#Okay yeah I just split the files into third to check and it would take at least 7 hours to do them all

[san-sews-seams]

Lol, I could juuuust fit all of the heraldry patches on my large embroidery hoop (well, sans the second Luthien design), but when I went to run it it was too many stitches for my machine. (Apparently she maxes out at 120,000, and the 15 patches together is about 150,000.)

And considering the run time... I may just pass on testing all the digitzations until/unless I'm actually making them for someone.

Absurd.

[alstroemeriadissonance]

NXX on Boyfriend Shirts (NSFW, Part 1)

Shorts on Rosa wearing clothing borrowed from each NXX colleague. Spicy things happen. Of course.

Credit to RoryMercury for giving me the initial idea. Aha

WARNING: NSFW. Should be SOP by now yes. Also that guy is being extra as usual.

Suffered internet outage again, so splitting this to two parts for now; next part coming soonish (before New Year hits, I hope!)

Luke (Shirt)

For Luke, you always smell of sunshine and rainbows. However today you barge into his shop smelling of sweet petrichor, bringing in the rain with you.

"Luuuuke," you wail into his thankfully empty shop. "I need your help!"

"Wait, hang on!" Luke shouts all the way from the second floor of the building, where his detective agency office is located. Soon enough you hear frantic footsteps scrambling down the stairs, and you see Luke rush to meet you by the entrance to his shop.

As always, Luke's eyes are beset with worry, something that warms your insides whenever you see it. "Rosa, oh no, I keep on telling you to bring an umbrella," he groaned. "I wish you'd check the weather before going out without one!"

He quickly runs up to the top floor of his building, where his living space is located, to grab a few towels.

"I know, I know," you grumble loudly, the cold from the rain clinging to your body now starting to chill your bones. "Stop lecturing me already."

"How else will you learn?!" Luke sighs as soon as he gets back with an armful of fluffy white towels. "Here, grab one and wrap your hair with it...let me help you dry up, okay?"

With one of the towels he goes to work to pat dry your body: from the shoulders, chest...

"Luke, you're touching my boobs," you say, hoping to tease your boyfriend into another blushing fit.

And it works. "I am helping you, you know!" Luke says, a little bit too loudly, a hot blush blooming from his neck to his face and ears. "Also, I don't want you dripping all over my shop."

You laugh. "I kid! I kid!"

As soon as he manages to wipe off what he can, Luke leads you to the bathroom located in the third floor. "Take a hot bath so you don't feel so cold," he says. "Too bad I can't get out to buy you clothes since it's raining a bit too hard, so is it alright if you can make do with one of my bigger shirts for the meantime?"

"Thanks Luke, appreciate it," you plant a peck on his cheek before running up to his bathroom to shed off your clothes and give yourself a nice, hot bath.

===

You are already enjoying a hot bath in Luke's tub when you realize that literally all of your clothes got wet.

Including your underwear.

You groan.

===

You step out of Luke's bathroom with nothing but one of Luke's fluffy towels covering your person. "Um, Luke," you call out to him. "You got something I can wear?"

"It's by the laundry basket just outside the bathroom!" He hollers back, all the way from the detective agency floor. He's probably busy, you think, and so you pick up the shirt from the spot he just indicated, and quietly slipped it on over your head.

Eventually you find that while it covers your nethers and your ass just enough, you know that it would be very very easy to have a wardrobe malfunction--especially if you bend over to pick something up.

This wouldn't do, you think, and so you quietly tiptoe downstairs just to check if Luke is too busy to be bothered with something as petty as a girlfriend needing to borrow underwear to preserve her modesty.

You see Luke poring over documents in his tiny office where he receives his clients, and seeing that he is alone you knock softly to get his attention. "Hey Luke?"

"Yo, Watson," he says, looking up from the files he is reading. "Yeah?"

"Um, are you busy?"

"Not really, no," Luke puts down the tablet. "Anything wrong?"

Should I tell him? It is only at this very moment that you realize that what you are planning to tell him--that you are in dire need to borrow one of his underwear--is very, very, embarrassing, and so you are left blushing almost from head to toe. Oh god. What am I doing.

Luke notices this. "Er, something the matter? You can tell me anything, I promise I won't laugh at you or something--well if I do laugh you can kick me, haha," he says with a grin, and you know that your longtime friend, now boyfriend, means every word that he says.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Okay, um..." You take a deep breath. "Luke, er, can I borrow one of your underwear?"

"Er. What?"

"Your underwear." You now want to throw yourself off the edge of a cliff. "I--uh--my underwear got soaked by the rain too, so...yeah..."

Luke's expression somehow becomes poker-faced. "So, are you telling me, you are not wearing anything underneath my shirt?"

"Nope." You cringe inwardly.

Luke somehow appears to mull it over, having gone quiet for a full minute, and then he finally asks, "Can you come here for a sec?"

Puzzled, you comply, finally entering his office.

"And close the door behind you."

You do so.

"Lock it too."

You pause. "Luke, what are you--wah!"

Luke closes the distance between you, quick as lightning, with one hand he pushes the doorknob lock and with the other he scoops you up, throwing you over his shoulder.

"Goddamnit Rosa, you really really have to do this to me, huh?" he mutters as he quickly clears the few items sitting on his desk before he lies you down onto the bare surface. "Do you even know how distracting you are sometimes?" He hitches up the shirt that he just lent you, pulling it off over your shoulders to reveal your fully naked body underneath.

"Wait, Luke! What if someone comes in--"

"My eye is on the CCTV, don't worry," he mutters as he helps himself to your lips, all the while letting his hands roam all over your body: a palm running across your stomach, a hand kneading your breast, then fingers finally reaching the entrance to your core, fingertips teasing your clit with minute touches that make you moan for more contact.

You know that when Luke gets started, nothing can ever stop him--you find it flattering, and sexy, yet at the same time a little too risky that you wish he'd tone it down until you could do the deed in a safer, more private setting.

Like his private quarters in the floor just up above, for instance.

"Um, Luke, wanna move to your bedroom...?" You meekly suggest as he slithers across your body, running kisses all over: breasts, stomach, your thighs...until his lips settle just above your crotch.

"Can't. Already doing it now," he mutters before he hooks one of your thighs over his shoulder to give himself better access to your pussy.

And you feel his tongue running stripes along the length of your slit, ending each stripe with a flick at your sensitive bud. "Mhm. Might as well take my lunch break now," he says with his lips against your labia.

It is actually 12 noon right now, you realize, It is lunch time, and lunch is served, you think as you giggle, then moan helplessly as Luke's lips take in your clit and lightly sucking on it.

"Oh god, Luke, I--" you moan, your face now covered by your hands.

He then slips in two fingers into you, his fingers working their magic as his lips continue sucking at your bud.

This sends you gripping the sides of his work desk so tightly that your knuckles turn white. "Please, please don't stop," you now find yourself panting, and Luke's now relentless finger fucking has you throwing your head back in sheer pleasure until you reach your peak.

"Luke!" you cry out his name, and you reach out to him for a deep kiss; he indulges you, and you can taste yourself from his tongue and lips.

"Pretty great huh?" He gives you a loopy grin as he starts unbuckling his belt, and undoing the buttons of his pants. "Could you bend over the table for me? Pretty please?" Luke drops his grin as gets you leaning over his desk, your elbows planted onto the surface and ass lifted a bit high up enough to receive his cock.

You feel him rubbing the tip of his shaft against your slit, gathering wetness before plunging into your heat. "Wow. This is definitely worth it," Luke murmurs as he inches even deeper inside your core. "I don't mind you dropping by unannounced with no underwear, Rosa," he manages to crack a joke, all the while fucking you from behind. "Maybe just make sure I don't have clients over?" He reaches around to fondle your breasts as he pumps his hard length inside.

"Haha, of all the things--oh god--to tell me while you're--hahh-- fucking me, Luke," you moan in response, despite your boyfriend's thrusting being terribly distracting.

"What else should I say," says Luke as he leans over to gently nibble at your ear, now pummeling your inner walls with his cock as his fingers now strum your nipples at the same time.

The onslaught of pleasure is such that at one point you do not know what is up and what is down anymore; Luke's tongue in your ear distracting you from making sense of your surroundings; and his incessant thrusting is cutting off trains of thought that you find yourself you cannot form coherent thoughts...

And you feel the coil slowly unravelling. "Luke, oh god, I'm gonna come..."

"Inside?" He asks, urgently.

"Yeah. Knock yourself out," You hiss, then you cry out his name out loud.

Luke then follows the tail end of your own orgasm, and he fills your inner walls with violent bursts of his hot come.

"Shit. That was great," Luke murmurs as he flops on top of you.

===

Having finished drying your clothes in a laundromat dryer, Luke returns your clothes in a wrinkled, but at least dry state.

"Whew. Thank goodness my clothes did not shrink," You say as you put your own clothes back on. "But thanks Luke, you're a life saver."

Luke gives you a knowing grin. "No thank you."

And when you leave his building, Luke cannot help but realize that not only do you smell like sunshine and rainbows to him, but you also smell of rain sometimes, and of the relief that comes after a long, parched dry season.

Vyn (Work Uniform)

"Close your eyes, beloved," Vyn whispers lovingly as he brings your hair to a lather. "The shampoo may get in your eyes."

His fingers gently massage your scalp, and slowly thread through your hair to spread the foam evenly on your tresses.

You obediently close your eyes. Vyn makes things so much easier for you, always prioritizes your comfort--why should you not obey if it is for your own good?

You still have that feisty streak in you, however, and so you turn around to face him, eyes still closed, face turned up expectantly for a quick kiss in the hot, steaming shower.

He chuckles. "Oh, you." He does not waste time teasing--thank goodness, you think--and so you feel his warm lips on yours, his warm tongue once again probing your mouth while he starts rinsing your hair with water, water hot enough to spark yet another flame of lust that was satisfied only a few minutes ago on his bed...

The erection jutting against your bare, wet stomach only makes you aware of his growing need.

With your head now clear of shampoo suds you open your eyes to see Vyn's still closed--his long silver lashes tipped with droplets of water--as he kisses you in the hot shower, somehow forgetting that the entire point of entering the shower with you was to clean yourselves of the traces of saliva, come, and sweat.

"Ah, whatever shall you do with..." Vyn begins, his hand sliding to your lower back, pressing you even closer to him, his hard cock poking at your stomach. "...this?"

You flash him a twisted smile, then grab the soap from its caddy. Wordlessly you foam suds onto your palms, then lather up Vyn's skin using your hands. Your palms run across his wet skin sensuously, and you see him lick his lips in anticipation.

"Love, you are still not answering me," Vyn purrs as he does the same for your body, until his soaped up hands linger on your chest. With soapy fingers he kneads your breasts, thumbs teasing the bundle of sensitive nerves on both your nipples.

"Mmn, Vyn," you moan, half-laughing. "No, if we do this again we'll never get any sleep!"

Your lover laughs, with a touch of derision. "I do not care. The world can wait."

His wet silver locks, freshly shampooed, stick to the sides of his head. He looks adorable, you think, and in a fit of impulse you coil your arms around his neck and, once again under the hot running water you pull him down for a kiss.

Your own soapy hand reaches down for his cock.

Vyn gasps against your lips. "Love...?"

"Well, if I take care of you now, maybe you'll settle down?" You flick your tongue at his lips, inviting him to kiss you more.

"Is that a challenge, pet?" Vyn says as he trails small love bites down your neck.

As revenge for how good he is making you feel right now, your hand starts to pump his stiff cock, and you feel Vyn breaths go shallow and fast against your ear.

"Oh fuck," he mumbles into your ear, as his own hands continue massaging your breasts.

"Am I doing it right?" you whisper.

You hear no further response from him. Instead, what you get is him thrusting into your hand, his breathing becoming even more ragged, your name escaping his lips as his movement of his hips go faster, harder...

...and you feel his hot come splatter against your stomach.

"Rosa--" Vyn says, leaning against you as his body shudders, still in the throes of utter steamy pleasure. "I truly cannot get enough of you."

===

After the both of you towel yourselves dry you rummage your overnight bag for your nightgown.

"Oh darn, where is it?" you mutter. You are sure that you packed your pink nightie, in fact it was the very last thing that you stuffed into your bag before you went to Vyn's place.

"Is something amiss, love?" Vyn asks as he combs his hair, his champagne-gold eyes looking at your reflection in the mirror.

"I can't believe it," you groan. "I think I misplaced my night wear."

Vyn hums as he hugs you from behind. "Never you mind, beloved," he whispers. "Let us make use of the simplest solution--let me lend you one of my shirts for you to sleep in."

"But that was a cute nightie," you bite your lip. "Had ribbons, and...

I specifically bought it for this occasion too, you wanted to say, but you do not put it into words.

"I am sure, as you have the most impeccable taste," Vyn smiles down at you. "If you have misplaced it, it may turn up somewhere here. I shall let you know when it does. Is this acceptable for my most cherished lady?"

"Alright," you say with a long, drawn out sigh.

Vyn's smile darkens when you are not looking. Of course your missing nightie is in the pocket of his bathrobe.

===

Vyn holds out to you one of his work shirts, for you to sleep in.

You blink. "Vyn...? Are you sure?" No doubt it is still comfortable to sleep in, as it would loosely fit your petite figure, but you are still worried about using part of his uniform to sleep in--you know he has more casual clothing that you can use...

"I insist, my dear Rosa, that you sleep in this," Vyn says in that smile of his that exudes warmth, congeniality, and that he will never yield his stance until he gets his way. "This is warmer, and more comfortable, I can assure you."

You were about to say that one of his casual loose shirts look more comfortable, but you bite your words back--you are now feeling rather sleepy, and do not feel like having a debate. "Fine, you win, Vyn, as always," you say, resignedly, as you take his long sleeved white button down shirt off his hands.

You think you see him lick his lips just as you start slipping your arms into his long sleeves, but when you train your eyes at him once again you can only see that same gentle smile on his face.

"Here, let me help you." You note, somehow, that Vyn's voice is lower by almost a couple of octaves.

His long fingers slowly button your shirt closed, leaving the first four buttons open, presumably for your comfort and ease of movement.

"There, all done." His gaze lingers at you, and you cannot help but wonder why he looks at you quite hungrily.

Or maybe it could be just the shadows morphing his expression?

Yet you are too tired to think about it any further, and so you climb into his bed.

"Regretfully there are still some things that I need to wrap up before I could join you," whispers Vyn as he lets his fingers caress your cheek. "So go ahead and sleep. I shall be with you soon."

He bends over your prone form to kiss you once again, before he reluctantly lets go of you so that you can sleep.

"Goodnight, my sweetest. My lady," Vyn murmurs before he leaves the room, closing the door carefully behind him.

===

It is three in the morning when things happen.

You are still half-asleep, and so you could not make out what is happening...yet.

Until you feel hands kneading your breasts through the fabric of Vyn's shirt. Lips ravishing your own lips, until they trail hungry kisses down your throat, your exposed decolletage...

Tongue flicking at your nipple through the fabric. Fingers travelling across your abdomen, down your pelvis, landing on your clothed sex...

And the sweet, heavy scent of wine permeating the air...

Your eyes open, and you see Vyn on top of you, fully naked.

"Vyn?" Your voice comes out raspy, heavy with sleep. "W-what are you doing...?"

"Rosa, my sweet, beautiful Rosa," Vyn drawls, clearly having had too much to drink, "I have decided that I just cannot get enough of you."

He gathers you in his arms, shifting his position on the bed to let you sit on his lap. "I do apologize for this impertinence but--"

"But?"

