#(yet they sure do work as a team PERFECTLY despite that huh)

[decks-writing-blog]

Whatever the Fuck Benrey is: Chapter Twenty-Three: The Real Question

Chapter One

Previous Chapter

~

Benrey seemed back to normal, mostly anyway. Maybe entirely but Gordon was just watching him closer than usual, looking for signs he was still upset and imagining them to be there. Either way he was relaxed as he leaned into Gordon’s side, focused on winning Mario Party even though he basically already had first place in the bag. In fourth, behind the CPU’s even, Gordon was barely trying anymore.

In his defense, he was playing somewhat poorly due to distraction. Even knowing Benrey wouldn’t stay dead hadn’t made watching his first death much less disturbing. He should’ve looked away or insisted harder on skipping, especially given how strongly Benrey had reacted to it. But maybe that reaction, as much as Gordon didn’t want him to be upset, had been a good thing? He’d needed to see that so he would finally stop trying to insist it was fine.

Or maybe he should’ve left Benrey’s past and whatnot alone from the get go. So he could continue to run away from it and pretend everything was fine… not too dissimilar to what Gordon was doing with his own problems. Because even if he’d never tried to insist what he’d been through was perfectly fine the way Benrey had been, he had been trying to insist he was fine now when he wasn’t. Neither of them were. They were both not okay, especially Benrey for obvious reasons after all that plus who knows what else.

Having finally acknowledged that he wasn’t okay, what did Gordon do about it? Both for himself and to potentially help Benrey too. … Therapy? But even if either of them could find a therapist that would believe them, which was doubtful, the revelation of top secret Black Mesa stuff might lead to problems. So maybe it would’ve been easier and better for both of them if he’d just let Benrey keep running from his past.

“How do you not have even a single star yet?” Benrey said, pulling his attention back onto him and the game because that was an unfair and uncalled for taunt.

“I had a star but you stole it, remember? Because you’re a fucking asshole.” The CPU’s had both had one star each at the time too but Benrey had chosen to steal from him just to be an obnoxious troll.

Benrey’s evil laugh was as annoying as it was beautiful. “You should steal it back then, huh?”

“How? You keep winning all the mini-games.”

“Not my fault your bad at Mario Party.”

“Shut up. It’s your turn. Land on Bowser please.” So if Gordon got lucky, the wealth might be redistributed, giving him enough to afford to steal his star back.

Of course instead of landing on the Bowser space, Benrey got a big role that just barely got him to the star, allowing him to buy it right out from under CPU Peach’s nose, because not only was he good, the game occasionally seemed to favor him. But as annoying and bullshit as it was, that was Mario Party sometimes. And well, even if neither of them were fine as they liked to pretend, it was good to see that Benrey was obviously feeling better, especially after earlier. So maybe even if they were both a bit messed up, it wasn’t all bad. They had each other and the rest of the Science Team. And as cheesy as that thought was, it was also true that not being alone helped. So maybe one day they would be fine.

~

Despite being curious about how Benrey’s power to come back to life worked, a question that would no doubt at least be brought up upon resuming going through Benrey’s records, Gordon wasn’t sure he he actually wanted to continue. The ways the scientists were bound to study and experiment with that power wasn’t something he wanted to see. But he did want to know so as soon as he was done with breakfast, he let Benrey usher him back to the computer.

“How ‘bout when a video is them just torturing and/or killing you for the sake of science, we skip it?” he said as he booted it up. “We could save time that way anyway.”

Benrey was silent for a few seconds as Gordon logged in and navigated to where they’d left off yesterday. “Guess that’s fine. Only the videos though, still gotta read ‘bout it ‘cause you wanna know ‘bout that stuff, right? It’s part of what makes me an uh… scientific marvel.”

“I guess so, yeah.” It was interesting. The methods of testing and experimenting on him in general were unpleasant though, making it not worth what the scientists had learned doing it. Surely they could’ve gone about it all much more ethically, right? If Benrey was okay with him, and heck seemed to want him to read the particularly bad stuff though, he might as well.

~

There wasn’t any video of Benrey coming back to life the first time and the researchers blessedly stated a reluctance to test it lest it only happen the once. They would no doubt do so eventually but for now Gordon was spared from having to watch anything else horrific. Instead he got to watch them hover around little Benrey, careful not to get within biting range, while they tried to asked him questions about how he’d come back.

“I don’t know,” was the only answer they got. “Kind of like sleeping,” was his reply when they’d switched tactics to asking him what it had been like. Questions about why’d he’d bitten and refused to let go got them vague answers such as, “I don’t know. I wanted to.” The start of Benrey being difficult.

The next file was a document on the muzzle that Gordon had forgotten Benrey had mentioned until seeing the title of it. It came complete with diagrams and photos of it on and off. Shape shifting out of it was an option but that always took time, long enough that any attending researchers would have more than enough heads up to step in and readjust it. Making it impossible for Benrey to get out of it until they were done with him.

“Nah, it didn’t hurt,” Benrey replied when Gordon looked up at him to ask him about it. “Still sucked though, real fucking lame.”

He had it on for half of the next video – more of them testing the limits of his memory – before he figured out how to phase through it, freeing himself from it instantly. Ha, that’s what they got, wasting all that time and effort only for Benrey to wear it for like an hour before figuring out how to escape it. … Except, the scientists were excited about the reveal of yet another unexpected thing Benrey could do. They immediately set to trying to learn more even despite their obvious caution to stay out of easy biting distance. No wonder Benrey was the way he was.

“It was shortly after this I stole the Game Boy,” Benrey said as the video finally ended – promising further study of Benrey’s new power tomorrow because it was late and he was leaning more and more into being difficult. Unvoiced was the fact that they were obviously a bit nervous about the potential for another biting incident. “Like, same day, I think. I wanted to experiment too and went through the wall as soon as they left me alone. Got stuck in it for a bit but figured it out and ended up in the break room or something. Someone left their Game Boy in their science jacket pocket, draped over a chair or something. I don’t know why I checked it but I found the Game Boy and somehow figured out how to turn it on.”

“And thus began your descent into being an epic gamer, huh?”

“Yep. I got real good Tetris ‘cause that’s the game that was in it.” With how good he was at games in general, ‘real good’ to him probably meant he was a Tetris master.

“So you can do the T-spin thingy or whatever it’s called?” Gordon had been interested in being a professional gamer at one point and had thought Tetris would be easy to learn. It wasn’t but he still remembered some of what he’d come across before realizing he had almost no hope of mastering any of it.

“Uh… maybe. I don’t know what the moves and stuff are called.”

“Hold on, let me google it real quick and I’ll show you.” A quick detour couldn’t hurt after all. Especially since it’d be a trip down memory lane for both of them.

As was often the way with such things that ‘real quick’ google search led down a rabbit hole of more Tetris stuff. Despite not knowing the common terms for most of it, Benrey indeed knew a lot about the game’s advanced techniques. Given that and his general enjoyment of video games, it was surprising when after only about an hour he insisted they get back to looking through the files.

Seems he was quite eager to look through them, seemingly with Gordon. Perhaps as someone to read aloud all the boring stuff for him and/or because he didn’t want to be alone for it. It was an honor to be trusted so.

~

Naturally the whole Benrey being able to die and come back from it wasn’t forgotten. Not long after developing a material Benrey couldn’t phase though – glass made in part with ground up Xen crystals – the scientists decided to experiment further in the direction of learning more about that particular power. Which of course meant killing him again but doing so on purpose this time and measuring how long it took before he came back.

Gordon lifted a hand towards the mouse, intending to skip it but… “Wait.” Benrey took his wrist and pulled it back. “I wanna see.”

“Why?” Gordon didn’t and after how Benrey had responded to watching his first death, it made no sense he’d want to see this one too.

“’Cause uh… I’m not like aware when it happens, you know? I wanna see me get up. And it’s fine ‘cause…”

“It’s not fine though, you know that.” Gordon was about ready to slap him if he tried to go back to insisting it was fine.

Benrey was silent for a seconds before… “Fine, yeah, it’s not fine. It sucks. I hate it. My life’s awful and all that. Feel bad for me or whatever. But I do wanna see what it looks like when I get better after dying. I’ve never seen it before so… yeah.”

“I guess it makes sense to be curious about it.” Naturally he’d seen all his other powers in action except that one. Gordon could leave and come back when the video was done. But if Benrey did indeed want his emotional support, he should be here for him. So with a sigh, he settled in to watch another fucked up thing happen to little Benrey.

Gordon was learning a lot about him from this, more than he really wanted to. Once they were done, he was going to take Benrey out somewhere, anywhere he wanted to go that he’d never been to before that sounded like fun. He’d show Benrey the world, the real world, not merely what was in video games and movies. Anything to make him happy.

On screen, the scientists were of course using their new Xen glass to box Benrey in should he try to escape. Having died from seemingly blood loss before, they hooked him up to machine that harvested his healing blood then left it to run after making sure Benrey was securely contained. He wasn’t even trying to escape, instead seemingly just letting it happen.

It wasn’t as graphic or horrid a way to die as the first had been but… Gordon looked away anyway. Not being a permanent death made it less horrific but even outside of the way he felt about Benrey now, he’d been just a kid back then, only a few years old. Seemingly advanced for his age if compared to a human but still very clearly just a kid and they were intentionally locking him in a small box and killing him.

Instead he looked up at Benrey, standing beside the chair, his hand resting on it, clutching it. “After this, we’re taking a break.” They’d been at it for too long already. Even Gordon could only take so much science stuff. How Benrey, normally easily bored, was possibly managing it was a mystery.

Benrey nodded his assent, silently watching the screen.

After a little while longer, Gordon glanced back at it. As evidenced by the timer in the bottom corner, the footage was sped up quite a lot. Little Benrey, the camera zoomed in on him, was clearly dead as he sagged against the side of the glass cube. He was… melting. It had to have been a slow process but with the sped up footage it was disturbingly obvious that his body was losing its shape, taking only the shape of the container.

Not long after the timer in bottom corner hit the three hour mark, the footage jumped back to playing in normal time. The ooze that made up little Benrey’s form twitched and shuddered before it started moving in an entirely different way, growing more solid. A slow process but undoubtedly actually faster than the melting had been. Once, seemingly back to how he’d been before, he seemed to settle into sleep, his only movement the slight expanding of his form as he breathed. Something he’d apparently done with his whole body back then.

The footage sped up again. This time after only about an hour on the clock it resumed normal speed. Little Benrey stirred before sitting up and looking around, his barely humanoid face more unreadable than how he looked in the modern day, but he otherwise had the air of someone waking up from a long nap. The attending researcher than stepped out from behind the camera to try to get him to explain what it had been like.

“Kind of like sleeping,” was still the only answer little Benrey gave. The researcher tried several ways to get out more out of him but there didn’t seem to be anymore to it. Upon that becoming obvious the video ended soon after.

Gordon look back up at Benrey again. He didn’t look upset, his expression only a slight frown, but still… “You okay?”

“I was hoping it would be like a phoenix. Like uh… raising from the ashes or whatever. Something flashy, you know?”

“Well, I would argue coming back from the dead in general is pretty flashy. Most people can’t do that. But uh… I guess, hearing that being dead is ‘kind of like sleeping’ is a bit comforting. If there is somehow an afterlife though, there’s no guarantee that your soul or whatever goes to it when you die since you come back. But I don’t believe there is so I’m gonna choose to take your explanation about what its like to be dead as evidence that I’m right.” Sleeping was nice so the thought of death being an eternal endless sleep wasn’t too bad. “But uh… let’s go do something fun, huh?” Stop thinking about death and other dour topics. “Like a walk maybe, get some fresh air.”

“Uh… sure.”

~

Supposedly there had once been a camcorder video of Benrey purring while curled up against the side of the break room fridge, playing his stolen Game Boy. The only remaining record of it was an entry detailing it in writing. It had supposedly been adorable and cute. It also detailed all the scientists’ failed attempts to get him to do it on command.

“What it doesn’t say,” Benrey said once Gordon was done reading, “is that they tried to get me to purr to impress the other scientists in the neighboring labs. And when I didn’t ‘cause that’s dumb, they showed them the video instead.”

“Ugh, no wonder you’re so secretive about it.” Gordon had long grown to suspect his past had something to do with that but it was worse than he’d thought.

“It was annoying.”

Gordon could only imagine how annoying that must’ve been, especially with everything else they’d been doing to him. It being the straw that finally got him to go out of his way and do something was only surprising in that he hadn’t before. “So you broke in, figured out how to use the computer and deleted all traces of the video. A reasonable course of action.”

“Yeah. Then they paneled up the room so I couldn’t do it again. Never purred near them after that though so they can suck it. It uh… wasn’t hard.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Eh, it’s… not fine but whatever. Can’t change it.”

No, they couldn’t but if the fuckers weren’t most likely already dead after the resonance cascade, Gordon might have found a use for his gun hand. … He’d have to check the employee records later when he got back to the new lab just to make sure. Probably they were, given he’d seen everyone who’d survived, none of whom he’d recognized the name or face of in these videos, but it didn’t hurt to check just in case.

“Let’s continue,” Benrey said. “Sooner we can finish this, the better.”

It was getting awfully late though. They’d been at it all day and were only nearing being halfway done. But if Benrey wanted to continue then so be it. It was only fair he call most of the shots on this stuff.

~

Young Benrey eventually started taking on a more properly human shaped form. According to modern day him it was largely to hold the Game Boy better. It was designed for human hands so his various sub-par imitations hindered how effectively he could play and he’d gotten good enough for that to be an active frustration. And thus upon intentionally studying a detailed model skeleton he’d found when phasing around the facility during free time, with some work he figured out how to mimic it.

Not too terribly long after that was that start of him wandering even further from his ‘home’ lab to be a nuisance to people who didn’t know him already. From there, it was only a matter of months before he stole a security guard uniform from a guard fellow named Barney – apparently also where he’d derived the name ‘Benrey’ from due to the name tag on said uniform – to add another layer of being a problem to his antics.

Halfway through reading the report about said behavior, Gordon paused to look over at Benrey. “So the whole security guard bit was just for attention, huh?” Not that Gordon blamed him, his life had sucked and he’d undoubtedly been awfully lonely.

“Nah, not just attention. But uh… I guess I can tell you since I don’t have it anymore anyway. It’s still a secret though so don’t tell anyone else. People listen to you when you got authority and security guards got authority. Try asking someone for their ID or passport or whatever documentation while wearing normal clothes. They don’t care. But do it in a guard uniform and they gotta listen, right? ‘Cause they think they’re gonna get in trouble if they don’t have it. And normally they’re not asked for it so they get flustered and sometimes mad. Then if they don’t have what you asked for, you got reason to follow them and keep making them flustered. It’s fun.” So a specific kind of attention that again, Gordon couldn’t blame him for wanting. He’d wanted respect, to be listened to, and most importantly to cause problems. A classic case of acting out that had lasted well into adulthood because presumably things hadn’t gotten much better for him until recently.

“Well, you got me with that shtick real good.” Gordon had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. Looking back at it, it had obviously been a troll move but that was before he knew Benrey.

“You were a lot of fun in particular.”

“Really? Why?”

“Your face. It’s very expressive, especially when you’re mad.”

“Thanks… I think.” Was that a compliment? Being told how obvious it was when he was having trouble keeping his emotions in check didn’t seem particularly flattering. But well, it had apparently gotten Benrey interested in him and that was for sure a good thing.

“You’re welcome.”

***

In all, thanks to all the breaks and counting the first half-day, it took them four days before they’d seen, read, and looked at everything they had on Benrey. Or not everything, they’d skipped the videos testing the limits of his healing and studying his come back from the dead power as soon as they revealed themselves to be about such topics. Which saved a bit of time as well as discomfort but still longer than Benrey had thought or hoped for. Gordon had had to take off work for it.

Technically Benrey had learned a lot about himself. How many of his powers worked and as well as physical and mental stuff. He had a faster reaction time than any human on record and could hold more things in his short term memory. Things that were only interesting because they were why he was good at video games. Other things were less fun like he had ‘a poor aptitude for social skills’, a shitty, sucky life and wasn’t supposed to have even had a mind.

He’d only fully broken down and shattered the once. But Gordon’s insistence on breaks were appreciated and his willingness to hold Benrey on his lap or just let him cuddle into his side while they played games, without questioning him about it, was more than a little welcome.

Everything would’ve been easier if he’d never confronted any of the bad stuff but the thought of leaving Gordon to look through everything alone made his insides squirm too much. Having a better understanding on just how complete a picture Gordon had on him scientifically made the question of how much more he’d probably want to know easier to answer. Not that knowing that meant a whole lot because it didn’t change Benrey’s intended, ‘no, I don’t wanna be studied further’ but it was less nerve-wracking.

The final file on record discussed the Anomalous Materials department resonance experiments and how those were meant to eventually lead a more permanent and stable portal Xen being opened instead of the short, energy intensive hops they’d been doing for years. If successful, Benrey’s handlers had intended to take him to Xen to see how he might respond to it. Such had never occurred of course, the resonance cascade had happened instead.

Upon finishing reading, Gordon swiveled in the chair to face him. “Wow, they uh… would’ve been in for quite the surprise if they’d managed that, huh?”

“Yep. It would’ve been uh… quite something.”

“What would you have done with all that energy and ability to get big and stuff? Like would you have killed them and gained your freedom or something?”

“I don’t know. Probably not, didn’t know death was permanent for humans at the time, remember?” The only death he’d experienced in person was his own so why would he have thought to assume it worked differently for him? It was obvious in hindsight though, wasn’t it? Why else would they have wanted to study his coming back? He was an idiot.

“Might’ve run away,” he continued, “I guess but… probably not that either unless I brought my games and stuff with me.” Honestly, trying for escape of any sort probably wouldn’t have occurred to him. He’d been too caught up in the rut of just going with things as they came, never really pushing for more beyond occasionally annoying people. Heck, it hadn’t occurred to him that people weren’t coming to bring him back until Gordon had told him such was the case. The entire trip through the facility, watching everything fall apart and go wrong, he’d assumed it all a temporary fun adventure, that things would go back to how they’d always been afterwards. Being wrong about that was great but gosh, he’d been stupid to think it. Or not even think it, just assume it blindly, no questioning it whatsoever. So perhaps his no worry attitude, roll with things as they came, hadn’t been so great after all. Gordon had broken him out of it at least.

Speaking of that though… “But uh… that’s the end, huh? We went through all of it?”

Gordon turned back to the computer to double check before turning to look at him again. “Looks like it, yeah. So… what now? It feels like uh… like it’s supposed to be momentous or something. I don’t know.”

Benrey stepped towards him, taking a deep breath. He had to be clear on this point. Clearer than he’d ever been before because Gordon sometimes failed to listen and/or understand things. He had to lay it all out, make Gordon ask to study him. Hopefully he would respect Benrey’s answer so things could stay good, if he didn’t… Benrey would figure that out when/if they got there. It would hurt though, he could admit that to himself now. His own fault for letting himself grow so attached to a scientist when he knew he was a scientific marvel. It was too late to take that back now though. He had to live with the consequences of his actions in that realm and just hope for the best.

Hoping for the best sucked though. It be easier if he didn’t care. Why’d Gordon have to go and make him care so much about him, how he viewed Benrey, and so many other things? It wasn’t fair. And Benrey couldn’t even be properly mad at him for it because he cared so much and sometimes that was nice. When things had been unquestioningly good between them, caring so much had been so fucking nice. Right now it very much wasn’t nice though.

“You okay?” Gordon asked at his extended silence. “Do you need…” He started to stand.

“Sit.”

Gordon paused for a second before letting himself drop back into the chair. “All right. You uh… got something you need to say?”

“Yeah.” And Benrey couldn’t exactly put it off any longer. He needed to know if his favorite person in the whole world cared more about him as a person or a scientific marvel. “Okay so… you went through all the files, read, watched, looked at everything they have on me, all my science stuff. You know so much more ‘bout me now, right?”

Gordon was silent for a few seconds before he seemed to realize he needed to answer. “Uh… yeah.”

“Do you think there’s uh… more you could learn from going through everything again? Anything you missed?”

“Um… if I like hardcore studied them I could probably pick up on things I missed. And then there’s the stuff we skipped, the written stuff covered some of that though. So sort of but not really.”

“Okay but uh… you’re satisfied with what you did learn? Don’t got any more curiosity about the files?”

“All my curiosity about what’s in them has been more then sated, dude, trust me. I learned more than I really wanted to. What exactly are you getting at here?”

Benrey wasn’t going to bother to answer that. He was getting there, slowly. If Gordon wanted him to be faster, he should’ve put more effort into being a better listener before now. “Good. There’s lots you don’t know though, right? Like, you know I deleted the purring video. So my purring is still basically a mystery, like how and all that. And there’s what happened on Xen, why I got so much power while there or whatever. Probably other things too, right?” Things Benrey couldn’t think of because he wasn’t a scientist.

“I guess so, yeah.”

“You’d have to study and uh… do experiments on me to learn more ‘bout that stuff, right?” And this was where Gordon was going to ask if he could because he cared but was also scientifically curious. That Benrey was his friend so he could tell him to stop if he started getting uncomfortable and would probably even do so. But would he respect a hard ‘no’? Would he drop it completely or try to convince Benrey to change his mind, maybe even try to bribe him with more gaming stuff if he cooperated? Or maybe, after going through the files, he viewed Benrey more like how his handlers had and thus he wouldn’t even pretend to give Benrey any kind of out?

“Probably, yeah. But um… you know I wouldn’t do that to you, right?”

No, Benrey didn’t know that. Gordon was a scientist who was interested in him scientifically. It only made sense he’d want to study and experiment on him because that’s what scientists did.

At his silence Gordon continued. “I wouldn’t study you or experiment on you or… anything like that. I know I get nosy with asking questions sometimes and got even more nosy about the files. Be mad and annoyed with me about all that but… I would never do anything to you. You know that, right?” He leaned forward, his gaze intent.

Benrey took a step back. He’d been so ready to give his, ‘no, I don’t want to be studied,’ had practice whispered it to himself at night after Gordon had fallen asleep. The question had seemed inevitable but… “Really?”

“Yeah, dude, really. Did you think I would?”

“You were willing to go back to the Black Mesa facility for the chance to peek at my science stuff. The place that gave you nightmares so bad you gotta cuddle me every night and then sometimes you still have them. You had a whole freak out when you were there but you still wanted to keep going. I’m a scientific marvel that you as a scientist wanted to know more about so, so bad. Why wouldn’t you want to fill in the rest of what you don’t know now?” Anything else seemed illogical. But maybe Benrey was just stupid, he wasn’t supposed to be able to think after all.

Gordon stood, Benrey let him this time. “That’s because I’m a fucking idiot. I was curious about you and your past and I thought it wouldn’t be so bad because it wasn’t so bad our first return trip. And you would be there in person this time instead of just on the phone so I thought it’d be less bad. I was curious enough about specifically your files to do that. None of that really matters that much though because… I was planning on betraying your trust to look at your science stuff. That was wrong of me and I’m sorry. But I never wanted to… okay maybe, way back when I first offered the PS3 for good behavior, I was kinda thinking I could do some observational studies on you but even then that’s it. I never wanted to experiment on you. The thought never even crossed my mind because Jesus fucking Christ, you’ve had enough of that in your life already. Which I now know more about than I ever really wanted or needed to. Not that I even needed to see any of that to know. It was obvious the moment you revealed you grew up in the lab.”

He was passionate as he spoke, gesturing with his hands. As far as Benrey could tell, his face was just as earnest. Seemingly he was telling the truth and felt strongly about it.

“You’re not even curious a little bit ‘bout the stuff you don’t know?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t but unless you’re willing to tell me stuff, I don’t wanna know. Benrey I… I…” He stepped forward, lifting his hand as if to touch Benrey but hesitated, biting his lip as he pulled back.

“You uh… care more ‘bout me as a person than a scientific marvel?” That was the real question. Benrey had long since started caring about him more as a person than fun distraction to annoy, tease, and mess with because it was funny.

Gordon froze, silently meeting Benrey’s eyes for several long seconds before responding. “Benrey, I love you.”

In games, movies, and even the occasional TV show, when someone said something like that to someone else, they most often meant a very specific kind of love. A kind Benrey hadn’t been entirely sure was real or not and had never given much thought to. It had always seemed like a pleasant fairy tale though, not something he needed but wouldn’t object to if it did somehow turn out to be real.

“And because language is imprecise,” Gordon continued, “I mean as a dear friend and romantically. It’s totally fine if you don’t feel the same but… since you asked, I had to tell you. You mean so much more to me as a person than a scientific marvel. I’m sorry I ever made you doubt that.”

This was even more than what Benrey had been hoping for. In every scenario he’d imagined, Gordon had always asked, the hope had been that he’d immediately and unquestionably respect Benrey’s ‘no’. Instead of asking though, he’d passionately stated he’d never do so and then said he didn’t just care about Benrey as a person, he loved him. Surely it was too good to be true. But… his freedom seemed too good as well and it was certainly real. Also, even if just rolling with everything wasn’t always a good thing or even possible, getting caught up on something nice seeming too nice was stupid. He could accept this as it was and just go with it.

“I think I love you too. Don’t really know what romantic love’s supposed to feel like but… I think so.” It was certainly something.

Gordon’s eyes widened. “Oh uh… okay. In that case, can I uh… kiss you?”

“Sure.”

