hand and pulls himself up, his next move is to gently tug Juwon’s other arm away from his face so he can get the full view. He has a mental picture of each person he loves, here and gone alike, and for the rest of his life the picture of Juwon that exists in his mind’s eye is of this moment, Juwon standing in front of him calf-deep in muddy water and laughing breathlessly, enveloped in the golden hour haze of the sun setting behind him.

4.) Jihoon accidentally becomes the mayor of Manyang.

5.) Once Han Gihwan finally dies, his life insurance payout is sent to Juwon, who goes wandering in the reeds for a few hours. Dongsik sits in his car on a hill nearby, giving space but making sure Juwon doesn’t ever fully disappear from his sight, and answering Juwon’s phone to field calls on his behalf. Juwon eventually comes back to the car and tells Dongsik that he’s going to use the money as a foundation for a women’s shelter. Dongsik approves, and names the shelter Balsam Flower Home.

#whomst #beyond evil #jwds

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thunderstomm · 6 months

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GROJBAND: ROCK & REMIX - MEET COREY RIFFIN & LANEY PENN

Corey Riffin:

Corey Riffin is the frontman of GrojBand, singing vocals and playing lead guitar. He's a music major at ACUA, and is taking as many songwriting classes as he can, because even if he's been trying to write songs based off of his speeches instead of Trina's diary, he's still got a lot of progress to make. Corey's classmates all love his enthusiasm and the antics which he brings to the music focus class, and think that he has a promising future career, both in his band, and as a solo artist. Corey's been trying his best to expand his skills beyond music, getting into skateboarding, doodling, and card tricks. Corey is determined to make his band even bigger now that they're no longer in small-town Peaceville, getting as many gigs for GrojBand as possible, with no end to the crazy antics involved in getting new lyrics. Corey has been dating Laney for just over one year, and couldn't be happier after years of their mutual pining. To Corey, Anarchy City is the next big place to make his oyster, and he is determined to make GrojBand a big success !

Laney Penn:

Laney Penn is the bassist of GrojBand, self-proclaimed Band Manager, and a Make-Up and Practical Effects focus at ACUA. While keeping her tomboy style and flair, Laney has begun to embrace her more feminine hobbies, which lead her to an interest in make-up. While her specialty is horror-inspired, Laney can whip up any look, making a lot of female friends for the first time in her life, while still going strong with a lot of her guy friends. Laney loves baby animals, and volunteers at the Anarchy City Pound in her spare time. Laney has been dating Corey for just over a year, which to her, is like a dream come true. Laney's signature sarcasm remains strong, and she's always ready to wrangle in her band, or join in the fun, as they aim to make their band go big while managing studies and other duties which require her focus.

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dearbraus · 4 days

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Good Luck Babe! - Chapter 2: Your Best Laid Plans.

— Aizawa Shōta

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, fem!reader (she/her pronouns used to refer to reader), sfw, reader has anxiety, mentions of past situationships ;), reader has lore, plot building, teacher talk. ⊹ Run time. 4.0k ⊹ Note. This is mostly plot progression, next chapter will be make exciting! Enjoy :3

❝Unpacking isn't always easy, at least the U.A dorms were nice.❞

previous part || masterlist || next part

The U.A dormitories were infinitely nicer than your university accommodations. The realisation strikes you before you’ve made your way across the green expanse of the newly built quad. It bristles your feathers and adds yet another reason why privately funded academies were far from your wheelhouse of experience. The Miyagi University of Education was a fine school, it had a small number of students which meant one on one time with their professors, and was built in the late 19th century making the campus as picturesque as a university could be. Sure, the accommodations were a bit dated especially in comparison to a brand new, state of the art building, but you couldn’t complain. Your university years were enjoyable, you wouldn’t trade those memories for anything.

And, Sendai was a lovely city. Costal, filled with enough greenery to never make you miss the quaint rural town you were raised in. There were a plethora of museums and cultural sites that kept you busy and when your close friend worked as an apprentice curator, affordable year round passes were suddenly far more accessible.

Friend, almost boyfriend. Situationship. You chuckle to yourself with a shake of your head. Almost something, almost, nothing. It was maddening when you were stuck within the pit, uncertainty wearing at you. Now, it just seemed silly.