"I had this brilliant idea when I was thinking through certain...things earlier this evening," Vyn says with an unreadable grin, as he lazily traces your lips with a fingertip. "Thoughts of you occupy most of my waking moments, you see, thoughts of a nature most intrusive..."

The usual sparkle of his eyes dim in the moonlight. "They are rather distracting. And, unfortunately, they do get in the...way."

Vyn unbuttons the shirt you are wearing, and one of his hands slip inside to fondle your breast.

"The solution that I would like to try, my pet, is to envelop myself with your...presence while we are apart. To ease my longing, somewhat."

You swallow nervously. Vyn at his most unhinged sometimes does not make sense, for you at least; and sometimes, you are afraid to even make sense of his thought processes during these moments.

"W-what do you mean, Vyn?"

"Ah dear, dear, Rosa," Vyn murmurs as he reaches for something at by the foot of the bed. Is it a blanket? You wonder briefly. But as he unfurls it you finally realize what it is:

His lab coat, the lab coat that he wears upon reporting for duty in his research center.

As he slips it onto your shoulders, and his hands gently yet firmly guiding your arms into its oversized sleeves all you can say is "Why?"

"Because, dear Rosa," Vyn says as he pulls on the lapels of his lab coat to tighten it around you, "I want my clothes to be saturated in your scent. Including the cologne that you wear." He licks the side of your face. "I want my clothes to be imbued with your scent."

Vyn bites his lip as he beholds the sight of you wearing his uniform--his white long-sleeves underneath his lab coat-- with a gaze that can only be described as voracious.

"Vyn, that's...haha. That's too much, don't you think?"

Yeah. I think that's a little too much.

Your question throws Vyn off, but only a little. "Whatever do you mean, my love?" He now pushes you down to the bed. "When it comes to you, there is no such thing as too much or enough."

And so you are reminded of how his obsession for you runs deep.

He pulls your panties down, and slips the scant cloth off your feet.

"Vyn, won't that--won't that..." you are almost too embarrassed to put the rest of your question to words. "Won't people...?"

"What?" Vyn is now positioning himself to take you, his hands holding the underside of your thighs.

"Won't people...smell my cologne on you?"

"Heh." Already impatient, Vyn puts his middle and index fingers into his mouth to slather them with his own saliva, before sliding them into your still unprepared sex.

"Oh, god," you moan as you feel your inner flesh slowly yield to his fingers.

"You should know by now, Rosa, that my relationship with most people are transactional at most," Vyn murmured as he starts to fuck you with his fingers. "They do not have any say on my predilection for anything that has to do with...you."

"W-what do you--oh lord--mean?" You struggle to find your words; Vyn deliberately fucks you with long, drawn out strokes, his fingers slightly curled upwards to try and find that certain spot...

And his fingertips hit goldmine. "Ahh!" You claw at his bedsheets; that one single touch has sent a tidal wave of immense, pulsating pleasure spreading throughout your nerves.

Vyn does not waste any time exploiting this newfound knowledge of your weakness. He leers at you as he pulls out his fingers out of your now wet slit, and slowly licks your juices off his digits.

"I think you are quite ready, Rosa, my dearest," Vyn says as he wraps your legs around his waist, his hard cock poking at your entrance. You notice his hooded, unreadable eyes gazing at yours and, after mustering enough courage to meet such darkness head on--you lock gazes with his, your own facial expression exuding confidence that you can take on whatever he does on your person...

And he enters you. Vyn closes his eyes, as if savoring a flavor most sweet, and slowly he inches deeper, and deeper, each of his movement punctuated with a soft moan eventually culminating into cries for your name as soon as is fully hilted and your hips finally meet.

"Rosa," Vyn moans, and he starts his thrusting--slow and steady for now--and you could tell by his voice that singing your name out loud is something that he had been wanting to do for some time. He already did, before that time in the shower, but such is his need that even your time earlier is simply not enough.

"I need you. God, I need you," he says in a voice far too guttural that it seemed as if another person was speaking over him. His thrusts now target that spot that he found earlier with his fingers; each and every time he hit that certain spot your sensitivity heightens and you find yourself fingering your own nipples to take advantage of that tidal wave that is your own pleasure.

"Vyn, more, please," you find yourself mumbling, making a show of pleasuring yourself as one of your hands slithers down to your clit, flicking it with your fingers as Vyn fucks you with now increasingly stronger, faster movements.

"Hahaha. Haha. Hahh--" Vyn laughs, delighted at your little lewd show just for him, and him only. "Ah, dearest Rosa. You are truly such a delight..."

And then he drops his smile, and he continues, "this is why intrusive thoughts of you fill my mind each and every waking moment.

"And so..."

Vyn grins, darkly, and his fucking picks up strength and speed, now focused on chasing his own release. His gaze again locks with yours, watching your face contort with utter pleasure as he repeatedly hits that spot with his cock. "You are mine, Rosa," he mutters as he now starts pounding into you, skin hitting skin, sweat now forming on both your bodies, your wetness now dripping into the inner lining of Vyn's lab coat.

"Oh damn," your toes curl behind him, awash with such intense pleasure that you easily reach your peak after a few more touches on your clit and all you can do is shout your lover's name, your voice carrying over through the windows and out into his rose garden the garden he tends just for you.

His breathing hitches, and he mutters underneath his breath, "I love you," with a voice almost inaudible, but you catch it anyway, as he spills his seed, once again, inside you.

"I love you," he repeats, and he drapes himself over you to envelop your entire world with a deep, languorous kiss.

===

When you wake up the sun is already shining strong against the thick blackout curtains, and you see Vyn already dressed for work.

If Vyn is already dressing himself for work, then you are horribly late.

But there is nothing to be done as you cannot turn back time, and so you settle down to watch your lover get ready, a rare spectacle.

The spectacle you are beholding at this moment is Vyn holding the lab coat to his face, sniffing your scent imprinted into its thick fabric after you made love to him while wearing it.

Having had his fill he shrugs the coat onto his shoulders, and he peers at his reflection on his full-length mirror; he fixes the lapels of his coat, tugs at the hems, and folds the collar of his shirt neatly before attaching his collar pins.

Everything is in order, with the exception that his coat, and probably his white long sleeved shirt underneath, are just a little bit wrinkled in a few spots, here and there.

"Good morning, Rosa," Vyn greets you without turning to face you--he is looking at you through your reflection on the mirror. "I did not wake you as I have disturbed you from your sleep more than enough already," he says, quite apologetically. "I have told your partner that you will be a little late. I did not make any excuses--he should be an adult enough to comprehend situations that arise from...intimacy."

You sigh. "Good morning to you too, Vyn." Artem's going to have a fit about this.

Vyn leaves for work in a much better mood than you have seen him before.

[the-bau-quinjet]

Secret's Out

Summary: Request! Reid and Y/N are secretly dating, but their business doesn't stay their business for long.

Warnings: Criminal Minds level violence

Word Count: 2974

a/n: Thank you for the request! I hope you like it :)

Sorry this took forever! It took me a while to think of case details that I liked and then I kept rewriting parts. I think I'm finally happy with it though!

Masterlist

"Spencer!" You pushed him away. "The doors could open at any moment! How are we supposed to keep this a secret if Morgan walks in on us kissing in the elevator?" You raised a brow at him.

"On average, elevators travel at a speed of 200 ft/min or about 4 seconds per floor. Being on the fifth floor means we have about 20 seconds to ourselves." He smiled triumphantly.

"Yeah, until someone surprises us on floor 3." You rolled your eyes, stepping out of the doors once they opened.

"I can't help it. I'm just... really happy with you." He whispered softly.

"I'm really happy too." You smiled at him. You were about to lean in when the elevator doors opened once again to reveal JJ and Emily.

"Hey guys, ready for another case?" Emily glanced between you suspiciously, but thankfully didn't ask any prying questions.

"Yep, let's go!" You turned quickly, walking into the round table room without so much as a glance back at the three agents by the elevator.

"What's with her?" JJ questioned.

"Said she didn't sleep well last night. Must be all the caffeine." He held his own cup off coffee up in solidarity before also walking to the round table room.

"Alright, we've got 3 dead in Billings, Montana. All three were law enforcement, and all three were found this morning around the city." You listened as Penelope introduced the details of the case.

"Could be someone who feels the police didn't do a good enough job protecting a loved one?" You threw out a theory.

"Or someone who feels wronged by the criminal justice system as a whole." Rossi added on.

"Either way, they likely won't stop until we catch them. Wheels up in 20." Hotch rose from his seat as he spoke, wasting no time in preparing for take off.

You all dispersed briefly to grab your go bags, meeting back at the SUVs to head to the jet.

Once boarded, it didn't take long for the conversation to start up again.

"When we land, L/N go to the morgue. Dave, Prentiss take the first and second crime scenes, they're only a mile apart. Morgan and Reid, check out the third scene. I'll head to the precinct with JJ."

With Hotch's instructions set, you took what little time you had left on the flight to go over the causes of death.

-

"Anything stand out to you on the bodies?" You asked the ME after going over the blunt force trauma and bullet wounds.

"There's tape residue and bruising on the wrists and ankles. Based on the state of bruising, they were likely held for about 3 days before they were killed."

"Thank you for your help." You shook hands, pulling out your phone to call Hotch.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch, they were held for days before they were killed. How did nobody notice they were missing?" There was nothing in the reports that indicated the victims were reported missing prior to being found.

"We just found the same pattern. They all used vacation days for various reasons in the days leading up to their deaths. Meet us back at the precinct and Reid can explain the whole pattern."

"Okay, I'm leaving now." You hung up just as you reached the SUV. Throughout the drive, you couldn't stop thinking that something wasn't adding up.

The victims were taken in the same day. It didn't make sense for the unsub not to escalate. So, why aren't any officers unaccounted for?

Suddenly, a truck crashed into your SUV, sending you flying off the road. A figure dressed in black opened the door and dragged you from the car.

"Agent L/N, it's so good to see you again." A male voice spoke, but you couldn't place it.

He hit you over the head with a handgun before dragging you to his own vehicle.

-

"Where's L/N?" Emily questioned when her and Rossi returned from the second dumpsite.

"On her way back from the ME." Hotch answered. "Did you find anything useful?"

"They truly are dumpsites. Both bodies were found by dumpsters, sending a pretty clear message." Dave replied.

"Same for the third site." Derek added on.

"All three victims were single and took time off leading up to their death. Nobody would've notice that they were missing until it was too late." Reid supplied the final bit of information gathered.

Hotch's phone rang before anyone else could comment. The frantic sound of Garcia's nails clicking against her keyboard echoed through the phone. She was talking before anyone could greet her.

"You need to see this, check your tablets."

Confused glances were exchanged as everyone, barring Reid, opened their tablets. Reid glanced over Morgan's shoulder to observe as well.

A seemingly live video that Garcia received a link to was streaming to the tablets.

A single woman sitting in a chair could be seen in the frame. Her wrists and ankles were bound to the chair with thick, gray tape and a bag was over her head.

"Garcia, what is this?" Hotch asked almost immediately.

"I was emailed the link just now. It's not streaming anywhere else online." Her reply came quickly, the sound of typing still filling in the silence.

"Can you trace it?" Rossi questioned.

"I'm trying, but it's being routed through multiple proxy servers."

"Did the email say anything?" Emily chimed in.

"No, it was just the link- Wait. I just got another email." She paused as the new email loaded. "It's addressed to Reid."

Every set of eyes in the room turned to Reid.

"What does it say?" He felt the nerves beginning to grow waiting for Garcia to read the words aloud.

"Dr. Reid,

I hope you remember me. What am I saying, of course you do. I've got something of yours that you might want back. You see Dr. Reid, you and your team ruined me. My family, my career, all of it, just gone. I thought I'd return the favor. A person's phone can be so informative. Tell me, does your team know about your girlfriend? I've so enjoyed getting reacquainted with her.

Happy hunting."

Spencer's face went white as he looked at Morgan's tablet again. His thoughts were racing. How did he not recognize you before? Even with the bag over your head, he should've known it was you.

"It's her." His words were barely a whisper.

"This is your girlfriend?" Morgan gestured to the screen again. Spencer could only nod in reply, his mind unable to focus on anything except you.

"Reid, listen to me. You've got to tell us everything you know about her. We'll have to split up. You can go back to Quantico with Emily and Morgan, the rest of us will stay here to work on our current case." Hotch was already devising a strategy to work both cases.

"There's no need." His words made sense to him, but sounded cryptic to the rest of the team.

"Kid, of course there is. We'll help you get her back." Morgan placed a hand on his shoulder, effectively shocking him back to the present situation.

"There's no need to split up because she's here. She's in Montana." Before he could continue, everyone was asking questions.

"Give me a phone number and I'll get you a location." Garcia was already typing away again.

"Are you sure she's here?" JJ's brows furrowed. She did her best to hide the hurt of her best friend hiding his girlfriend from her, again.

"Why would she be here?" Rossi added.

"How did she get here? Maybe we can track the transportation and figure out means of abduction." Emily was the only one thinking about the case.

Like ripping off a bandaid, Spencer blurted out the truth.

"It's Y/N."

He was met with silence in the room as everyone absorbed the information.

Garcia caught up first, a sudden gasp sounding through the phone.

"So, then that's Y/N... in the video..." Her voice wavered.

As if a switch was flipped, the team was back on the case.

"Garcia, get me a list of anyone who would have a grievance with the team." Hotch ordered.

"Go through anyone who was falsely accused. Start with cases in or around Montana. He would want to keep this close to home." Rossi specified.

"We've only had one case in Montana since Y/N joined the team." Reid supplied the knowledge as it came to him. "A name, I need a name." He muttered to himself, pulling his hair as he roughly ran his hands through it and over his face. "Garcia, look into Jameson Braddock."

"Got it." She immediately began a background check, searching through case files and news articles for additional information. "i'll get back to you with locations." With that, she hung up.

"Fill us in, kid. Who is Jameson Braddock." Morgan lead Reid to a chair, gently easing him into it.

"Our last case in Montana, Emily and I went to interview a witness." Emily nodded, the memories slowly coming back to her.

"He wasn't very forthcoming, and then he tried to run." She added on.

"Exactly, except he didn't make it very fair. We arrested him, but it turned out he was only guilty of selling alcohol to minors. When word of his arrest got out, the whole town thought it was for the serial rapes and murders we were investigating even though it was never confirmed."

"By the time we corrected the media, it was too late." JJ supplied, also remembering the man.

"So, he killed three officers just to draw us out back out here?" Morgan refocused the conversation on the current case.

"It looks that way now. The media knew we were coming, so he must have as well." Emily theororized. "If he followed us from the airport, he would've seen Y/N leave by herself."

"He likely didn't know about your relationship until he abducted her and went through her phone." Hotch paced the room.

"He's flaunting his power over us." Rossi chimed in just as Hotch's phone rang again.

"Garcia, what've you got?"

"Three addresses in Billings, Montana. Jameson Braddock has been on a downward spiral since your last trip there. His entire life fell apart, like he said. Divorced, his wife moved to Nebraska with their two kids. He lost his job at the high school, and was evicted from his house when he could no longer pay the bills." She listed the information quickly.

"He has ties to three addresses. Nobody has moved into his previous house, so it's vacant. He's got a small apartment in the northern part of the city which he pays for through working odd hours at Taco Bell. Finally, he briefly worked security at a now abandoned warehouse."

"An apartment wouldn't be enough space to hold her without the chance of someone hearing. She's not there." Rossi eliminated the location as an option.

"We'll split up to cover the warehouse and the house-" Hotch began, but Reid cut him off.