He leaned in and hesitated for moment before planting a kiss on Benrey’s forehead. It was nice but… “On the mouth asshole. I wanna know what that’s like.”

“Okay, okay.” With a chuckle, Gordon leaned in again. This time Benrey pressed up on his tiptoes to meet him.

Benrey had never done this before but he’d seen it a handful of times so he had a vague idea what to do. Turn his head little, open his mouth some, close his eyes. It was… nice. Gordon’s lips were soft and his breath was warm. Cuddles were better but that was a really high bar to reach.

“Why does your mouth taste kinda like cough syrup?” Gordon asked as they parted.

“I don’t know. Why doesn’t yours?”

“Lots of reasons. But uh… you believe me that I don’t wanna experiment you, right?”

“Yeah.” He’d made a compelling case for himself. It was like a weight had been lifted off Benrey’s shoulders. Things between them were good and looked like they’d stay that way.

“Awesome. Now um… you wanna go out to eat somewhere? Even if you don’t wanna eat anything, we could get out of the house for a bit, maybe go somewhere else afterwards. I guess like as a date since we just… you know.”

“Ooh, I’ve never been on a date before, let’s go.” Going and doing something new and fun with Gordon seemed the perfect thing to erase the last of the tension of the last few days. Especially since things were finally good between them again. Better than good even, they were love, that was an exciting new concept. Finding out more about it should be fun.

~

Epilogue

[toujokaname]

Card shuffle / Episode 11

Author: Akira

Characters: Aira, Hiiro, Tatsumi, Mayoi

"I'll win by any means necessary. The winner is justice, and I was raised for the sake of protecting Amagi justice."

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Season: Winter

Location: MDM Stage

Aira: (Hm~...? He seems strangely confident despite being Hiro-kun? No, wait, isn't he always like this?)

(It was weirder in the summer when he was depressed, doubting himself.)

(Even then, he quickly perked up after I held him in my arms and comforted him.)

Hiiro: I'll surrender the opening move to you. After all, Matrix's plan was full of flaws, and there wasn't any indication of who should sing first.

Tatsumi: Discovering these shortcomings on the spot for the first time is also unsettling. It feels like crossing a tattered suspension bridge.

Mayoi: I hope we all make it across without falling... Uuu, if it comes to that, please save yourselves even if it means sacrificing me!

Hiiro: Hehe. In that case, we'll all fall and then work together to crawl our way back up. That's the way ALKALOID does things ♪

Mayoi: (Fufu... Thank goodness. I was concerned that Hiiro-san might have changed, since the Crazy:B members were strangely taken aback by him...)

(But, Hiiro-san is still Hiiro-san after all. Always earnest, bright, and positive. A good kid...♪)

Tatsumi: —Oh, our song's intro has started playing.

Mayoi: Ah, they haven't even sent the signal yet, but you sure are quick on the uptake.

Hiiro: Umu. I anticipated this turn of events, or rather, I realized Nii-san's strategy, so I informed the staff of our arrangement beforehand.

Aira: ...?

(S-Something's off... But messing up the start of the song would be the worst, so let's focus.)

(Being around Hiro-kun always makes me feel like I gotta be the mature one, but I'll show that we're perfectly fine without him!)

"♪~♪~♪"

Tatsumi & Mayoi: "~...♪"

Hiiro: "♪♪♪♪♪"

Aira: —Huhh?!

Mayoi: H-Hiiro-san? Why are you singing, um, didn't you say you'd let us go first? It's our turn now, isn't it?

Hiiro: "♪~♪~♪"

Mayoi: (Eh? Did he start singing his part of the ALKALOID song out of habit, or conditioned reflex?)

(No, Hiiro-san wouldn't make such a careless mistake...?)

(So, this could be some kind of scheme! What kind of...?!)

Hiiro: —Hehe, sure enough, it's painful for me to deceive everyone, so I'll confess. I'm sure you guys won't slack off on stage even if you know the truth.

Come on, look behind you.

Aira: Behind...? Ah, when'd they put up that screen?!

Mayoi: H-Huh? Huuhhh? But w-waaait, it's our turn now, right?

Yet the screen reads Crazy:B, not ALKALOID?!

Hiiro: That's right—It's not ALKALOID's turn now, it's my turn as Crazy:B.

At least, officially.

Aira: W-What do you...?

Hiiro: Even a makeshift trick like this can be effective under these circumstances.

You were prompted by me and started to sing, thinking it was your turn first.

But actually, as I told the organizers beforehand, it's Crazy:B's turn now.

This showdown is being broadcast live, and the screen should be showing "First to Attack: Crazy:B" right now as well.

Tatsumi: So—

Hiiro: So, you're performing now, not as ALKALOID, but as Crazy:B.

You're singing ALKALOID's songs, which our fans who have gathered here love.

Me, Aira, Tatsumi-senpai and Mayoi-senpai, our full ALKALOID lineup. Just the perfect four of us, untouched by any odd elements.

Tatsumi: ... Is... that so.

Hiiro: Umu. Naturally, the fans will be delighted and vote for you a lot. I'm sure they'll give you high scores.

That's why I'm on stage wearing ALKALOID's outfit instead of Crazy:B's.

To outsiders, this will seem like a complete ALKALOID performance.

ALKALOID fans will certainly give it the highest score possible. That's what they wanted to see.

And as the first team to attack, you'll get a high score that the second team will never be able to compete with.

However. It'll be the officially announced first team that will get it, us in Crazy:B.

Aira: Eh? Eh? M-My head's spinning from all this ALKALOID and Crazy:B talk. Is this really happening?

Hiiro: It is happening, Aira. You've been fooled by me, and inadvertently aided the enemy.

You've stormed the castle with all your might, and reaped the spoils of war.

But. Every single one of those spoils will belong to us, Crazy:B.

What is this kind of thing called in the city? Let's see, an own goal?

Even if you sing your heart out as the second performers now that you know the truth, it's futile.

I won't sing then. So, you'll become an incomplete ALKALOID without me.

And the scores you'll receive will be lower compared to the first attackers.

As a result, the first match will be won by the first team, Crazy:B.

Even though only the official members of ALKALOID are on stage, the winners will be Crazy:B.

Hiiro: —Hehe, how amusing ♪

Mayoi: T-This is outrageous...?

Tatsumi: Indeed. I never imagined Hiiro-san was capable of committing such a horrible deception...

Hiiro: I'm sorry. It pains me, too. I didn't want to deceive you.

However. I really am sorry, but this is a competition.

I'll win by any means necessary.

The winner is justice, and I was raised for the sake of protecting Amagi justice.

Aira: ......

[ ☆ ]

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[bigskydreaming]

Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids. 

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint? 

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower. 

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes. 

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer. 

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest. 

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

[alltooreid]

Invisible String

Although Spencer Reid and the Reader don’t find themselves in a romance with each other until well into their adulthood, their relationship has been decades in the making. Almost as if something as been pulling them together all these years. 

A/N: sorry for such a long wait but i’ve been struggling a lot mentally as of late. i hope you guys enjoy this one shot!! As always requests are open and heavily encouraged!! And of course this is inspired by the taylor swift song of the same name :)) Also keep in mind although the following scenes are heavily inspired by some scenes in Criminal Minds, elements of them have been slightly altered to fit in Y/N as a character.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Type: a cute strangers to lovers fluff fic!

Word Count: 3.9K

Content Warnings: typical criminal minds case discussion, mentions of child trafficking when discussing this case, but no real detail. slight spoilers for season eight (beginning maeve stuff) and tiny spoilers for season fifteen (briefly mentions max but nothing really important to the plot at all)

“Time, curious time Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs Were there clues I didn't see?”

You had met Spencer Reid 3 times before you had really met him.  

It was almost silly to think about it now. Now that you and Spencer have been dating for 3 years, it was strange to believe there were so many chances for you two to meet years earlier.

When you were sixteen years old, you got your first part time job. You worked at a self-serve frozen yogurt shop called Iced Dreams. You hated it so much. Your manager was a total creep, your older coworkers were rude and condescending to you, since you were one of the youngest people working there, but most of all you hated the uniforms.

Consisting of a very stupid looking hat, bright pink with randomly embrodiered teal patterns, an outdated bright teal shirt, it had been given to you from a dirty bin in the back, and judging by the sewn in shoulder pads, it had to be at least a couple decades old.

So one day, you didn’t wear the hat.

It wasn’t entirely purposeful. You couldn’t find it, you searched your room, you searched your car, so eventually you had to leave without it to prevent being late. Still, as you clocked it and passed the box of extras in the office something made you decide to leave it alone.

You were about 8 minutes into your shift when your manager approached you. “Y/N? Where’s your hat sweetheart?” You hated this man so much. You had gone to your parents time and time again, recounting his creepy behavior towards you and the other teenage girls who you worked with, but they refused to let you quit.

When you had started working there, he used to enforce this ridiculous rule that all the female workers had to wear skirts as part of their uniform, but you had gathered all the sixteen and seventeen year olds who worked there and all threatened to quit if he didn’t change the policy. So you were no stranger to breaking and defying the rules.  

“Yeah I couldn’t find it, sorry.” you shrugged.

He chuckled and reached his hat out to touch your face. You jerked back, you almost wanted to refuse to wear one of the stupid extra hats just so that you could get fired.

“Well, Y/N its policy sweetie. No matter how special you are to me you still need to wear the hat. There’s extras in the office.”

“No way I’m wearing one of those. I bet they have like lice or something.”

He pursed his lips and sighed “Well I suppose that beautiful hair is just too pretty to wear a used hat huh. . . What do you suggest? If you’re working you have to wear it.”

You laughed, “Well you could let me go home.”

He paused, “Why don’t you go sit in the office, I’ll come talk to you in a minute.”

So you did, for about 10 minutes you sat in the office, surrounded by frozen yogurt flavor marking posters and boxes of old uniforms, and each passing minute you feared for the worst. Maybe you were actually getting fired? You really didn’t want to go that far, because, as much as you hated it, you really needed this job.

When your manager finally came to talk to you he held a small salted caramel frozen yogurt, your personal favorite flavor, and a twenty dollar bill. He handed them both to you.

“You seem so stressed Y/N, why don’t you take the day and go get lunch. My treat,” he said, smiling that weird twisted smile that always made your full body shiver.

However you were broke as hell, and no teenager in their right mind would ever pass up free food, so you took it, grabbed your keys and started to leave

Yet as soon as you walked out the back door you dropped your frozen yogurt, cup fully upside down, onto the pavement. You cursed, you hadn’t even taken a bite of it yet, and it looked like he had put coconut flakes on it, and you loved coconut. Still, you had your twenty bucks, and that was a pretty sweet pay out considering you were only clocked in for about 20 minutes.

So you got Chinese food, and spent what was supposed to be your shift in the shopping mall across town, completely and blissfully unaware of the fact the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI was dragging your manager away in handcuffs.

➽───────────────❥

Young Spencer Reid had only joined the FBI about a month ago. Despite being a genius, and providing crucial information to the solving of cases, he was aware of the most obvious. He was only twenty two years old, and he was scrawny as hell.

He felt this intense need to prove himself, especially to make Gideon proud.

So when they got a case about a the kidnapping and sex trafficking of teenage girls, he saw it as something he could really involve himself in. Based on the profile, it wasn’t going to be a large, strong, confident unsub who Morgan needed to tackle. This man would be ugly sure, but he would be a manipulative mastermind. Reid could work with that, he could prove himself.

He surprised everyone with his sheer work ethic and determination to find this man, and through consistently revising and delivering the profile soon enough they got a hit. A young woman in her early twenties called the tipline and reported her own manager. Insisting he fit the profile perfectly, and described how strangely he treated the minors who worked there, and how he almost exclusively hired young girls, treated them great and then switched as soon as they became legal.

So Garcia did her magically digging, and soon enough the FBI was tearing up a frozen yogurt shop, looking for any evidence of pedophilia. Garcia was even brought along, as she was pivotal to discovering any secret files in his computer.

At first, all they could find were strange compilation videos and under employees skirts. Spencer, and the rest of the team, were struggling to connect how he could get so many videos from an angle like this without anyone noticing or reporting him, until Gideon uncovered an old dusty pair of shoes, in which the right one held a small camera at the toe.

Although this was absolutely disgusting, it wasn’t enough to prove he was running the ring or kidnapping the girls, so Garcia kept digging. Meanwhile, Spencer tried to make himself useful by checking out the back of the store.

That’s where he found your clock-out receipt.

“Hey guys, we might want to take a look at this,” he shouted out.

Morgan grabbed the paper from his hand, “Ok, I don’t get it kid, it’s trash.”

Spencer pointed to the details on the slip, “Yeah but it says here she clocked out 18 minutes ago after only working for 23 minutes and 46 seconds. If this guy is our unsub, this girl could be in a lot of trouble.”

“Maybe she’s still here, has anyone checked out the parking lot yet?”

Spencer shook his head, and followed Morgan out the back door. There they discovered some almost completely melted salted caramel frozen yogurt.

Morgan bent down to investigate, “Yeah, we gotta get this to the lab, but I can tell you right now that there’s clearly more than just coconut topping this yogurt. It also means we have another victim.”

Spencer crouched down as well, “Not necessarily.”

“What do you mean kid? We’re missing a teenage girl and we’ve already found illegal evidence on this guy's computer. She’s in trouble.”

“Well judging the shape and inscription of these pills it appears to be some pretty strong rohypnol, almost certainly prescription grade. And ingesting it like this means she probably would have begun to feel its effects fairly early, I would predict 15 minutes. She clocked out 18 minutes ago, so even if she left exactly at that time she would have certainly crashed her car on the way home. The nearest residence is 8 minutes away from here, we’re in a complete shopping district. There’s only two cars out here and neither have a passed out driver, so I would bet she didn’t eat any of it. Also, the only spoon out here is still wrapped in plastic, “ Spencer analyzed.

Morgan sighed, “Well what do we even do then?”

Before Spencer could answer Hotch opened the back door. “We got him.”

Spencer turned to Morgan, “I’m sure her phone number is somewhere inside, I say we call her and make sure she’s ok. She probably doesn’t even know this is happening right now.”

So he did find your phone number, and although he initially pushed the phone to Morgan, he just chuckled and pushed it back.

“No way pretty boy. You’re the know-it-all with all that profiling out there, you can call her,” and before he could protest Morgan left, so Spencer was left to call you.

And strangely, for it being the first time he would ever interact with the love of his life, he thought nothing of it.

And that was the first time you had met Spencer Reid.

➽───────────────❥

The second time was years and years later, when you were waitressing night shifts to make extra money. You had never forgotten meeting Spencer Reid the first time, but this was the first time you would ever see his face.

You were slightly concerned when you got a call from a man, whose name you had now long forgotten, claiming he worked for the FBI. Although you weren’t incredibly surprised to hear your manager committed such heinous crimes against children, you were taken aback by how close you had come to becoming one of his victims.

But that was 9 years ago. In your college days it became a fun story you told at frat parties, but you were 25 now. Sometimes you would think about the incident when you couldn’t sleep, and if you were feeling feisty you would use it as an icebreaker or a “two truths, one lie” statement, but otherwise you didn’t really think about it.

You had plenty of other things to worry about, in fact, that’s exactly why you worked so much. It was so much easier to forget when you were constantly preoccupied with complaining customers and terribly awkward blind dates.

You had just sat this man, incredibly handsome, however it was clear he was on some kind of date. His reservation was for two, and he spent way too much time adjusting his clothes and table setting for him to not be trying to impress someone special. He also brought a gift, which judging by the packaging and shape, seemed to be some kind of wrapped book.

Even though he was 15 minutes early for his own reservation, he still looked really nervous, almost like he already believed she might not show up. You couldn’t help yourself, you had to go talk to him.

“Anyone ever tell you you should model?” you started with.

He looked up “Excuse me?”

“Sorry for being so bold, you just look so familiar,” he weirdly sounded very familiar as well, but you didn’t tell him that. “Are you sure you haven’t modeled? You have excellent bone structure. I bet you could.”

He laughed to himself, “yeah I’m sure.”

“Well your date is very lucky either way. I wish I had a boyfriend as handsome as you. Actually I wish I had a boyfriend period, but that’s a whole other story.”

He chuckled, and although you knew in your heart that you shouldn’t be flirting with him considering he was 15 minutes away from being actively on a date talking to him made you feel something you hadn’t felt in a long time. “What happened with your boyfriend? Do I even dare ask?”

“Well I kind of always knew he wasn’t super interested in me, but I really liked him, so I did my best to ignore his wandering eyes,” you sighed. “That didn’t stop him from leaving me for his coworker though.”

“That’s terrible.”

You smirked, “That’s not even the worst part, he broke up with me over a 27 second phone call. He didn’t even let me respond, he just kind of hung up.”

“I’m sorry, no one deserves that. Especially not you. I’ve only been talking to you for a couple minutes and I can tell that.”

“Oh really? What makes you so sure?”

“I’m pretty good at reading people.”

You smiled, “Well I should probably stop flirting with you now, considering your date hasn’t even started yet. And don’t worry, she’ll show, you’re so handsome she’d be stupid not to.”

He looked confused. “You were flirting with me?”

You laughed, “I thought you were good at reading people?”

He smiled back at you, and it made your heart soar, this silly, pure goofy smile that made you want to replace his date and have dinner with him right then and there.

You walked back to your hostess stand. A couple minutes later you noticed the handsome stranger on the phone. You thought nothing of it until later when a woman came in, clearly nervous, holding a gift bag.

“Can you give this to Spencer Reid for me please?” You recognized the name, the man you were just speaking with had filed his reservation under it.

“Um, yeah sure, aren’t you going to go in? He’s at that table over the-” but before you could finish your sentence the woman was gone. Your heart sank, poor Spencer, how could someone drop their date off a gift but stand them up anyway? That’s just cold.

When you get up to bring the gift to him, he’s already heading out of the restaurant himself.

“Sir? Spencer? Dr. Reid?” he turned his head. “A lady came in and dropped this off for you.”

His face dropped, it almost looked like he was about to cry. “Thank you,” he said as he looked up at you before leaving.

He ran out the door, both gifts in hand and whipped his head around a few times before sighing and speeding off in one direction. Even before you learned what happened after that and leading up to it, you felt terrible for the handsome stranger.

How could you not for someone so clearly distressed? Someone so clearly in love?

➽───────────────❥

7 years and a divorce later you were spending your Saturday in a park, strangely contemplating love itself. Although you barely remember that night all those years ago when you spoke to Spencer, he did. Vividly. In fact, on this Saturday you both were in a public park, contemplating your many failed attempts at true love.

It was your first wedding anniversary without your husband. Although you had only been married for two years, you still were having a hard time navigating life without him. 

You started to wonder if you would ever find the true love you had been wishing for since your youth. Was 32 too late? Had you lived out all of your opportunities?

When you were little your mother had told you that all soulmates were attached at the left ring fingers, by small, incredibly thin strands of gold string, invisible to the naked eye. She insisted that these strings were constantly trying to pull you and your soulmate together, and that when life was ready for you two to meet, you would. 

Until then, you would have small, mindless interactions. Things you wouldn’t think about, maybe even things that weren’t interactions at all. You would get the same commercial jingle stuck in your head. You would both get an intense craving for the same food. You’d have the same dream. 

As a kid you were obsessed with this idea, you thought it was so romantic, and you fully believed everything your mom told you about it. You always asked her for more stories, and at bedtime you refused to sleep unless she would tell you more.

But now you were sure soulmates, true love even, didn’t exist. The invisible pretty gold strings your mother weaved fantastic stories with were completely fabricated. If they weren’t, you would have seen the clues by now.

Right?

➽───────────────❥

Spencer Reid was given an assignment from his therapist. He had to spend his Saturday off trying to interact with a stranger. Making friends with someone other than his colleagues may seem like a simple task for some, but it was something the young genius had almost no experience with.

He understood that it was probably for the best. He wasn’t exactly great with relationships of any kind, but especially not romantic ones. It didn’t take a genius to know that a couple of flirtations, a dead girlfriend he had only seen once, and a long time unrequited (or at least he thought unrequited) infatuation with his best friend and godsons’ mother was not a very great track record.

He, just like you, was also beginning to believe that he was hopeless when it came to love. That 38 was too old, that his time to meet someone and have the children he dreamed of had long passed.

But right as he was about to call JJ, to see if she would invite him in on the case Garcia had started to work on, he saw you.

Unlike you, he remembered your face and your interaction vividly. That almost date with Maeve was one of the biggest defining moments of his life, and what are the chances that the waitress from that very night was now less than 30 feet away from him, reading under the green leaves of a tree.

He wasn’t going to say anything, until he saw the book you were reading.

The Narrative of John Smith.

It must have been a sign, for what he wasn’t exactly sure yet, but it just had to mean something. The universe had to be reaching out to him, he had experienced crazier things.

And just as he was about to walk over to you, to close the gap between the gold strings tied around your ring fingers, a child interrupted his train of thought.

“That’s a strange haircut.”

➽───────────────❥

Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid were finally reuniting after many years. They barely got to see each other these days, but even though he was teaching and working at the BAU, Spencer still was willing to clear his schedule to second Derek suggested they meet up.

Morgan was excited as well, both to see his friend and to hopefully help him get a date. Sure, he had liked what he had heard about Max, but he wasn’t exactly surprised it had only lasted a couple months between her and Spencer. They just seemed too different.

Plus, now he got the chance to play wingman again, and he was ecstatic about that. Spencer not so much.

“I don’t know Morgan, it’s only been a couple months since we broke up. Wouldn’t it be too early to start talking to other people?”

“Pretty boy, you and I both know that the rate in which you’ve had relationships is not even close to the average. You need to balance that out somehow.”

Spencer sighed, he knew Derek was right, but he still felt strange.

“Morgan, have you ever heard of the red string of fate?”

“No, but I’m sure I’m about to hear all about it.”

“It’s an East Asian philosophy, based on the discovery that the ulnar artery connects the heart with the pinky finger, actually that’s where the belief in pinky promises come from. The reason it’s integrated in so many different cultures is that-”

“Kid, you’re losing me here,” Morgan interrupted. “Finish your thing about the string.”

“Oh yeah, sorry. It’s the idea that human relations are predestined by a red string that the gods tie to the pinky fingers of those who find each other in life. Legend has it that the two people connected by this thread will have an important story, regardless of the time, place or circumstances. The red string might get tangled, contracted or stretched, as surely often happens, but it can never break. Essentially, the idea is that although we might not realize it, our lives move in a pre-ordained direction, guided by invisible strings that are woven into the fabric of the Universe itself. And all the while, the red thread connecting us to our distant soulmates is getting shorter.”

“Well it’s an interesting theory kid, but it’s a lot to think about. I mean, we’re in a bar, let loose a little bit. Not every interaction has to be about getting closer to your soulmate. And sure, maybe you’ll meet them one day, maybe even soon. But you’re here now, and just because your one true love may not be, doesn’t mean it’s not worth it to be here.”

Spencer sighed, “You’re right. I don’t even know if I believe in that anyway, maybe I’m just looking for something to explain this all.

Derek patted his friend on the shoulder, “okay pretty ricky, this is how it’s about to go down. I’m going to buy you two drinks. You’re going to take both of them, and go find someone, anyone here to go talk to.”

“Ok, I think I can do that. Who?”

Derek looked around, trying to find who he believed would be the best match for his friend. “How about her?” he asked, pointing at you.

Spencer couldn’t believe it when he looked. There you were, the girl, the one he had met three times before, even if he could only remember two. The woman he knew was some sort of universe sent sign that Saturday he saw you underneath the greenery. The girl he was so close to talking to before he was interrupted by Max’s nephew. The woman who (and he obviously did not know this at the time) he would marry 3 years later. The one who would carefully knit the baby blankets for all of their friends and exes. The one who he would adopt 3 children with. The woman who, he was now sure, was at the other end of his invisible string. The girl he needed to talk to right now.

“Is it just me,” Morgan said, “Or does she look kind of familiar?”

“Yes,” Spencer responded, “yes she does.” He got up quickly and started making strides towards you.

“Wait!” Morgan called, “You forgot your drinks!”

“I don’t need them!” he shouted back. When he sat down next to you, you smiled. It made his heart soar, you had this silly, pure goofy smile that made him want to ask you out right then and there.

Instead he settled on the only conversation starter he could think of.

“Have you ever heard of the invisible string story?”

And you couldn’t help but laugh.

“A string that pulled me Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons One single thread of gold tied me to you”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

[k3lynn]

already won — kenma kozume

kenma kozume x f!reader oneshot

- cw: jealous kenma, insecure kenma, like one or two cuss words, reassurence. barely angsty but very fluffy- more comedic than anything. shows more of the angry-kitty kenma than the shy-kitty kenma

- summary: 1.3k | kenma gets jealous after someone confesses their feelings for you

- this is my first oneshot ahh- please tell me what you think! also check out my masterlist (will frequently add more stuff) thank you for reading! this is a female reader but I will gladly do gender neutral or male!

back to haikyuu masterlist

Kenma walked down Nekoma High’s hallways, only passing a couple of students as most chose to stay in class during their break. In one hand, he held a bag with two apple pie flavored umaibo bars, and in the other, his phone.

Normally, he would be confident enough in his reflexes to never look up from his device and also not bump into someone, but he stared so intensely at his phone that he barely had time to react before he crashed into Yamamoto, sending himself flying to the ground.

“Pudding Head-“ the other second year loudly announced. “what’s got you so distracted man?”