The lines were still blurred on where exactly your relationship stood. Not that the semantics mattered much when you moved nearly four hours away to a new city, with new people, and a new job. You hadn’t seen him in two months, not since you moved into Musutafu for work and he refused to answer any text messages you’d sent. Not that you cared, that chapter of your life was firmly shut and left in the past– in Sendai– and he was still a close friend, at least that’s what you liked to believe, and would until he said otherwise. Not that he would say otherwise. Still, he was a good friend to have even if he didn’t see you as a friend, or was pissy that you never made a move to clearly define what you were. It’s not like he did either.

Almost, he was an almost.

You had a lot of those in your history books. Paramours who weren’t quite lovers but you could hardly call them a friend. Always feeling too attached to simply name them as a friend. Women who’s friendship was so intense you couldn’t call it anything other than something akin to love. An almost something that you were scared to commit to. Your heart locked firmly behind the fortress of your rib cage when you wished it could be freely given.

You think that’s why you took this job.

Aside from the clear résumé booster this would be, the pay, and the perks, and the fact that you’d be stupid not to take the job, it was a far leap from your comfort zone. Sendai was the safe choice for university, it was only an hour train ride from your family’s home, a handful of upperclassmen had already been in attendance and offered to shepherd you into this new era. Most weekends were spent back at home until you made a few friends. Even those came with a caveat and a safety net. Mister situationship with the spiky blonde hair and glasses was your lab partner and subsequently became the gateway to the group of friends you'd made. You didn’t dare to branch out on your own, beyond them.

You took the easy way out. If asked you’d say that made you sensible. Your elementary school teachers would agree. They all thought you to be well beyond your years, an old soul trapped behind a pair of chubby cheeks. Never one to act out or step beyond your comfort zone. Your assignments were predictably perfect and drawn directly from your wheelhouse of interests. Your arguments were well polished and you possessed an arsenal of peer reviewed resources that you shuffled around based on your topic of choice.

As a child the adults in your life fussed over you, shirking their misplaced dreams on your frail shoulders. A little leader in your own right, keeping your stuffed animals and friends in line. They told you that you’d make a great teacher, your voice was gentle and your touch was always soft. That or a mother. As if it were the middle ages and that’s all you could amount to.

But, you were predictable.

You stayed the course they mapped out for you. Too scared for anything bigger. The figs that branched out beyond you had long since rotted and died, taking with it, whatever other paths and aspirations you might’ve filled your life with.

And, in some fruitless attempt to extend beyond their expectations, you left home and took this job. In most lights it still existed within the realm of your comfort zone but in some it pushed you.

You decided, your one saving grace of the day was that you packed lightly and still managed to scarcely fill out your apartment. Though it may not have been half as fancy as the U.A accommodations, you learned from your university dorm that you probably didn’t need as much as you thought you did. Clearing out your apartment took an hour and the commute back to U.A only about thirty minutes. Foot traffic was much lighter now that the morning rush had subsided. It helped that you’d spent the last two months living out of your suitcase. The apartment was temporary, a placeholder until you found something closer to the school. Though you stupidly never thought to consider that you’d be expected to reside on campus grounds.

Perhaps you were a child like Aizawa accused. Your brain gnawed on his words, playing them on loop until it accepted it as fact. Wearing boots too big for your feet, your naivety glaring. Obvious to everyone but you.

It was an easy fix. Pessimism was your middle name, though, you preferred to call it realistic. You would wise up in no time. Gather your bearings, plant your roots, and never stumble over the shock of the unknown again. Prove to them, to you, to anyone else who thought to question you, that you were meant to be here. Then, maybe you wouldn’t feel so sick with insecurity even as you tossed your things into your new lodgings.

Shōta stands with his back pressed against the wall outside of class 1-A when Yamada pops out of the classroom. Kayama would be there soon for modern hero art history, Shōta decided then that he’d prefer to keep whatever schemes Nezu was cooking up to himself. He scoffs to himself as he replays the conversation he has with you.

Concerned.

The ministry of education was concerned? Now? Of course they were. Shōta wasn’t stupid, he saw the uptick of distrust growing between the general public and the ministry– it went hand in hand with the near constant criticism that floated across the gaggle of paparazzi that sat outside the school gates everyday. They questioned the ethics behind U.A as an institute, wrote think pieces and created conspiracy theories to work out every move they made as if to catch the school in some lie. It was as exhausting as it was hypocritical. Shōta laughed at the mere thought. The general public had no problem fawning over his class during the sports festival, marvelling at just how powerful they had to be to stand against the League of Villains all on their own.

But sure, now there was a problem. It was serious now that a student had been kidnapped.