"No, we shouldn't split up. She's got to be at the house. The warehouse has no connection to his previous life. He wants revenge for our perceived wrongdoing, he wouldn't make his last stand at a new location." Reid was already putting on a bullet proof vest. Despite how his mind was racing, he refused to show how afraid he was.

"You're sure?" Morgan asked, on the fence about committing to one location.

"Absolutely." With that, Reid was out the door heading for the SUVs.

-

"Rossi, Emily head around back. I'll take the front with Reid. JJ and Morgan, the side door." Hotch instructed the team to split up upon arrival at the house.

Reid wasted no time in approaching the house. He was confident you were inside, but he didn't know what was happening to you.

The main floor was cleared quickly. Again, the team split up to cover the upper level and the basement.

Knowing you were likely downstairs, Reid immediately started that direction, JJ and Hotch following him.

It wasn't hard for him to find you. You were still tied to the chair in the middle of the room, bag over your head.

Before anyone could stop him, Reid lowered his gun and ran to you. He gently maneuvered the bag off your head, stopping his movements only when he felt something press into his back.

"Dr. Reid. So kind of you to join us." Braddock spoke maniacally, pressing the gun against Reid's head.

"Drop your weapon." Hotch commanded, but the man only cackled in response.

'Y/N... Y/N." Reid gently shook you in an attempt to wake you up.

"She can't hear you." Braddock singsonged.

"What did you do?" Reid tried to turn to him only to feel the gun press further into his head.

"Like I said in my email, you people ruined my life. They took everything from me, so I thought I'd try to return the favor." During his short speech, Braddock shifted just enough for JJ to get a clean shot.

He fell to the ground, gun clattering across the floor.

Reid moved quickly to remove the tape binding you to the chair while Hotch called for a medic in the basement.

The entire team watched as you were wheeled into the ambulance, still unconscious, none more scared than Spencer.

-

"She's going to be fine, Spence." JJ tried to reassure him, nonetheless his pacing continued.

"You don't know that. We don't even know what he did to her." He had one hand anxiously running through his hair, the other pinching the bridge of his nose in distress.

Just then, a doctor emerged from behind closed doors.

"F/N L/N." She called into the waiting room, slightly taken aback when the group of agents rushed to her.

"It was touch and go for a while, but she got here just in time." It was visible to even the least qualified profiler how relieved the team felt. Their previously tense shoulders relaxed, frowns turned to small smiles, wide eyes and raised brows pinched together with joy.

"What happened?" Emily posed the question everyone was thinking.

"In short, she was drugged. It's not clear what exactly was used, but it was likely a mix of drugs that attempted to stop her heart."

"Can we see her?" Morgan spoke next, cautiously eyeing Reid.

"You may, follow me." The doctor lead them through a series of hallways to your room. "She should be waking up soon."

With that the doctor left, allowing the team to file into the room. You looked strangely peaceful for someone who almost died.

"So..." JJ glanced between you and Spencer. "Girlfriend, huh?"

His eyes went wide. Instinctively, he turned to you for help, but you were still asleep. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.

"Relax, kid." Morgan grinned. "We're happy as long as you two are happy."

Spencer smiled gratefully, looking at you with an adoring gaze. "We are happy."

"How long?' Emily gestured to your joined hands. Just before Spencer could answer, you groaned.

"I want to hear your guesses first." Your voice was raspy, but there was a clear smile on your face. "Also, what happened?"

The quickly explained the email Garcia received and the events that followed.

"Now that that's cleared up, do tell us how long you think we've been together. I know you've got a bet going." You narrowed your eyes, playfully glaring at each team member.

"4 months." Hotch begrudgingly admitted. JJ followed with 3 months, Derek and Rossi both betting 10 weeks, and Emily going with 6 weeks.

"Ha, you're all wrong." You smiled triumphantly, leaning closer to Spencer.

"Wait, we haven't heard from Garcia." Derek smirked as he rung her on speaker phone.

"Oh, my beautiful crime fighters. Y/N, are you okay?" Your smile widened at the concern in her voice.

"I am indeed, but I have a very important question for you." You glanced as Spencer briefly before continuing. "How long do you think Spence and I have been together?"

"Oh, I know this one!" Her excitement caught everyone but you off guard. "7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days."

Spencer's jaw dropped as he stuttered out, "that's exactly right..."

"How'd you figure it out?" The group of profilers wore matching expressions of surprise as Penelope explained.

"Well, we had just finished testifying in the Bigelow trial. The whole team went out for drinks, and I could just see it in Y/N's eyes the next day that something wonderful happened. At first I just thought that she got some, but then I saw her and the good doctor in the kitchen getting coffee and I knew." Penelope's voice held a mixture of smugness and pure excitement.

"Babygirl, you didn't tell me?" Derek sounded genuinely offended.

"Y/N asked me not to." Even though you couldn't see her, you knew she punctuated the statement with a shrug.

"You knew, she knew?" Spencer turned to you in shock.

You nodded. "I could see it on her face the second I walked out of the kitchen. But she promised not to tell, so I didn't either."

"The two of you, thick as thieves." Rossi lamented.

"I love you so much." Spencer whispered into your ear as he pulled you in for a hug.

"I love you too." You whispered right back.

"Honestly, I'm glad the secret's out." You smiled at Spencer before looking at the rest of the team. "Although, I wish I didn't have to be kidnapped to tell you."

You spent a few more hours in the hospital before being cleared to go back to the hotel.

The next morning, you smiled to yourself as you were finally able to cuddle with Spencer during the flight home.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

Criminal Minds taglist:

@mac99martin

@goldeng1rl8

@measure-in-pain

[theunholygrails]

Foolish Games Part 2

Masterlist

A/N: Introducing new characters and some drama! Percy is still sexy as ever :'(.

Warnings: BJ

I woke up to a door slamming so hard it joined the symphony of my pounding headache. I groaned, hoisting myself over the back of the couch to investigate to intrusion. A brunette head of long sweeping hair rushed through the foyer, barreling towards the kitchen. A familiar mop of black hair hurried after.

Reyna was speaking so fast in Spanish my brain scrambled to keep up. I noted lots of curse words followed by a series of sentences too fast I was surprised she even knew what she was saying. Percy was answering in slow measured words, probably fighting a hangover of equal measure. I ducked behind the back of the couch, reaching for my phone plugged in on the coffee table.

It was noon. 2% battery and a couple messages from friends. Nothing from my ex thank gods. Five from Annabeth being nosey. I opened my uber app, squinting in the sunlight breaking through the cream curtains. I managed to get my driver secured.

A door slammed and I winced, peaking to check that they were in another room. I did not immediately spot my dress in the chaotic. I grimaced remembering the midnight swim. When I sat up I finally noticed the white tshirt I wore and the basketball shorts. And then I went rigid remembering what happened after the swim.

“Motherfucker,” I whispered.

Now I really had to get out of this house. I checked the arrival time of my driver. Three minutes away. Great. I made my way on shaky knees to the large wooden front door. My keys were still in the collection dish. I grabbed them quietly and turned the door handle a fraction of an inch before another door slammed open and Reyna came barreling back into the foyer, brown eyes landing promptly on my guilty ass. Behind her, Percy pursed his lips into a thin line and raised both of his hands to lay on top of his head. His biceps strained nicely against the thin t shirt.

“The fuck is this?” Reyna whispered.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” I babbled.

“It’s just Noa, Rey. Gods,” Percy said.

“I can see that, Percy!” She snapped. I was glad her spear was not strapped across her back this morning. “Why is she sneaking out of my house in your clothes?”

“People were swimming last night. Her clothes got wet.”

“I’m sure the fuck they did.”

“Zeus, Rey! You ended it with me. Why does it even matter?”

“Because I still fucking love you! I’m sorry, okay?” She burst out crying and Percy instantly pulled her against his chest. The memory of being in those arms drove me out the door like a nest of hornets.

~~~~

“I’m just saying. You have nothing to feel sorry for,” Annabeth paused to sip her iced coffee. “Unless they get back together and then you sleep with him. But as of right now, you’re good. Trust me. Been on the Percy train. We’re still friends. You’ll get over it. Just a harmless rebound for both of you.”

I groaned, laying my chin on the cool metal table parked outside our favorite coffee shop positioned between our New York apartments. Just two Manhattan women enjoying their Sunday afternoon. The air was cooling as fall neared. I pulled my baseball cap closer to the top of my sunglasses.

“Should I call him?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Let him deal with his relationship drama. Reyna is a lot to deal with. Still nothing from fuckface?”

“Nope and that’s fine.”

“Good for you. We will hydrate you, get you a good dinner, hit the gym before work in the morning and then get back on our bad bitch mental track. Agreed?”

~~~~

“Good Monday, yogis,” I chirped from my desk at the corner of my studio.

The third class was beginning to trickle in and I was settling into my rhythm. Hot yoga was next and hopefully I would sweat out all the negativity I’d allowed lately. I was in the middle of emailing back a potential client when someone rapped at the wood of my desk. I glanced up to a blonde male who waved gently.

“Heya, sansei Noa,” he said.

“That’s karate. Can I help you?”

“Do you do trial classes?”

I hit send on my email and closed my laptop. The guy was built like a poser with the defined muscles and chiseled jaw but his voice was soft and tempered. He was clean shaven and dressed like a basic gym bro.

“Normally you have to schedule them beforehand because of class size,” I gave my standard answer.

“Right, my bad. Sorry. I was just passing by the front and it looked like the kind of place I needed right now. Can I go ahead and pick a date then?”

I was staring too long into his pale blue eyes, honed in on the polite response. A nice change from the daily demanding consumers. “You know what? Ive got space right now if you like? Have you ever done hot yoga?”

A brilliant white smile showcasing sharp canines. “My favorite.”

“Perfect. I just need a name, number and email to get you a file started.”

He leaned large hands on my desk. “It’s Luke Castellan.”

Before he could give the contact information, I cut him off. “Wait. I know you.” His tanned skin paled significantly.

“I…”

“You’re supposed to be dead!” I blurted out.

His eyes skated around the room and he leaned in closer. “That’s not supposed to be public knowledge. I assume you’re a demigod?”

“Luke, you trained me. We took fucking sculpting together. The Apollo table was right next to the Hermes one for fuck’s sake.”

He winced. I heard a murmuring from the rest of my class I was disturbing with my volume. I collected my shock finally. “Take a seat if you want. We should talk after class. I need to start.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry Noa.”

I waved him off and walked over to my yoga mat. I sat cross legged and drew in an even breath to smooth out my emotions.

It was a slow 30 minute class. Each pose and movement dragged on. Finally, I dismissed the group and nodded Luke outside. He was waiting on the bench outside of the studio I split renting with a few other instructors. I sat next to him, wiping sweat from my face with the towel slung over my pink sports bra.

“Alright, talk,” I said.

“Not much to say. I was given a second chance at my hearing. Here I am. Starting over.” A shrug of well-defined shoulders. The muscles flexed beneath his gleaming sweat. His red tank top stuck to his chest and stomach. “I wish I remembered you, truly. That time is such a blur in my life.”

“It’s ok. You were a lot older than me and to be honest I had a massive crush on you so I probably hid most of the time.”

A surprised smile slipped across his lips. “I’m assuming the betrayal helped you get over that?”

I laughed outloud, slapping his knee. “No shit! So where are you staying these days?”

“Just around the corner actually. Got a job at the local gym.”

“Yeah I bet the fuck you did.” I squeezed his forearm between both of my hands. I wanted to roll my eyes at me falling back into my school girl giddy at him. Betrayal of the gods aside. He was even more gorgeous than ever. The scar down his face gave him a dark sexy vibe. Like a bad boy even though he claimed he was rehabbing himself now.

“So how, did you feel about the class?”

“I mean, I’d like to sign up for it a couple times a week, that’s for sure. And I’d like to take you out to dinner to make up for not remembering a beauty like you.”

I almost bit my cheek biting out the response of “Yes!”

“You’ve got my number,” he said, chuckling quietly. “I’ve got to get to work.” He shouldered his gym bag and excused himself.

The bike back to my apartment was spent reliving my tween fantasies about bad boy Luke. I opened my apartment door and screeched seeing a man sitting at my kitchen counter. Percy turned to face me.

“You know you live in New York? You should really lock that.”

“It was!” I snapped.

A quick grin. “Yeah. But it was easy to break into.”

I dropped my bag onto the floor and brushed past him to get a protein shake from the fridge. “I have to shower and get prepared for my night classes.” I told him.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t either.”

He paused, studying my face in the shitty lighting of the single bulb hanging between us over the counter. “Are we good, Noa?”

“Of course. What’s a little head between friends?”

“Okay…I can’t read you. Can you not play tough just for a minute?”

I chugged the shake and set the bottle down between us. I leaned my arms on the chilled counter, bun knocking against the light. “Honestly, Percy. I’m fine. We are good.”

“Reyna moved back in.”

“You’re engaged again?”

I drank from the empty bottle to give myself something to do. He watched me with those green eyes. He’d known me for far too long. He was nearly impossible to deceive, but I was determined today. The fact that I had dreamt of fucking him two consecutive nights was irrelevant if he was off the table. Even if his lips did look incredibly juicy tonight. Even if they had done near illicit things to me just nights ago.

“I don’t know. She said she wanted to work on things. And it’s her dad’s house, so I can’t ask her to go and I don’t want to go to my mom’s and admit defeat.”

“You know you could stay here, Perc.”

He worked his jaw silently, then rubbed his hands over his face. “Thanks. I do know. Even if we aren’t officially back together, I think we should work on it…” he trailed off.

“And not tell her about you eating me out?” I leaned closer because I was mean to both him and myself. Because I knew this top combined with this angle gave him a simple opportunity. And he took it.

His tongue slid out between his lips as his eyes flicked down, stayed, then dragged deliberately back up. “Probably not,” he agreed.

For a long moment neither of us said anything. He had more to lose now than me. We were no longer on equal playing fields. So, I left the ball in his court. “I’m going to go shower.”

I was done washing in the first ten minutes. The second ten was giving him a little wiggle room to decide. I had my hand on the faucet to cut off the water that was beginning to go cold when I heard the door creak open. I watched through the fogged glass, catching a hold of my breath. I watched as he tugged his shirt off. My stomach flipped over itself when he reached for his jeans. What had I done?

The opening door let in a rush of cool air, perking my skin to attention. My eyes raked unapologetically over his naked, aroused body. His dark hair quickly slicked against his stubble covered jaw. His eyes were no longer the sea green but murky like the deep water of the ocean.

“Hey,” he said quietly, cautiously.

“Hey,” I giggled, reaching out to touch his rough jaw. He winced, catching my hand with his. “We probably shouldn’t kiss again.”

“Sure, whatever you want, Percy. What can I do to you?”

He groaned, turning his mouth into my palm, scraping teeth against the vulnerable skin. “Touch me,” he said.

My free hand instantly planted against his chest, scraping at the muscle. His eyes fluttered closed, head tilting back to expose his throat. I slid my other hand into his thick hair, tugging it tightly between my fingers and pulling to grant myself more access to the strong column of his neck. I bit it first, backing him into the tiled wall when he shuddered. I kissed over the reddening skin and moved my hands to his flat stomach, feeling the shuddered breaths beneath my touch.

“Like this?” I asked.

His reply was unintelligible. I kissed down his chest, moving my hand lower still as I went. When my fingers brushed over the v-line of his hips, I shifted my route away from the center and to his thighs. An annoyed grunt escaped his lips. “Hush,” I scolded, getting my knees under me. The now cold water was hitting the back of my neck and flowing down my body. I placed my hands on the inside of both his thighs, trailing them upwards and upwards until he nearly contorted when I gripped him. He let out a scandalous string of curses that quickly turned to moaning silence when I took him into my mouth.