In between getting up and muttering curses at gravity for letting him fall, Kenma softly spoke “Im heading off to Y/n’s class, she needs to speak with me.”

“In person? Must be prettyyyyy serious-“ he turned to see Kenma’s worried face “I mean it’s probably nothing!”

But Kenma just stared at him with a deadpanned expression.

“Wanna share an umaibo bar?”

“No.”

-

Despite knowing Tora meant no real harm, Kenma couldn’t help but almost (Almost, he swears) let his words get to him. The two of you have been dating for nearly a year, and your relationship seems perfectly okay to him. One or two dumb arguments, but nothing you both didn’t get through together. He knows you still love him.

What if it’s me-

And Kenma stopped his negative train of thought right there. No point getting nervous over something that hasn’t happened yet. He reasoned with himself.

As if the gods were playing some cruel joke on the poor boy, two girls came gossiping from around the corner, oblivious to the fact he was there. If it weren’t for the sound of your name, Kenma would have never listened into the conversation.

“Did you hear about what was on Y/n’s desk this morning?”

“That first years love letter right, I’m pretty sure she has a boyfriend though- do you think she’ll replace him?”

“That quiet setter on the volleyball team? I would barely consider him a boyfr-“

Interrupted by a soft thud and a crinkle, the girls turned around and squeeled in fright to see nothing but a plastic bag. Kenma didn’t let himself hear anymore before he started sprinting to your classroom. Darting across hallways, racing around corners, and even scurrying around a very confused Kuroo, who has never seen Kenma run outside of Volleyball.

He barely let himself breathe before sliding open the door to your classroom and barging in, pausing only when he realized the amount of startled faces looking straight at him. Not one to fancy all the attention, his eyes danced around the students until he finally made eye contact with you.

He quickly motioned for you to go outside before slowly closing the door. Kenma leaned his back againts the wall and took a deep breath. It wasn’t until you emerged from outside the classroom that he looked up.

Your typically-stoic boyfriend just came running into your classroom as if he witnessed a murder, so it’s safe to say you were a bit concerned at what he was about to say. Although once Kenma explained what he had overheard, you couldn’t help and giggle at the realization.

“So you’re jealous of the first year huh.”

“Don’t tease...”

With a sigh, you took his hand in one of yours, and used the other to tilt his chin up and look at you. If you couldn’t see the blush on his cheeks before, then you could definitely see it now.

“Want to talk about it babe?”

He wouldn’t be able to play his way out of this, Kenma had no choice but to be direct with how he felt.

“I know you love me, and you do everything you can to show me that-“

You nodded.

“but I’m terrified at the idea that one day you’ll find someone that’s better in expressing their feelings than me. Like with a love letter.”

He quietly finished. There was silence for only a moment before your arms found their place around his small shoulders, pulling him into a warm hug which he happily returned. He was so comfortable in your embrace that he had almost forgotten what he came for.

“Can I just start off by saying I’m really proud of you?” Your voice cut straight through the hushed air. “It takes a lot out of anyone to be able to say what they feel. I know it can be a bit more difficult for you.”

And yet you still try and do it when necessary. Kenma I know you love me too. You have nothing to worry about.”

Kenma wasn’t one to cry in public, but, this did make him come close.

It wouldn’t help his current situation, but curiousity got the best of him-

“Can I read the letter?”

You grinned a bit before handing it over to him, holding in a laugh from seeing his distasteful face and hearing the small curses he swore under his breath.

With how hard he gripped the paper, you were sure it would easily tear.

“He wants to meet you in the front courtyard after school to hear your answer.”

“I know, I’m planning on going.”

“Good idea, go break his heart.”

“No Kenma, I’m going to let him down slowly. Feelings are delicate and deserve to be respected.”

“His feelings don’t deserve jack shit.”

“Kenma!” You loudly chuckled. His monotoned voice making his choice of language even funnier-

“Whatever” his hands came down to grip your waist before giving you a shy kiss on the shoulder.

“I’ll beat the competition.” He muttered into your neck.

“Am I one of your games now?” You teased.

“Beep boop beep boop” he poked at your back.

“Kenma?”

“Yeah?”

You pull him back a bit to place a small kiss on the tip of his nose “You’ve already won.”

-

Bonus:

Kenma should have known Kuroo’s “disguises”, if you could even call them that, wouldn’t work. The trench coat and large hat the both of them wore did them no mercy in the hot Tokyo sun, and instead brought them more attention to ongoing passer-biers who probably thought they were up to some illegal activities.

Out of nowhere, Tora came aggressively crashing into the bushes that hid Kuroo and Kenma, adorned with his own form of camouflage that consisted of a simple fake mustache and sunglasses, holding a familiar looking plastic bag.

“I came as soon as I got your message Kuroo-san, care for an umaibo bar?”

“Hey that’s-“

“Shush Pudding boy it’s starting.”

The three of them pull out a pair of binoculars, aiming it towards you, sitting on the bench but standing up once you see a sheepish boy, who you assumed sent the letter, walk towards you.

You gave him a sorry looking smile before speaking with him. From this distance, Kenma could just make out the words “flattered but... boyfriend and... great guy...” satisfied at the view of you handing him his letter back.

The first year looked a bit deflated but nevertheless seemed happy to be talking with his crush. Kuroo and Tora backed up a bit at the image of Kenma’s frustration. They could have sworn they saw flames-

“Hey Kenma,” Kuroo spoke between munches “didn’t YN just make it clear she was in love with you or something”

“yeah” Kenma sighed.

“Why are we here then?”

“To make sure this creep doesn’t try anything with my girlfriend.”

“Oi Kenma,” Kuroo gave him a good slap on the back, and from behind the binoculars, Kenma glared. The three boys turned back to the scene, just in time to see you giving him a handshake.

“He’s practically holding her hand.”

“Kenma-“

© 2021 k3lynn, do not modify or repost without permission

[thefanficmonster]

I may or may not have just sent the 3 word challenge in my real account instead of anon... I'm sorry. Please don't answer there. :)

When you post, post answering here please.

Again, much love,

📚🌻

Don't worry dear! Your identity shall remain a secret 🥰 Here's yet another fic with my Resident Evil OC: Gwen Winters (she’s an adult guys, don’t worry. However this is still an Older Man/Younger Woman relationship)

The words dear  📚🌻 Anon gave me in their previous ask were: Unruly, endurable and system. Please enjoy!

What happens in the gym....

Pairing: Chris Redfield x Female OC

Warnings: Swearing, Spoiler Free 😊

Genre: Angsty Romance

“Sure, throw me in the fire like you always do, Leon!“ Chris snaps, clenching his fists tightly as he glares at his best friend while the two stand in the dimly lit gym.

“Chris, you’re a BSAA captain, for the love of God! You should know better than to complain about something as little as this!“ Leon, while significantly calmer tone and demeanor-wise, is glaring daggers of his own.

“Why me, damn it?! And why her?!“ Chris is not done with his attempts to get out of the situation Leon’s trying to land him in and his partner’s honestly done with it.

“And why not?! You see the same potential I see, why would it be so hard to train her? She’s a quick learner, she’s disciplined when she wants to be and she’s already skilled to a certain degree. You’ve made soldiers out of total wimps before, why is she such a hassle to you?!“

“Because she’s disciplined when she wants to be and I guarantee she won’t want to when she’s around me. She’s unruly, selfish, arrogant and a Chris-phobe. I’m telling you, she hates me!“

It’s about time Leon’s had enough of this conversation. To be honest, he was done with it as soon as it started but he stayed, thinking he’d be able to change Chris’ mind but seeing as how this is a hopeless case, he’s just been wasting his time. “Does she? Or are you projecting your hate for her onto her?” Slinging his duffel bag containing his training gear over his shoulder, Leon finally makes that realization that these are ten minutes of his life he’ll never get back and storms out of the gym without another word.

Chris doesn’t attempt to stop him, in fact, he’s relieved he left. He sighs, silently hating himself for all the shit he said and how he meant none of it. It was all hard bullshit and he doesn’t know whether to be thankful or disappointed that Leon didn’t realize. Either way, he’s been cleared of possible suspicion, even if training the newest BSAA rookie still remains as his task.

Gwen Winters, she’s such a fucking handful. One cannot tell if it’s because she’s angry with the world, angry with herself or just straight up picked up on the habits of the family that took her in when she was rescued from Raccoon City where she was held as an experiment hamster. A chemistry project basically. Ethan and Mia were recovering from the events back in Louisiana at the time, still probably are, that is not some shit you get over, so they thought having another person in the house would help them. And help Gwen did. See, Gwen isn’t a handful with everyone. In fact, she’s a real sweetheart and Chris knows it too, despite his bogus claims. He knows she’s got a heart and soul of gold and is built with the will of a BSAA soldier already. All she needs is a bit better fighting skills and she’s good to go. 

He sees how she acts with everyone around him. She’s been quick to make friends with Jill and his sister Claire and she’s even got Leon’s liking and trust which is hella hard to get, especially after all the shit with Ada. She’s overall a super sweet and lovely girl, even with him from time to time. He’s seen her welcoming, friendly smiles whenever he stops by the Winters’ home. He’s heard her laugh at the jokes he rarely cracks.

Then why does she act like she hates him so often? And why does he claim he hates her?

Chris is snapped back to reality by the sound of rough impact. It’s a very distinct noise, one he places immediately: the sound of fists hitting a punching bag. It’s the middle of the night, almost midnight actually, and knowing how lazy the soldiers on his team are, he can only assume it’s either his sister or Jill, given that Leon just left. However, they’ve had people sneak in to train for free before, so it’d be for the best if he went to check who was releasing some pent up energy on the poor punching bag. Judging by the intensity of the punches being thrown, sounds like the person might be angry as well.

And they have every right to be. Because they are Gwen.

Chris’ face goes a bit red at the sight of the infuriated rookie giving the punching bag her all, punishing it the way she’d want to do to her superior she just heard call her all the names she hates being referred by.

“Winters I-“

“Unruly?“ Punch “Selfish?” Punch “Arrogant?” Punch

She stills herself, sighing and wiping the droplets of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, “You say all that and expect me not to be a Chris-phobe?” She lets out a bitter laugh, rolling her shoulders before continuing her wrath over the piece of equipment she’s threatening to destroy. She hasn’t spared him a single look yet, something he’s rather grateful for because the last thing he wants to see is whatever her gaze is hiding right now. “I’ll talk to Leon.” She says, her voice leveled and breathy, far from the pissed off tone she was just using. This calmness is a lot scarier though. “I’ll tell him I don’t want you to be my trainer. To be perfectly clear, I never wanted you to train me in the first place. I’m just not the type to complain, you know. I’m not picky. Beggers can’t be choosers. I take what I can get. And you were all I was offered, but...” she trails off, delivering a particularly hard punch, “It’s not gonna work. I may not be picky, but I know when to draw the line. I know when I deserve better.”

“Kid, you really have no idea what the case really is here.“ He attempts desperately, taunted by the thought of acting on his instincts and approaching her even if that means being the recipient of one of those hard punches.

“You know, I’m strong. I’m skilled. I can hold my own in a fight quite nicely. I’m endurable. I’m not afraid to work my ass off and sweat and pant like a dog after workouts. There’s not a line I wouldn’t cross, but you still choose to make me feel lesser than any soldier you’ve ever come across, that’s really lovely of you, Captain Redfield.“

“Winters, please...“

“It’s ok, I won’t tell Ethan and Mia. I’m sure they’ll send you to hell over it. I’m not petty like that.“

He’s had enough. He’s had enough of hearing that hurt tone in her voice. He’s done hearing these words she’s so certain are true but aren’t. He’s done lying to her and to himself. Before he can even think twice about it, he grabs her by the arms gently but firmly, turning her to face him despite her hostile attempts to free herself from his hold like a wild animal caught in a trap. He’s surprised when she relaxes, probably seeing that as a quicker way out of the situation rather than struggling though if she tried to free herself any longer he would’ve probably let her go.

“Fucking hell, Gwen, listen to me.“ He looks her dead in the eyes, catching onto the spark of shock created by his use of her first name. But he also sees something else, something that looks dangerously a lot like tears. He knows she won’t cry, especially not in front of him, but knowing that he’s the cause behind the welling of those crystal droplets in her always shiny, always smiling eyes breaks him. When she doesn’t look away nor protest, he continues, “I can’t be your captain. I can’t be your trainer. I can’t be any of that. I’m a strictly professional man, and it’d be highly unprofessional of me to take you in as my soldier.”

“But why?“ She’s fully aware she sounds like a whiny kid - exactly how she thinks he envisions her sometimes - but she couldn’t care less. She wants and needs answers. She knows she won’t be able to fall asleep or keep coming back to the training center if she doesn’t get them.

It’s blatantly clear this is far from easy for Chris. His first instinct is to look away, let go of her, run away like he always does - not that she’d let him do such a thing but still. He’s finds the words impossible to spit out yet he oh so desperately feels the need to get them out of his system. And so, he gathers all the strength within him and finally forces himself to say it.

“Because a captain isn’t supposed to look at a soldier the way I look at you.“

Sure, it sounds cryptic as heck but he has no doubt she’ll catch on. Gwen is a smart and sharp girl, among many other things. She confirms this when barely three seconds after he’s said it, he notices her eyes widening

“Sir, I-“

“Don’t.“ He says simply, a small, regretful smile playing across his lips as his hand slides down her arm to take hold of hers, “I just admitted my dirtiest secret to you and you are still gonna remind me how unprofessional I am by using my title, Kid?“

She purses her lips, the shock momentarily replaced by her signature mild glare, “Well, you just admitted your biggest secret to me and yet you still choose to call me ‘Kid’, huh?”

He chuckles, letting his other hand repeat the movements of the first, “Sorry, force of habit.” His thumbs brush against her knuckles briefly as his head falls, his gaze fixating on where their bodies are connected, “You know, I didn’t tell you this to get myself any pity or anything. I just wanted you to understand and....wanted to get it off my chest. Ethan will kill me if he finds out, won’t he?” He suddenly asks, regaining the courage to look up at her once again.

She giggles, “Who says he’s gonna find out?”

Chris bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head, “You’re right, there’s nothing really to find out abo-”

Gwen has never been a chatter nor can she tolerate when people beat around the bush so she’s quick to cut them off sometimes, no matter how rude that may seem or sound. However, just to clarify, her chosen method of cutting a person off isn’t always kissing them. Just saying - this is a special situation requiring special methods.

Taken aback by the sudden feeling of her lips on his, Chris’ eyes close automatically but not even a second later he responds to the kiss properly: wrapping his arms around Gwen’s waist as her hands travel up to cup his face. The kiss is short - too short if either of them is to be asked - but it’s worth all the words they didn’t say despite wanting to.

When they pull away, Gwen gives him a mischievous smile, “Now he could find out about that and then shit would go south. That’d suck, wouldn’t it Chris?“

He’s only ever heard her say his name twice, once in passing conversation with Claire and once earlier when she paraphrased his term ‘Chris-phobe’, both time spoken with some dose of dislike he now realizes was a cover-up all along. Turns out the two are a lot more alike than they initially thought. Regardless, hearing her say his name with fondness instead of bitterness makes his heart flutter, his body yearn to have her closer, his lips wanting to be in contact with hers again. But he’s a patient and self-controlled man, he’s nothing if not willpower sculpted in a human body, so he keeps his distance, waiting for her to pick the moves, waiting for her to make the decisions just like she’s his captain.

“Big time.“ He manages to say, voice coarse all of a sudden, barely able to leave his throat. “So it stays here, right?”

She giggles again, bringing her lips within an inch or two away from his, taunting him, threatening to break his self-control, “What happens in the gym stays in the gym, Redfield.”

Golden rules of discretion, ones he mustn’t break ever. Especially not when his captain - Captain Gwen Winters - holds so much power over him.

[diary-of-an-onliner]

lifelines [g.w.]

hi! first fic, pls be nice!

word count: 2300

warnings: none

After Gryffindor turned the tides at the last second, winning the second most important game of the season after a massive setback in the first hour, the celebrations raged harder than ever. Since Hufflepuff had beaten Slytherin to the ground two days ago, the path towards the Cup was clear. Angelina was sitting on the couch, having passed the point of looking pleased long ago, and now seemed almost frazzled by the result. People came up to her periodically, clapping her shoulder or topping off her drink, directing the buzzing energy of the common room straight into her.

Truly, the atmosphere was phenomenal, the stolen food and drinks from the kitchens juicer and a little more spiked than usual. Or maybe it was the sunlight still streaming through the windows as strongly as ever despite the past gloomy week. Whatever it was that made the day so electrically happy for everyone, it showed no signs of stopping.

This type of unrestrained feeling you always imagined started from the back of your head as s little star-like scribble that cast a net over you and spread the intensity throughout. This week it was stronger than it has been in a while.

You felt electric in the stands as you yelled for your team, an invisible line ripping the words from your throat before you even knew you were saying them. You felt elated as your housemates put their hands around you in delight, screaming themselves sore when they announced the winner. And you were feeling the happiness in your hair now, in every single strand from root to end as it swayed along with the bottle in your hand.

This was happy. This was joyful. This was utterly buttery in your chest and electric in the air.

You idly looked around the red and orange common room, which burned with excitement, deciding how to best spend this time before it runs out on Umbridge's watch and she ruins it.

No. No wasting thoughts on her today. She sucked enough life out of you and your housemates this year, she won't be doing it off the clock too.

Your eyes settled on possibly one of the strongest sources of this warmth - George Weasley, sitting on the arm of the couch next to his brother. The window behind him silhouetted him in gold perfectly, like the sun offered him to you. It accented how attractive he was, even if he burned a little at the top.

You've connected eyes before, talked before, even bantered. One wittier than the other every odd day, you toed the line between acquaintances and friends perfectly. Seeing as he's very popular, catching him in-between conversations was a matter of luck.

You imagined a line going from the center of your chest to his as you approached him. He pensively looked to the side, observing some goings-on on the far end of the room as you interrupted him.

"That was a good game. You got some very nice shots in," you said.

He turned to you with a mild close-mouthed 'hm', a look, and then a grin.

"You sure it was me?" he cocked his eyebrow and look at Fred on the couch next to Angelina, bumping knees with her and accepting congratulations in both of their names.

"You wear different numbers, genius. I know how to count this time."

"And you have my number memorized," he said, his voice glad.

"That would've been a great line if you were a Muggle."

"Pity, I already chose a magical career." he took a sip of his butterbeer and eyed you up, "Maybe I should start using my magical lines on you. Would those work better?" his eyes widened and his tone turned innocent at the end.

"I think I know too much anti-jinxes for that."

He pursed his lips in amusement. "Alright. What would work on you then?"

"Oh, I find responsibility and appropriacy really hot." you shot back, twirling a piece of your happy, charged up hair.

"Contradiction too," he said, "since you're still here."

"I find contradiction a natural state of the human soul, thus if I wasn't contradicting myself, I wouldn't fully be here."

"Hm. Brainy." he chuckled.

"Judgy. If you need me to simplify you can just say so."

"I think I can handle your smart mouth just fine."

"Then why am I winning?"

"I didn't realize this was a competition."

"Rookie mistake." you shook your head dramatically.

"I'm pretty sure it's a rookier mistake to assume you're winning. Who's the judge?"

"My innate inner sense of whether I'm winning or not."

"If it's inside you, then how would one file a complaint concerning an unfair ruling?"

"They wouldn't. It's a noble and just system that decided I'm in the lead. You just need to accept the truth."

"Don't make me come in there," he said, smirking good-naturedly.

"In where?" you shot back.

"In you." his smirk held on for a second before he seemed to realize what he said and his face scrunched up in apologetic laughter.

Your mind slipped into the gutter the way new yorkers fall into sinkholes filled with rats - hilariously fast.

Albeit greatly amused, he started to correct himself, "I didn't mean-"

"No, of course not." you licked your lips, "I understood you the first time " Was karma going to bite you in the ass for that lie? Who knows, but you might even be into that. Everything seems possible when the sun is shining. So he shone.

He grinned with his happy mouth and you once again noted how the light from the window behind him silhouetted him in the golden lining that made him look like a cutout glued onto the scene of this funny collage. His hair was aflame and his face was darker from the shadows but just as loudly burning with laughter.

This was happy.

You drew the word in your mind, line by line. H, a smooth move from the bottom, a decorative loop, then a parallel stroke, and a transversal. A, a circle with a tail, sharp move upward, and an even sharper drop for the backbone of p. P's tummy? Bulge? Nope, your mind shouldn't slip there in the middle of Binns’ class, no matter how boring he was. Another p, as George's knee bumped into yours. He was moved from "Mr. Wester, Phillip." for being disruptive, so he engaged in an under-the-table kind of disruption with his new tablemate.

You smiled. A long diagonal line, and another shorter one that cut into it. Y.

Happy.

You were, truly, right now. It sounded upside down to be happy though, both overall and when stuck in a soul-suckingly draining class, but you were.

George read over your shoulder, then audaciously engaged in over-the-table elbow-bumping-disruption and a cocked eyebrow. You straightened up, feeling a warm line unfold from the back of your head to the core of your brain, through the center of your chest, and straight to your stomach. Your happy line.

I'm happy, you mouthed.

Really? He mouthed back sarcastically yet good-naturedly. I can definitely see why. His eyes darted toward the professor. I say go for it, he's a catch. You might even be his type.

You burst out laughing, then immediately bit your lip. A few students, including Philip, looked at you as you shook with laughter, but professor Binns carried on.

George, on the other hand, shrugged with his shit-eating grin, pretending he has no idea why you were laughing, thus letting everyone know why you were laughing.

You scribbled, I don't know. What if it goes badly. I'd hate to be ghosted.

George raised his eyebrows at the Muggle slang you explained before. His hand slipped next to yours on the table and you felt your happy line thrum in approval. His hand was warm as he gently pressed it to yours, slowly took your quill, and scribbled back: Need someone more physical, huh? And I thought you were the romantic type.

Strong words for someone who never bought me dinner, you replied.

Mhm, as soon as I find a good line get you to agree to it.

Keep writing like that and I'll start thinking you fancy me.

Keep your mind in the gutter and I'll start thinking you don't fancy me back. He accented that line with a wink and an overdramatic lip bite.

You pouted sarcastically at him. Of course not, I only want you for your knobby knees.

He chuckled, reminded of the short line of warmth that connected your knees under the table. He pressed his into yours a little stronger, then pulled away.

That's a funny way of flirting. I'd know, I'm an expert at funny.

Self-proclaimed.

Untrue.

And I'm not flirting. If I was, you'd know it.

Would you? your breath hitched. For reasons you very well knew but refused to sound out to yourself, this short sentence drove the air around you two from joking to serious at breakneck speed.

Know if you were flirting with me? your happy line felt jumbled up in your stomach. He smiled at you.

Would you know if you were flirting with me?

The following week was arduous.

Gryffindors had a record amount of detentions, and Snape tore into them any and every chance he could. Even McGonagall was one edge, meaning lousy or missed homework was a death sentence. You forgot how to read from tiredness, submitting essays patchworked of other people's thoughts without ever having any information pass through your head. Everything was dull, gray, and dragged out.

Despite that, outside the castle the sky was blue and sunlight streamed through the soft clouds and a sweet breeze would blow around aimlessly. It was both comforting and a little mocking. The sky should be as exhausted and as beaten down as you. Good to know stress made you compare yourself to a literal sky. But maybe that's a little cruel. Nevertheless, it sounded like nature itself was turning its nose up at you, saying you're selfish for wanting grey skies, she doesn't care, she's above puny human affairs. The world turns and you have to turn with it or stop, then spend the rest of the time catching up.

You haven't stopped yet, but by all that is holy, you wanted to sleep. As the sun finally descended on a Friday after dinner, you finished your essays in hope that the next week might be kinder if you do everything quickly. The common room was dark, most of the light coming from the fire in the fireplace. It was also oddly empty for nine-thirty in the evening. Apparently, everyone had the same week as you.

Your almost finished essay laid on the table as you dozed, swinging your legs back and forth over the edge of your armchair.

The creak of the portrait opening caught your attention, and George Weasley walked in a second later, rubbing his sore hand and cussing.

Truly everyone had a shitty week.

"Love?" you said teasingly.

He looked up at you with a tired grin.

"It's late."

"Not really. You okay?"

"Nothing I can't handle, love." he sighed, leaning against the wall next to the fireplace.

"Can I see?" you crossed the room to stand in front of him. Again, the firelight licked at the lines of his face, clear and sharp. He had circles under his eyes and a heavily nibbled lip.

"It's nothing." still, George raised his hand. "Love." he added, distantly. He seemed to be staring right above your head. You looked at the middle line of his lips again. You imagined him biting it.

Was it him that bit it? That one hurt. You hoped it was him.

You took his hand in your and rubbed circles into his knuckles. His eye winced.

"I'm sorry."

"S'not your fault."

"What happened?" he closed his eyes.

"Two ickle firsties almost brought the wrath of Umbridge into themselves with some dungbombs. You know how it goes," he said, a corner of his lip tugging upwards. Your chest expanded looking at him being satisfied with himself. As he should be.

"How... responsible of you," you said.

His eyes snapped downwards to yours.

"Keep looking at me like that and I might also start being appropriate too, darling."

You stepped closer, your happy line thrumming against your chest like a quivering violin string.

"What if being responsible is enough?"

"Enough for what?" he breathed out before you pressed yourself against him.