Stuffing his hand into his pocket, Shōta grabs the small plastic bottle of eye drops he keeps handy. His eyes sting with irritation, if that was even possible. His unkempt bangs slide away from his forehead when he tilts his head back, widening his eyes for a few drops of temporary relief.

“Hey” Hizashi calls, popping his head out of the classroom door, “Who was that you were talking to? Your students sure had a lot of questions but I didn’t have many answers”

“Irrelevant,” Shōta snips.

“Hm?”

There’s a stack of workbooks tucked in the crook of his elbow, the covers worn and the colours faded. The class must have finished their latest grammar unit. He tilts his head down, his bright orange glasses slip down the slope of his nose to reveal his inquisitive yellow eyes. He peers at Shōta with interest.

“I said, she’s irrelevant,” he repeats, with a frown, “At least to you.”

Hizashi chortles, “Oh? So what, only you get a special little helper?” he quips, with a smile, “Iida said she introduced herself to the class and Nezu was with her, it seemed like she was supposed to be there.”

Shōta hums, pushing off from the wall and away from his classroom, “Seems to me you’re pretty well informed already, Mic.”

“Eh, not anymore than your students.”

His laughter bounces down the hall as he bounds after Shōta, only pausing to adjust the stack of workbooks under his arm.

“C’mon, Shōta, spill!” He says, throwing his free arm over his shoulder, “No one’s losing their job are they?”

The teasing lilt dies quickly, “Right?” Hizashi asks, concern drips from his tongue. Concern for Shōta. He’s getting sick of it.

“She’s from the ministry of ed,” Shōta huffs.

There’d been concern after Bakugō had been kidnapped. Selfish ones. Some worried their positions were up for debate, others wondered if alumni and sponsors would pull funding. Of course, there was always the concern for bad publicity. This entire school year was bad for publicity. Not that it mattered. Bored, nameless nobodies on internet forums always had something to criticise even when the academic year was perfect, when U.A graduates continually climbed the ranks, opened their own agencies, and continued to keep Japan safe. Whatever concern they had now was purely bureaucratic to save their own skin.

“Oh?” Hizashi raises an eyebrow.

They share a look, “Apparently they’ve begun to worry,” he explains, thinking back to what you said. How much did you believe in the lines you’d been fed? Did you create them?

No. You seemed earnest, young enough that your naïvity was genuine and you were likely just a piece for them to move about the board as they saw fit. You couldn’t be complicit in whatever cover up scheme Nezu had allowed into the building. Your flighty, nervous demeanour told him as much. He was worried he might burst into tears if his voice dared to sharpen any further. The way you wilted like a sad, delicate flower beneath the uncomfortable heat of the sun reminded him of a few past students. The ones he expelled for being too soft and too thoughtful. The ones who weren’t cut from the right cloth, they’d never be able to hack it as a hero without that reckless drive most had.

You were like them but somehow even more fragile. Even with the tenacity and sheer stupidity you had.

“About?” Hizashi questions, his eyebrow quirking upward.

“Our teaching capabilities,” Shōta shrugs, jabbing his thumb into the up bottom once they reach the elevators.

Hizashi leans against the wall, hitching his leg upward, “What does that mean?” His scrunches up in annoyance, “It’s deceptively vague.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

The ride up the elevator is quiet. Hizashi keeps his lips pursed in a fine line while Shōta scowls in contemplative silence.

Concern?

If they were concerned they’d help implement mental health services for all students at U.A. He’s petitioned them relentlessly for years, they had the funding, Nezu was onboard but there was far too much red tape to navigate through and each thread led back to the ministry. Instead they wanted to throw you to the wolves. A peppy, fresh faced, anxiety riddled university graduate who had yet to experience much of the real world. You sparkled in the way most did before they got a taste of how monotonous their dream careers were.

“I heard the minister of education is planning on campaigning for Prime Minister,” Hizashi comments, stepping toward the now open elevator doors.

Shōta clicks his tongue, “Hm, how convenient.”

“It could be worse.”

“How so?” He raises a brow to Hizashi.

“The hero commission and the ministry could be breathing down our necks,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I’m sure she’s harmless and her presence is merely a formality, a box to check to appease antsy civilians and overzealous journalists.”

“Right.”

Shōta gives Hizashi a tight, strained smile as the elevator door shuts between them.

A formality.