He unraveled in minutes and I let him cum all over the breasts I had teased him with earlier. I rose in front of him, my own rosy cheeks mirroring his. “Now we’re even.”

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Falling // G.W. (celebration fic)

Request: George and *gasp* there is only one bed AU?? Pls? 🥺 - @acciotwinz

A/N: This is also inspired by the made up fic title that the ever so talented @theweasleysredhair sent in to me. This is a no Voldemort AU which also has the chance of becoming a two parter, who knows? I hope you like!!

Summary: A timeline of your love for George Weasley.

Warnings: teenage angst but overloaded with fluff 

Word count: 4.1k

First Year:

Rushing through the corridors, late for Potions is not how you wanted to start your day, but it seemed like there was to be no luck for you this morning.

Having woken late, you had rushed getting dressed and forgot your bag as you raced from your bedroom, having to double back to get it. By that time, breakfast had almost finished so you threw back a piece of cold toast slathered with raspberry jam before necking a glass of orange juice and sprinting from the Great Hall.

Turning onto the corridor in which Snape’s classroom is located, you run straight into someone. The force of hitting them, you fall onto your bum and the person you ran into is pitched forwards, caught luckily by their friend.

They turn quickly; their eyes dropping to your figure on the floor, ready to start shouting. However, it seems their argument dies at the same time. Your eyes widen as you realise who you’ve run into: Fred and George Weasley. The latter rubbing their shoulder where your face had been only moments ago.

“Merlin,” You stutter, “I am so sorry, I was rushing, and I didn’t see you there.”

His twin, Fred you think, covers his mouth politely as he laughs. George elbows him as he smiles at you. “No harm, no foul,” George reassures.

You release a long sigh; unaware just how on edge you felt around the twins already making themselves a name larger than the Marauders who once roamed these very halls. You smile sheepishly at the redhead, already a few inches taller than you despite being the same age, and gesture to the now empty corridor, “I guess I better get going to class. I don’t want to be late – Snape will have my head if I am.”

George nods his head, “Yeah, sure. I’ll see you around then.”

You turn away from him; hoisting your bag further up your shoulder, “I’ll see you around, George.”

Second Year:

“(Y/N),” A humour filled voice calls out from behind you.

Turning, you come face to face with George Weasley. You startle slightly; not having spoken much to the twin since you had run into him through your first year. A conversation would be had every now and then, but it mainly consisted of group work with other students in attendance.

Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you greet the redhead. He smiles at you politely before gesturing to the empty seat next to you, “Do you mind if I sit here?”

You shake your head, “Of course not, but why aren’t you sitting next to Fred?”

George smiles at you gratefully as he sits down next to you, “They’ve split us into different Herbology classes.”

You grin at his answer, “Do I want to know why?”

He shakes his head; opening his notebook and reaching into his bag for his quill. “Probably not, but I’m not too bothered.”

“You aren’t?”

George shakes his head once more, shrugging his shoulders, “I get to sit next to you.”

You turn your eyes from him quickly; not expecting an answer like that. He laughs lightly as he notes down the date and aim for this lesson. “I think we’re going to be good friends, (Y/N).”

Third Year:

Your Third Year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry starts a little differently to your last two. For starters, you don’t sit with your usual friends. Instead, you wave to them from the platform at Kings Cross before joining Fred and George as they wait for you with their younger brother, Ron, in tow.

Your friendship with the twins developed quickly after that first Herbology lesson with George. He had carried on talking to you after the class; walking you to your next one without complaint and then meeting you later with Fred.

Warming to them both, you couldn’t help but feel closer to George. He had a knack for knowing exactly what you were thinking and feeling at any given moment; able to pull you from stressing too much over essays. He always seemed to be there too; for you to talk to, for you to unload your worries on to.

The friendship was something you already cherished; it bringing out a more playful side to you that you could no longer ignore in their presence. Whenever you could, you would lend an ear to their plans for pranks – offering your opinion over where best to throw a dungbomb in order to affect the most people.

Third Year did not start the same as your first and second year; this year you felt surer of yourself, felt happier with the person you were becoming. You had George to thank for that.

-------

“Ron!” You call out; grabbing the attention of the youngest Weasley boy. His ears turn red with unwanted attention, and you can’t help but take glee in it. “How are you?” You ask, “Are you settling in okay? And this must be Harry?”

If possible, Ron blushes harder. He nods before finding his voice, “I’m okay. I’m settling in fine; you sound like my mum (Y/N). Yes, this is Harry.”

You smile widely at the messy haired boy before turning your attention back to Ron. “Your mother is an angel, Ron, so I’m taking that as a compliment. Who else would send me a hand-knitted jumper for Christmas?”

Ron snorts, “What’s up, (Y/N)?”

“Have you seen your brother at all?” You ask; eyes scanning for George amongst the growing crowd of students making their way to their next class.

Ron raises an eyebrow, “Which one?”

You fix him with a flat stare; unimpressed with the sass coming from the eleven year old boy. “George. I’m looking for George,” You state for clarity’s sake.

Ron shakes his head, “We saw him at breakfast, but I haven’t seen him since. Have you, Harry?”

Harry shakes his head too. “Have you checked the library?” He offers in kindness.

You bite your lip; wondering about the ever so slight chance of the Weasley twin being in the library. You smile gratefully at the young Gryffindors, “Thank you, boys. I’ll see you later.”

You make to turn, but at the last minute, you swivel back to ruffle Ron’s hair into an undignified mess. He shouts in protest as you run off. As you leave, you hear Harry ask after your identity. Ron tells him who you are and what you mean to the family, but he rounds off with, “George would not stop talking about them over summer.”

Turning onto the corridor for the library, you file that piece of information away for later. For a time when you’re also ready to confront the ever growing feelings for the redhead.

Fourth Year:

Fourth Year begins much like the last. You meet Fred and George at Kings Cross; ruffling Ron’s hair and smiling warmly at Ginny – the last of the Weasley brood to start Hogwarts. She smiles back, but it’s watery and you reach out a hand for her to take in comfort – her goodbyes to her mother already said as you all board the train.

The train ride is loud, but you still find the time to catch up with George. He asks about your summer as if you didn’t spend half of it at the Burrow; you regale him of your time abroad with your family – travelling through the north of France on an extended history lesson.

You hate to admit it, but you bask in his attention, having missed him fiercely through your time abroad that no amount of letters helped. You missed hearing his laughter; it eliciting goosebumps on your skin with each chortle.

Watching the Scottish countryside pass you at an alarming rate, you wonder whether Fourth Year is going to feel similar to third. If your heart has any say in this, it would be the first to tell you that no – this year was not going to feel anything like the last.

--------

Despite the warmth of the fire, the common room is cold as you sit next to George. What started as a happy, carefree atmosphere was plunged into ice, becoming frozen and stilted with words about a missing sibling.

“They said her name… and I just, I stopped hearing anything else,” George whispers; voice close to breaking as he buries his face in his hands.

You open your mouth to offer words of comfort; to offer words of anything, but nothing comes out. How do you comfort something like this? How do offer words of help when you can’t compare the situation to anything you have ever experienced?

At the last minute, as George turns his head to face you, you bring his head to your shoulder, and this time you’re the one to provide wordless comfort.

You feel him shudder against you; overcome with the news of his missing sister. The news had come in a couple of hours ago; George, Fred and Ron escorted from the common room by Professor McGonagall, leaving you alone with Harry and Hermione who were both just as confused as you.

Upon their return, you rushed immediately to George’s side, noting his paleness and the slight tremble to his hands. You couldn’t count on both hands how many times you had asked him – pleaded with him – to tell you what had happened for him to react like this, but for a while, all he did was shake his head, unable to put into the words the news he had received.

It was Ron who worked up the courage. Taking a deep breath to slow his racing heart, he had announced, “Ginny has gone missing. She was seen going into the Forbidden Forest, but no-one ever saw her come out.”

At that point, Fred left the room. You made to go after him; to check on him, but George’s hand clamped down on your knee, keeping you next to him. Shooting him a puzzled glance, all he said was “Stay,” and that was enough for you.

It didn’t take long for you to find yourself alone with George. Fred having returned but going straight to bed; Ron and his friends following straight after though you all know that no sleep would be had amongst anyone. Not until Ginny was found safe and sound.

You remain on the couch; George’s head remaining on your shoulder as you run one hand through his hair and the other holds his hand tightly. The fire continues to burn; devouring the logs that breathe new life into its flames. Silently, you both watch – too tired emotionally to consider talking to the other.

It’s as you watch the fire turning the logs to ash that you discover the lengths you would go too to protect George from ever feeling like this again.

Fifth Year:

Fifth Year brings with it OWLs. It brings with it the stresses of academic excellence tied in with your growing feelings for the lanky redhead that you found yourself attached to.

The further into Fifth Year, the more you come to understand that your feelings for George Weasley are no longer platonic. In fact, you seem to be harbouring quite the crush on the redhead despite your adamant denials to Hermione, who swore blind that it wasn’t completely obvious and that you had nothing to worry about – George hadn’t noticed a thing.

However, you could no longer the way George made you feel. How simply looking at him had you losing breath; how a simple smile from him had your heart racing so fast that you felt absolutely certain it was to give out. There wasn’t a lot he had to do to have your stomach erupting into butterflies and your palms becoming sweaty; all he had to do was say hello and ask how you were feeling for your mouth to run dry.

You felt the fool more often than not; your worries and fears having you second guess each interaction with him, yet sometimes. Sometimes, you swore you would catch him watching you with the same yearning in his eyes that you know is reflected in yours.

It was moments such as that, that had your fears and worries dissipating, giving way to the more harmful emotion of hope. It blooms in your chest; spreading through your veins like a wildfire as you let yourself think that somewhere in the future, George may just feel the same as you.

------

A hand runs through your hair, and you smile in your sleep, turning your face to it.

“Love,” An all too familiar voice sounds, “It’s almost curfew.”

You grumble; snuggling further into your cushion, feeling confused when it starts to move. You crack one eye open; shooting up when you come to see that you’ve fallen asleep on George’s shoulder. You press your hand to your mouth in shock but also checking that you haven’t drooled on him through your nap. “George,” You ramble, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise I was that tired.”

George waves a hand in a dismissive fashion; ignoring your apology, “Love, I’ve known you a few years now. I’m sure falling asleep on each other was bound to happen at some point.”

That does nothing to comfort you. “Regardless,” You protest, “I doubt the last thing you wanted was for me snoring away on your shoulder.”

George smiles, “It’s fine, love. Besides, they were only small snores.”

“George!” You shout; batting a hand on his shoulder playfully, “I do not snore!”

George mimics zipping his mouth shut; keeping his answer a secret, leaving you in the dark as to whether you snore or not.

Rolling your eyes at the redhead, you ask, “How long was I out?”

“About an hour and a half.”

“Oh…” You trail off; glancing at the clock for the first time tonight, noting how close it was to curfew. You run a hand down your face, “I should probably head back to my common room.”

George clears his throat; running a hand through his hair as he suggests, “Or you could stay here?”

“What?”

“Stay here?” He suggests once more, “By the time you get back to your common room, you’ll no longer be tired and there’s always the chance you’ll get caught by Filch and it really isn’t worth a detention, is it?”

A playful smile spreads over your lips as you shake your head, “It’s not worth getting caught at all. But are you sure?”

George nods, standing and holding out a hand for you, “I’m sure. How different can it be from all the sleepovers over the summers we’ve known each other?”

You take his outstretched hand; keeping it tight within yours as he leads you to his room.

“How are you with sharing a bed with me? I’ll share with Fred or Lee if it makes you uncomfortable.”

A sleepy smile breaks over your face, and George realises then and there that he would do just about anything for you to look at him like that always.

“I just fell asleep on you on the couch. How different is sharing a bed?”

George nods wordlessly; squeezing your hand before letting it drop to rifle through his trunk. It doesn’t take him long to find what he’s looking for; an old worn out shirt and a pair of joggers for you to wear to bed.

You smile your thanks as you take it from George. You move to unbutton your blouse at which point George splutters a cough, turning his back on you. He feels the blush heat his cheeks as he hears you laugh quietly.

You pull his t-shirt over your torso; enjoying the softness against your skin and inhaling his familiar scent of gunpowder and honeysuckle. “You can turn around now, George.”

An awkward air settles over the room as George meets your eyes, but it doesn’t last long before your burst into laughter. You offer him the same privacy as he gets changed for bed; he clears his throat to let you know it’s safe turn around. Almost imperceptibly, the air changes between you two, becoming charged with an electricity neither of you were aware of before. It’s heady; it’s has your skin feeling flushed, making you more aware of the plans for tonight.

Reaching up on your tiptoes, you press a soft kiss to his cheek. Pulling back, you whisper, “Thank you for letting me stay the night, George.”

He averts his eyes; unable to meet your gaze for the rush of emotions running through his body from such a simple action. He nods wordlessly once more; smiling at you shyly as he pulls back the covers.

Space is limited in the single beds; it ends up that you lay half over George as his arms wrap around you, keeping you in place.

That night, the both of you come to realisation that sharing a bed means much more now.

Sixth Year:

“An ageing potion?” You demand; entering the hospital wing, feeling nothing short of anger aimed at the twins.

George’s eyes widen as he looks to Fred who wisely turns his attention elsewhere. He watches you take in the aftermath of being vaulted across the room by an age line; the grey hair and the long white beard. He can see the anger simmering through your entire body, but your eyes hold a different emotion – one George cannot put a finger on right not, but he would argue it’s something close to love.

At this point, he can no longer tell his feelings for you apart from what he feels daily. He’s utterly infatuated with you, as his mother likes to remind him each time he goes home. George has stopped disagreeing with her; happy to accept the fact that he fell in love with you a long time ago and has no plans in foreseeable future to ever stop.

You hold a hand over your mouth; repressing the sob that wants to escape. The very thought of him entering such a dangerous competition becoming too much for you. George’s face falls when he sees the tears in your eyes; he reaches out a hand for you, “Love…”

You fall into his embrace willingly; hiding your face in his shoulder as the tears fall down your face. Sniffling pitifully, you fist your hands into his robes, gripping onto him for dear life.

No words are dared uttered as George lets you collect yourself; his hand running through your hair and down your back in a motion that he knows soothes you.

“Why would you do such a foolish thing?” You ask; needing to know why they would put their lives at risk so willingly.

George has the decency to look somewhat ashamed as he utters his answer, “Eternal glory and the prize is a thousand galleons.”

You shake your head in disbelief, “If it had worked, I don’t know what I would have done.”

“But it didn’t, so it’s okay.”

“It isn’t, George! This tournament is so dangerous it poses a real threat to lives. If anything was to happen to you-” A sob breaks free from your lips; halting your sentence as your mind steadfastly refuses to even entertain the very thought of living a life without the Weasley twin.

George pulls you back into his embrace; arms wrapping around you tightly as he rocks you as best he can from where he sits on the hospital bed. His beard tickles your face as you hide it in his chest, clamping your lips shut against the wave of tears threatening to overflow.

One, two, three kisses are placed to the top of your head before George coaxes your face out from where its hidden. Tear filled eyes meet his brown ones to which George suddenly feels rotten about the whole ordeal. He hushes you quietly; offering any and all words of comfort so he no longer has to listen to the utterly heart wrenching noise of your sobs – made all the worse knowing that he was the one to cause them.  

“Love, we meant nothing by it, you know that.”

“George, you don’t enter a competition that could quite literally kill for money.”

“What else are we to do if we want to open the shop?”

“We go to a bank and fill out a form for a loan.”

“We?”