At first, that's was it was - a press of two warm lips. Then he started to move slowly, almost gentlemanly. How appropriate.

As he touched you, you felt the daze of last week lift. The little star scribble on the back of your head lit up, pulsing with brightness rather than fogging your thought. This was clear, you felt his every stroke that made up his face and chest and hands. The scribble of happiness extended itself into a web, overtaking your brain - you could feel it and you wondered if he saw it too when he looked at you. You pulled away and lifted your head to check. Probably not, but his eyes were glassy and he gave you a dopey smile. He was glad you were there. You pressed your lips against his again. You were glad he was there too.

The web continued down your neck, arms and chest, into your legs until your toes buzzed with light coursing through you. You were more awake than you have been in a long time.

Your hands were the brightest of all, and as you touched his hands, connecting them fingertip to fingertip, things made sense. The web buzzed and his breath was warm against yours, hands pulsing with energy as your every lifeline connected into his.

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things-Something There

Warnings: Mentions of murder. Canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 2.5k

a/n: i am so beyond sorry that it has taken this long to get another chapter out. this doesn’t follow my post schedule that i had previously given, but hopefully this can be a good place holder till later this week. 

The Purest Things Masterlist

May 2008

Bookend: "It took me quite a long time to develop a voice, and now that I have it, I am not going to be silent." -Madeleine Albright

"There's no way I'm doing that," you rebuttal, "Hotch? Tell them it's a ridiculous idea." He stays silent, but his mouth twitches slightly.

Oh, you son of a-

"Richards is a classic narcissist. The challenge of facing a tough, fearless, and intelligent woman will give him his high. Narcissists are drawn to goal-oriented women, women who are resilient, adaptable, yet decisive. Show him that you are a good listener, but don't praise him."

"Think of him like a wild animal," Spencer adds, "You don't feed zoo animals because they are unpredictable. Remember, narcissists have an extraordinary sense of self, and when you praise his ego, you enable his unstable and feeble mind. He doesn't hear praise; he hears how much better he is than you. If you don't feed the beast, he won't have the stamina to combat your confidence later."

"Once you disarm him, I'll come in and challenge his confidence," Hotch concludes. 

Could you have said that less attractively? That would have been more helpful.

Aaron cheekily smirks as if reading your mind but quickly looks away. You wish you didn't blush so fast-that you had some sense to keep your emotions to yourself. In a second, your cheeks are rosy, and you are convinced that everyone in the room can perceive your feelings as if you wrote them on little notes and passed them around.

You grunt and roll your eyes, "I hate all of you."

Derek snaps his fingers at you, "Lose the jacket."

"All men are pigs," you spit while removing your blazer, leaving you in a fitted tank top and your tight-legged jeans that hug your curves in all of the right places.

Derek wolf whistles at you, and you hurl your jacket at him.  Aaron lets his eyes slide up and down your body, his gaze lasting longer than it should. He swears that as you stride into the interrogation room, your hips swing a bit farther side to side than usual. It is the very action that radiates courage, a mind coupled perfectly with itself and the world around it, concentrated and solemn.

Typically, Hotch would divert the task of adulating a narcissist to Prentiss, but he knows if anyone can take command of someone's attention, it's you. How does he know? Because you captivate him far more often than he cares to admit, defying his very being with every interaction. You are a secret weapon that he wants to keep concealed until you can allow your talents to shine genuinely. Aaron knows that now is your moment. ++++ "What is it that I am being accused of? Fraud? Embezzling?" The sharp-dressed businessman questions; his gaze is straying further below your eyes than you care for.

Pig.

You throw a file down on the medal table, and it slides across, stopping right in front of the man, successfully redirecting his stare somewhere other than your chest.

"Try murder."

His eyes widen, "You're joking. Come on, where are the hidden cameras? I'm ready for you to yell candid camera now! I am Milton Richards, for god's sake!"

"I don't know!" You shrug your shoulders. "Why don't you explain this to me, Mr. Richards. I'm just as confused as you are. What reason could a successful, charming, handsome, wealthy business mogul like yourself possibly have to kill someone?"

"Oh please," Richards scoffs, "This isn't an interrogation. You've already pegged me as guilty."

"I don't agree, but you have the right to feel how you feel."

He purses his lips, leaning as far away from you as physically possible while handcuffed to the table.

"Milton, why did you try to escape a moving vehicle when my team apprehended you?"

"Just felt like it, I guess," he shrugs mockingly.

"So, something just randomly compelled you to flee the custody of a federal agent?"

Richards leers at you. You stand up and walk around the table, leaning down next to him, "I get it. I do. You're a suave, wealthy, and ruthless business tyrant. You have to cover your tracks-do what it takes to survive."

He raises his eyebrow, turning to face you, your faces mere inches from each other. I got you now.

"Trust me. I know probably better than anyone what it takes to maintain a position you fought your entire life for. I'm a woman; I had to claw my way into the F.B.I. Do you think it's easy being surrounded by a team filled with uncontrolled testosterone? Womanhood requires balls; I see you keep your balls in your pants, cool, cool. Mine are on my chest, up top. As you've so duly noticed."

His eyes flicker to the aforementioned area, and you restrain yourself from gagging.

"And you know what, Richards? I use them every day of my life. Because in my line of business, sometimes I have to take the backdoor to get things done. Why do I get the sense that you were the same way before you became Mr. Wolf of Wall Street? How else does a kid who grew up in the projects become a multi-millionaire mogul by 27?"

"We both know what the other is capable of. C'mon, let's show each other a bit of respect here. No games, let's be upfront with each other," you appeal. ++++ Aaron watches as you work the room like it is your stage. You play the part perfectly.  He admires your ability to absorb things and then responded rather than immediately react to douse firey circumstances rather than add to the flames.

Derek finds himself next to Aaron, smugly observing Aaron's visible fascination with you.

"She's fantastic, Hotch," Derek beams with pride. Hotch holds his breath behind pursed lips in an attempt to barricade himself from the feelings of foolish jealousy he feels creeping up.

I know she is. I think I recognize it a little too well.

Aaron knows that Derek will be scrutinizing his reaction to the commendation and refrains from responding.

Of course, Derek reads this lack of a reaction as a response itself. And he finds it strangely amusing. ++++ "Here's what I think happened," you twirl your finger around the manilla file, "I think you were having some money troubles and your top investors caught onto your little games. When you sat down, you volunteered the crimes fraud and embezzlement as reasons you assumed we brought you into custody. You listed them like they are apparent reasons for us to charge you. Those are two areas you are clearly willing to take the fall for and have cause to oblige by."

Opening the file, a photograph is revealed within of a murder victim. Richards shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stifling a cough.

"Do you know this man?"

"N-no," he claims as his eyes flutter from the photo to his hands.

Surprised by his blatant tell, you glance back at the two-way mirror.

Turning back to the suspect with a newfound spark in your eyes, you press harder, "Strike one. Try again."

"Excuse me?"

"The man in the image is Walter Barone, the C.E.O. of Jameson Whitely Associates...your accounting firm. Your company was going bankrupt, Milton. There was nowhere left for you to turn. So, do you want to try that again? This time, answer my questions directly and honestly."

"Walt had a reserve saved for me worth $5 million. Last week when I approached him about dipping into the fund to keep the company afloat, he withheld it. I wouldn't kill him for it, though."

"Well, see, that's the problem here, Milton. When he was found, that little reserve of yours was nowhere to be found. Naturally, you can assume where my mind goes when I try and put two and two together, right?"

"I told you," he says, clearly provoked by your accusation, "I wouldn't...didn't kill him."

"Wasn't it you, in your book, right? Who said, 'It's surprising what a man will do when properly motivated?' I don't know about you, but losing everything you'd ever worked for and having your one saving grace held from you seems like pretty good motivation."

Silence. "Oh, come on, Milton, now is not the time to act so arrogant!"

He slams his fists on the table; you abstain from being startled in an attempt to show him no fear.

Wild animals can smell fear. 

"Arrogant, huh? Why don't you step up and prove me wrong? Prove you're better than me. You despise me for being successful; I despise you for your assumption that you could waltz in here like a tramp and seduce me into giving myself up. What? Too harsh? I'm not sure you and I are even the same species."

Hotch bursts into the room, and you quickly signal for him to stand down. I've got this.

He gives you a prideful wink. I know you do.

Somehow Aaron being in the room gives you that last little push to conclude this grand performance of yours. Slowly, you begin clapping dramatically for his little one-person comedy act. He certainly knows how to play the fool.

"Is that a dare? Challenge accepted. Your entire life, you have suffered from a disease... a fragile ego. You have built these walls of detachment so that you can conveniently solicit status to hide your true, weak self. You lash out because you feel it compensates for your insecurities."  

"The truth is, despite being at the top of the corporate chain, every day you lead the life of a loser. You are willing to destroy people psychically, emotionally, and mentally. And you view that as a cause for celebration. You are the embodiment of a loser and abject failure."

Hotch touches the small of your back; you shiver at the sudden warmth that fills your body in reaction to it. He hands you a piece of paper, one that seals Richards' conviction.

"Milton Richards, you are under arrest for the murder of Walter Barone, Hank Simmons, Frankie Lisbon, and Jillian Ryder."

Hotch motions for you to do the honors.

"By all means, lead the way."

Holding yourself proud and tall, you waltz over to Milton and hoist him out of his chair. Inclining your lips to his ear, you tell him contemptuously, "You lose."   ++++ "Way to go, superstar! You had us all on the edge of our seats," Derek says, wrapping his muscular arms around you. You breathe in his cologne and savor the sensation of being in his arms.

Since the day you met Morgan, you've felt a draw to him. Not in a romantic way, though you proudly admit he is hands-down one of the most gorgeous men to set foot on earth. He gives you the feeling of safety, warmth, and brotherly love. His hugs rejuvenate you after a long day of work, and you see to it that neither of you leaves the office without receiving your signature embraces.

Aaron observes you and Derek's shared embrace from the shelter of his office. Before he can comprehend his movements, his legs carry him to the terrace overlooking the bullpen.

What do you think you're doing, Hotch? Pull yourself together. They’re friends. Just like you and her are.

Dismissing his inner voice of reason, he calls out to you, "Y/L/N. See me in my office."

You grimace at his tone of voice but abide by his request.

Derek chuckles, "Green is not that man's color."

"What?" You turn to him, confused.

"Goodnight, superstar."

"Night, handsome," you blow him a kiss, trying to brush his comment out of your mind.  ++++ "You summoned?"

Aaron's whiskey-colored eyes meet yours. The tempo of your heart quickens like a metronome.

"You did a phenomenal job in there."

"I've learned from the best." You. I've learned from you.

He clears his throat, "Those things you said...a-about the men on this team. Is that how you truly feel?"

Shocked by his willingness to believe such a misleading statement, you gasp and close the distance between the two of you.

You must have some nerve to believe that I would ever view you as anything other than the most upstanding man I've ever met.

"Aaron, what I said in there is further than the truth than I would have liked to have strayed. In fact, it was with you that I finally felt equal as a human being-like someone recognized me for my intellect and self-worth. A woman can't acquire that regardless of how 'equal' this world claims to be."

Aaron finds himself lost in your eyes, absorbing every meaning behind your words.

"It was a freeing feeling having someone I respect so highly show me similar respect."

No. Don't stop talking. Please. Hotch blushes at his inner monologue, incapable of comprehending precisely what kind of influence you hold on him.  

"Anyway," you laugh, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen in your face, "Sorry for my little tangent."

"No," Hotch interjects firmly, "Never apologize for expressing your feelings. I assured you last year that I'll always be available as a sounding board for you. That offer still stands."

Your gaze softens as you study him, his intentions, his mannerisms. He notices your pupils dilate, and it commences a chain reaction within his veins. To him, it's not the fact that you radiate beauty on the outside. Sure, you are physically fit and put in the effort to maintain your appearance. Naturally, that would be why someone like Derek Morgan would have you on his radar.

But, Aaron has gradually grown accustomed to the kindness that you seem to reserve just for him. He sees the differences between how you act around the team versus when you step inside his office or are alone in the car with him, even the way your confidence elevates when he walks into the interrogation room.

These differences aren't unique to just you, though. Aaron notices the same changes in himself when he is around you. Never did he expect to go home from work and lie in bed thinking about the way your eyes strayed on his for a moment too long, or how as he completed paperwork at his desk, he'd replay in his mind a cheesy joke you told the team. He knows how you like your coffee from observing you in the break room one too many times.

One cream, two sugars.

Your laughter warms his body from the inside out. When you talk about your favorite comic book with Prentiss and Morgan, the twinkle in your eye never fails to bring a smile to his face. He knows that you hate getting out of the car when it rains because your perfectly straightened hair that you spent god knows how long on will undoubtedly curl.

His changes were less evident on the outside. But, he knew that deep down, there is something there that wasn't there before.

Tag List:

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[yolkyeomie]

Humanity of the Inhuman | Kim Sunwoo

summary — legends are meant for the wild fantasies of the dream world, but when one myth suddenly comes true, you find yourself tangled within its webs of reality.

word count — 4.8k words

pairing — sunwoo x female!reader (ft. x juyeon)

genre — college au, gumiho au

disclaimer — !! light mentions of death, blood, and injury !! this was supposed to be only three parts but because I’m tired I have to put the rest into a part 4 🙂☝🏽

part I | part II | part III | part IV?

I.

It’s been a week since you last saw Sunwoo in your house, and don’t worry it’s for a good reason. The gumiho didn’t just up and leave all of a sudden, he was a little too true to his word when it came to the nine tailed fox honor code.

He was simply doing what he set out to do in the first place: prove that Juyeon was a gumiho out to get you. Though seeing as it’s taken a week so far, there wasn’t a lot of information he was gathering.

It would get a little odd when you would walk into the mythology class the two of you shared and there was Sunwoo sitting in the very back. He wasn’t as close to the point where it would be suspicious but it was close enough to keep an eye on Juyeon. The awkward part was that sometimes you’d feel like the gumiho’s eyes were burning into the back of your head as well.

And yet despite his hard stare, Juyeon didn’t seem to notice at all. The first two days of Sunwoo spying on the two of you was uncomfortable but thanks to the boy’s kind nature, it was as if the gumiho’s presence disappeared completely.

You didn’t even hear the fox bead most of the time and that was your sure fire way of figuring out whether he was truly there or not.

“You wanna be partners?” Juyeon asked, closing the notebook in his hands and the class began to disperse around the two of you. “For the project I mean! Do you wanna be partners for… the project…?”

You thought about it for a moment, you always had a habit of just doing projects on your own ever since you were a child. While yes doing a project with a partner would make it easier and not as heavy of a load on you, you couldn’t stand working with others. There was always someone who decided to be the freeloader yet still got all the markers for the work. Plus, it was just faster to do it on your own.

But Juyeon is a good person, he’s been your class friend since you first stepped in the class. There was no reason for you not to believe he was a bad worker. “Sure why not,” you shrugged, “It would probably lessen the workload on the both of us and I’m sure you’ve got other things to do outside of campus.”

“How’d you know that?” He asked rather quickly, turning to you with rather curious eyes.

“I don’t know, you just seem like a busybody and a sociable guy,” you replied, giving him a half smile as he finally started to grab all of your belongings. “People like you have large friend groups and millions of extracurricular activities to keep themselves occupied.”

“Now I wouldn’t say I’m a busybody,” he tried to counter, his mannerism similar to those of a puppy’s as he spoke, “but you’re right, I do like to hang out with lots of my friends. Being around people is just… so much better than being alone.”

At those words you take a quick glance over toward where Sunwoo sat, though the gumiho was long gone now. If Juyeon liked hanging around people more than being by himself, it must have made it incredibly hard for Sunwoo to follow him around without looking suspicious.

You could just see it now, the gumiho trying to look as ordinary as possible as he practically chased down Juyeon and his abnormally large friend group. The boy lived in the dorms too so there was no way that Sunwoo was getting him completely alone. You almost giggled at the thought of the gumiho struggling.

“So where do you want to meet so we can work on the project?” Juyeon piped up, steering the conversion back to the project. Though the boy sounded a little too excited to be talking about it. “There’s the cafeteria on campus, a pretty decent coffee shop that’s nearby… oh and our homes! You know, my dorm will always be open to you. And Hyunjae will be more than happy to clean up around the place for you as well.”

“How about we just meet at my apartment for now?” You offered, standing up from your seat and urging him to follow suit.

“Really? You want me to go over to your house? Just me alone?”

You nodded your head, a laugh escaping your mouth as you replied,”I mean, yeah? It’s just a project and I trust you enough to—“

“—hey,” the two of you turned your heads, unsure on who was interrupting your conversation in such a fashion. Sunwoo stood behind the two of you with an almost amused grin, playing with his near fluffy hair with one hand and the other shoved deep into the university sweatshirt he wore. You thought he had left already, he must have blended in almost perfectly with his surroundings. “Let me join your group for the project.”

“Huh?” Both of you responded, different levels of shock exposed on your faces. Though Juyeon was the one who kept talking, “I’m sorry, but this is a solo or partner project. You’ll have to find someone else, I don’t know if we are allowed a third…”

“Don’t worry about that,” Sunwoo assured them, giving Juyeon his signature mischievous smile. You think this is the first time that the gumiho has personally interacted with the boy in public. “I’m sure the teacher will be fine with it, aren't I right?”

You both turned to look at your instructor at the front of the class, but the glint of amber yellow amber in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed to you. The teacher was attending to another student, but took a moment to look up and toward the trio that was staring back at him. He smiled at the three of you before nodding his head, “he already asked about groups of three earlier, it’s fine with me! This whole class is either going solo or in pairs and he didn’t want to be alone so this can be a small exception to the rule.”

Juyeon nodded his head in understanding, turning to face Sunwoo again before giving him a compliant half smile. “Whatever authority says goes I guess. If Y/N is okay with it then…,” he glanced at you for a second and you nodded your head, not really wanting to hear the gumiho’s complaints later if you disagreed, “welcome to the group then. I’m Juyeon, by the way. You are…?”

“You can call me Sun,” he answered, replicating the same compliant expression Juyeon had as he introduced himself. “It’ll be a pleasure working with you.”

“If that’s all then I’ll be going now. I’ll call you about times to meet for the project,” Juyeon excused himself, turning to you with his kind gaze and giving you a proper goodbye before grabbing his belongings and making his trek out of the mythology class.

You watched him leave for a moment, making sure that the boy was out of the room completely before turning to the gumiho beside you. “So? A week of following him and he was just your normal human being wasn’t he? So now your next step is to invade his daily life to try and get dirt on him?”

“What I can say, he was a slimy guy to follow,” Sunwoo admitted, moving to sit on the table you had just used as a desk. “Not only am I doing this to keep my eye on him, but I’m also doing this because you willingly invited a gumiho to your house? Now you really need my protection.”

You rolled your eyes at his claims, beginning your own journey off the campus as you replied to Sunwoo, “I told you to prove to me that Juyeon was a gumiho and I still don’t have that information yet. Until you get solid evidence, I’m going to continue to trust him like I’ve done before I met you. Plus! He’s shown no red flags to me and I’m very good at catching red flags.”

“Red flags of human men maybe, but I’m telling you!” Sunwoo argued, following after you closely, “Juyeon is not of this mortal realm and nearly killed me.”

“If Juyeon nearly killed you, how did he not recognize you the moment you asked to be in our group?” You asked him, not only to antagonize the gumiho but because you had a genuine question on the matter.

“If I’m being honest,” Sunwoo thought to himself for a moment, “I don’t know. Just mentioning the sun part of my name should have at least triggered the fight in him, but he took it like a champ…”

“Maybe the gumiho that was chasing you and tried to kill you wasn’t Juyeon,” you suggested, stopping in your tracks and turning to him before he could give you his regular counterclaim, “maybe the gumiho that was following you was just using Juyeon’s appearance as a disguise? Can’t you guys shapeshift? It would make sense that the Juyeon you saw wasn’t the real one.”

Sunwoo only let out a deep sigh, not wanting to consider your words but the logic was a little too strong to just set aside. “That makes sense but… I just can’t agree. I know that Juyeon was the one who attacked me and is targeting you, I just have to find a way to prove it.”

II.

Why did you even offer your apartment to be the meeting place for the project? What type of rose tinted glasses were you hearing in order to make that type of decision?

Because of your horrible decision making, now you were sitting in your living room on the exact couch you nearly crumbled into when Sunwoo had kissed you not even a full week before except the gumiho wasn’t the one sitting next to you. It was Juyeon. Sunwoo was sitting on the floor in front of the two of you, his smug expression was enough to know the thoughts that were running through his head.

“Since the project is about gumihos, we can easily split this up into three parts,” the boy offered, unwillingly becoming the team leader since the unseen tension between you and Sunwoo had left you speechless, “one of us does the presentation, the other person finds images to add to the presentation, and then we split the research into two parts. I was thinking Y/N could do the presentation since you definitely have a better eye than me when it comes to decorating…”

You had practically cut out Juyeon’s voice in your head. You were a little guilty of doing so, but you couldn’t help it! Not when the gumiho’s mischievous stare was burning holes into your head and the memory of you and Sunwoo sharing an intimate moment on replay in your head. You can replay the situation almost scene by scene in your head actually, that’s how ingrained in your mind it was.

It just had been a very prevalent thought in your mind recently because Sunwoo was gone most of the time. But now he’s here, and so is Juyeon.

“I don’t think Y/N wants to do the presentation actually,” Sunwoo intervened, a foxish grin appearing on his face as he offered, ”I think she wants to do the research instead. It looks like she’s got some… things… on her mind.”

“What?” You quicked added, trying not to seem as disoriented as you actually were. “No— it’s fine. I can do the presentation. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Now that you mention it, Sun,” Juyeon nodded, a frown beginning to cross his features as he watched you, “Y/N… you do seem a little out of it.”

“Maybe we should do this another day… don’t we all want to be focused on our project so we can get a good grade? If someone is distracted, we might not do as well as we can do.” Sunwoo continued, lying straight through his teeth as he encouraged Juyeon’s kindness for you.

You wanted to stop him, you wanted to prove to both of them that you were perfectly okay, but that jingle of the fox bead within Sunwoo’s possession seemed to say otherwise. “Sure, let’s meet another day. How does the day after tomorrow sound? It’ll be right after class too.”

“I’m fine with that,” Juyeon agreed and Sunwoo only nodded in response. “I’ll text you the roles I think we should all have later so you can think about what you want to do in advance. Make sure you let Sun know too.”

You all exchanged goodbyes and wanted until Juyeon left first before sitting in complete silence. You were too ashamed of letting the past distract you and Sunwoo was simply enjoying the moment that he had created.

“Well, I guess that’s my cue to go and follow him,” the gumiho exclaimed, rising off the ground and stretching his limbs. “What a busy day today has been. This is the most I’ve done in a while now… maybe I’ve gotten too comfortable just living here—“

You stop him before he can walk past him, your nails threatening to dig into his skin while the other hand is hovering over the conspicuously placed talisman you own. You felt Sunwoo’s skin crawl as soon as he noticed it and gave you his most innocent smile and big baby doll eyes. “Something the matter?”

“Find out if Juyeon is a gumiho, quickly.” You hissed at him, hoping the very obvious threat was getting through that thick skull of his. “Because I don’t know if I could spend another minute on this couch with him in my house knowing damn well we kissed because of your need to be proven right.”

“What can I say!” The gumiho gleefully responded, leaning down towards you and whispering, “being a gumiho makes me a really good kisser. Of course you wouldn’t forget it so easily.”

Sunwoo yelped as you nearly punched him, slapping the talisman onto his cheek and letting go of him. You watched the nine tailed fox grovelled in pain on the ground, wanting to snatch the paper talisman off but not having the ability to touch it in the first place. “Say that again and next time everything in the house will be covered in a talisman!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry okay!” He begged, his true form struggling to tear itself out of his humanoid body. The talisman was doing its job trying to dispel and absorb the evil energy and Sunwoo was doing his best trying to keep himself from going into a withdrawal.

You couldn’t stand to watch him lay there in agony anymore. Sure it was funny for a few seconds since you got your revenge, but as time passed you noticed it was taking a lot more energy than you thought for him to keep himself stable. “Stay still for like two seconds okay? Even though that might be… a little hard for you but… whatever just— hold on!”

You drop to your knees in an instant and tear the talisman off like a bandaid, wincing on Sunwoo’s behalf as you watch him take the deepest breath he possibly could. The gumiho form of him seemed to dissipate almost immediately now that he has control over his power but it only made your mind wander.

If a small talisman months old could cause so much damage to him, you wondered how exactly he could go head to head with a gumiho of a nearly full fox bead. “You’re not like… hurt right? The talisman didn’t leave a scar or something because they looked like it hurt really badly.”

“I… really need that fox bead back.” He spoke in between breaths but that sentence gave you all the information you needed to know. The fox bead was probably the primary source of strength for gumihos, sure without it they were still dangerous but in a state like Sunwoo’s who said his was empty? You might have just reduced him to a killable state.

“I am… so sorry,” you apologized, taking the smallest step back as you watched Sunwoo get off of the ground. “If I knew you were that screwed without your original fox bead I would have never touched you with it. It’s my fault, seriously.”

The gumiho shook his head, “No, you’re fine, don’t worry. It’s the person with my fox bead we have to worry about. I don’t think I truly realized how badly of a situation we’re in right now. If I get proof that Juyeon is a gumiho and he catches me? There is no way you or me will get out of that situation alive.”