That’s what you were. He didn’t often feel uneasy, but none of this sat right with him. His stomach churned at the thought of you. The same looming feeling of dread sat like a pit in his stomach most days when he stared directly into the bright eyed, determined faces of his students. You held the same look, though it was shrouded with an obvious nervousness that you couldn’t shake. Still, your dreams had yet to be jaded by the cruelties of this world, much like his students. It made him uneasy. They at least understood the gravity of their reality, he wasn’t sure you did.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Shōta sighed to himself.

He was growing soft in his age. That’s why he didn’t fight you. It had to be why.

Sauntering down the hall to his office, Shōta wonders if he made the right decision.

Aizawa finds an hour after the final bell has rung. The sun has dipped low in the afternoon sky, painting your lodgings a warm, comforting yellow. The walls are bare and the decor is sparse. Only a few polaroid pictures, a calendar and your two degrees occupy the space. It feels oddly big, too big for just you but there’s nothing else to cram in the nooks and crannies to make your new home a little less lonesome.

It’s a relief to see Aizawa’s tired face on the other side of your door. He’d offer you a reprieve from the anxious thoughts that relentlessly ping pong around your skull.

“Hi!” You chirp, opening up the door, offering him a nervous smile, “Did you want to come in?”

He hoarsely grumbles out something resembling a, “Yes”, pushing past you before you’ve fully moved out of the way. His eyes scan his surroundings, you suppose he’s taking in the little decorations you’ve set about the place but you struggle to follow his gaze from where it’s hidden beneath his fringe. You suppose it’s a learned trait. After a bit of googling, you found that his quirk was aptly named erasure and manifested through his eyes.

Aizawa settles on your sofa, his legs spread as he rests his elbows on his thighs.

“Did you uhm, want something to drink?”

All you had was a nearly empty tin of instant coffee and a box of tea that expired two years ago. You hoped he’d say no, so you didn’t have to go through the mortifying ordeal of scrounging something you. Your parents raised you to be hospitable when you opened your home to guests. So, you couldn’t help but ask.

He dismisses you with a wave of his hand, “Thank you but, I’m fine,” he says, resting his chin on his interlocked fingers.

“Okay!”

Scratching the back of your head, you flounder around the living space. The armchair was piled high with your winter coats and the only other space to sit was next to him.

“I don’t bite,” he mutters, peering up at you.

You shift nervously from foot to foot, reminding yourself that he’s a pro hero– despite his tired disposition. He was likely trained to read body language. It wasn’t that you were easy to read but that he read others easily. There was no need to feel nervous, he wasn’t doing it purposely and you probably weren’t giving anything away. Shuffling closer to the sofa, you sit as close to the arm as you could without making your discomfort obvious.

“You’ve settled in?”

Nodding you nervously bite your lip, “I pack light so it wasn’t much work.”

Aizawa hums. His arm brushes against yours. You can feel how his chest rumbles as he speaks.

“Good,” he says, pausing for a moment, “Then, I trust you have the time to elaborate on why you’re here?”

A small sound of agreement passes your raw, bitten lips, “I sure can!” You smile, hoping the pep in your voice disguises the panic, “Uhm, well the ministry of education was worried that the repeated villain attacks and lack of consistent curriculum was negatively impacting their development.”

You wrack your brain trying to remember what exactly their email outlined but all that comes up is the excitement you felt. The picture in your mind is hazy, the details sparse but you remember most of the key points they had. They’d stuck out to you and seemed reasonable enough once you started digging into the files they sent you.

“I think it’s fairly obvious that being the target of villain attacks would have adverse effects,” you state as if he didn’t see that for himself, “However in addition to the unique mode of learning employed by each teacher here, there has been concern that the lack of consistency is what’s causing their markedly low grades.”

Aizawa scoffs, staring at you in disbelief, “Their grades are fine, I would know.”

“Their grades are still above average; however, compared to their entrance exam marks and results from the previous year's standardised tests, the class's average has dropped by 5%,” you explain, pressing a finger to the tip of your chin, “I have the data sheets, I can show them to you if you want.”

Initially you hadn’t been concerned when looking over their most recent examination marks. They had done exceptionally well with material that far surpassed the curriculum expectations set in the prefecture, however the decline was clear. You presumed the several areas in which they hadn’t done as well in, had been lessons interrupted by villain attacks. It wasn’t their fault, and if anything they were still on track but still, you couldn’t help but worry.

“If they're above the country's average, I don’t see the issue.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you sigh “Well there’s a clear pattern that indicates an issue that needs to be addressed,” a frustrated puff of air passes your lips, “These kids are meant to be above average, sure that’s why they’re here, however their emotional well being and emotional needs should also be met instead of being ignored because they’re so special!”