You raise your eyebrow, determination lacing your tone and distracting you from your tears, “What? Did you think you were getting rid of me that easily? I won’t work in the shop, but I’ll help you open it in any way I can.”

He hooks an arm around your shoulder; pulling you in once again to drop more kisses to the top of your head, unable to help the emotions surging through him.

Over your shoulder, George makes eye contact with his twin brother. Fred had watched the entire exchange in both awe and with a tinge of jealousy; he couldn’t help but hope he would find something similar to what you and George have. That love that doesn’t need to be named, despite the both of you being somewhat aware of the other’s feelings.

Fred winks at his brother; offering him a thumbs up as he lays down on the bed and closes his eyes. Any attempt to give the near couple one form of privacy or another.

As Fred closes his eyes, George turns his attention back to you. The words don’t need to be said, but he whispers them to you regardless, “I would never leave you. Never.”

He feels you relax against him; the tension seeping from your body as the words land exactly where he meant them too. You fall into the embrace more; gripping onto him tighter and inhaling the smell that is so intoxicatingly him – honeysuckle and gunpowder, and just like that, your heart has calmed, and your mind no longer races with possibilities that may never happen.

Seventh Year:

NEWTs take over your life in Seventh Year; spending more and more time in the library much to the dismay of George. He kicks up a fuss each time you tell him your plans for the evening, yet each evening he doesn’t leave your side as he studies with you.

Truthfully, it’s hard to focus with him so close to you. It’s hard to do much of anything when you have to resist the urge to kiss him senseless each time he smiles at you or flicks a piece of parchment your way.

At this point in your friendship, it could be argued by many outsiders that you were in fact in a relationship. Having been asked many times by younger students, each denial felt like a stab to the gut which is only further reinforced each time you catch him staring at you.

Biting your lip, you return your focus to your studies. Ashamedly admitting to yourself that you had to berate yourself countless times throughout the day for daydreaming about the teenager you’re certain you’ve loved since you were fifteen years old and only just learning the meaning of the word.

Seventh Year was your final year at Hogwarts, and though you were more than certain that George would feature heavily in your life beyond it, you couldn’t help the raw hope that built in your chest and flooded your veins at the mere idea of loving him as more than a friend.

-----------

“You know, I promised myself I would do something at graduation,” George states; pulling you to one side as families begin to gather after the ceremony and students are congratulated further.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” You comment; an eyebrow raised.

George nods; a smile gracing his face, “Yeah, I promised myself I would tell you how I feel about you.”

“And just how do you feel about me, Weasley?”

If it’s at all possible, George’s smile grows larger, “I’m absolutely mad for you, love. So mad for you in fact, that I don’t imagine another future without you in it. So what do you say? Fancy living out the rest of your days with a man who has a thing for pranks and plans on owning a joke shop?”

“I can do you one better.”

“Well I have to hear this.”

You beam up at him; hand already circling his tie, “I fancy living out the rest of my days with my best friend by my side. Morning, noon, and night.”

Arms circling your waist, George laughs lightly, “I think I prefer the sound of that.”

Brushing your lips against his, you whisper, “I knew you would.”

*********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @idont-knowrn @birdie-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @acciotwinz @slytherinsunrise @kylosleftbuttcheek @remmyswritings @xfirstfemale-marauderx @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @ria-rests-here @superbturtlemakerathlete @inglourious-imagines​ @ithilwen-lionheart​

George Weasley taglist: @susceptible-but-siriusexual

[agere-fandom-time]

Hi hi!! Can I gets a fic with toddler regressor! Midoriya izuku going nonverbal during an outing and lowkey regressing but he doesnt know what's happening and he just kind of rolls with it and the rest of 1-A's just like "whelp, looks like we've got a toddler on our hands??" Idk idk but yeah. Please n thankies

I loved this idea so much. Here is your fanfiction!! Mainly featuring Todoroki, Tokoyami, and Asui as the caregivers, with brief appearances from most of Class 1-A but I couldn’t fit everyone in. Also some Dadzawa, of course. 

Can be read below the 'read more’ or here on AO3.

Content Warnings: Sensory overload, non-verbal regression, briefly mentioned fear of Bakugou, involuntary regression in public. 

-Mod Stella

Izuku had always enjoyed shopping with his class.

Of course, now that they had moved into the dorms, there were new rules. A teacher had to come with them, and the students were required to stay in groups of three at all times. They had gone shopping in chaotic groups in their first year, but now leaving campus was an entire event, filled with paperwork and anticipation.

Today, Izuku sat in the middle of the bus between Ochako and Shouto, discussing their math homework. Around them, the rest of 1-A was humming with gossip and excitement as the city sped by outside the bus. Eventually, the conversation turned to specific questions, and all three pulled out their notebooks to compare their answers.

Kaminari wandered over to check on Ochako’s answers, earing him a smack on the head from Kirishima.

“Dude, come one, cheating is totally uncool!”

“I was just checking my answer,” Kaminari pouted, rubbing his head. “I wanted to know if I got question three right!”

“Bring your notebook over,” said Izuku. “The more the merrier!”

By the time they reached the mall, half of the class had their notebooks out and were arguing about the bonus question.

“Not to discourage you from schoolwork, but we could have stayed on campus if you wanted a study session,” Aizawa called from the front of the bus as the doors opened.

“We’re here!” Mina cried, shoving her notebook into her backpack and bolting for the door without zipping up her bag. Izuku could see her through the bus windows as the rest of the class followed her, bouncing impatiently in place as she waited for them. Izuku joined the line outside the bus, waiting for Aizawa to check the class numbers and announce the groups for today.

“Alright, pick your own trios today. Feel free to travel in groups of six, but don’t be a pain for the other people at the mall. Behave while you’re here.” Aizawa’s glare travelled across the class, and Izuku nodded furiously. He wasn’t going to cause any trouble this time!

Izuku was so busy nodding that he almost missed when people started mingling to form trios. He quickly located his nearest friend, which was Shouto, and walked towards him. It looked like he had already paired up with Tokoyami and they were just waiting for a third.

“Mind if I join you guys?” Izuku asked, hooking his thumbs into the straps of his backpack as he got closer.

“You are welcome,” Tokoyami said. Shouto simply nodded and shifted his body to include Izuku in their little circle.

“Cool, thanks!” Izuku took his place with them, watching the rest of the class divide themselves. Most of them were split by gender, having discovered that the boys and girls tended to shop in different places. Aoyama and Mina were the exception to the rule, an inseparable shopping duo. Hagakure had joined them today, and the three were already planning their route through the mall with loud enthusiasm.

“Do you guys need to visit any clothes stores? I’ve gone through, like, ten pairs of socks since our last trip, but I’m okay aside from that,” Izuku admitted. “I’d love to check out the new All Might figurines, I think the games store carries them here…” His trio started to plan their trip with far less fanfare than Aoyama’s.

“You have until five,” Aizawa called into the noise of the class. “Text me if there’s trouble, I’ll be in the food court keeping an eye out.”

“Yes sensei,” the class chorused. Finally free, they filed into the mall in an exuberant crowd.

Izuku, Shouto, and Tokoyami ended up in the bookstore first, trailing each other to their preferred sections (Izuku the manga, Shouto the poetry, and Tokoyami the historical fiction, which Izuku wouldn’t have guessed). All three of them found something to take home and they re-entered the main hallway of the mall with new bags hanging on their arms.

Excited as Izuku was to read his new magazine, the sound of the mall was starting to grate on him. The lights were slightly too bright, and the rustle of plastic bags clashed with the incessant noise of the crowd. People rushed past each other, occasionally brushing against Izuku, and he had to control his instinct to flinch whenever someone stepped on his foot or bumped into his shoulder.

Izuku trailed behind the others, focusing on Tokoyami’s sneakers so that he wouldn’t lose them. He tried to shut out the sounds of the mall, with limited success. There was just too much.

“Are you alright?”

Izuku was surprised to hear Shouto’s quiet voice from his left, and glanced up to see the other boy walking beside him, forehead creased with concern. Izuku smiled and went to say… something. But he couldn’t quite figure out what to say, or how to say it, so he settled for giving Shouto a thumbs-up. Shouto’s expression did something too complicated for Izuku to follow, and then he offered a subtle smile and an outstretched hand.

Izuku didn’t think twice before sliding his hand into Shouto’s, and everything was immediately better. Had the mall been too bright? It was very nice, almost sunny. It was still a little too loud, but he didn’t have to worry about that. He just had to follow Shouto wherever he went, hand-in-hand.

Knowing he wouldn’t lose his friends, Izuku was free to look around. And there was a lot to look at. Lots of strangers, and bright coloured clothing in the shop windows, and… ah!! All Might figurines!

Izuku dug his heels in, pulling Shouto to a stop. Shouto looked back with concern on his face, but Izuku smiled and pointed towards the shop with figurines in the window, and Shouto’s expression cleared.

“Tokoyami!” Shouto called into the crowd ahead of them. “Izuku wants to stop.”

It only took a moment for Tokoyami to join them, glancing briefly down at their joined hands. “I’m with you,” he nodded. “I will follow.”

Izuku tugged Shouto towards the games and collectibles store. There were so many things in here that Izuku loved! So many heroes and cool clothing and wow! Izuku bounced on his heels a little as he pulled Shouto into the store.

Once they were inside, Izuku let go of Shouto’s hand and dove in. There were plushies to feel, and figurines to inspect, and lots of games to check out! Distantly, he was aware of the others following close behind, murmuring to each other. But the merch was so much more important. Lots of All Might, of course, but there was a plushie of Thirteen that Izuku had to take a minute to cuddle. Ochako would probably like that: she was a big Thirteen fan, and had a fair number of plushies. And there was a Crimson Riot figurine that made Izuku think of Kaminari. He gave it a pat on the spiky head. Izuku didn’t hug Kaminari enough. He gave good hugs.

Finished with his inspection, Izuku turned back to his friends and reclaimed Shouto’s hand, leaning contentedly against his side. It made him happy just to be here, surrounded by all these things he could buy, and his friends as well. Tokoyami was on Izuku’s other side, and he bumped his beak lightly against Izuku’s head when Izuku came to join them. Izuku blinked at him. Was that how birds said hello?

Izuku tried to return the gesture, but he didn’t have a beak, so he just poked his nose into Tokoyami’s jawline. He heard Shouto stifle a laugh behind him, and he was pulled back to Shouto’s side.

“Be nice to Tokoyami,” Shouto said. Izuku tilted his head, confused. He was being nice! He was saying hello.

“Should we find another group?” Tokoyami suggested quietly. “Would you like to see Uraraka?” he asked Izuku.

Izuku nodded. Why wouldn’t he want to see Ochako? She was one of his best friends!

“Sounds good.” Shouto’s fingers wrapped a little more firmly around Izuku’s as they started to walk again. Izuku continued to stare around the mall. Everything seemed so fast and loud and big. Was this how the world always was? Something felt off, but Izuku couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

Suddenly, there was movement through the crowd: Kacchan shoving his way through a group of preteen girls with his usual murderous expression, Kaminari and Kirishima loudly apologizing as they followed in his wake.

Izuku did his best to hide behind Tokoyami and Shouto, pressing closer to Tokoyami in the process. A face emerged from Tokoyami’s shoulder, making Izuku jump, but it was just a small part of Dark Shadow stretching lazily from Tokoyami’s shirt, glancing at Izuku and then back towards Kacchan’s trio.

“Don’t worry, kid, we’ve got your back,” Dark Shadow muttered, and did the same beak thing that Tokoyami had done, pressing gently against Izuku’s forehead and then retreating back into Tokoyami’s shoulder.

Izuku stared at the place where the shadow had been, mouth slightly open.

“Still alright?” Shouto asked, pressing Izuku’s hand lightly. “Do you want to get some headphones from Aizawa or Iida?”

Izuku shook his head. Less sound was nice, but he liked being able to hear his friends’ voices. Shouto gave him a thumbs-up, and Izuku mirrored the gesture with a grin.

“There they are,” Izuku heard Tokoyami announce. “Dark Shadow, get their attention.”

“Alright, alright, jeez.” Dark Shadow jumped from Tokoyami’s back and stretched above the crowd, waving a clawed hand. That got a lot of the crowd’s attention, but soon Izuku could see who he’d been gesturing at: a group of four girls, Ochako at their head, was coming over towards them.

“Hey Tokoyami, hey Dark Shadow! What’s up?” Ochako asked.

“I believe we have completed our expedition. We wanted to check with other members of our class,” Tokoyami said. Izuku frowned. Were they really done? But he needed… socks? Or maybe food? He was supposed to buy something.

“Hey, Izuku,” Tsu said, coming to join them. “How’s the trip?”

Izuku was slowly getting used to the weird twisting sensation that kept happening when he tried to talk. He gave Tsu another smile and thumbs-up. She nodded, her tongue poking out from her mouth.

“Don’t feel like talking? I get that. Ribbit. Do you want to go back to the bus?”

Izuku was conflicted. It would be quieter on the bus, and maybe he could even lie down, but all his friends were here! He didn’t want to be alone.

Not knowing how to express the feeling, Izuku reached his free hand towards Tsu and wiggled his fingers. Seeming to understand, Tsu moved forwards and curled her hand in his, and Izuku squeezed both her and Shouto’s hands.

“We’d come with you, if you wanted,” Tsu said. “I’m pretty much finished, and the others will still be a group if we head out. We’d have to check in with Aizawa-sensei, ribbit, but he won’t mind.” Izuku liked the idea of talking to Aizawa. He took care of the class. Izuku felt safer with Aizawa, and when his friends were with Aizawa.

Izuku reluctantly nodded. There was more to see at the mall, and he was sad to miss it, but the idea of curling up on the bus and relaxing with his friends sounded a lot better.

“Well, let’s go then!” Tsu said, pointing towards the food court.

“Wait, wait, I want to give Izuku a hug!” Ochako yelled, and then there were arms wrapping around Izuku from behind, pulling him back into Ochako’s familiar embrace.

Izuku melted, arms dropping to his sides and his weight leaning back into Ochako. She made a surprised noise, tilting back under the pressure, and then Izuku was weightless and Ochako pulled him properly into her arms.

“Hey, Izuku,” she murmured. “I’m sorry you’re going, but I hope you have a good time with Tsu and Todoroki.”

“Mmm!” Izuku said, hoping that Ochako would understand that he meant that he would definitely have a good time, and it was a very nice hug, and thank you very much.

“Okay, I’ll let you go,” Ochako sighed, and pressed a kiss to the top of Izuku’s head, right on his hair. He squeaked and felt his cheeks flush from the unexpected affection. It had felt… a lot like Tokoyami’s beak, actually. But kind of softer. “Take care of him, you two!”

“You know we will, ribbit.”

His weight restored and his hands taken again by his friends, Izuku turned to smile over his shoulder at Ochako as he was led away, his face still warm from the kiss. She smiled and waved, before turning back to Jiro, Momo, and Tokoyami. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Ochako’s voice was high-pitched and excited as she joined the conversation. Hopefully they were having fun.

“Careful, Izuku,” Shouto said, tugging at his hand. “Watch where you’re going.”

Izuku turned his eyes back to the front just in time to let Tsu and Shoto navigate him around a support beam that had been coming a little too close for comfort. Then they were in the food court, the crowd less chaotic here but the conversations louder.

Aizawa was sitting alone, dressed in passably civilian clothes with his capture weapon draped around his neck, phone in one hand. He lifted his chin as soon as Izuku and his friends stepped into view, acknowledging them as they headed towards him.

“Hey sensei,” Tsu said, when they got close enough. “Izuku’s a little overwhelmed and we were thinking about heading back to the bus for a while.”