III.

And oddly enough, a week has gone by since that incident. No, not a week, a month actually.

You finished your project with Juyeon despite the fact that Sunwoo bailed at the last minute, and you've barely seen him since. He went charging after your mythology class friend to find his fox bead and gather the information you needed to prove his claims so he didn’t go far, it's just… been a moment since you’ve seen him.

You know for a fact that he’s still alive because every so often you’ll hear noises in your house while you're trying to sleep and hear the quite yet familiar tone of Sunwoo’s voice curse. But other than that? You don’t see him. Your life had gone back to normal as if you were never being hunted by a gumiho in the first place, as if you never met Sunwoo in the first place.

You did in fact get rid of that talisman though, just in case he came back and wasn’t watching his step.

“Maybe I just need to get out of the house,” you admitted to yourself, staring aimlessly at the ceiling of your room. “I don’t leave much anymore… Maybe Kevin wants to hang out or something?” You had to admit, you did not realize just how boring your life was outside of being associated with Sunwoo. Your days were nothing but wake up, go to class, come home, and repeat.

You reach for your phone amid the blankets folds, grumbling and mumbling to yourself only to grab a hold of it snatch it away from its prison. It was almost dead but that was your fault, you came in your room and immediately collapsed into the bedsheets without question. Where was your charger? Knowing yourself you probably left it in the living room without thinking, who would have known you were going to get up in the first place?

“It’s nearly midnight, Kevin is probably fast asleep by now,” you concluded, thinking about your words for a moment before a text appeared into your notification bar. “Oh, never mind.”

Though, it wasn’t the usual cryptic text you received from the boy. Actually it wasn’t Kevin at all, but it was Juyeon. The last time he had spoken to you over the phone first was when you blacked out after finding Sunwoo.

With your eyes glued to the bright white screen, you forced yourself out of the bed and practically leaped over to the living room to search for your charger with newfound energy. You reached over to flick the lights on but immediately backtracked when Juyeon started to call instead.

“Juyeon,” you start, trying to sound as normal as possible. “What brings you to my phone number tonight?”

“Can I be honest with you?” He questioned, his breaths sounding as though he was forcing them to be rhythmic and slow. You raise an eyebrow at his soft yet rather serious tone, this wasn’t a Juyeon you usually interacted with. “It’s… kinda important honestly.”

“Of course, we’re friends right? I mean… like class acquaintances… but friends nonetheless,” you agree and you might have mistaken his huff for a slightest scoff for a moment. You choose to point it out whether it was serious or not, “what's with that frustrated tone in your voice? Got an attitude or something?”

“No, no that’s not it,” he quickly countered, “it’s just that every time you say that we’re friends, you always have to mention the fact that we're just college friends. It’s a little bothersome sometimes.”

You raise a brow at his words, falling into the couch as you respond, “I mean… is that not what we are…?”

There was a pause on the other side of the phone and you patiently waited for the boy to give you a reply. Instead, he just jumped to the next topic. Typical conversation tactics of a man. “I have something for you and something to tell you, but it has to be done in person. It would feel right if it was over the phone. I was wondering if you would be free to come by the dorms sometime tomorrow?”

“That’s what you wanted to tell me in the middle of the night?” You teased, almost rolling your eyes at his decisions before answering him. “Sure, I don’t think I'll have any classes that afternoon so it should be fine.”

You could almost hear the smile on Juyeon’s face, “perfect! You have to come okay, no bailing out on me now. I’ll be waiting for you!”

You didn’t even bother answering him, slowly sitting up in your seat as goosebumps began to trail down your arms. “Y/N?” He questioned once he noticed your abnormal silence, “are you okay?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” the boy didn’t even get another word out of his mouth before you hung up on him, staring out the window of your apartment and trying your best to withhold a scream that wanted to escape. There in the corner of your window stood a figure, glowing amber yellow eyes piercing through the glass and staring straight into your soul. Unfortunately for you, you knew that amber yellow tint a little too well from your mythology studies and first hand experience.

Now you were regretting throwing away that talisman.

Though the fear that crept up your throat like bile dissipated within a moment as the light jingle of bells rang in your ear. The fox bead must be nearby, if you can hear it ringing then that means the gumiho was in the area.

You did have to be careful though, just because you could hear the fox bead didn’t necessarily mean that it was Sunwoo. After all, you haven’t seen him for about a month now. Who knows what could have happened to him… but let’s not let dark thoughts cloud the mind, right?

“Sunwoo…?” You hesitated, inching ever so slowly toward the window. You had to be careful, just because you saw a pair of glowing eyes didn't necessarily mean it was the gumiho you had come to know.

The figure didn’t respond though, in fact it barely moved from its position at the window. You stopped in your tracks, ready to run to your room for safety, when it teetered to the side before falling out of the frame. A loud thud could be heard as they fell to the ground and you finally sprung out of your seat to check. Don’t worry though, you were still extremely cautious going about your next actions.

You cracked open the door just slightly, peering your eye through the crevice to scope out the area. You didn’t exactly give yourself enough room to look around though, just barely seeing the moon’s shine on the night sky.

You were just being cautious! What if you need a quick escape back into your house because a gumiho suddenly attacked? You did live alone after all, who were you going to call if you got into trouble? Definitely not the police. Would they even believe you if you said a nine tailed fox was trying to—

“You suck at being stealthy,” your body was pulled across the doorway as the door opened wide, not even giving you a chance to react before you found yourself outside of your apartment. You looked up with a nervous grin on your face to see Sunwoo towering over you. “I’m surprised you haven’t been taken in as a gumiho’s latest feast yet.”

“You’re back,” you stand up tall, completely disregarding the nine tailed fox’s statement to talk about something else. “Where have you been? I mean— I know where you’ve been, don't get me wrong. But you were gone for a month! Any longer and I think I would have forgotten about you completely.”

“I was doing my job was I not?” He smiled, though it wasn’t his usually mischievous grin plastered onto his face. In fact, he looked a little… strained.

The way he was leaning onto the door and holding it steady so he barely had to move a muscle wasn’t helping his case either. “Now I’m back to have a nice comfortable rest, I’ll probably leave again tomorrow though, you know… gotta catch the gumiho!”

“Hold still for me,” you demanded, reaching out for his shirt collar to inspect something .

Sunwoo swiftly dodged your hand, moving away like it was a bullet coming straight for him. “I said hold still.”

“Why? Do we have a problem or something?” The gumiho asked, grabbing a hold of your curious hand this time with his free hand as Sunwoo let out a shameless giggle. “Did you miss me that much? One month away and now you can’t get your hands off of me!”

“I’m not trying to be handsy,” you scowl, pushing the door with your foot and watching Sunwoo stumble about for the loss of his support before taking his shirt collar in your hand, “I can tell your bleeding through your shirt.”

He winced as the fabric skidded against his skin, revealing the very fresh and oozing red blood that was spilling out of scar on his neck. No, it would be undermining the damage if you simply called it a scar. It was more like a wound, a wound that was rich with fresh blood and scaling down from his neck down to his side… who knew how far down it went actually.

That was just one injury you had spotted, but there were probably countless scars and wounds that dotted his skin.

Each one seemed to be of such increasing severity that it was making you nauseous. “How long have you been like this?” You asked, letting go of his shirt to save yourself from a possible black out. You made sure to grab onto Sunwoo’s arm after, seeing as he barely had enough energy to actually stand on his own.

“You’ve been gone for a month, please don’t tell me you’ve been this badly injured for a month,” you demanded, “I know you’re this… this crazy mythical creature and what not but the severity of those wounds… it’s bad, Sunwoo, even worse than when I first found you. You need to go to a hospital.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” the boy tried to reassure you, “I’m a gumiho, remember? I’m going to heal much faster than a mortal ever could so there’s no need to go to a hospital—“

“Sunwoo! Look at yourself!” You practically screech, letting go of him and watching the gumiho cling into your door frame for support. “You are hurt, Sunwoo, heavily, from your neck down. Any sane person, mythical or not, would know that you need to get proper treatment and not rely on my poor first aid knowledge and your resortive abilities!”

“For the last time, Y/N, no means no. I’m not going, everything will heal if you just give me time.” Sunwoo begged, on the verge of throwing a fit like a child at your constant nagging. He leaned up against the doorframe and slid down it with his arms crossed, a pinch of annoyance struggling to stay hidden behind his attitude.

You have to physically hold yourself back from wrapping your hands around his neck and wringing him out like a wet towel. If his wounds didn’t end up killing him then surely you would end up being the gumiho’s demise. “Fine, can you at least tell me why you’re injured and when all of this… happened?”

Sunwoo glanced toward you, resting his head in his hands as he thought about your words for a moment. You can see the usual mischief in his eyes as he did, the audacity of the gumiho to think that he wasn’t going to share this crucial information with you is absurd. “I hope you’re not in love with Juyeon, Y/N,” he told you, his eyes shifting into that amber yellow tint, “because you’re about to get your heart broken.”

You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to make of the gumiho’s words before it hit you. “Oh… you can’t be serious.”

[spencesglasses]

sweet creature (spencer reid x f! reader) pt 1

A/N: I did it! I did change the plot a little bit so Spencer does know the reader instead of just meeting her at the BAU. This takes place around season 11/12. Please ignore any grammar or spelling errors hehe. Enjoy! <3

part two

Spencer weaves through the sea of people, heading towards a small coffee shop tucked between two lonely stores. The hustle and bustle of the market square was enough to make Spencer’s need for a serene atmosphere urge him into the cafe. A familiar scent fills his nose when he finally walks in: freshly brewed coffee and muffins straight out of the oven, he concludes.  

“Welcome in!” he heard someone call out from the back. “I’ll be with you in a second!”

He nods and claims his spot on the battered leather couch in the nook of the quiet coffee shop. The building was cold, despite the burning heat outside. Which was good, he supposed, he was never really fond of the heat.

“187!”

Spencer puts his attention to the woman in front of him. His eyes were stuck on her, and his thoughts drowned out most of his surroundings. She and Spencer had known each other for a while now, since the day he walked into her shop on an impromptu coffee run. Spencer went in with a frown on his face and left with a number memorised, but Y/N didn't need to know that. And that next Saturday they found themselves on his couch watching movies and cracking jokes through them all. By the end of their first movie, she was asleep so peacefully Spencer did not have the heart to wake her up. So he stayed there with her, throwing a small blanket over her and making a makeshift bed on the floor below her. Y/N left in the morning for her part-time job, a job he found out keeps her afloat when monthly payments come around.

“Hello,” sang Y/N, waving a hand over his face. “Earth to 187.”

For a moment, he feels out of place while the memory of them clings to him. “Huh?” he clears his throat. “Sorry about that.”

Y/N quirks her brow. “It’s alright, Mr. 187,” she pokes his stomach.

“Doctor, actually,” he grinned, shooing her hand away.

She moved away just before Spencer could poke the spot between her brows, and she made her way back behind the register. “Well, doc, you didn’t come here to sit and look pretty. Whatcha want?” Spencer’s face flushes and she watches him shake his head, as if it was a reluctant reply. “Unless you did come here to sit there and look pretty,” she laughs.

His brows furrowed. “What? I was ju-”

“I’m just messing with you,”

His lips curl into a gentle smile. “Oh,” he looks up at the menu. “You choose.”

“Oh, don’t say that, Spence, I’ll give you the most repulsive cup of coffee you’ve ever had.” she said with a smile.

“The most repulsive cup of coffee, but I’d still love it anyway,” he leans forward against the counter between them.

“And why is that, 187?”

“Because you made it,”

Y/N pushes his head away and starts on the ticket. “Such a charmer, Dr. Reid. So tell me, you use that line often, or are you just trying to get free coffee?”

Spencer taps his finger against his chin in a false ponder. “Both, but free coffee always makes my day.”

Her laugh and the smell of freshly brewed coffee are lively compared to the quietness inside the shop. Seeing her move so effortlessly around the kitchen had more of an effect on him than he’d care to admit. She puts a lid on the cup and pulls a pen out of her apron.

The buzzing of his phone in his pocket pulled him out of his thoughts. “I gotta go,” he said. “We just got a case.”

“Just in time, 187, your coffee is ready,” she slides the cup across the counter.

He takes out his wallet and pulls out a few dollars and Y/N shakes her head, “No need,” it was her turn to shoo away his hands. “It’s on me.”

“So I’m taking my charm worked?” he laughed.

Y/N held her hand over her chest and batted her lashes. “Oh, of course,”

“That usually doesn’t-” Spencer’s phone rang.

“You should go,” she checks her watch. “I actually have to go as well.”

Spencer tilts his head at her. “New job,” she continues.

“I can walk you out,”

“I’m sure the FBI needs you much more than I do, and I think-”

He interrupts her. “You paid for my coffee and the least I could do is walk you out.”

She paused for a beat. “Alright then, doc, I need to clean up a bit then clock out and I’ll meet you out front.”

Spencer nods, turning on his heel and walking through the front doors. She stared at the doors closing behind him, then got to work.

“I can do that if you like,” she hears her coworker, Anna, say. “I see you have a special someone waiting for you.” she wiggles her eyebrows.

“Oh please, Spence and I are friends,” she rolls her eyes. “Barely that, we meet each other a month ago and the only times I see him, or actually get to have a proper conversation with him, is when he stops by the shop.”

“Spence?” Anna repeats.

She arched one brow. “Yeah?”

“Nicknames already, huh?” Anna faked yawned.

She threw the rag she was using to clean the counters to her friend. “Just shut up and clean,”

Anna chuckled softly. “Have you told him, by the way?”

Y/N’s head snapped up. She did mean to tell him, but she just did never have the chance to. Now, she had two options: tell him now, or surprise him later.

She frowned deeply. “Not yet.”

-

Y/N hurried to the front and found Spencer leaning against the shop building, fiddling with his watch. The sound of the doors opening alerted him. “Ready?”

She hummed and held out her arm. “Ready.” Spencer linked his arm with hers, and they were on their way. Meanwhile, Y/N had something boiling deep inside her, her thoughts overflowing. Should I tell him now? Of course! This is the last chance you have! It’s not that big of a deal, right? She huffed, digging her nails into her palm.

Spencer’s eyes fall on her, quite literally having to look down at her. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you were okay,”

His voice catches her off guard, and she’s quiet for a moment. This is the perfect opportunity to tell him, Y/N. You’re making a bigger deal than it is. “Don’t profile me, 187,”

“I don’t need to profile you to know something is bothering you,” he separates their arms. “What is it?”

Tell him, Tell him, Tell him. “It’s really nothing,” she said. “I start at my new job today so I’m just nervous,”

This wasn’t a total lie. She was nervous. Who wouldn’t be nervous starting at a new job, especially the one she’s about to have. New people, new surroundings, and traveling every other day. It would be a huge adjustment considering the job she has now. Despite the nervousness, she was excited. She was ready for new and bigger things, things her current job could not give her.

“Hey,” he says softly, halting their movements. “You are-”

“Spence, we both have to go,” she snaps.

Spencer watches her as her feet carry her to her car. She didn’t mean to be so blunt. She knew she should just tell him and get it over with, but she couldn’t help but think about how awkward the interaction would be. She didn’t want to intrude. Dammit, Y/N. Why didn’t you just tell him when you had the chance? You’re making this so difficult! She shakes her head. It’s silly that she’s arguing with herself through her thoughts. “I’ll see you in a bit, Spence,”

He gave her a questioning look but before he can question her, she was off.

What is she hiding, he thinks.

-

The train to Quantico was brief, but it gave him time to be alone with his thoughts. What was she being so secretive about? And why was she going to ‘see him in a bit’. He knew he was thinking too much into it, but the profiler in him needed answers.

Spencer made it to his floor as soon as he could, realizing he was 30 minutes late. This wouldn’t be the first time he was late, but it was the first time he was late because he was with her. He rushed through the hallways not paying attention to his surroundings into he heard someone call his name, well his nickname.

“Boy wonder!” he halts and sees Penelope Garcia rushing towards him.

“You’re finally here,” she places her hand on his arm. “We have a case,”

“Hotch sent me-”

“And we have a new addition to the team!” she squeals.

Wait. New job. “See you in a bit”. It couldn’t be. Could it? Is this what she was so nervous about? Starting at the BAU? Not just starting at the BAU, joining their team. Being a new member of their tight-knit group. A new member of their family. Don’t think too ahead on this, Spencer, you don’t even know if it’s her yet. Don’t get your hopes up.

“Oh, you will love her! She fits in so perfectly!” Penelope tugs on his wrist, pulling him towards the wide glass doors.

The bullpen is lively. Everyone seemed happier, more joyful than they’ve had been in a while. His eyes roam left and right, trying to find if his conclusion was true. And there she is. Just as he thought. Y/N. Y/N sitting there with Hotch. And Morgan. And Tara. She sits there as if she has always been there, making jokes with everyone and already having a playful banter with Morgan. He knows Penelope was right, as always.

“Spence!” JJ calls. “Come meet newbie,”

Y/N’s and Spencer’s eyes meet, and they knew exactly what they were thinking. She gives him a sheepish smile and says, “Surprise.”

—

A/N: I just remembered that Emily is only in one episode in season 11 so you’ll probably only see her when I write out that episode and when I write season 12.

But anyway, first chapter! How we feelin’?

Feedback is always appreciated <3

[abbynx]

Encounter (Gelato and Sorbet X Reader)

Genre: Platonic, found family, fluff, wholesome

Warning: Harassment, stalking

You didn't found this coming, associating yourself with the Mafia in a way that one wouldn't thought of and can only fantasize about— if being practically adopted by a pair of couple from most heinous, most successful mafiosi syndicate Passione's hitmen team is someone's fantasy. It just happen to be that you found yourself in a bad situation, one thing lead to another and then all of the sudden you were like a child to Gelato and Sorbet without calling them your parents. And to be frank, so did the entirety of La Squadra, as they thought the couple were content with each others company but nope— they decided to pick up a random kid from the street... At least that's what they knew based in the info the couple has given them. To you, it was an entirely and distinctively different narrative. It all started after spending an over time in school tending to the Mount Everest tall school requirements, picking up numerous books and shoving all of it in your bag. If ever you were pushed in a river, you swore that the bag will simply weigh you down in it. It was in the middle of the evening, idly walking back to your home passing through crowds of strangers. Your home was quite the distant, but you decided to persevere and walk home, as you had to spare money for an extremely expensive fare at this time of the night. Naples' streets were still busy despite the time, but you couldn't blame them. All the sights and sounds visible during the night can be quite pretty and desirable than the day. And so there you were, minding your own business, walking... Walking... Walking... And musing about the possible dangers of the night may bring I mean come on— this is Naples for crying out loud. It was sadly the norm, but you were used to it. All you can do was to look down, and prayed that it wouldn't be your day to encounter these type of people. But of course, the universe operates in a way in which it will take any opportunity to fuck one up, one way or another. You take your usual route home, idly swaying along to tunes you've made and mumbled to yourself when you noticed a particular person who has been walking behind you ever since you've set foot outside of the school gates. At first you shrug, knowing you weren't the only one taking this route and so you ignored the stranger completely clad in dark colours, with no chance of identification. This was your first mistake. Finally, you noticed how much he took the same turns as you did, watching you intently through their dark tinted glasses. And so, you picked up the pace of your strides and so did he. Panic arose in your stomach, but you made no move to implicate your extreme anxiety pulsating through your nerves. It felt like drinking five cans of energy drink in the middle of the night in a span of two minutes after being dared by friends (oddly specific, I know.), except you were actually fearing for your life. You looked around you for a possible place of escape, gaze darting from structure to structure until it landed on people. It was a good idea to hide or perhaps blend yourself with groups of people and yet somehow, your first instinct upon laying eyes on people was latching yourself on the first civilian you can latch on. This, being the couple who had decided to take a breather from the suffocating environment of La Squadra headquarters. Sorbet was confused the moment someone clung to his arm, tight and showed no signs of letting go. He was pissed, but got a glimpse of your shaking hands and the fear in your eyes. Whilst Sorbet was busily analysing your intent, a wrathful blond was ready to shed some blood. Gelato was more than prepared and had no problem to discretely retrieve his revolver from his back pocket, pull the hammer and trigger, empty the whole damn barrel in your brain when you had the most brightest idea to cling on Sorbet's arm whilst they were having a peaceful walk. He was more than pissed at the fact that Sorbet hadn't shoved the bitch away the moment they clung to him. "Please help me..." Your voice low, small and desperately pleading

for help. This was then further solidified at your shaky hands clinging tightly onto Sorbet's arm. "A man... He's following me, sir... Please... He's walking behind us... Wearing all black. I don't know what to do, please help me." Well then, it turns out Gelato was plotting to empty the barrel of the gun on the wrong person! Well at first he was righteously indignant by your audacity to cling onto his husband so suddenly, and rage has further blinded him that he didn't notice the fact you were wearing a school uniform, smaller than they were. "Oi kid, your padre and I were worried about you! Why are you still out this late, hmmm?" Sorbet acts naturally, assuming into the position of a stern and protective father far too perfectly. Knowing his husband truly well, Gelato knew what to do and decided to play along. He lets go of Sorbet's hand, before going around to grab yours so they had you between them. "What were you doing in school anyways? Is it your damn teachers again?" For a moment you were taken aback, before realization dawned on you and cleared your throat to answer, "Well I was just finishing up some works school. I thought you wanted me to improve in school?" "It's flipping eight in the middle of the night! What if some sicko snatched you up?" Sorbet scolds, momentarily looking behind his shoulders before noticing the figure dressed in black still following. "We will discuss this back at home. Let's just get dinner for now." Gelato chimes in, as the three of you stopped in front of a restaurant. The couple had just gotten out to eat, but fuck it. Sorbet sighs, "Fine. Next time you won't do that again, alright? Your padre and I were just worried is all." "I'm sorry, Papá, it won't happen again." You entered the restaurant and reserved yourself a booth. You were more than relieved upon entering the restaurant and seeing the man following you scurry back. Letting out a sigh of relief, you look across the booth to give the couple your words of gratitude. "Thank you so much, I didn't knew what to do! I'm so sorry for disturbing you!" You profusely pouted out, picking your bag up from the foot of your seat, preparing to leave when the blond assassin gently got a hold of your wrist prompting you to stop. "Kid, it's late. I think it's best if we wait this out for a little bit, okay?" Gelato said, whilst Sorbet nodded beside him. "What's your name?" "It's Y/N... Signore." "My name is Gelato, this is my husband Sorbet." "It's great meeting you, Y/N. Would you care for some refreshments? Our treat." After getting to know each other, how they now knew you were an orphan residing in the local orphanage, they took the time and care to make sure you arrive home safe and sound. The couple had the mutual revelation and agreement they wanted a child of their own. The way you referred to Sorbet as Papá somehow awaken the remaining fondness he has for another human being other than his husband, Gelato. Time exploded like a bullet from a gun and after school you found yourself spotting the couple, waving hi to them and stopping for a quick chat before going your separate ways. To you, your encounters with them were purely coincidental, you only get to interact with them within occasions you can see them. The couple, on the other hand... They were settling some paperwork in the orphanage from where you resided your whole life. "And now I'm here, I guess." You shrugged, as Formaggio and Pesci seemed to have been frozen in time, taking the time to comprehend how distinctively different your telling was from their colleagues. "Now you know." "Heh, I knew it." Illuso proudly proclaims, crossing his arms to.his chest with a lopsided grin. "Y/N, it's late. Go to bed. Your fathers are going to kill us if they found out you're staying up late." Prosciutto says as he passes the couch you were seated on. "What? But it's the weekend tomorrow! There's no school tomorrow!" You whined, watching as Prosciutto disappear from the hallways. "Huh, I always knew the two weren't painting the whole picture." Melone

mutters out loud. "Painting the whole picture? What's that supposed to mean!?" Ghiaccio suddenly chimes in. "Y/N, it's pass your bed time. Please go to your room." You jumped upon the sudden intrusion of a new person speaks up behind you. Looking back from your shoulders, you see the Capo's lingering and towering figure over you. "Y-yes sir. Off I go to bed." You stepped away from the couch. "Goodnight everyone." A chorus of goodnight responded, before you entered your designated room. The whole La Squadra may not have seen this coming, nor do they thought it was practical but seeing the couple happy with this decision of theirs, then they'd brush it all aside. They're just happy that they're happy.

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Ferris

Summary: You and Chris fight hard, but at least making up is always fun.

Pairings: Chris Evans x Black!Reader

Warnings: Smut, daddy skink, swearing, sex in public

(A/N: Okay so yes. I watched Insecure and decided having sex on a ferris wheel sounded kind of hot. Sue me. Also a little bit of a toxic relationship because I also love Euphoria.)

The original plan for today was simple. Hang out with your girls, have fun at this music festival, and then go to a diner afterward because you knew you’d be drunk and starving by the end of the night. Except like usual you were thinking about Chris and the stupid fight the two of you were having. It was like you couldn’t really have fun.

He’d gotten mad when he saw the outfit you’d picked for the occasion. The butterfly covered bralette and matching skirt was kind of revealing, but that was the point. He didn’t want “other men to see what was his,” or some shit like that. God, he could be so possessive. 

Of course, you wore it. You’d already bought it specifically for the occasion. With his credit card, you might add. You weren’t going to change in one minute just because he told you to. Except for your friend Amanda had already tagged you in a picture which he’d clearly seen since he’d been texting you almost non-stop all pissed off that you’d disobeyed him. 