Clearing your throat, you sink deeper into your sofa’s cushion, cheeks warmed to the touch. Your voice had raised several octaves, progressively getting louder as you prattled. You’d always been passionate about mental health, but you didn’t know you were this passionate. Aizawa watches you, there's something in his eyes, you can’t name it. Not yet. You don’t know him well enough. He gestures for you to continue on with his hand.

“It’s evidentially contributing to a class-wide decline,” you conclude, fiddling with your fingers, “It’s not your fault! I tried asking Principal Nezu about U.A’s guidance counsellor and mental health resources and apparently neither exist.”

He nods, seemingly knowing it all too well,“How do you propose we fix that then?”

“This isn’t something that’s cut and dry, I need to spend some time with your students, get to know them, and hear from them where they’re needing support.”

Aizawa laughs. He laughs at you, throwing his head back and letting out a full bellied laugh. You’re stunned to silence, blinking, half in disbelief and half in shock. His laugh was nice, rich even. Oddly befitting for a man like him, but still unexpected. At first glance you wouldn’t have expected from him. Though, you’re unsure what you had expected of Aizawa. He was nothing like the glamorous, larger than life pro heroes you grew up watching on television. Aizawa was far more relaxed, his dress casual, and seemed to proudly wear the dark circles that lined his tired eyes. It made him approachable, the lack of lustre and branding around the elusive Eraserhead.

You liked that about him.

“Is something funny?” You asked with a quirk of your brow.

“It’s just rather amusing that you think any of them will ask for help,” he states, leaning back into the sofa, “Have you ever heard of a hero's pride?”

“Well, it’s a good thing they’re not heroes, they’re teenagers,” you hum, clasping your hands together.

“Try telling them that and see how well that goes.”

A joke, you think he was making a joke,“I’m well aware they think they’re more grown up than they actually are,” you felt the same at that age, you’re sure the responsibility of herodom only intensified it,“They kinda are compared to their middle school peers at the very least.”

Aizawa snorts, “Something like that,” he agrees with a shake of his head.

His gaze catches yours for a moment, it’s held for a few short seconds before you anxiously look away. Letting out a forced cough, you train your eyes on the television that sits across the room.

“So I was thinking it would be a good idea if I could have a copy of your students' syllabus for each course they're taking?” You blurt, eager to continue the conversation forward.

“What?”

“The syllabus?” You repeat, “You know, the document that outlines their course expectations, assignments, and schedule for the semester?”

He scratches his chin, rubbing the stubble, “We don’t have those,” Aizawa says with a frown, “Is that standard practice?”

“Ah, mostly in University but many secondary schools are beginning to use them,” you explain, “It helps give students an idea of their semester beforehand.”

“It’s the beginning of the semester,” Aizawa comments, his lips pursed.

“That it is.”

Shrugging his shoulders, his eyes slide over to you, “We could make up a syllabus,” he suggests, “If you think that it’d be a worthwhile endeavour.”

“I think it is,” you sit a little straighter, a grin overtaking your lips, “Students seem to respond well when they feel prepared rather than blindsided, I can send you one of the research articles I’ve read!”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Giving your knee a pat, Aizawa offers you a strained smile.

You have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking if he was sure. Aizawa didn’t strike you as a man who did anything he wasn’t sure of. Your overly eager, zealous attitude could be a bit much. You didn’t want to come off any stronger than you already did. Whatever impression that you’d made to him likely wasn’t one you’d want to stick around for too long.

“Well, that sounds like a plan!”

“So, tomorrow you’ll observe my class,” he proposes, “We can regroup in the evening, if it should suit you?”

You find yourself nodding before he’s finished speaking, “Oh for sure!” You grin, clapping your hands on your thighs, “I can do that!”

Aizawa rises from your sofa with a small grunt, stretching out his spine before he turns to you, “I’ll see you then.”

Nodding in agreement, you watch as he walks out of your front door. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, flopping back onto the sofa as soon as the door clicks shut behind him. Tomorrow would be the big day then, the day you stepped into adulthood and kickstarted your career. Your stomach churned at the realisation. You’d spent the better part of two weeks preparing for this day, meticulously rehearsing what you’d say, how you’d say it, what you’d wear, and how you’d part your hair.

You’d have to do it all again, tomorrow. This time, without any of your planning.

#aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shota x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #bnha imagines #mha imagines #good luck babe!

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