“Did something happen?” Aizawa asked, directing the question towards both Izuku and Tsu as his eyes flickered between the three of them.

“Not as far as I know,” Shouto answered. “I think it was just the mall.” His thumb swiped across the back of Izuku’s hand. “Do you know?”

Izuku shook his head, then gently pulled his hands free.

Loud, he signed to Aizawa, whose eyes followed the gesture. Bright. Tired.

“Do you want a set of headphones?” Aizawa offered, making a shift towards the bag he’d brought along.

Izuku shook his head. Friends, he signed. Thank you.

“Suit yourself. How about a fidget toy?”

That sounded tempting, and Izuku’s face must have shown it, because Aizawa was rummaging in his bag and tossing things onto the table shortly thereafter. A Rubix cube, a length of string for cat’s cradle, squares of paper for folding, and a miscellany of little fidget gadgets. Izuku chose a set of interlocking rings that made a nice sound when he rattled them, and were fun to twist around each other. He gave Aizawa a smile and a bow, and then put the rings in his mouth. They were cool and metallic, and interesting to bite, but not very nice on Izuku’s teeth.

“Hmm.” Aizawa said, looking unimpressed. “I’ll have to clean those. And get you a proper chew if you’re going to be putting things in your mouth. Maybe a necklace so you can keep track of it.” He packed the rest of the fidget toys away, but not before tossing Tsu her favourite fidget cube and a set of keys. “Lock the bus doors behind you. If those keys go anywhere near the ignition, you’ll be expelled.”

“Yes, sensei,” Tsu agreed, tucking the cube and the keys into her pocket. “We’ll be careful.”

“You’d better be,” Aizawa said. “And take care of Problem Child.” Izuku perked up at the nickname. That was him! Aizawa was talking about him!

“Why is everyone saying that today?” Shouto said. “Of course we will.” He rested a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, which was almost as nice as holding his hand. Izuku leaned into the touch, eyes closing for a moment. He felt very tired all of a sudden.

“Come on, Izuku,” Tsu said, and then his hands were taken again and he was led away, out of the mall. Izuku’s eyes were more closed than open now, and the mall passed in brief flashes of colour and crowd. With a friend on each side, deflecting the traffic, no one bumped into him. Soon enough, they were in the fresh spring air, and Izuku blinked his eyes open to stare up at the clear blue sky, breathing in the taste of petals and dirt.

His friends were by his side, the smell of spring was in the air, and Izuku felt better than ever. The world was very big, but it didn’t matter because his friends were there. They would take care of him. He was safe.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Indruck 22 for the meet uglies?

Here you go! I went SFW on this one

you’re on a date with this awful, awful person who keeps getting under my skin because my friend and I have been eavesdropping all night and your date says something that makes me snap … I thought it was a first date, not a three year relationship

“...such a waste of money. I mean, why spend all that to get something tacky on your skin?”

Indrid rolls his eyes at Barclay from across the counter of the Amnesty Lodge coffee shop, the cooks arms and hands sporting a plethora of tattoos rivaled only by Indrid’s collection.

“I dunno, l like the one I got.” The other man--who seems to be on the worst first date of his life--shrugs.

“You honestly think you and Juno couldn’t have spent that money on something else in college?”

“I mean maybe but, uh, we were earnin our own cash, figured we got to decide what to spend it on.”

“Hmmmm” the first guy sips his coffee, “sounds like a typical excuse for someone who doesn’t want to admit a mistake.”

“C’mon, that ain’t fair-”

“Ugh, stop saying ain’t! I can’t take someone who talks like that to meet my family.” Before the target of his disdain can respond, he snaps his fingers, “hey, buddy, can I get a refill or what?”

“The station for black coffee refills is right there, sir.” Barclay indicates the very obvious corner of dispensers, his voice the kind of calm that Indrid knows means he’s memorizing this guys face to warn other staff about.

They earn a brief reprieve while The Asshole leaves the table. When he returns, he’s shaking his head.

“God, have you looked at the photos they’ve got up? Who the fuck wants to look at bones?”

Indrid quickly glances at his friend to be sure he’s permitted to start a fight. Barclay nods.

“Quite a lot of people.” Indrid spins on his stool. “I’ve sold a number of them just from the display here. So perhaps you could keep your rude, unclultured, close-minded, obnoxious mouth shut.”

The man balks, looks to his companion for help. He offers none, mouth trying to form words and only coming out with halves of ones (except for the “fucks” which are plentiful).

“Oh my fucking god, you agree with him! That’s it, I’m out.” The Asshole pushes back from the table and storms out. The remaining man leaps up, panicked.

“Fuck.”

“It’s okay man, shitty first dates happen to all of us.” Barclay offers from beside the bakery case.

“I mean yeah, they do, but that wasn’t one of ‘em. That was my boyfriend of three fuckin years.” He dashes out of the shop, sparing a final glare at Indrid as he does.

Indrid trades a sheepish look with his friend, “Oops.”

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

“I’m glad you finally get to meet Duck!” Aubrey grins over her shoulder as she and Indrid wind down the hall at the office Kepler magazine.

Founded by childhood friends, Kepler worked a combination of print and video content that saw its subscribers and revenue climb while other publications struggled to stay afloat. Aubrey was head of the video team, though she contributed content to the magazine in the form of interviews about environmental activists of color and sustainable gift guides.

Kepler has three sections: travel, science, and environmental writing. Indrid now has the honor of being one of their primary photographers. He started two weeks ago and is thoroughly enjoying his work and the company of the other staff. The only person he’s yet to meet is Duck Newton, one of the founders and main reporters, as he was off on an assignment.

Aubrey knocks, gets a friendly “come in” and ushers Indrid into the office.

Looking at him from behind the desk is The Asshole’s Boyfriend, whose face goes from open and friendly to confused, then to perturbed.

“You okay?”

“I, uh, fuck, n-ye.” Duck sighs, “remember how I told you Alex and I split after a shitty date in a coffee shop?” He points at Indrid, “this was the fella who, uh, expedited the process.”

“Ohhhh.” Aubrey frowns, then shrugs with a smile, “whelp, he’s our new photographer. We’ll see you around.” She hurries them outside once more, shutting the doors. As they head back the way they came, she whispers, “his ex was a huge fucking dick, so if word gets out everyone is gonna think you’re a fucking hero.”

“He didn’t seem to see it that way.”

“It was only a few weeks ago, so it’s still pretty fresh. He’ll heal from it okay, Duck’s a tough cookie. And I’m sure you guys’ll get along eventually.”

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

“Juno, please, you gotta come with me.”

“I would bud, except it’s April and I’s fifth wedding anniversary that weekend. And no, we already have plans, so we can’t just take over this assignment as part of the celebration.”

“Fuck” Duck leans back in his chair.

“...You really asked everyone?”

“Ye-no, fuck-”

“Duck.”

“I ain’t asked Indrid yet.”

“There it is.” Juno smirks, “you gotta ask; besides, we were gonna have him do illustrations for the feature, but photos would be even better. And we both know it ain’t his fault y’all broke up.”

Duck nods, promises to ask Indrid after lunch. He finds the photographer flipping through his files from his shoot for next issues cover. His silver hair is pulled back, red glasses sitting on the desk beside him so he can gauge color correctly.

Duck kind of wants to pull the silver locks just to see what happens. It’s not his fault Indrid looks like his Sophomore roommate who he had a raging crush on, only with more tattoos and a much more captivating face. Pity he helped fuck up Duck’s last chance at a stable relationship.

“Hey, Indrid, you got a minute?”

The photographer cocks his head.

“I, uh, so we got a feature on this whole chunk of places touting themselves as ‘sustainable romantic getaways. I booked a bunch of places, but a lot of ‘em will turn me away if I turn up solo. And the person I was supposed to go with ain’t an option any more. Neither is anyone else. You get my drift?”

Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “you realize this is a terrible idea, yes?”

“Hey, we been workin together just fine. Ain’t we? Wait, fuck, I ain’t been treatin you bad even when I’m tryin to be professional, am I?”

“No, you’ve been perfectly polite. But there’s a world of difference between being cordial in an office and going on what’s functionally a vacation together.”

Duck crosses his arms, “I ain’t about to lose eight hundred bucks in deposits.”

Indrid blinks, then chuckles, “Fair. What day do we leave?”

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

The temperature rises and the air dries as they speed south on Five. Indrid fiddles with games on his phone as cover for the list of “will this be a disaster or not” he’s mentally constructing. So far the signs are positive; Duck isn’t very chatty, but neither is Indrid. They have similar tastes in music, which makes much more sense when Duck explains he was a burn-out in high school. He also isn’t agitated by Indrid stimming, which makes it easier for the photographer to relax and enjoy the drive.

But they haven’t spoken about the elephant in the car, and Indrid resolves not to be the first to do so. No point in poking the sore spot if he doesn’t have to.

They stop at a Sinclair for gas. Duck reaches into his glovebox for something as Indrid climbs out, comes away with a photo instead. It’s one of those ones from a photobooth, faded but unmistakably him and his ex. His face falls for a second and Indrid scurries into the Dairy Queen attached to the convenience store.

As he waits in line, he turns one fact over in his mind like a picture he’s trying to make sense of; it would be easier to let their awkward first meeting go if he did not genuinely like the other man. He’s charming, in a quiet way, and very friendly. He’s built like the guys Indrid always got useless crushes on in college, usually third tier frat boys or--if he was lucky--a bear a few years older than him who liked his men on the odd side.

He doesn’t like seeing Duck sad. The sadness isn’t something he can fix. The stalemate between these two facts annoy the living hell out of him.

He’s next in line, glances up to confirm what he wants, and gets an idea. Last week, he overheard Duck talking with Aubrey about roadtrip snacks of their youth.

“One chocolate dipped cone, on me.” He holds the treat out to the other man.

“Oh. Uh, thanks. These are my favorite from when I was a kid.” Duck’s smile returns.

“I remembered. Or, ah, that is, I remembered you saying that.”

The smile changes, “you didn’t need to.”

“I wanted to. Shall we?”

“Yep. Uh, you gonna be able to drive and eat that at the same time?”

“Do not doubt my ability to consume ice cream under difficult circumstances, Duck Newton.”

They make it to their first stop unscathed. It’s what Duck refers to as, “eco-bespoke,” a fancy spa and hotel built in a former school, the kind that was made in an era of beautiful instead of grim educational architecture.

“Goats!” Indrid claps his hands, delighted, at the two animals stabled near the main building. One of it’s supposed sustainable elements is the small farm that helps feed the on-site restaurant. Duck smirks and Indrid suddenly feels the gulf in their upbringings, “Ah, I suppose they’re not exciting to someone who grew up in a rural town.”

“Nah, but they’re damn cute.” Duck checks the tag on their room keys, “okay, we’re in the green building, room 2B.”

Indrid snaps some photos as they cross the grounds, more to remind himself of things he wants to come back to later than anything else. He’s busy studying a strange mark on the wall by their door when Duck says, “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Why--oh” he stares at the single bed, “in retrospect, we should have seen this coming.”

“Yeah.” Duck drops his bag near the closet, slides the door to look for spare linens. Indrid summons his courage, finds it lacking, and so bolsters it with nonchalance.

“It’s a king, we could easily share.”

“You’d, uh, you’d be okay with that?”

“It is only narrow definitions of masculinity that mean something like sharing a bed is inherently sexual.”

He’s not entirely sure that made sense, but Duck nods, “You want the right side or left?”

“Right, please.”

“Great. And, uh, Indrid? Thanks for rollin with all this. I, uh, I know it’s fuckin weird but this is a huge feature for the magazine and we woulda been fucked if we had to pull it.”

Indrid gingerly sits on his side of the bed, “You’re welcome. And I don;t know about you, but” he smiles, catches Duck watching him intently in the mirror, “I’m enjoying myself so far.”

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

“Why has an activity that renders one incapable of using their thighs been deemed ‘romantic?” Indrid mumbles, face-down on the bed to offer his burning legs relief.

“Fuck if I know.” Duck groans as he sits next to him, “Kinda fun, but if I was doin this to get you in bed, I’d be fucked.”

“I am in bed” Indrid teases.

“And if I tried to put the moves of you you’d toss me outta it. Assumin I could even move myself that close.” Duck nudges him, then clears his throat, “uh, I mean, not like we’d be doin that-”

“Nono, point taken.” Indrid rolls over. The horseback ride was one of the “couples exclusives;” a trot out to a beautiful oasis for a gourmet picnic. Indrid got some excellent shots, including one of Duck with honeycomb dripping down his chin, which he will not be offering up to editors but may keep for himself. For it’s beautiful composition, of course.

Mercifully, their next stop is the pool. Indrid settles himself in the hot tub while Duck types some notes on his phone. Then his friend doffs his bathrobe and Indrid may as well be in a dream. In the steaming, echoing paradise of multi-colored tile and ecstatic shouts, Duck stands like one of the angelic fountains at its heart has come to life.

“You okay there, ‘Drid?”

“Yes.” He hopes his lack of glasses means Duck will mistake his blatant staring for trying to get his vision in focus.

“Then scoot your cu--uh, your butt over so I can sit down.”

Indrid gladly moves aside, finds he’s so comfortable with Duck pressed against him that he begins nodding off in the warm lull of the water. When the other man nudges him, saying it’s time to go, he finds a strong arm draped over his shoulder and Duck’s smile the most relaxed it’s been all trip.

Their last task at this location is to locate the speakeasy somewhere on the premises and order the “lovers delight” (only available to couples). To do so, they follow clues purple light bulbs, doors that lead to tiny, art-filled rooms, secret staircases, and a false supply closet to a dark wooded, dimly lit, incredibly pleasant bar looking out over the property. The drink turns out to be a massive goblet (more a bowl that someone stuck on a stem) of ginger syrup, prickly pear juice, and silver tequila.

It also turns out to be incredibly strong. So much so that when they get back to the room, Indrid loses his balance getting his shoes off, which makes Duck laugh, which results in both of them flopping onto the bed.

“S’fun. You’re, you’re real good at the clues. Should, should go to an escape room when we get home.”

“Wasn’t, hic, that hard. They, they want, hic, want you to find it.”

“Take the compliment, goofus” Duck pushes his shoulder.

“You’re, hic, the goofus.”

“Nuh uh.” Duck sticks his tongue out. Indrid does the same, then licks his cheek just to hear him laugh.

Duck rolls onto his back, giggles dying down to a contemplative sigh, “He woulda hated this.”

“Your ex?” Indrid crawls to stay close to him.

“Yeah. Everythin I like, or, or thought was fun, he thought it was a waste of time or just plain worthless. He, he wasn’t like that at the start. Dunno what changed. Probably me. Probably got borin. Got worse.”

Indrid is not so drunk that he believes he can fix this. But he’s just drunk enough to stroke Duck’s cheek and murmur, “No. Nono, hic, you’re th’best.”

He doesn’t remember falling asleep after that, but he must have, because his phone is beeping at them to get up and face the day. They do so with to-go coffees in one hand and their bags in the other, neither speaking of the night before until Indrid has turned the car into deeper desert.

“Sorry for gettin on a thing about Alex last night.”

“It was a three year relationship; goodness knows you’re allowed to have feelings about it.”

“Even relief?”

Indrid glances at him, “Of course.”

His friend leans back in his seat, sipping from his travel mug, “That’s half the reason I been in such a funk. I feel like I oughta be sad, then I feel guilty for the fact I’m relieved instead. But if I really was that unhappy in it, why did I hang around so long? Maybe that was the best I deserved, y’know?”