Sometimes he irritated you so much. Like, yeah you wouldn’t trade him for the world, but did he have to be such an ass about it. Then it was conflicting because apart of you kind of liked it. Your big mean Daddy putting you in your place. Maybe that’s why he treated you like that. He knew that deep down you had a thing for it. Except right now all you wanted to do was sulk as you argued with him back and forth through your messages.

Yet despite this, you still felt so needy for him. Like all you wanted was for him to hold you. Maybe give you kisses and tell you that you looked good. It was so annoying how desperate you felt for him. Aside from all the fighting, he was a really good boyfriend. He was perfectly affectionate, amazing in bed, wanted to actually have a future with you, and made sure you had everything you’ve ever wanted. He took care of you well.

There were times when the negative thoughts reared their ugly heads. Like your friends. It seemed they only saw bad. Like how he was gone a lot, but like it’s for work and you got to travel with him all the time which was fun. Or the fighting. Which okay, fair enough. 

Sometimes it kind of just seemed like they were jealous. Like how’d you manage to snag Captain America of all people. Or why you put up with the things you did. Maybe when they find a boyfriend with a big dick and a bank account to match they’d understand. 

Until then your friends' opinions didn’t really mean anything to you. It’s not like you ever asked them for it anyway. They weren’t complaining when he’d pay for the spa trips or even the VIP passes to this thing, though. They loved him then.

You took a sip of the beer Shannon had just handed you. This is going to sound so dumb, but like, the taste of it was making you think of him. It reminded you of those times he’d come home from work and you’d have dinner waiting like the good little girlfriend you are. After you’d curl up on the couch. He’d pretty much down his beer as you unwinded, pressed into his side. 

Then at some point, he’d kiss you. It would start out all sweet and nice. He’d end up saying something funny and you’d giggle. He always said he loved your laugh. Then he’d pull you onto his lap, making you straddle him. 

Your kiss would turn deeper. Hungry. Like if you didn’t kiss him right now, you might float away. Your tongues would caress while you had your arms wrapped around his neck. You’d feel his bulge grow pressing against your usually covered pussy. 

That’s when you’d started grinding your hips because even the friction from his thickness was enough to get you close. He’d usually start out with his hands on your tits because even though he claimed to be an ass guy he always told you how much he loved your boobs. Then he’d pull you away to pull off your top bringing you back into him by putting his hand around your neck. Since you’d rather die than wear a bra at home, your naked body would be pressed against him even though he was still clothed. 

As his lips would begin to trail down your body, his hands would rest against your ass. Squeezing it, smacking it, helping you grind into him. Then he’d do this thing where he lifted you up to lay you down. His lips still on yours as he moved kept moving against you.

Then you’d finally get naked and he’d fuck you right there not even bothering to go to the room. His dick hitting every spot all at once because of how damn thick he was. He was the first man to fuck you right. Maybe that’s why you were so crazy about him.

In those moments afterward, you’d have to stop yourself. You could taste the soft ‘I love you’ that you wanted to say so badly on your tongue. It didn’t feel right saying it without knowing if he’d say it back to you. You weren’t sure if he would.

You swayed back and forth to the music, singing along. Amanda was twerking while Shannon and Kim were pretty similar to how you were. If you weren’t one second away from showing everyone your panties with how tiny your skirt was you’d probably be right next to her. 

Night had fallen and everything looked beautiful. The way the desert looked with the stage lit. The way they’d light up the ferris wheel. It was all so amazing. Yet your mind kept drifting. He hadn’t texted you back in a few hours which was weird for him when the two of you were fighting. 

You’d walked away from the group to throw away the beer bottle you didn’t feel like holding. Before you could turn around, you felt a hand on your waist and groaned because why the fuck do guys do that. Until you looked up seeing the blue eyes of your handsome boyfriend. 

Your breath hitched in your throat. Like it usually does because he was so fucking beautiful it wasn’t like you could help it. “Ch- Chris? What are you doing here?” For some reason, it felt like you’d gotten caught red-headed.

He shrugged. His hair was covered by the blue cap he was wearing, but it was so unmistakably him that you were surprised you weren’t being rushed by fangirls. “I missed you,” he replied.

You tilted your head to the side feeling all melty now from the simple phrase. “I missed you, too.” 

He pulled you into a hug, nuzzling his face in your hair. “Can we talk? Somewhere private.” 

You chuckled. “I don’t think we can really be anywhere private right now.” You glanced over at your friends who were rolling their eyes and such at the sight of him. Except for Shannon that is. She was really the only one on Team Chris. 

“The ferris wheel,” he suggested, looking up at the giant contraption. 

You scrunched up your nose. Just because you thought it was pretty didn’t mean you actually liked them. And, he knew that because every time you went to Disneyland you’d skip over it. “I don’t do ferris wheels.”

“I know, but just this once,” he said. “Just so we can talk.”

It was hard saying no to that face so you found yourself nodding. “Okay. Let me tell them I’ll be right back.”

Being Chris Evans he got to skip to the front of the line. The carriage was one of those enclosed ones. Similar to California Adventure’s, but of course not as big. Poor Chris looked squished on his side. At least it didn’t swing. 

You looked out the window. You were barely off the ground. Neither of you said anything. It was a little quieter here, but not much by much. A part of you wanted to go over there and take a seat on his lap as you went further.

“So,” he started, finally breaking the silence after you were a quarter of the way off the ground. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry... you know for all the fighting.”

You weren’t really expecting that. Your eyes met his and you wanted to swoon, but you needed to keep your composure. “Why are we like this?” You asked. 

“I don’t want it to be,” he said. “I know this is going to sound fucking crazy, but I drove all the way here because at some point I realized that you’re more important than losing you over me not liking your outfit, which you look really cute by the way.”

You smiled. “You really think so?”

“You always do. You’re gorgeous, Honey. I’m so fucking sorry if I... if I make you feel like I don’t care because I do.” He took a deep breath. “I guess what I’m trying to say to you is that I love you, Y/N.”

“Really?” Your heart felt like it was going to explode. 

“I have since we met I think.”

“I love you, too,” you said. Leaning forward so you could kiss him. The inside of the carriage was dark so no one could really see into it, but then again people were probably watching it like a hawk just trying to catch a glimpse. He’d grabbed onto your hips like he did when the two of you were on the couch making it, making you straddle his lap. It honestly felt like you might as well be at home with how damn comfy he is. 

“I’m sorry, Baby,” he said. His hands rested on your ass he started kissing your neck. “I don’t ever want to lose you.” 

“You won’t,” you replied. He lifted up your bralette so he could kiss down your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth swirling his tongue around. You moaned feeling his dick hardening underneath you.

You reached between both of you to palm him in his jeans. He groaned as you rubbed him. You need to be quick because your carriage was moving again and clearly it couldn’t just end in a makeout session. Not with the way he was kissing you and you couldn’t leave your poor boyfriend all hard with blue balls. 

You unzipped his pants and smiled when his dick popped out. “Oh, Daddy,” you cooed. 

“That’s my girl,” he whispered in your ear. “Always ready for me, huh?”

“Always,” you repeated before kissing him again.

He pulled your panties to the side as he lifted your hips up to inch you down his length. He felt so fucking good inside of you. “That’s it, Honey. Ride me.”

“Yes,” you mewled. He filled you up so perfectly. You were so fucking full. It never made any sense just how good it always felt. As you bounced up and down his length you could feel your slick dripping out to cover him.

His balls were slapping against your ass every time you went down and for some reason, it felt so damn good. You bit your lip trying to keep yourself from crying out again. Even though you were sure no one could hear you, you still didn’t want to get too loud.

He’d grabbed your hips. Making you tilt back so he could leave hot open-mouthed kisses trailing from your neck to your collarbone to your breasts. You threw your head back trying to keep your noises in your throat. You were holding yourself up with your hands on his knees.

“That’s it, Baby. I know you wanna cum for me.” He grabbed you, bringing your forehead to his. One of his hands squeezed your neck with just enough pressure. 

Your pussy was clenching around him your insides fluttering as you felt yourself getting there. “Fuck, Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” you whined. Your orgasm was so close you could fucking taste it.

“That’s it. That’s my good girl,” he whispered in your ear. “Cum for me.”

You pressed your face into his t-shirt as you reached your breaking point. You moved your hips harder trying to ride out your orgasm. The way you were moving triggered him to start spilling inside of you. “Fuck,” he cursed, his grip going to your ass again so hard you kind of knew you were going to bruise.

“Yes, Daddy. Yes.” Tears welled up in your eyes as you started to come down from your high. 

You laid your head on his chest as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. Your body was shaking and you wanted to calm down by the time you had to get out of the carriage. You looked out the window again. That whole time at the top had been spent fucking and it was almost time for you to compose yourself.

“We probably aren’t the first ones to do this today, huh,” he wondered out loud.

You chuckled, putting your chin on his chest and looking up at him. “Probably not.”

He rubbed your ass sweetly not even realizing before how tender your body was now. He sat back with his eyes closed. “Is it bad that I could sleep like this?”

“No. I think I could, too,” you replied, feeling your eyes all droopy.

You finally got up before the ferris wheel reached the ground to make yourselves presentable. You sat back in his lap melting into him until it was at a complete stop. 

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.”

He smiled all sweet before placing a kiss on your lips. You guys were always fighting and making up and as much as you’d say it was water under the bridge, this was the first time it really felt like it. You couldn’t wait to see how things would be from now on. He was your person.

[blossom-hwa]

Light the Pyres |Burn| - SUNGYOON

This chapter hurt so much I'm really sorry

Pairing: Sungyoon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst, bits of fluff, apocalypse!au

Triggers: cursing, implied death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 7.9k

As the world burns its last goodbyes, you find a jewel amidst the ashes.

Previous: Rise >> Burn

Golden Child Masterlist

If times were normal, three weeks stuck in the same space with anyone but Daeyeol or your mother would probably drive you insane. Only seeing one other person’s face for days after days on end? You’d almost rather be alone.

But whether it be because you have shared memories and common grief or simply because you’re compatible human beings, Sungyoon isn’t difficult to live with, not in the slightest. You don’t fight over food or water or living in the same space. His voice doesn’t grate on your nerves, even after a week of him being the only person you can talk to. He isn’t almost pleasant company anymore – he’s just pleasant.

Maybe even a little more than that.

Over one, two, then three weeks, you come apart to each other, exposing small bits of yourselves from beneath threads frayed by the apocalypse. Sungyoon craves coffee more than anything in the world. He used to be the fastest runner on his high school track team. He tells you his favorite color is black, and just to keep the conversation going you decide that black isn’t a real color since it’s technically the absence of all color, which sparks a debate that maybe grows a little too loud every once in a while but by the end, you’re laughing at Sungyoon’s indignant expression that slowly cracks into a smile.

Laughing. Not smirking. At something not morbid or deadly.

It feels almost surreal, being able to smile at a topic so inane.

“What’s your credibility, huh?” Sungyoon asks when you’ve stopped laughing, having given into a grudging smile himself. It makes his face look sweeter, gentler. “What makes you an expert on colors or the absence of them?”

“I did mechanical engineering in university,” you say, leaning back against the wall. Memories threaten to flood your mind but you keep them at bay, closing your eyes against the onslaught. “Took a few chemistry classes as a requirement. We learned about colors at some point.” You open your eyes and shrug. “It was kind of interesting, but not enough for me to change my major.”

“Mechanical engineering,” Sungyoon echoes, staring up at the ceiling. You kind of have to give it to him – you might be bored sitting around in this empty house sometimes, but he’s confined to the bed if he isn’t using the bathroom and he hasn’t complained yet. “That’s cool. Is that how you got that car to work before?”

“Yeah.” You swallow, a slightly bitter taste in your mouth at the memories of your almost finished second degree. “Mom was a mechanic. I grew up around cars and machines. I was almost done with my master’s when…”

When the apocalypse began and I started out across the country to find my mom.

From Sungyoon’s silence, you gather that he understands what you haven’t said. He also seems to understand you don’t want to talk about it and thankfully changes the topic. “I did sports medicine,” he says. “And I minored in music.”

You sit up. “Music? What did you play?”

“I can play a little piano, but I mostly sing – sang,” he corrects himself, a faraway look coming into his eyes.

You don’t miss the switch from present to past tense. Mood dampened, you both sit in silence for a moment, mourning the loss of your lives before they’d barely begun.

“I used to play piano,” you finally say, trying to salvage the conversation. “I wonder if it’s still at home,” you mumble, more to yourself than anybody.

“If it’s any consolation, people aren’t really looking for valuables at a time like this.” Sungyoon gives you a lopsided smile. “Assuming… well, even if people have broken in, I don’t think the piano would be the first thing they were looking for.”

You know Sungyoon means to comfort you, but the implication that anything happened to your house, to your home makes your heart stutter. It’s not a strange thing, people breaking into houses. Oftentimes they’re already open, the occupants either dead or fled. 

But it’s your house, your home, and the thought that anything might’ve happened to it with your mom there flips your stomach.

Hypocrite. You’re sitting in one of those stolen homes right now, but you have a problem with people sitting in yours.

“Y/N?”

You look over to see Sungyoon staring back, concern in his expression. Swallowing, you try to smile. “Sorry, what?”

“Nothing,” he says. “You just went quiet for a bit.” He raises an eyebrow. “Thoughts?”

What do you say? Do you tell Sungyoon what you’re really thinking? Do you tell him you’re terrified of coming home to a house that’s been ransacked and laid bare? Do you tell him you’re scared of finding your mom in an empty home with nothing around her left, that you’re even more scared of finding an empty home with no mother inside?

You curve your lips, trusting Sungyoon won’t ask even if he sees that the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “No,” you lie. “It’s nothing. So.” You look at him, your smile turning a little more genuine. “You sing?”

. . . . .

He does. He sings.

Beautifully.

His voice breaks sometimes, of course. Weeks of forced silence have taken tolls on both of your throats, and even speaking hurts if you talk too long. But the longer he sings, the longer his song fills your ears, the stronger his voice grows, rich and powerful even in his hushed melodies. It wraps around you like a blanket or a shawl, warming your skin in a way even the sun can’t.

When he first spoke to you so many weeks ago, told you not to hurt yourself by kicking the car down that one horrible day, you thought he could be a singer, thought that his voice was smooth, clear. Like Daeyeol’s. You hated it then, when it only reminded you of your best friend and what he was no longer around to do, what you had lost trying to save this boy with a nice voice who didn’t deserve it.

You still hear hints of Daeyeol’s clarity in Sungyoon’s quiet song. Even more obvious is the love of music in Sungyoon’s eyes that perfectly matches that of your dead friend. The few times Daeyeol hummed old songs to get you to sleep when the sun was still up, he always wore that look in his eyes. It fit him like a second skin, that soft love for music dancing in his expression, and you would try to keep that look in mind as he soothed you into sleep. It brought you both back to better times, when death didn’t lurk around every corner.

It hurts a little to see this look in Sungyoon’s face, for sure, but it also soothes another pain, the pain of knowing that you’ll never see Daeyeol ever again until it’s your turn to go. Because even though you’ll never gaze on his face again during your time on this earth, you’ll still see bits of him, hear parts of him in Sungyoon’s eyes and voice. Where that reminder might’ve felt like a stab in the chest before, it now smooths a blanket over your body, wrapping you in the knowledge that Daeyeol will always live with you, in your memories and in Sungyoon’s voice.

Sungyoon doesn’t ask why you’re crying when he finishes his song, even though he can definitely see you wiping away tears from your perch at the foot of his bed. You don’t make an effort to hide it, really – you’ve done worse things in front of him than cry, and besides, he looks a little teary himself. For a moment, you only sit in your respective positions, trying to rein in your tears until he breaks the silence again.

“That was my sister’s favorite song,” he whispers. “She played it so much that Bomin once threatened to delete it off of her playlist.”

You swallow at the mention of his sister and her boyfriend, guilt snaking its way up your chest. It’s a little easier to ignore right now, though, especially when you realize that this is the first time Sungyoon’s put a name to either of the two people you shot. “Bomin was her boyfriend?” you ask.

He nods. “I never said?”

As you shake your head, it only just occurs to you how little you know of Sungyoon’s family. You haven’t said that much – he knows about your mom and Daeyeol, but little of anyone else – but even that seems like a lot compared to what little he has (more like hasn’t) said about his family. You don’t even know his sister’s name.

You’re not even sure you want to. Putting a name to dead faces, faces that you shot bullets through…

Swallowing, you shake your head again, this time more trying to clear your head than say no. “No, you never mentioned it.”

“Oh.” He pauses. “Bomin was Sumin’s boyfriend. Sumin was my sister.”

Bomin. Sumin. The addition of two names to your repertoire (and the past tense for Bomin) nearly makes your head spin. Bomin with dyed, pale hair, Sumin with dark. Bomin with chiseled, handsome features marred by white skin and dark veins. Sumin with a round, soft face and eyes that probably would’ve looked lovely with a smile had they not been shrunken with disease.

You didn’t know either of them at all, which just makes the fact that you put a bullet through each of their heads even worse.

In fact, you pressured Sungyoon into letting you do it.

Both of you agreed not to apologize anymore. But the only words hanging on the tip of your tongue consist of I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Sungyoon, I’m sorry –

“It wasn’t your fault.”

You blink. “What?”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Sungyoon’s eyes bore into yours softly, understanding and reproachful all at once. “That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it? Bomin and Sumin.”

Despite everything, a wry little smile curls the corner of your mouth. “Was it that obvious?”

“Only to someone who saw what happened.” Sungyoon shifts on the bed, sitting up against the wall. “You didn’t kill them, Y/N. The zombies did.”

“See, I know that.” You stare at your hands, the smile wiped from your lips. “Logically. But –”

“Your brain won’t let you,” Sungyoon finishes. “Yeah, I know. It’s the same with me and… you know.” He leans forward, fixing your gaze with his. “So I’ll keep saying it until your brain finally figures it out. Okay?”

The tears try to come again, but this time, you hold them back. “Same for you,” you manage, hoping the wobble in your voice isn’t as prominent as it feels to you. “It wasn’t your fault. It never was. And I’ll keep saying that until you know it too.”

Sungyoon turns away. You don’t try to follow his gaze, to probe at his expression. You don’t need to.

It’s enough, this understanding that hangs quiet in the air.

. . . . .

On week three, when Sungyoon’s finally started to limp around the house, Lady Luck puts you in her good graces and you find a source of transportation far better than your legs. You don’t thank her too much, though, since you literally found the two bikes after being chased twice around the same building by a small, though vicious group of zombies.

Even then, a little bit of excitement sparks in your still-racing heart when you pedal up to the front of the house and dump the first bike indoors. Sungyoon pokes his head out through the bedroom at your call.

You grin. “Remember how to ride a bike?”

It takes a second dangerous trip to bring the other one back but you manage, since Sungyoon is still slow on his feet. When Sungyoon feels ready to try it out, you watch closely as he slings himself onto the cracked seat, ready to catch him if he falls.

He does, twice. But the third time, he actually starts wobbling up and down the front of the house, pedaling slowly but steadily.

A cry almost escapes your throat when he turns around on the street, pedaling back with sparkling eyes and lips curving in a rare smile of success. But though you stifle the sound, you can’t help but run up and hug him when he dismounts, one hand holding the bike steady as you wrap the other around his chest.

Sungyoon’s breath catches. The little gasp in his throat reminds you of what you’re doing, that he might be uncomfortable, and you go to apologize and pull away, insides curdling with embarrassment.

But then he wraps both of his arms around you, bringing you in closer with a gentle, uncertain grip, hands locked loosely at your waist. And it’s your turn to catch your breath at the subtle warmth of Sungyoon’s thin body, a warmth more comforting than even the rays of afternoon sun beginning to set in the sky.

Human touch. Human comfort. Human warmth. You bury yourself in Sungyoon and he buries himself in you, earlier excitement forgotten in favor of the comforting warmth of the other’s touch.

You don’t say anything about it, even after you let go. You only part naturally, smiling at each other as your arms fall to your sides before finally reentering the house. Sungyoon goes back to lying on the little couch, resting his leg, while you carefully stand the bike by the door and go to find something to eat. Conversation is quiet. Not awkward, not stilted, just quiet. You still don’t mention the hug.

But later that night, after you’ve barricaded the door and freshened up as best you can, Sungyoon is still sitting up in the bedroom. You pause in the doorway. “Sungyoon?”

“It isn’t comfortable on the floor, is it?” he asks, voice strangely stilted. He doesn’t wait for an answer before rushing on. “Come up here. It’ll be easier on your back.”

It takes several moments to process his words before you start protesting, saying the floor isn’t that bad and that you read something about how sleeping on hard surfaces is actually better for your back, but your voice dies away when Sungyoon holds out his arms in the dark, shifting to make room for you on the threadbare mattress.

Something about this feels like it should be wrong. Taking comfort in someone who isn’t Daeyeol or your mom or even one of the friends you left behind, probably never to see any of them ever again. You’ve only known Sungyoon for a matter of weeks. Daeyeol you knew for over twenty years. Your mom, even longer.

And now you’re taking comfort in someone when none of them are around to experience it themselves. Guilt simmers in your chest.

But walking into Sungyoon’s arms sweeps it away.

His touch is just as soft and unsure as it was earlier under the afternoon sun, but if anything, it feels warmer in the dark. And as you gain a little courage, letting him curl closer into you as your breaths begin to even from exhaustion, the touch becomes a little more certain, a little firmer and stronger as he loosens against your body.

One brave hand reaches up, tangles briefly through Sungyoon’s hair. “Goodnight,” you whisper.

He squeezes you once, gently. “Goodnight.”

. . . . .

The fourth week has passed by the time Sungyoon walks without a limp. You really would have wanted to go the first day he could put weight on his leg, but if you had, you wouldn’t have found the bikes. And considering the fact that you only have two bullets left, you’re thankful for a method of quick escape.

“We need to get out of the city,” you say, swinging one leg over your bike. “There are too many zombies here. Just follow me, I think I’ve mapped out how to get to the highway. It’ll probably be smoother from there.”

Sungyoon nods. “Let’s go, then.”

Your heart pounds as you pedal down the streets, quickly, quietly. The rusty bikes creak a little under your weight and with every weird noise you tense, pedaling faster, but street after street, you and Sungyoon ride without too much trouble.

Until you turn a corner and the faint sound of dead groans echoes from farther down the street.

Both of you stop. Sungyoon looks over. “Is there another way?”

“I mean, probably.” You swallow. “But they’re in the direction of the highway and regardless, we’ll have to go past. I don’t… I’m not sure…”

The groans grow louder.

“Let’s see if we can loop around,” you decide, trying to picture the general layout of buildings. “Just… be ready to ride fast.”

Sungyoon almost smirks. “That wasn’t a given?”

You hit him, even as you stifle a smile. But that smile disappears quickly as you ride closer and closer to the sounds of groans.

The first zombie lurches out from behind a collapsed home. It stumbles over the sidewalk, clawing forward, but you and Sungyoon move too fast and leave it quickly behind.

But then a second pops out in the distance. And a third.

Behind you, Sungyoon mutters a curse. You don’t blame him. Much worse words are running through your mind. “Through the cars,” you hiss, weaving between several vehicles stranded on the road. “Harder for them to get us.”

The sound of limbs slapping against metal and glass makes you want to hurl. Groans and shrieks echo off the sides of the cars, overpowering the creaking of your bike and filling your ears with their sickening sound. You pedal fast, fast, faster, swerving between a last car into open road –

Sungyoon races past, surpassing you as a zombie just misses grabbing the wheel of his bike. You pedal harder to catch up, staring straight ahead towards the entrance of the highway that’s finally in sight.

Something brushes your arm. You shriek, almost tipping off balance as dead white fingers flash in your peripherals, but a backwards glance from Sungyoon forces you to stay upright and you pedal forward with a last rush of speed, rolling onto a smooth, zombie-free road.

You ride for what feels like hours until you have to call it quits. Stumbling behind an abandoned truck, you collapse in the shade, legs shaking with exertion and adrenaline. Sungyoon follows quickly, dropping his bike onto the asphalt to sit next to you.

For a moment, you only sit in silence, panting under the hot sun.

Then you heave a shaky breath and start to laugh.

It starts out as a gasp, really. That first breath doesn’t fully go out the way you want it to and you wheeze a gasp, then another, and another and another until your wheezes turn into breathless laughter that treads the line of hysteria but then Sungyoon is starting to laugh too and all you can do is revel in the fact that you can laugh, snort, giggle because you’re alive. You made it out of that infested city alive, alive despite that horde at the end, and God, now you’re trembling because even though you’ve had close encounters with the undead before, you can still feel cold, peeling skin just dragging against your shirt –

You start crying.

Adrenaline seeps out of your body like blood from a wound. Your stomach hurts from laughing. Your eyes ache with tears. You keep feeling that feather light, deathly cold touch brushing your arm, almost like a wisp of wind curling against your skin but so much colder, like ice freezing your veins even under the burning sun.

Cold. Cold. Cold. And no one, not Daeyeol, not your mother, no one to help you out of this icy sun –

Sungyoon’s shaking arms wrap around you, and you remember what it feels like to be warm again.

You grip him tight, tight, tighter, holding onto this last piece of human life. Everyone else you know is dead or probably dead and only Sungyoon is a constant, still here and alive despite the fact that you could’ve split up all those weeks ago.

Until the day you die, you’ll be grateful you chose not to.

He holds you and you hold him until both of you finally stop trembling in the hot shade of the truck, but even then, you latch on just a little bit longer, memorizing the weight of his thin body pressed against yours. Hunger has hollowed his skin and yours, eaten away the muscle that used to cushion your bones, but Sungyoon’s arms still hold a fragile strength that slowly bleeds into you, giving you the courage to wipe away the tears.

That night, after hours of riding on quiet roads, no silent, tentative question hangs in the air like it always has when Sungyoon slumps against your sitting figure, head falling into your lap as you fight to keep your eyes open for first watch. Without hesitation, you tangle your fingers through his curly hair, soothing him into sleep.

Sungyoon is your warmth, just as you are his. Reminders to each other that even in this blackened world of death and ashes, both of you are still alive.

. . . . .

The closer you get to home, the harder sleep comes. You don’t know why. It should be the opposite, right? You’re closer to your goal. Closer to your mom.

But that also means you’re closer to uncertainty. Closer to the Schrodinger’s cat-type limbo where you don’t know whether or not your mom is still alive. Only with Schrodinger’s cat, there’s an exactly fifty percent chance that the animal is dead. Or so you think. It’s been some time since you had time to think about quantum mechanics.

Doesn’t matter. Odds are now, the scale’s been tipped a little further in that direction. 

You don’t know what you’ll do if she’s dead.

Scratch that. You kind of know what you’ll do. Scream. Cry, probably. Either that or just go silent.

You don’t know what you’ll do if she’s just disappeared.

Because then there’s Schrodinger’s cat again, constantly hovering between life and death. Knowing at least gives you facts – you’ll be certain as to whether she’s dead or alive.

Not knowing will rip you apart.

Sungyoon decides it’s enough when you wake up the third time during his second watch, chest heaving from nightmares where you return home alone and there’s no one. Not him, not your mom, not even a single zombie. There’s no blood on the floor or anything to indicate struggle. The house is perfect, just as you left it when you went back to university the last time.

But it’s empty. Cold.

And only silence answers your calls.

“Okay, that’s it.” Sungyoon’s tone is softer than his sharp words. He gently grips your shoulders, pulling you up in the darkness. “What’s wrong? What are you dreaming of?”

You shiver even in his hold, remembering the chill of the empty house, the choking silence that greeted your calls. How do you begin to describe that, the fear of not knowing whether or not your mother is alive?

Then it hits you.

Sungyoon will understand. He has to. He walked back to a zombie infested city on an injured leg to find his sister and her boyfriend, Sumin and Bomin, all the while not knowing if they were alive or dead.

“What if she’s not there?”

His grip slackens. “What?”

You swallow. “What if my mom isn’t there?”

For a long moment, both of you stay silent. In the dark, you can’t even make out the expression on Sungyoon’s face.

“I don’t know,” he finally replies. “What will you do?”

Fear ices your throat. You can’t speak. What will you do? If it turns out you came all this way, across an entire country, for nothing?

“What did you do?” you manage once it feels like your vocal cords have thawed. “When you went back and…?” A wince of guilt and shame keeps you from saying more.

Sungyoon falls quiet. You recognize this silence not as brooding, not as angry, but thinking. Contemplative. It eases the tightness in your chest.

“It felt like everything was lost to me,” he finally says. “They were all I had left. When it finally hit me that they were gone…” He shakes his head. “But that’s not what you meant, right? You’re asking about before. When I didn’t know.”

You nod, curling closer into him. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know,” Sungyoon says. “Honestly, I don’t know how I dealt with it. All I know is that it was eating at me so much that I had to go back and find out myself. So I was an idiot.”

There’s a little smile in his voice, a twitch of the lips that you can hear in his last few words. Your mouth almost curves, too. “But what if we go back and I still don’t know?” you ask. “What if she’s just… gone?”

“It’ll be your choice whether or not you want to leave it at that or keep looking,” Sungyoon answers after a pause. “I can’t make the decision for you. But…”

You look up. “But?”

“You know what kept me going after all of that?” He doesn’t wait for a reply. “The fact that you offered to let me come with you, despite what had happened. It was the fact that someone, more or less a stranger, gave me a place with them.”

“Really? I honestly thought you were going to laugh in my face as soon as I said it,” you admit. “I’d just… done that, and a few hours later, I was asking you to walk across an entire country with me.” You wince. “Not exactly bonding material.”

“I won’t lie, I kind of considered it.” Sungyoon seems to shrug in the darkness. “But even then, I knew you weren’t evil, regardless of what happened. You still lost a friend. You were still trying to stay alive. And when you talked about your mom…” He sighs. “What I’m saying is you were there for me, Y/N.” His grip on your hand tightens softly. “And whatever happens when we get to your home, I’ll still be there for you.”

The lump in your throat refuses to let you speak, so you only sink further into Sungyoon’s body, trying to hold back the tears threatening to escape your eyes. He seems to understand. His fingers rise and card through your hair, stroking smooth against your scalp.

If this is how Daeyeol felt every time you did this when he was sick, you now understand why he asked for head pats whenever he wasn’t doing well. It soothes you, even if one or two tears do make their way down your face at the thought of your best friend.

Fuck. You close your eyes. Daeyeol would have found a good friend in Sungyoon, you’re sure. Your mom would probably love him too. More than anything, you wish they were here.

But you still have someone. You have Sungyoon. You have someone you trust, someone you rely on, someone you can hold close at times like this when you start to spiral and can’t force yourself out of your mind.

You’d like to say that Sungyoon feels the same.

“Is that okay?” Sungyoon asks softly, breaking into your thoughts. His fingers keep stroking your hair gently, softly.

Your eyes are starting to close again, weighed down by sleep. Nightmares might be waiting, but Sungyoon’s words and warmth make you think they might stay at bay. You nod against his chest. “Yes,” you murmur. “More than okay.”

“Good.” His hands don’t stop. “Now sleep. There are only a few hours before dawn.”

You don’t need to be told twice, only curl further into him and shut your eyes. As sleep finally begins to roll over you in waves, you sigh. “Thank you,” you whisper.

His breath stirs your hair. “For what?”

A small smile curves your lips.

“For being here.”

. . . . .

The buildings start looking familiar two weeks and five zombie attacks later. There are more undead here, probably because you’re closer to the site of the explosion. Even though you’re still several states away, the virus spread more quickly here than on the other side of the country.

At some point after the third attack, you try to apologize while patching up several scrapes on Sungyoon’s arms. There isn’t even time to stay – you need to keep riding, find a place to take shelter for the night before zombies find you. He doesn’t deserve this.

“You don’t either,” he points out. “Neither of us ever deserved this.”

“But I have to deal with it to get home. You don’t.”

“And I signed up for the ride.” Sungyoon pats a bandage more firmly in place before taking your outstretched hand and standing up. He squeezes your fingers. “Come on, let’s get moving.”

Your heart pounds painfully as you ride down the last stretch of highway, faded signs bearing the name of your hometown. Everything almost looks the same, if you ignore the dried blood spattered along the sidewalks and panes of shattered glass on the streets.

And the zombies milling about at the base of the exit.

Sungyoon stops when you do, frowning when he sees the faint outlines of white skin and blackened veins. “Great.”

You snort, hysteria building in your throat. “Great” is the perfect way to put it. So close, yet so far – separated from your home by a throng of the undead.

There are only a few right now. From here, up on the highway, you can only count four or five. Zombies don’t move fast and if it’s just those few, you could probably outstrip them.

But they’re definitely not the only ones. And you have no way of knowing just how many are left in the city.

Think, think, think! You hit your head lightly. You grew up here, explored the entire city, walked all the roads by the time you went off to college the first time. Even though things have probably changed, they can’t be too drastically different. Any small nooks, any back roads or alleys you can find where zombies aren’t likely to be…

“What do you think will be more zombie infested?” you ask. “Residential roads or the actual city?”

“… City,” Sungyoon says. “More densely packed people, right?”

You bite your lip. He’s right. The highway leads to a road that cuts straight through the middle of the city and it would probably be faster to follow it straight down and just make a few appropriate turns before reaching your home, but it’ll probably be safer to take the longer local path.

Local it is. God, you hope your sense of direction is as good as it used to be.

“We’re going straight down now before more zombies come,” you say, swinging a leg over your bike. “As fast as you can. We turn left at that first traffic light and then be ready to follow me.”

The downward slope of the highway gives you a burst of speed you dearly need once you reach the road. You speed past abandoned cars and several milling zombies that turn to give chase, but you and Sungyoon are already turning left, racing down a street of empty shops and cafes. You used to hang out there with Daeyeol and a few of your friends before –

Not the time. You pedal faster. The groans of chasing zombies has grown fainter, which is good, but there are definitely more.

As if on cue, several sets of gangly, white limbs pop out from behind a building, lurching towards Sungyoon’s bike. He swerves around a car and you grit your teeth to avoid crying out. “Keep going!” you shout, pedaling faster. Faster.

Street signs whiz past. You almost miss the first turn, jerking sharply to the right at the last minute. Sungyoon curses and you look back but he’s following, still following, weaving around zombies and cars as he keeps racing forward.

Right. Left. Straight. Left. More zombies join the chase, relentless even as you and Sungyoon leave them behind, legs straining to keep the speed. 

Left, left, straight. Pedaling uphill is a pain. Your thighs burn and your chest aches but then you’re rolling downhill and you catch your breath before straining once more.

Straight. Right. Right. Left. You pass by your old high school, grass trampled and overgrown in the front.

Left, right. You race down a street lined with houses you used to envy – if you lived closer to school, you wouldn’t have had to get up early for the bus every morning.

Straight. You pedal past a small plaza. Clubs used to congregate in the restaurants for end of year celebrations. It’s where you went with your friends on the last day of high school and where you had dinner with your mom the next day after graduation.

Mom. Mom. You go right, then left, racing past aching memories, all the while conscious of zombies groaning in the background and Sungyoon panting by your side. Mom, I’m almost there. Almost home.

Please be there.

The last street comes into sight. You swing around a last building and a last car, finding yourself on a familiar street that you haven’t seen in years. You pedal slower, slower, until you stop in front of your house.

Memories almost paralyze you. This was where you met Daeyeol when he first moved in. This was where you almost got hit by a speeding car when you were out playing as a child. This was where you walked from every day to the bus stop for over five years to get to school –

Sungyoon grabs your wrist, glancing behind. Already, the sound of groans is growing louder. “Is this it?” he asks, nodding at the front door.

“Yeah,” you breathe. You squeeze your eyes shut, shake yourself out of your daze. “Yeah. Come on.”

With each step forward, you feel like you’re walking back in time. You grow younger and younger, smaller and smaller, until you’re finally pulling out the house key you’ve kept in your bag for so long, waiting for this moment –

You stop, key held uselessly between your fingers as you take in the scuff marks around the doorknob and the lock.

The door has already been forced open at least once.

Sungyoon notices the marks, notices your silence. He pulls open the door anyway and shoves you inside, slamming it shut behind you.

He plucks the key from your hand. Locks the door with a faint, familiar click. 

You look around in a daze, taking in overturned furniture, books and magazines strewn over the floor, cabinets left open from what you can see in the kitchen. Clouds of dust spring up where you step.

You sneeze. The sound brings you back to the present.

Your home has been ransacked. Someone broke in and took what they thought was worth taking, leaving behind furniture and books and the piano standing against the wall. Someone broke in and either spared your mother or killed her –

Or she wasn’t there in the first place.

You can feel Sungyoon’s eyes following your movements as you step forward, slow and cautious. Dust itches your throat and burns your eyes but you keep moving, surveying the damage. “Mom?”

There’s no sign of human life. Not a footprint in the dust, not a handprint on the wall. But there’s also no blood. No sign of struggle.

So where is she?

“Mom?”

Panic seizes your chest and you walk forward faster, looking into the kitchen as if she’ll be hiding somewhere there. When she doesn’t appear, you turn into the bathroom, the bedrooms, but only a mess of dust and objects meets your eyes. “Mom?”

No one replies.

She’s not here.

You try to reason it away. Maybe she’s out looking for food. Maybe she’s hiding. But you don’t have a basement or second floor so there’s nowhere she could be, and why would she be hiding, anyway? As for food…

Dust comes away on your fingertips as you drag them along the floor. Somewhere along the way, you sank down against the wall, alone in the hallway. Bits of dust rise with every breath you take.

If she was just looking for food, the house would still appear lived in. There wouldn’t be so much dust and dirt everywhere.

But she might have had to leave when people broke into the house. Right?

Or not. You swallow, tears starting to flow down your face. There was no sign of struggle, no blood or cracks in the wall. Just overturned furniture, probably from someone’s careless movements while looking for necessities.

Which means she isn’t here.

Not here. Not here. Not here not here not here not here – you came all this way and survived so many attacks and even lost Daeyeol and she’s not here –

And –

Daeyeol –

A cracked, broken sound emerges from your throat and your pounding head falls into your hands. You came this whole way and watched Daeyeol shoot himself just to find the dusty, empty house from your nightmares –

“Y/N.”

You turn your head to see Sungyoon in the hallway, holding a piece of paper in one hand. His face is pale.

He holds out the paper before you can work through the lump in your throat to ask what’s wrong. “I think you should read this.”

. . . . .

It’s long past dark and you still can’t sleep. Sungyoon drifted off about an hour ago, but even though you lie under the same sheet next to him on the floor, not even his warmth can lull you into dreamland this time.

Well. Probably more like nightmare land. The piece of paper crinkles in your hand, as if to remind you of what you’ve lost.

You try to close your eyes against the words that seem to flash in your vision. No use. They’ve tattooed themselves to the backs of your eyelids, trembling letters written in your mother’s familiar scrawl…

Y/N, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry. I’m most likely dead.

Why did she feel the need to apologize for being dead? If anything, it’s your fault for not getting here fast enough.

Of course, there is the chance that I’m just out looking for food and will come back soon, but if I’m not home by night, it isn’t likely.

Night has gone and passed. It’s probably closer to morning.

Every time I leave the house, I put out this note. That way, in case you manage to find your way back, you’ll have this much left from me.

Tears start to build up again behind your still puffy eyes.

I heard you on that phone call. I knew you would come back or at least die trying. Because that’s who you are, Y/N, my strong, darling child. Brave to the last.

Brave. Ha. If only she knew how much you relied on others to keep you sane. First Daeyeol, then Sungyoon…

I miss you. Every day I miss you. But I have hope that you will come home one day, return to this house, even if I’m not there to welcome you.

She wasn’t.

If you are reading this note and I am not there, don’t blame yourself. It isn’t your fault. Nothing is certain, especially not our lives, not mine, not yours. If it was my time, then it was my time. Don’t hurt yourself, thinking you should have gotten here before.

But you could have. Maybe you should have. Sungyoon certainly thought so, judging from his silence as you read the note. He read it too, before you, and you know he was thinking you should have left him and his fractured leg back at that house in the city infested with zombies, left him and come back four weeks earlier to hopefully find your mother, alive and whole –

You don’t think you could’ve chosen differently, though. Sungyoon was there, right in front of you, injured and broken and you couldn’t just leave him behind. Even if your mother had still been here then (which you don’t think she was – the thick layer of dust all over the house speaks of over a month of disuse), would you even have made it back? Or, alone, would you have fallen to the trap of your own mind?

And even if you had returned in time, how would she have thought of you, knowing you left an injured person behind? You wouldn’t have been able to keep it from her. It would’ve spilled out, sometime.

Your heart clenches. Even though there logically wasn’t much you could do, it still hurts to think that you might’ve had a last chance to see her before she went.

Always remember that I love you, Y/N. You have always been the pride of my life. You are strong and brave, and if anyone is to survive this disaster, I pray it is you, both as my child and as a ray of hope for the future. We know something like this can’t happen again. I know you. I know you will help prevent it.

The tears start to spill. Again.

I love you. I miss you. I hope I will see you soon, but not before it is truly your time.

- Your loving mother

Tears fall harder, faster. You turn, pulling yourself out of the blanket so you won’t wake Sungyoon, and sit there, shaking with silent sobs.

I love you too. And I miss you even more.

You have little left of your mother but this note. All her clothes were taken from her room, the sheets of her bed pulled away, even her toolbox laid empty. Trinkets from shelves and tables lay smashed on the floor, fallen from careless searching. A few framed pictures survived. Little more. You don’t even have her body – you can’t even bury her, your mom, your hero, you can’t even give her the same respects you paid Daeyeol –

Your watery eyes light on the shadow of the piano, hidden in the darkness. The lid covering the keys is still closed, protecting them from dust, just the way you left it when you went back to university.

As if in a trance, you stand, walking towards the piano and settling on the dusty bench. You haven’t grown in the years since you’ve been at school and it’s still pulled the same distance back, leaving just enough space for you to stretch your hands out on the keys once you’ve lifted the lid. Dust billows and you cough, batting it away, but you put your hands back on the keyboard.

And begin to play.

It’s your mother’s favorite piece, a sonata’s slow second movement that she said never failed to calm her after a long day. But you don’t play it well – your fingers slip. You don’t remember all the notes. Rhythms are wrong, the melodies stilted, and you stop playing, resting your elbows on the edge of the instrument as you grind the heels of your palms into your eyes, tears beginning to pound once more. You couldn’t bury her so you thought you could give her a little music, but holy fuck, you can’t even properly give this tribute because you can’t play the fucking piece –

Sungyoon sits on the edge of the bench. You jump – you never realized he was awake, and you open your mouth to apologize for waking him up – but he just looks at you with a softness you can feel even in the dark. “Keep playing.”

Fingers trembling, you put them back on the keyboard. It doesn’t get better – missed notes and wrong rhythms still plague the piece – but Sungyoon nudges you every time you falter, pushing you to finish. And when you do, tears falling to the dust onto your lap, he pulls you over and wraps an arm around you, letting your head fall to his shoulder as you cry.

He holds you until the sun rises and you finally fall asleep.

. . . . .

As much as you want to leave as soon as you wake, you stay at home another day. Both of you need a break before you keep going west, now that there’s no time crunch, and there don’t seem to be many zombies walking up and down the street. As long as you and Sungyoon keep the window blinds shut, you consider yourself about as safe as you can get.

The security helps a little. Takes away a bit of anxiety. But wherever you go, no matter how messy the rooms are, you always know that you’re in the same house you grew up in. Just with the most important people of your childhood missing.

But Sungyoon is important, and Sungyoon is here. It helps, a little. Though when you find him staring at the few family photos left on a table, photos with you and your mother and one even with Daeyeol’s family, you have to leave the room because it just reminds you that Sungyoon lost everyone and has little beyond his sister’s earrings, as far as you know, to remember them by. And he had to take them from her body, when in any other “normal” situation of death he would’ve left them in for her burial…

Sungyoon cried over the earrings several weeks ago. Just looking at the pictures, comparing the memories they hold to two little gold hoops that can’t even fit around Sungyoon’s fifth finger, almost makes you want to smash the frames to the ground.

You almost don’t take them with you. It’s only when Sungyoon holds out the thin frames that you remember them, two-dimensional faces of people you lost, smiling with a joy that you don’t think you’ll feel ever again.

“You’ll want them,” Sungyoon says quietly. “It hurts now, but you will. Trust me.”

The weight behind his words convinces you.

In the end, you put them in your bag, stuffing your mother’s note into one of the frames. Sungyoon helps you cushion them with your spare clothes. When you’ve finally packed them away, you walk with him to the front of the house before hesitating in the doorway.

Sungyoon glances at you. “Ready?”

You don’t turn around, but you let your eyes wander over what of the living room you can see from here. You’ve left this house many times, both times when you went to university and every time you left after a break, but you always came back. Even when everything happened, you came back. You still came back.

This time, you don’t think you’ll ever return.

“Y/N?”

You hear Sungyoon, but you still say nothing, riveting your gaze to the door. Once you leave this house, you won’t come back. You can’t even hope for it.

But you think it’ll be okay, because home isn’t just a place. It’s with people, too. And though you will never forget your original home with your mom and Daeyeol, you think you’ve found the beginnings of another home with Sungyoon.

You take Sungyoon’s hand, tangle your fingers through his. He looks at you with some concern but you don’t look back, just blink your eyes and take a breath.

You’re leaving your original home for a less certain one, a home bound solely in human attachment without the solid root of a house. It’s a little tenuous, a little shaky, but with your hands joined like this, you think there’s a possibility things might be okay.

It’s a chance you’re willing to take.

“Yeah.” You finally look up, squeezing his fingers once. You twist the doorknob. “Let’s go.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for a certain two characters to stay alive)

[intheticklecloset]

Off-Kilter (Haikyuu!!)

Primary Universe

@veryblushyswitch Thank you! I'm having a lot of fun writing them! (It's kind of weird seeing your old picture there now, lol.) Anyway, thank you for the fun prompt! I went with Kageyama as the lee because that boy deserves all the tickles. Enjoy! ^^

~

The gym door slid open, and all Noya could think was, finally. Only it wasn’t Asahi, like he’d been expecting. It was Kageyama. What made his arrival even more out of place was that Hinata wasn’t bounding in ahead of or after him.

Still, practice was practice.

“Hey, Kageyama,” he called, drawing the first-year’s attention. “Grab a ball and help me practice my receives.”

Kageyama blinked. “Sure.”

Where is Asahi? Noya wondered. The only reason he was here at this ungodly hour of the morning was because the ace had asked him to help him practice serves. For that matter, if Kageyama was here, where was Hinata? It was unusual for the two of them not to arrive together.

Just as the setter was grabbing a ball out of the basket after shedding his club jacket, Tanaka entered, yawning. Noya stared at him. He never arrived early. What was going on today?

Well, the more the merrier.

“Tanaka! You, too. Get a ball and start serving. Let’s go!”

“It is way too early for you to be this hyper, my dude,” Tanaka mumbled good-naturedly, following the libero’s orders.

“Blame Asahi. He said he’d be here and he’s not. I’ve got a bone to pick with him and it’s making me antsy.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Noya,” Kageyama called from the opposite side of the net. “Ready?”

Noya nodded, getting into position. “Bring it on.”

For the next several minutes, Noya practiced his receiving while Kageyama and Tanaka practiced their serves. The latter was getting much better; he’d even begun to form a pre-serve routine, which Noya found hilarious. But it was effective, so he wasn’t complaining. Their setter, though, was off his game today. His serves were consistent in getting over the net, but not in landing where they were meant to, which made Noya have to work even harder to receive them. Again, he wasn’t complaining; it was good practice. But the libero did have to wonder what exactly was going on in this gym this morning. Everything felt…off, somehow.

And Asahi still wasn’t showing up. Noya would give him a good scolding for that later, for sure.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes, Tanaka tossed a serve over the right side of the net that Noya received perfectly. But directly after his serve, Kageyama served as well, evidently having not realized the libero wasn’t ready for him yet. Still, Noya made a valiant effort by lunging to the left side of the court and thrusting out his arm.

“Rolling thunder!” he yelled dramatically, barely catching the ball’s landing with the top of his hand. It bounced once, then landed outside the court a few feet away.

“Sorry,” Kageyama called. “That was my bad.”

“Dude, you’re all sorts of off-kilter this morning,” Noya observed, getting to his feet with a grin. He put his hands on his hips. “Did you not get enough sleep or something?”

“Our royal highness needs his beauty rest,” Tanaka teased.

Kageyama bristled. “Shut up! I got enough sleep. I’m just not energized yet.”

“It’s because you and Hinata didn’t race your butts off trying to get here before the sun this morning, huh?”

The setter didn’t deny it.

Noya shrugged, ducking under the net to join them on their side of the court. “That’s okay. We’ll help you wake up. We can run laps around the gym.”

Tanaka groaned. “Noyaaaa, why do you have to be like that?”

“What? Running laps is important exercise. Besides, it’s probably about time we switched things up anyway. The others will be here eventually. It would be good to have a head start; show them what sleeping in gets them.” When neither of his teammates moved, Noya reached forward to grab each of their wrists and start pulling. “Come on, you lazy bums. Let’s go. Just a few laps, come on.”

Tanaka groaned but eventually gave in. Kageyama started jogging, but not very quickly.

Noya laughed. “You’re both so slow! How about this – if I get my laps in before you I’ll make you do finger push-ups at the end.”

With that, the libero took off, Tanaka right behind him. “You can’t tell me what to do, you little spiky-haired brat! I’m a second-year, same as you!”

“Doesn’t matter! Everyone knows I’m the team’s star. You gotta listen to me if you want to get better!”

“I’ll show you!”

The second-years raced around the gym, blazing past Kageyama once, twice, and then a third time before finally completing their five laps. Despite Noya’s threat, the setter didn’t seem to be in any hurry.

Pumped up from the race, both Noya and Tanaka barreled towards the first-year, yelling at the top of their lungs. Kageyama turned but had no time to react before they were on him, tackling him to the floor of the gym. The libero then recalled a play from Hinata’s book and smirked, starting to poke up and down his side.

Kageyama giggled immediately, unable to hold back despite how much he wished he could. “Ah! No!”

“Wake up, Kageyama,” Noya teased.

“No, dohohon’t!”

Tanaka grinned like the Tasmanian Devil and joined in, skipping over poking and going straight to digging into his ribs. “Come on, bro! You can’t be that sluggish without Hinata! Wake up!”

“Stop!” Kageyama pleaded, smiling uncontrollably. He tried to sit up and push them away, but they each grabbed a shoulder and pushed him back down, keeping him in place while they tickled him gently. “Guys!”