“I know the feeling, yes, but I can’t say I agree with your statement. You deserve someone who sees you for who you are and adores it, not someone who loved what you once were and became bitter when you grew.”

Duck looks at the console between them, at Indrid’s chipped black nails and the hand he hopes isn’t shaking. He squeezes it a moment longer than necessary, “Thanks, ‘Drid. It’s nice to hear that from someone who’s still gettin to know me. Juno and them, they’re my friends, I know they’re in my corner but, uh, sometimes I worry that anyone new is gonna find me dull or somethin like that.”

“I’m sure some people would, just as some take one look at me and decide I’m a weirdo who they don’t want to deal with. But I can say with certainty that I don’t find you that way.”

Duck grins all the way to their destination. It’s a quirky trailer park full of amenities and built mostly from salvaged materials, doing it’s best to run off the grid. It also gives each trailer a theme, and Indrid flaps his hands when he sees they’ve been booked in the “The Cramps” themed one.

“Hell yeah.” Duck mirrors his excitement as they open the door. Their haven from the desert sun is full of kitschy horror artifacts and a much smaller bed than the previous spot. There’s no debate this time; Indrid settles on the right, Duck on the left, and they settle in for a nap before venturing out to work.

They take in the bar, the arcade, the mini-golf course, and the “couples supply room” (“damn, didn’t know they made eggnog scented massage oil” “ooh, I like how that smells”), but Duck turns out to be most excited to rent a stargazing kit and guide Indrid out into the dark desert. They’re on their backs, shoulder to shoulder and munching chocolate covered fruit, when he discovers the source of his glee.

“There!” Duck points to a crackling streak of silver.

“A meteor” Indrid wiggles happily as a second one speeds through his view.

“It’s the Perseids, and this is a damn good place to watch ‘em. Look, there’s another one.” He’s breathless each time and Indrid’s heart threatens to beat hard enough to crack the earth at the sound.

“Did you ever wish on stars when you were little?”

“Yep. Never asked for much worth notin, though I’m pretty sure I wished once to just wake up and be a boy. Or, uh, guess for everyone to see me as one. What about you?”

“I wished...I wished for someone to do things like this with, some who’d kiss me and tell me that they didn’t need to wish because what they wanted was right here.. I love the world, I want to see so much of it, that’s half the reason I chose my profession.. But when I was young I thought I’d be with someone when I did. I thought it was easy to find that kind of love. To be worthy of it.”

“Hey now” Duck rolls onto his side. He’s backlit by the moon, meteors zipping behind him as if they, just like Indrid, are pulled to him, “what happened to all the stuff you said in the car about deservin someone who adores you?”

“It’s easy to apply such things to you, harder to believe them about myself.”

“How come?”

“Because you are everything a sensible person could want in a man and I am not.”

“That’s where you’re wrong” He sets a hand next to Indrid’s shoulder, “Can think of at least one sensible fella who wants to get to know you a whole hell of a lot.”

“He’ll get to know me plenty, we’re co-workers.”

“There are different kinds of gettin to know someone.” Duck dips down, brushes their noses together, “for instance, the last few days I’ve gotten to know you’re a damn good travel companion and that Ned was smart to hire you. But I’ve also gotten to know there’s some things about you I really wanna know.”

“Such as?” Indrid’s fingers find Duck’s sides.

“Such as whether you wanna go on a date with me when we get back. No assignment, just the two of us gettin some time together.”

“I want nothing more.” He leans up to kiss him, feels him shudder happily when their lips meet. Indrid wonders how long it’s been since someone kissed Duck like they meant it, and resolves to make up any deficits with an enthusiasm that would put horny eighteen year olds to shame.

Indrid nips Ducks ear, “you know, were it not for the threat of mosquitos and scorpions, I’d suggest we make good use of the non-food items in that basket.”

Ducks grin lights Indrid up like a comet, “Then howsabout we go test just how conducive our trailer is to romance?”

Indrid kisses him adoringly, “Lead on, sweetheart; I’ll follow you anywhere.”

[thatsgay-writes]

Elle Greenaway x Reader

Summary: Elle makes a shocking discovery after they catch an unsub. (Follows along season 1 episode 7)

Warning: Criminal Mind stuff

The reader is given a name, for certain purposes and it is third person on purpose.

Word Count: 2.5k

Dr. Thomas Fuller wrote, “with foxes, we must play the fox.”

---

“Bad?” Agent Hotchner asks as Elle handed him a folder. “The worst.” Elle responds as they head to the round table room. Gideon stood in front of a board as he looked at all of the images. “Crawford family. Murdered 3 days ago.” He says just as Derek walked in, “Saw it on the news.” He says as he takes a quick look at the board as he walks by. “They were found in the basement of their house...” Gideon says, still staring at the images. “Bags packed for a vacation they never took.” JJ continues for him. “Report said it was a murder/suicide. The father stabbed the mom, then shot himself.” Derek says as he sits down, still not fully sure as to why they were taking it as a case. “That’s the conclusion the Maryland State police came to. The gun was next to the father, he had gunpower residue on his right hand.” JJ states as she states a few things listed on the report in front of her. “And now you must have some compelling reason to think that Chris Crawford didn’t off his family?” Derek asks, looking to JJ for a response. “Yeah. Another murdered family. The Millers-- found a month ago. The mother, Reese Miller, her two children and her new husband. Again, they were found in the basement and like the Crawford's, their suitcases were packed for a vacation.”

---

“Elle!” Bailey yelled as she ran towards her girlfriend. Elle Greenaway and Bailey Woods had been friends since Kindergarten, both managing to stay in the same school all the way through middle school and up to high school. In 8th grade, they both finally confessed the feelings they held for each other. “Bailey?” Elle asked in concern as she watched her girlfriend run up to her, tears visibly rolling down her face. “Bailey, baby, what’s wrong?” Elle asked as she scooped the younger girl, by a few months, into her arms. “Did someone do something? Tell me who and we can beat them up together.” Elle said, semi-seriously. You just shook your head as you held onto her shirt tightly. It was the week before Junior year ended, the only tears falling from your face should be happy ones. “What happened?” Elle asked concerned, you had never acted like this before. She knew it couldn’t have anything to do with your dad since he was home for the next few months.

Elle made a split second decision and led you out of the school before any of the teachers could notice. “C’mon, let’s go.” She said to you as she opened the passenger door to your car. She had taken the keys from your pocket, knowing you were in no condition to drive. As she drove to your secret spot, you managed to calm down some and were taking deep breaths to calm all the way down. Elle parked in one of the parking spots at the top of the abandoned parking garage and turned off the car. “Can you tell me what’s wrong now?” She asked as she reached over the middle section and grabbed your hand. You took a few more deep breaths before looking up at her, heartbreak shone through your eyes. “I’m moving.”

---

Elle stood outside the interrogation room as she watched Reid talk to Eric Miller. “Is that what this is about, hmm? You think I’m crazy, man? You think I suddenly snapped and slaughtered my own wife and kids?” Eric kept asking questions as he got more and more agitated. “You think I did this? Huh? Is that what you think!?” Eric yelled as he suddenly stood up. Elle looked to Hotch with wide eyes before they entered the room. “Sit down.” Hotch told Eric firmly. Reid was the youngest on the team and it was his first time doing an interrogation solo, so Elle and Hotch were a little protective over him. “Is this your daddy?”

--- South East Washington D.C

Elle sat quietly in her seat as she sat in the back seat of the car as they drove towards the address Hotch and Garcia had found while snooping through the Crawford’s financials. Reid and Hotch both shared a look at the unusually quiet Elle. Usually when in the car, she would be looking over a file or talking to others to understand more about the case but tis time she was just staring out a window. “Is... Um, is everything okay?” Reid asked, his voice going a little high at the end of his question. His question shook Elle out of whatever she was thinking about, “Yeah... Maryland just brings back some memories...” You’ve been here before?” Hotch asks, concerned about the other agent but also making sure that nothing would intervene with the case they were working on. Elle sat silently for a few seconds before answering right as they pulled up to their destination, “No.”

“Federal Agents!” “FBI” “Federal Agents!” “Clear!” Hotch, Elle, and Derek all yelled simultaneously as they busted through the front door of the home. Elle scrunched her nose in disgust at the sight of the home, “Cleanest thing in here...” She muttered as she kicked what looked like an empty dog bowl. She stayed at the front of the house with Gideon and Reid as Derek and Hotch went deeper into the home. She watched with a questioning gaze as Gideon walked over to the wall and picked up a single painting that was hanging. “What’s that?” She asked as Gideon looked down at the drawing. “It’s a child’s painting. It’s a colonial house. Mom, dad, 2 children out front holding hands.” Gideon listed what he saw. “And a big dog.” She states as she looks over his shoulder.

---

Bailey and Elle laid together in her bed, the end of summer coming faster than ever before. She and Elle had spent almost all their time together, going on dates, spending nights at each other’s houses, etc. Anywhere Elle went, Bailey were there, and anywhere Bailey went, Elle was there. Right now the two of them were laying in Bailey’s bed watching T.V. “Stop staring at me.” Elle mumbles as she stares at the television. Bailey lets out a breath of air and rolls her eyes with a groan, “Love meeee, I want attentionnnnn.” She draws out causing Elle to playfully roll her eyes in response. “Fine, come here.” Elle says as she opens her arms out for Bailey to lay in. Bailey plays with Elle’s hair as she laid her head on her girlfriends chest. “I want kisses...” “Bailey repeats over and over again, like a chant. “Geez, someone is clingy today.” Elle states as she sits up and leans back against the wall. Bailey shifted around so she was now straddling Elle. “I leave in 3 weeks... I just wanna kiss my girlfriend.” Bailey pouts as Elle finally gives in. “Okayyyy.” She says with fake annoyance.

Bailey and Elle were deep into a make out session when her door suddenly busted open. “Eww!” “Ezra!” Bailey yelled as her sister covered her eyes with her arms. “Eww! Not you too! Mommy and daddy were doing that too!” The 5 year old yelled causing Bailey to laugh. Bailey gets off of Elle’s lap and picks up her little sister. “Aww,” Bailey says with a fake pout, “Do you feel left out?” Bailey starts kissing all over Ezra’s face causing the little girl to giggle and try to get away. “No! Eww! Stop it!” Ezra yells as she gets out of Bailey’s hold and pretends to rub away the kiss in fake disgust. Bailey just rolls her eyes at her sisters action. “C’mon, let’s go see if Benson is awake. We’ll be right back Elle.” Bailey says over her shoulder as she and Ezra leave the room. Elle laid back on Bailey’s bed as she left the room, staring at the ceiling. All she could think about was how in love with the younger girl she was.

Her train of thought got cut off as a small body was laid on top of hers. Elle immediately moved her arms to hold him and make sure he didn’t fall off of her. “Hey buddy...” She said in a baby voice as Bailey laid down next to her and pulled her into her. Bailey let out a groan as Ezra jumped on top of her before snuggling up. “Alright... What do you want to watch?”

---

“Okay. No, I understand. Yeah, I figured as much. Thank you.” Derek says as he gets off the phone. “He’s been staring at those pictures all morning.” Elle states as she stares at Gideon who is staring at the drawings done by the murdered children. “well, I sure hope he sees a connection cause I’ve checked doctors, lawyers, travel agents, tutors, contract workers. I got nothing.” Derek says as Hotch walks by. “Why target those families?” Elle wonders still watching Gideon. “Well, to know that, we have to know how.” Hotch says as he sits down and continues looking at the file in his hands.

“ We know organized killers are often skilled workers with above-average intelligence. High birth status. And in most cases...male. In the workplace, he's socially confident. And with women...sexually confident. Every offense...is preplanned. Targeting the victim is almost as pleasurable as the actual kill. These guys, they're...they're meticulous. It's a compulsion. Everything has to have its proper place. They do exhaustive amounts of research on their victims. They watch their every move every last detail is observed. Everything has to be written ever so neatly in a book or possibly a journal. When the kids are comin' home from school. When daddy'll be home. Playtime. Suppertime. Bath time. Bedtime. Plan the work...work the plan. This is the way that he maintains control. It's also how he personalizes his target... So nothing's left to chance. Absolutely nothing... Is left out of place, ever. So he plans the work... And when he's good and ready, he works that plan. He takes great pride in his job. I think the workplace has to be the connection.” Derek says as they go over everything they have learned about the unsub.

Gideon walks out of the room he was in with two drawings in his hands. He holds both the pictures up side by side. “Both are by Emily, painted months apart.  This one...is full of color, life. The one I found at Emily's house has lines, dimensions. No color. I believe Emily was coerced to make this. It's a point of view. It is his point of view. This is where the killer stood, just watched the family.” Gideon says after having finally figured out the connection of the paintings to the case. Hotch drops a ring on the desk he was leaning on, letting it spins some before picking it up. “Each of the dead husbands was missing his wedding ring. This is the unsub’s trophy.”

---

Bailey and Elle sat on the edge of the cliff at their special place. Trying to soak up as much time as they could before Bailey had to leave in a few hours. “I can’t believe you’re leaving...” Elle state as she leans her head against Bailey’s shoulder. “We had everything planned out too...” She trails off, looking at the scenery in front of her. “Hey don’t speak like that...” Bailey says as she holds Elle’s face in her hands. “It’s just one school year apart and then we will go to college together like we planned.” Bailey states before she pauses. “Look, I’m going to make you a promise, okay?” Elle raised an eyebrow at Bailey skeptically, promises were a big thing for Bailey, she never broke them. Bailey lets go of Elle’s face and pulls a ring from her pocket. “No before you freak out, this is my dad’s ring.” Bailey says with a slight laugh as she watches Elle’s eyes get big before returning to normal. “Now, you know me and my dad are close... When I was 5 and he got sent on the first deployment I remember, I cried like a baby for weeks on end. It actually got so bad my mom had to take me out of school one time.” Bailey says with a smile as she stares down at the ring in her hand.

“When dad came back and heard about it, he got his ring modified.” Elle watches with slight confusion as Bailey slid the ring a certain way and it split in half. “And now, whenever he gets deployed, I get this half of the ring so I always have a piece of him with me.” Bailey continues her story as she puts the larger part of the ring on a chain. “It’s obviously too big to fit on my ringer so mom bought a chain to put it on.” Bailey says as she puts the chain around Elle’s neck and closes the clasp. “I asked my dad and he said it was okay for me to give my part to you so you know that I am always with you and thinking about you.” Bailey says as she gives Elle a goofy smile. Elle tries to cover her crying but lets a few tears slip. “Hey, it’s okay...” Bailey says as she pulls the girl she loves into a hug. “Senior year will be over before you know it and we’ll be back together again.”

---

The group all sits around the table in silence as Gideon stares into the box that Hotch had found in Karl Arnold’s office. Everyone’s heart dropping as Gideon lets the contents of the small box drop and 8 rings fall onto the table. Every sat in silence feeling remorse for whatever families had lost their life’s to Dr. Arnold. Elle takes a moment to look at each ring and feels herself get nauseous at the sight of one ring that looks a little different from the others. It can’t be... She thinks as she slowly reaches out, ignoring the looks from her friends, and grabs the ring that made her feel sick. She takes a minute to study the ring, her heart beating faster at how familiar it is. She can feel her friends and coworkers staring at her in confusion, wanting to know why she had picked up the ring.

Elle reach's into her shirt a little and pulls out a ring of her own. The group shares a confused look, wondering where the ring had came from and how long she had had it. Elle takes it off the chain and slides the two rings together like she had seen you do ten years ago. The clicking sound it made not only signifying the two rings becoming one but also her heart breaking into two. Elle looks up to see Hotch and Gideon looking at her with a worried face, it was obvious that Elle knew who that ring belonged to. Seeing her friends face’s filled with sorrow was enough for the dam to break and the tears to flow.