Noya smirked. “You know, watching you get stuck in the door of that bus was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.”

“Ugh, lehehehet it go alreadyehehehehe!”

“No kidding! He couldn’t even move,” Tanaka agreed. “It was hilarious!”

“S-Stahahap! D-Don’t tihihickle me!”

The second-years exchanged glances, grinning wickedly at each other and then at Kageyama. Without a word, they each went all in, grabbing at whatever ticklish spots they could reach on his torso as he jerked and started thrashing beneath them, giggles turning to laughter.

“Nohohohohoho! Stahahahap it! Dohohohohon’t – nohohohohohohoho!” The setter squealed, shoving desperately at the hands digging into his stomach. He kicked his legs frantically. “Nohohoya, Tanaka, stahahahahahahahap!”

“Are you awake yet?” Noya asked, smiling wide at his younger teammate.

“Yehehehehes, I’m awahahahahake!”

Tanaka hummed. “Are you suuuure?”

Kageyama couldn’t stop giggling to save his life, and it was embarrassing him. How pathetic was he, being this ridiculously sensitive to the lightest touch? He tried to roll onto his side but only succeeded in giving Tanaka better access to his lower back and spine, making him flop right back down. “Ahahahahahaha, stahahahahahap! Plehehehehehease!”

“All right, I guess that’s enough,” Noya said, removing his fingers and sitting back, proud of the work they’d done. “Feeling a little more energized now?”

“Ugh…y-yeah, whatever,” Kageyama said with a groan, sitting up. A flash of orange caught his eye, and when he turned to look over Tanaka’s shoulder he saw Hinata standing there, eyes bright and smile wide, looking like he wanted to run a million laps. The setter’s eyes widened. “Hinata!”

“Are you tickling him? Can I join?” Hinata asked, not wasting any time.

Kageyama scrambled to his feet. “No, no! They’re not – you can’t – no!” He turned on his heel and sprinted away as the tiny redhead leaped at him, fingers wiggling and already laughing for the both of them. “Stay away! Hinata, no! No! Back off!”

Noya and Tanaka got to their feet as well, grinning at the two of them sprinting around the court, Kageyama deftly escaping Hinata’s speed only by making sudden, sharp u-turns as he ran, throwing the little decoy off.

“Well,” Tanaka said, “I see he has no problem running laps now.”

Noya chuckled. “Hinata certainly is a good motivator for him, that’s for sure.”

“Hey guys,” a new voice entered the mix, and they turned to see one of the third-years enter the gym. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Asahi!” Noya snapped, marching up to the much taller ace, suddenly remembering why he wanted to release his pent-up energy in the first place. “You told me to be here at five! Five! In the morning! What time is it now?”

Asahi held up his hands defensively. “I’m sorry, I overslept—”

“Do you know what I’ve had to put up with while I’ve been waiting for your butt to get here? These underclassmen are impossible!”

Tanaka held up a finger. “Uh, hello, I’m a second-year just like you.”

Across the gym, Hinata shrieked as Kageyama suddenly turned around and caught him around the waist, shoving him to the floor and hooking his fingers into his ribs. “Ah! Nohohohohohoho fahahahahair, Kahahahageyama!”

Noya kept shouting at Asahi. “It took me nearly thirty minutes to get Kageyama fired up enough to practice properly, and now Hinata comes bursting in here and making me look like a fool!”

Asahi blinked. “Noya, I said I’m sorry—”

“And another thing…!”

Tanaka sighed, turning to leave everyone at it while he cleaned up the volleyballs spread out around the court from their earlier practice. Might as well, he thought. This could take a while.

[serenasoutherlyns]

Not a Summer Crush Part Five

a/n: i haven't been doing this on purpose, but i keep alternating, long chapter followed by short chapter. i think the longest is 6k words and this one is 2.5k-ish, my apologies for its shortness. but!! this one has everyone's favorite Rita Calhoun, jealousy, Serena Southerlyn's meddling tactics, middle school, and even graduate school. enjoy, and remember any feedback is appreciated more than you all could ever know.

Part Five

When Alex got home from work that evening, she finally had a moment to process that day’s moment on the courthouse steps. She texted Serena, trying to fit all the pieces together in her head.

Alex: What the hell?

Serena: ?

Alex: Serena!

Serena: Yes?

She gave up on coherent texting and decided to call her friend instead.

---

Casey was confusing herself again. Having second thoughts was not how she would put it. No, she was still sure of what she wanted (as sure as she was going to be, doing something very new and all), it was the methods that were bothering her. Namely, that she felt like she had none.

Alex had been difficult early on. The beginning was, in most respects, the most difficult time of their relationship. They had both been in rough patches, trying to be different people than they’d been before, and Casey thought, hoped, they’d both been successful. Alex had found a sense of balance and justice that guided her to powerful places. And Casey could look around her life and point lots of little things out: the tennis racquet beside her softball bat, their well-stocked kitchen, the literary journals lined up in a row on her bookshelf, little markers of stability and self-assuredness that reminded her how she’d changed and stayed the same over the years. She hadn’t felt this untethered since she kissed Alex for the first time.

“Casey, it’s called having a crush,” Rita said after she explained herself over a scotch.

---

“What’s going on, Alex?” Serena’s voice came over the speakerphone as Alex set it down on the countertop.

“Do you want to tell me why you asked my second chair out on the courthouse steps in the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday?”

Serena laughed at her. “I don’t think I did,” she said.

“Hey, Caroline,” Alex mocked Serena’s slightly husky voice, “Won’t you please reserve me a spot on your dance card this weekend?” She said as she popped the cork out of a bottle of wine with an angry pop as punctuation.

“I don’t talk like that,” Serena said. “And all I did was tell her I wanted to dance, I don’t think I asked her for anything, in fact.”

“I don’t remember it like that.”

“So it’s on your mind, huh.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh my god.” Alex thought of what to say as she sipped.

“I mean,” Serena filled the silence, “If you aren’t going to, I will, you know?”

“Serena!” Alex all but yelled into the phone.

“Uh-huh,” she replied, “that’s what I thought.” She paused for a moment, then said, “I wasn’t

asking her out, I was giving you a reason to go dancing with her again.

“I don’t follow.”

“Sure you don’t. Look, I’ll make a groupchat with you, Casey, me and Caroline, and make plans in there, thus implying that all of us are going. It’s simple.”

“What?” Alex asked, actually not following her friend at this point.

“Just let it happen, Lex. Where is Casey, anyway?”

Alex swirled her wine around. “Rita absconded with her after work today. She said it was something about a case.”

“I don’t think they’re opposing one another on anything right now,” Serena said.

“I’ve learned not to ask questions,” Alex said, referencing the schemes Rita and her wife liked to pull occasionally. Then, realizing what she might be implying, she said, “Remember Sophie’s birthday last year?” and was answered with Serena’s light laugh from the other end of the call.

---

Casey’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I guess so.” Rita was surprised that Casey didn’t fight her on it. She decided to push.

“So, when are you going to ask her out?” Casey looked at her.

“We haven’t like, set a date,” she said. “Do people usually set dates for that kind of thing?

“They usually have a plan of some kind, I think. I mean, I do.”

Rita’s phone buzzed three times, two texts and a photo from Pippa. She didn’t hide her nerves fast enough for Casey to miss it. She shot her friend a look over her glass, saying, “you have a plan, right?”

Rita rolled her eyes. “Stop deflecting.” This time it was Casey’s turn to get the notifications.

New Groupchat (4)

Serena: So, Saturday night, right? Where?

Caroline: Why don’t you meet me at my apartment? The place is kind of hard to find.

Serena: Works for me. Alex? Casey?

Casey had no idea what the texts were about, suspected Serena of some kind of scheme.

Casey: Sure? But what are we doing?

Serena: Dancing!

Caroline: Dancing. Ashley’s on the road so I needed another partner.

Alex: We’re going dancing on Saturday.

Casey looked up from her phone to find an expectant Rita looking at her. “Apparently, I’m going dancing on Saturday.

“With Caroline?”

“And Alex. And Serena.”

Rita smiled wryly. “Good luck.”

---

“Okay, okay, order, order,” you said quieting the room of middle schoolers at the end of practice. “Remember, I can’t be there with you this weekend at the competition, and I have to leave early tonight,” you said, to a chorus of sighs, “I know, I know, I’m sorry. But you’ll all do great, I know it. Listen to your teachers, stick to your plans, and do your best.” The adoring eyes of the team were all on you. “And, if you win, I’ll buy you pizza. Deal?”

Nothing motivates tweens like a pizza party, but you weren’t worried about their performance. If nothing else, you knew Ophélie was a zealous team captain, putting it delicately. She had learned to be persistent from you, which was great at a competition, more annoying when she had chores. You gave her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek as you said goodbye to the team, despite her “no affection in public rule” (because the nature of the adolescent is to be embarrassed), and sent a text to Casey letting her know you’d be out soon.

When you saw her waiting for you outside the school building, your heart skipped a beat. It was that same feeling that you’d felt when Alex was in your apartment-- an intimacy that should’ve felt unusual, out of place, instead felt perfectly natural and comfortable. You hugged in greeting, grateful that you’d all decided that would be acceptable affection for colleagues.

“You know,” you said, “You really didn’t have to come meet me here.” Casey shrugged.

“I wanted to. Nice sweater,” she said, teasing you. It was one of those summer evenings where the sunset had brought a cool breeze with it, and you’d stolen one of Ophélie’s uniform cardigans. It was simple and navy blue, but the school logo embroidered on the breast gave it away. The two of you walked together towards the nearest subway station.

“Thanks,” you said, in an unserious tone. “Where’s Alex?”

“She’s already at the bar,” Casey replied, “I was told to retrieve you before the announcement.”

“It can’t be any big surprise,” you said, wondering. “She’s been agonizing over these applications forever.”

“She’s Gillian. She agonizes.” You looked up at the buildings, lights beginning to come on in the apartment buildings and off in the offices. Casey looked at your lifted head and the way it created a line, sloping and elegant, jawline to neck to collarbone. She pushed one palm with the opposite thumb and bit her lip, thinking about her conversation with Rita. She was right, they needed a plan, or one of these days she was going to kiss you without thinking.

Your voice snapped her out of it, but she didn’t hear what you said. “Casey?”

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you were excited to come dancing again this weekend.” The two of you walked down the stairs to the subway station, you in front, looking over your shoulder as Casey answered you.

“Oh! Yes, I definitely am. I didn’t know that Serena could dance, Alex told me it was her idea.”

“Apparently she studied abroad. I’m glad she asked, though.” That gave the knot of jealousy in Casey’s stomach a tug. She had no right to be jealous, but she couldn’t help but feel it. Serena is beautiful, and single, she doesn’t work with them, she’s super smart and funny, and apparently she knows how to dance.

“I’m glad we’ll have enough people to switch up partners a couple times,” Casey said, assuaging the jealousy.

“That’s the best part,” you agreed.

---

You made it to the table just in time to hear the announcement.

The third announcement. It would appear that Rita had somehow gotten ahold on all of Gillian’s acceptance letters and was withholding them from the rest of the group (except, of course, for the honoree herself, who was happy to go along with the plan, not that she had much of a choice). Glasses were raised and congratulations expressed as Rita said, “the third acceptance is… Yale!”

Polite applause came around the table. Gillian smiled bashfully as everyone told her how proud they were. Of all of you, she was the only person smart enough (or crazy enough) to go back to school after navigating the complex legal world of New York City.

“Which ones did we miss?” Casey said as the two of you slid into the two open seats.

“She got into Columbia,” Serena said, “which means she could stay in Manhattan. A few glasses around the table were raised again, encouraging her to stay close.

“And Stanford,” Alex added. You shot Gillian an excited look, happy at the mention of your alma mater.

“How many more letters are there?” You asked. Rita checked the pile of envelopes in her hand.

“Two.”

As soon as Sophie noticed that neither you nor Casey yet had a drink, there were whiskeys in your hands. As soon as Serena remembered that you were returning from coaching a mock trial team, and remembering what she knew of Casey’s feelings about kids, she began to ask you questions. How was the team, what case are they presenting, do they love you, (truly who wouldn’t). She was almost tiring you out.

“Is she always this persistent?” you asked Alex, smiling at Serena as you did so. You had to know if your eyes were deceiving you, your wishful thinking getting the best of your powers of observation yesterday when you saw her jealous look.

You were correct.

Almost faster than could be perceived, Alex’s eyes narrowed, looking into Serena’s, not yours; as if to say what the hell are you doing. Raised shoulders, her fingers pressing slightly into the table, her tongue in the back of her throat: you’d seen enough jealous boyfriends (of women you were about to dance with, if you’re honest) in clubs to know what it looked like.

Well. That was going to be good information to have at your disposal. If nothing else, for

confirmation: that you weren’t crazy, that there was something there to notice, from both of them.

---

You would’ve considered your offer of your apartment more thoroughly had you initially understood that there would be four of you going out that Saturday night. You weren’t sure, at first, if Serena had been asking you out. Honestly, you would probably not turn her down if she did. It would certainly be a simpler path to take, and there was no denying that Serena was beautiful and smart. Of course, your affections were otherwise engaged.

But, since she had invited Casey and Alex along, you considered it more likely that she was “creating some amount of opportunity,” (a real thing you’d really heard her say once) than making a double date. It would make sense, you thought, if Alex had told her how she was feeling; and the more days that went by, the more little tender interactions, the more often you noticed her resting her eyes in your direction, the more confident you were that you weren’t making up the chemistry.

Casey was a little harder to read, but you had noticed she’d seemed slightly… preoccupied the last few times you’d been alone together. One thing you knew: their marriage was rock solid. Neither of them would do something without the others’ approval. You could only hope they had a plan. You didn’t-- unless trying to seem as desirable yet appropriate as possible could be considered a plan.

There were four people in your apartment. You couldn’t remember the last time you had people over to your place rather than Ashley and Ramin’s, so it felt especially cramped. You were each drinking a glass of wine (from Ramin’s fancy stash, you were not going to let them know just yet that the only wine you bought was two buck chuck), you and Serena were sitting on the barstools at your counter while Alex and Casey sat on the couch. You had your music collection on shuffle, which led to a few laughs at the funny combinations.

It was your turn to feel jealous, or maybe to yearn. You hoped that one of them would see the new collection of books sitting on your table: Marriage and Other Alternatives, More Than Two, and What Love Is (and what it could be). A quiet buzz of anticipation (or was it the wine?) pleasantly lodged itself in your mind as the four of you slung your bags over your shoulders and headed out for the night.

---

Pippa Cox touched her lipstick up in the mirror before returning to the table she was (finally) sharing with Rita Calhoun. For such a smart woman, Pippa had often thought, Rita was prone to running from her feelings. Having gotten her on this date was a feat indeed, even though she knew (the glances, the blushing, the way she would drift into her space, natural as anything) that they shared feelings. As Pippa sat down, Rita smiled.

Unfortunately, as Rita reached for her glass, her phone buzzed in her purse. She shrugged-- what was the point of texting when she was on a date? If it was a client, they would call her secretary who would call her. No need to fret.

“It’s nothing, I’m sure,” she said, reaching across the table to take Pippa’s hand in her own. She knew how difficult it had been for her to get back into dating, to trust anyone with her heart, which was part of why she had been so apprehensive to pursue her even though the attraction was there. She’d pinched herself when Pippa had been the one to ask, happy to be the pursued for once.

“Good,” Pippa said, “because I want you to myself tonight.” Rita nodded, bit her lip, and smiled. There was another buzz, then another, then another. Three in a row? The only people she knew who texted like that were Casey and Serena, both of whom had plans tonight.

Plans together, with Alex. Involving Caroline. She sighed, hoping that she wasn’t about to do something to hurt Pippa’s feelings. Pippa, to her credit, looked curiously at Rita’s bag as she opened it.

Notifications: 4 new messages.

Serena: This experience is simultaneously adorable and infuriating.

Serena sent a photo.

Serena sent a video.

Serena: I’m tempted to leave and let them figure it out.

Rita laughed to herself. The picture was a selfie of you four sitting at a booth, you and Alex on one side and Casey and Serena on the other. Serena had her head leaned on Casey’s shoulder, who looking across the table, while you were pressing a kiss to Alex’s cheek. Alex had a contented smile, and your table had evidence of more than a couple drinks for each of you. The video was one of you and Alex. You were holding one of her hands with the other wrapped around her waist. Alex looked terrified, poor thing, every body part was flying in the opposite direction. The sounds of Casey and Serena encouraging you both mixed with the horns and drums coming from the stage. Rita agreed with Serena, it was adorable and infuriating.

Rita: Well, that’s cute and maddening for sure.

Serena: I’ll send updates.

Rita: Tomorrow. Please don’t interrupt *my* date again, thank you.

Serena: OMG did she finally ask you out!?!??

Rita: TOMORROW.

Rita put her phone down, answering Pippa’s curious look with a wave of her hand. “Serena drama,” she said, and Pippa gave an understanding nod. “I made her promise to leave me alone for a while.” Pippa leant across the table and pecked Rita’s lips.

“Good.”

---

tags: @addictedtodinosaurs @nocreditinthestraightworld @cmmndrwidw @hi-i-1 @lesbianologist

[imaginejamesandsirius]

I freaking love your blog so much! I was wondering if you could do some fluff after the prank™️ where everybody has forgiven Sirius but he is struggling to forgive himself and James is the best boyfriend and helps him forgive himself

Please don’t feel like you have to answer. Sorry if my grammar is incorrect.

"Where are you going?" Remus asked, looking at Sirius's full arms with a frown.

"Library. I need to get some studying done." He thought that was a perfectly good reason, but Moony's frown deepened.

He didn't keep eye contact for long. There was no recrimination in Moony’s eyes, but Sirius didn't want to push it. Remus had said that he'd forgiven Sirius, but he didn't know how true that was. He didn't want to spend too much time around him and remind him of what he'd done. If he mentioned schoolwork and then got the hell out of there, he'd be able to keep their friendship in good standing. Or rather, help keep them in good standing again-- he'd ruined it the first time, and he knew that.

He shoved his feet back into his shoes, then left.

He ran into James as he was leaving the Common Room, which hadn't been part of the plan. When he ran away from Moony or Wormtail, they let him. James always followed. Sirius didn't know if that's because they were dating, or if it was because they lived together at Potter Mansion when they weren't in Hogwarts. Either way, Sirius saw him and immediately shrank back, like maybe James wouldn't see him. Which was ridiculous, of course. James saw him and beamed, then put a hand on his arm like he always had. Like nothing had changed.

"Hey, where are you headed to?"

"Library," Sirius muttered.

"Smashing. I'll catch up with you in a minute."

If he'd had the time, Sirius would've tried to tell him that he wanted to study alone and James's presence would distract him. But James pressed a kiss to his cheek and then was in the Common Room. It would be easier for Sirius to accept that this was happening than to chase James down and try to tell him that it was no big deal. With a sigh, he turned and continued walking to the library.

True to his word, James showed up a few minutes after Sirius picked a table. He'd barely started getting set up when the seat across from him was filled. "Hey, sorry that took so long," James said with his usual grin.

"I hadn't noticed."

Sirius's lack of enthusiasm didn't dampen his spirits in the slightest. Or if it did, he didn't show it. "Nothing wrong with getting our work done early, but is there something wrong with our dormitory?"

"Moony was up there."

"So?"

"I didn't want to disturb him. He always says that I distract him when I'm studying."

"He does?" James asked.

"Yes." Though it was more like Remus had said it a couple times back in second year and never again since, but it worked for Sirius right now, so he'd said 'yes'.

"Huh. Who knew?"

*

James kept doing it. Sirius would try to sneak away to give the rest of them space, and James would find him. He wasn't even using the Marauders Map-- Sirius knew, because he'd started taking it with him to try and prevent it. He was always able to find Sirius in the handful of cases that he was able to get away at all. James caught him most of the time, tailing along with Sirius's excuses like he didn't have a care in the world.

"Stop it," Sirius snapped at him one day, as James slid into the chair across from him.

James blinked. It was hard to say what was going on in his head when he let his expression go blank like that. "Stop what? Talking to you? I'm not going to do that."

"Stop pretending like nothing's changed!"

"I wasn't aware anything had changed," James replied evenly, like Sirius hadn't just yelled at him in an empty classroom with no provocation.

"I nearly killed Snape, and I made Moony do it for me. It's different now," he hissed. "Stop pretending otherwise."

James blinked again, a shameful expression coming over his face to replace the blankness that had been there before. "I thought it would make you feel better."

"To pretend that I didn't bugger everything up? Remus hates me, and he has every reason to. I can't believe Dumbledore didn't throw me out of Hogwarts; he should've."

"Don't say that."

"Why not? It's the truth."

"You made a mistake," James argued.

"Nearly murdering someone isn't a mistake. It's a crime. And what did I get for it? A couple weeks of detention. I've gotten worse punishment by mucking about with the Slytherin Quidditch teams' brooms. I got two months for that. Nearly killing someone was two weeks."

James didn't say anything. He didn't think that more detention would make Sirius feel better about this. In fact, he didn't know what would make Sirius feel better. He'd thought that his presence would help, but obviously it hadn't.

Sirius turned back to his book. He hoped that James would leave, but he didn't move. Not so much as a twitch or shift in his weight.

"Moony's forgiven you, you know. I know that he's told you he has."

"Yes, Moony's forgiven me, and Wormtail's forgiven me, and I'm not convinced you were ever mad enough at me to merit forgiveness." He sounded bitter about that, but James didn't know why; he would've thought it was a good thing that James wasn't mad at him. "Dumbledore got slightly more stern with me than ever before, but I'm not sure his forgiveness was a thing to worry about either. Snape will never forgive me, and that sits fine with me."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Things are different. And everyone's pretending that that's not true. Like, if we just pretend that nothing happened, it'll be true." Sirius had been upset from the moment James sat across from him, but now he was losing his temper, hand curling into a fist as his words became more venomous-- if not in his phrasing, then in his tone alone. All of a sudden, it became clear to James that Sirius hadn't forgiven himself, and that's why he was so upset.

"What would you rather I do? Scream and make you feel horrible?"

"It would at least be something," Sirius said, looking at James challengingly-- as if he actually expected for James to start yelling now that he'd said he would prefer it that way.

"I'm not going to do that," James said flatly.

"Then why offer?"

James leaned forward and flicked Sirius's knuckles.

He flinched away, a flash of pain crossing his face.

"You're being an arse," James said. "You know that none of us want you gone, and yet you run away like you're doing all of us a favour. Do you really think that Moony isn't beyond annoyed with you right now? He wants to see his mates, but not if he has to go around, hunting them down. Running away is- it's not always the solution. It's sure as hell not the solution right now. Does it really make you feel better? Because it doesn't make any of use feel better, and I sure hope it's doing something for someone if you're doing it every bloody day, ten times a day. Suck up your poor, pitiful feelings and at least pretend that you're a decent person."

"Really?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow. "This is your brilliant idea for how to make the situation better?"

"...No good? I thought I was making sense."

"Oh you were making sense, but it's not something you'd ever say to me genuinely."

"Hm. Yeah. That is unfortunate. Is this the part where you kick me out?"

He shook his head. Despite everything, Sirius found himself feeling better. Maybe it was that this was the first conversation they'd had where it didn't feel like they were both walking on eggshells around each other.

"Does that mean we can go back up to the dormitory? These chairs are uncomfortable."

"I don't think I'm ready for that," Sirius said, looking down at his hand. He'd bitten his nails down until there was no more white showing; James hated when he did that.

"Okay," James said slowly. He didn't know how to do this. He didn't know how to convince Sirius to forgive himself. It had been a close call-- there was no denying that-- but at the end of the day, Snape hadn't been hurt. Scared, yes, but not a hair on his head had been harmed. "You still feel guilty for what you did. You nearly got Snape killed." It was the first time he'd actually said those words aloud to Sirius, and he couldn't say that he liked it. Unfortunately, it was the truth, and it was one Sirius wanted someone to say to him. "I get it, it's horrible, and you don't know how to keep going after something like that."

"It's not that. Not just that, I mean. Yes, I did something that was completely horrid, but it's not like it's hard to keep up with the day to day of Hogwarts."

"Then what is it?"

Sirius opened his mouth, then closed it again. He flipped the page of his book, then flipped it back to where he'd been at the start. "I thought I was better than that. Different. I wasn't supposed to be anything like my family, but killing another student and getting away with it? I might as well be back at Grimmauld Place, learning how to be the leader of an Ancient and Noble House."

"You didn't kill him," James said, even though he knew that that wasn't the point Sirius was trying to make. "You're nothing like them."

"Am I not? I'm just like them, only I don't hate all muggles just for existing. That's hardly enough of a difference to matter."

"I think it would matter to muggles."

Sirius paused. "I- yes, of course, that's not what I-" He stopped and cleared his throat. He closed his book. "I'm just going to run to the kitchens." He shoved the book in his bag and got to his feet. He reached the door, then realised that James was still sat there, not moving. He glanced behind him. "You coming?"

James smiled at him. "I wasn't aware I was invited."

"You've never let that stop you before."

"Forcing my presence on you is exactly as much fun as it sounds," James said, getting to his feet. "As in: not fun at all."

"You didn't let it stop you," Sirius said again.

"Well, no. You needed company, whether you wanted to admit it or not."

"And you enjoying my presence?"

"Mere coincidence," James said airily, and it did not fool either of them.