---

“Elle! Guess what!” Bailey yelled excitedly into the phone as Elle picked up. Elle laughed at her excitement. “What?” “I get to go on vacation tomorrow!”

[jiminrings]

hi hannah! i may have a request 🥺 i've been watching too much tiktok and this two made me want some jungkook skater au 😳 like the reader saw him and went like love at first sight so she purposely buys a skate and goes everyday to the skatepark and start learning just to impress that hot tattooed skater that kinda looks like a bad boy but he's actually a softie. ♡

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZSm5Huop/

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZSm55usm/

late skate

pairing: jungkook x y/n

wordcount: 7k

glimpse: jungkook would rather wash down his grip tape than spend another hour seeing you land on yOUR ass, a smitten y/n and love at first sight, and tae almost losing his bearings (in all aspects) <3 // gif is from pinterest :D

note: thank you so much for the request babie!!! also i’m sorry since i’ve done this a month late hee-hee bUT but it’s here now!!! fun fact: i used to skate but one time i fell on my ass so hard doing an ollie that i quit ( ˙-˙ )

there is nothing

there is absolutely nothing you hate more than walking home alone and at-

wait u need to shudder

night

times like these make you both angry and scared because fIRST of all

you’re angry because if oNLY (you’re still hoping that u win the lottery soon) you were born to wealth and ease (if you see park jimin one more time in a billboard you’re about to lose it), you wouldn’t have to worry!! or even work for that matter!!!!

you could have a car by now!!!

but you don’t have a car and you’re still saving up for that because you have to keep up with your bills and this nice and decent apartment that you’re living in right now

well if you’re being honest, you are splitting it with yoongi and that cuts back your expenses significantly but that’s besides the point

which is why you’re being extra thrifty!! save up all the money that you could so you could by yourself a car amongst other financial decisions and nOT be scared shitless when walking home

you’re working at the animal shelter most of the time and it’s very fulfilling because of cOURSE!! your job is to care for animals and give them a better chance at everything :D

the pay is more than decent but it’s not the highest sO what you do on your spare time is pick up any job you could!!

and the income that you need is more and more than decent because taking care of chimmy is not an easy feat

chimmy, your alaskan malamute!!! he’s the first puppy you’ve properly taken care of in the shelter and you’ve fallen head over heels for him

he kept bumping into the wall when he scrambles after you call for him but eH you love the clumsy giant still!!

so much so that you file your adoption form for him and run over to mr. kim’s office hurriedly :D

your boss seokjin’s pretty sweet after all but at the same time he’s intimidating!! too sweet and intimidating at the same time that when he approves your form without much question, you almost kiss his cheek

...

.... hehe

jin beat you to it and instead he gave you a side-hug with a very strict warning to take care of chimmy and provide everything that he needs

he eats 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒾𝓊𝓂 dog food and you could only assume the amount that he needs because of how he towers

the treats?? one time yoongi got overly-excited to take a picture of him and accidentally left the bag on the ground, and when he came back?? chimmy’s managed to inhale all of them

thankfully he’s only loyal to one (1) toy and it’s to this brown angry... entity..? with one tooth that yoongi’s made by himself

but he constantly has to replace the stuffing because chimmy nOTICES when it’s flat and unstuffed from his own doings

hehehe the grooming.....

you thank your lucky stars that jin gives you a discount to have chimmy groomed!! 

one time you were about to have a breakdown because a $100 grooming session simply didn’t click well with your ongoing budget and you decided to do it yourself :D

spoiler alert: chimmy kept barking at you when you held up the mirror to his face because wOOF did you just... d-did you give him bangs.... how was that possible....

and then sECOND of all is that well.,.,.,

you’re scared and that’s it

there is every possible reason for you to be scared :D

you get off from work at 5!! but now it’s quarter to 8 and you totally should’ve booked an uber but it completely slipped your mind

normally, you wouldn’t walk home alone though because chimmy comes with you to the shelter, and then he serves as a therapy dog of sorts to help ease and calm down the new rescues!!

he even has his own little ID oh my god :’)

but he doesn’t come in everyday and well you remember,.,.

no actually, yoongi REMINDS you that today is his day-off at work and explictly implied that he’d very much love to cuddle with a giant alaskan malamute as he gets his well-deserved rest

and yoongs has been the reason to why you don’t unravel every single day and you owe him for your life so yea okay you can have chimmy whenever you need this giant pillow of support <3

but no

no 

you don’t have chimmy with you and you don’t have anyone to bark and be willing to growl n intimidate any creepy dudes you could possibly encounter on this twenty-minute walk home

the extra coffee you’ve drank at 6 in lieu of dinner does not help at ALL

what if you just... run

that way you get home faster and you won’t have to be that antsy!!!

ok maybe just a light jog would do

you wanna go home so badly and take a shower and be sandwiched between your warm sheets and sleep all the way

you miss chimmy and yoongi and you just hOPE that he’d already cooked dinner and you won’t have processed food again for the third time in a week

and after dinner maybE you could treat yourself to online shopping because yoongs has also been pestering you to let yourself indulge once in a while

your thoughts are jumbled once panicked and it reminds you that yes you should definitely get a car and you know what??? you probably should-

wait fUCK

...

....

oh

wait

hold on a second

did you just manage to narrowly dodge what seems to be a skateboard in mid-air??????

“taehyung, you dumbass!!”

said taehyung is jumping down and crouching to pick up the deck at your feet and squeaks an “oop sorry ‘bout that!!” before going back and

well...

mr. “taehyung, you dumbass!!” is who you presume to be the speaker,, because well no one eLSE is in this skatepark at 9 in the evening,,,, is standing RIGHT underneath the light and is right at your line of sight

it’s as if the clouds are opening up and chimmy’s barking could be heard and everything you deem perfect is ringing right in your ears because god.... holy shit.....

he looks and probably feels like a warm-sized bed that smells of baby powder and fresh linen

he has a hoodie on with the sleeves scrunched up and you tHANK yourself that you’ve saved up enough to get lasik eye surgery because those tattoos...,.,. you r positive that they would be your demise

mr. TYD has a loose bucket hat on yet you could still see his features clearly and you aren’t lying when you say he is perhaps the most breathtaking thing you’d ever seen

even more breathtaking than seeing chimmy in the laundry room and having fished for your one good perfect bra in his mouth

oh

huh

you’re pretty sure this is what love at first sight must feel like

suddenly, you aren’t anxious at all and you’re instantly gravitating towards the ramp without much complaint

there’s a bench conveniently placed in which you could see him but he won’t see you

you find yourself sticking around and smiling when you see him goofing around in all good fun

hopefully you don’t look like a cREEP because you swear you aren’t!!!! and hopefully they don’t notice you either and find out then and there that you’re here in a skatepark withOut a skateboard,,, just sitting,,, to see him

this may not be your best idea yet lmao yes you’re gonna admit that

but it’s probably the first and last time that you’re ever gonna see him so might as well watch him for awhile!! that’s all!!!!

ok wait

this is definitely a bad idea because yoongi calls you and you forgOt to put it on silent and it’s his voice that greets you very rudely as soon as you pick up

“y/n where the FUCK are you???”

oh lmao it’s quarter to 10 already

“jeez, i’m coming home!! calm down!!”

“yeah tell that to chimmy who’s been worried sick with me and won’t stop hOWLING!!!”

you’re scrambling to gather your duffel and sneak oNE last look at him and ur practically pouting as you say goodbye to him under your breath 

:((

“... aw, you worry about me?”

you resume back to jogging on your way home and this time for rEAL

you’re gonna miss him

he’s like one of the random dudes you see in the mall that are sO breathtaking and you know you’re never gonna see them again

you didn’t even manage to catch his name :((

but whoever he is, he feels a little more different than a dude in a mall because this time, you feel like you’re gonna cRY at the thought of it

little did you know that jungkook could see you all this time and he’s sad to see you go 

:D

chimmy is the first to leap at you as soon as you come through the door

and if you didn’t anticipate the giant, then you’d probably be toppled over by now

yoongi finds it weird that there’s this lingering gentle smile on your face

well he shouldn’t be so shOcked because he sees you talking to yourself when you’re watching documentaries and cooking

(( he always checks if there’s a camera hidden somewhere in the kitchen and you were vlogging or something but nO!!! ))

it’s like you’re a third-grader again that goes fERAL at just the thought of their crush

you hope mr. tyd has already eaten breakfast and hasn’t had any injuries with his skateboarding

you’re trying to rationalize with yourself that it’s just a stOOpid and pathetic crush to harbor in less than a day and stop thinking about him

the universe must seem to hate aND love you at the same time because well would you look at tHAT

it’s 5 in the afternoon and you have chimmy beside you and you’re walking home

and that’s practically your routine ever since you’ve gotten this job

it would only differ if a situation like last night happens or when you’re too tired to walk home oR when it’s raining

but right now it’s your normal workday, and you’re walking home, and it’s sunny, aND THIS IS THE SECOND TIME YOU’VE SEEN HIM

this is also the first time that you’ve seen him in such a situation that you didn’t expect :O

the fact that you’ve mayhaps watched kimi no nawa last night with yoongi and perhaps 98 times before that, does not help at all

“you uh, y-you wanna go for a run on the grass, chim??”

there’s this mini field besides the skatepark and chimmy happily jUMPS at the mention of grass :D

aha oh well :D would you look at that :D your dog wants to go run on the grass that’s a couple feet away from the skatepark :D who are you to stop him anyways?? :D

chimmy’s more than happy to comply with your wish and vice versa because he’s having the time of his life clearly

he’s your pawman and the perfect variable so you wouldn’t seem like a third-grader with a helpless crush on anOther third-grader

it seems that hE’S more excited than you though because chimmy runs to the ramp instead of the grass!!!

and in the process he goes UP to greet a guy like he does with you whenever you come home!!! it’s harmless pouncing per se

but it’s not entirely harmless because it feels like chimmy knows EXACTLY what’s in your mind and what he’s doing

“chimmy!!!”

.....

...... of course

chimmy has to of cOurse pounce on him

jungkook wasn’t surely expecting a giant and overly-friendly alaskan malamute to pounce on him right when he was about to drop-in

it’s a pleasant surprise either because it’s-

wait

oh my god

is this yOU?????

listen.,.

jungkook was in the skatepark last night with taehyung and they took advantage of it because they were the only ones there!!

tae surely wasn’t kidding when he said that he was a novice because holy sHIT how was it possible that he sent a skateboard flying mid-air after a failed trick??

kook flinches when he follows it in his line of sight and notices that there’s someone down there who might be literally dECKED out of tae’s stupidity

he’s about to yell for this passer-by to dodge and-

time seems to move quicker because you’re already stopping yourself and flinching in place and then looking up

you’re rIGHT underneath this street lamp and jungkook sighs a breath of relief when he realized that you weren’t hit

but at the same time he’s gasping again because wow

t-that’s uhm-

okay

wHEW he has never felt this pressure in his chest ever since he joined a quizbee in 8th grade

would it be-

ok nevermind

WOULD IT BE TOO FORWARD FOR HIM TO SAY THAT HE HAS A CRUSH ON YOU ALREADY

you’re really beautiful??? and frankly he has to look away for a second because you’re tOO beautiful that he doesn’t know what to do with himself

that’s it u are under arrest for being too pretty >:(

jungkook’s flustered because there’s just these types of people that put a knot on his chest unknowingly and he doesn’t know how to act normally

you are the equivalent of him not being able to look at the screen because the kdrama was that good and he feels unworthy to even watch it

it’s goosebumps all over his skin and he’d be lying when he says his cheeks are not heating up at aLL

“taehyung, you dumbass!!”

his first instinct is to scold taehyung because what iF he ended up hurting you with his skateboard, hmm?? and tHEN what

he expected you to leave after that close-call and if everyone must know, jungkook has an incredible talent at being able to scope out things in his peripheral vision

he could look straight ahead and be able to see what you were also doing at the side

he doesn’t know if that’s a talent or uH everyone has it but whatever he can do that!!!

and you were clearly still there and in fact, even sIT down on the bench

he could see you smiling and giggling and a ginormous part of him assumes that it’s because of him

he prays to god that it’s NOT the guy who almost decked you with a skateboard ://

jungkook was acting weird and he kept smiling and laughing mORE than necessary and taehyung can see right through him

“bro all i did was walk towards you wtf are you laughing,,.,”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHHA tae you’re so silly XD”

alrighty then,, maybe jungkook just binge-ate his vitamin gummies which is why he keeps beaming for an unknown reason

koo was so grumpy literally just before he had his skateboard flying and now he’s ???? weird

jungkook was ultimately sad to see you get up and he knows he’s probably never gonna see you again ok alright time to mope

but this

this

he’s beyond surprised to see that said owner of giant dog happens to be yOU!! of all the people!!!!

it’s you!

“i’m so so sorry about him!! he’s just excited to make friends with everyone and i don’t have the sLIGHTEST clue why he came to you!!”

you pointedly look at chimmy and he has the audacity to howl before looking away

it hasn’t dawned on you that you’re talking and apologizing to him but it certainly did on jungkook which is why he’s charmingly laughing already

“no, no. it’s okay, i don’t mind!! his name’s chimmy, then?”

you’re blinking profusely because yes.. right.. HE is talking to you

“yeah, uh, correct!! his name’s chimmy :)”

“that’s cute. anyways, i’m jungkook :)”

aha :D

koo would like to think that he is smooth

and yes you agree

you immediately shake his hand tOO eagerly with a smile on your face as you’re trying to take this all in

“i’m y/n :)”

jungkook’s hand is bigger than yours and your hand fits sNUGLY right into his hold

he has some tattoos on his hands and there’s some peaking from underneath his hoodie

but even with ur lasik vision you cAN’T focus because omg are you seriously holding jungkook’s hand.,.,

jungkook as in THEE jungkook that you’ve immediately clocked and crushed on last night in an instant

your lil moment of just holding each other’s hands is interrupted when taehyung pops out of nOwhere

(( actually he’s been there for the past two minutes and he kept switching between cooing and laughing ))

“yO i’m taehyung!!! you must be y/n, i didn’t nick you last night, did i?”

he takes it upon himself to hug you right then and there

well he’s warm and he passes the internal vibe check yoongi’s hotwired into your brain so you reciprocate!! you like hugs anyway and taehyung’s just like chimmy but in human form

jungkook practically squawks and stammers in his place because w-why.. w-what...... no

chimmy bARKS at taehyung and koo is tempted to do the same too because no man you simply do nOt hug my crush that you know absolutely nothing about

“he’s asking for you.”

kook points to chimmy who’s obviously pouncing on you to come run with him

you excuse yourself so you could go satisfy the giant and jungkook felt like his heart was gonna fall out of his aSS

tae wiggles his eyebrows and has his lips pursed and it’s the shit-eating grin that he immediately flips off as soon as he sees it

“what was that all about?”

you are convinced

you are 100% convinced

your head is fully-set into the game and in no way are you gonna back out

“min yoongi!!”

ah there it is

yoongi’s having the time of his life playing fetch with chimmy! what could possibly be any more important in this world than that

“what did i do now?”

you only call out his full name when a) you’re agitated and when b) he’s ignoring you and you’ve had enough of it

he really doesn’t recall giving you the cold shoulder recently

and he certainly didn’t agitated you when all he’s done is play with chimmy and sleep!!!

“please click this for me pls. click. please. pls click.”

aH yoongi should’ve brought his glasses instead of leaving them on the couch

you’re holding out your laptop to him with your arms outstretched and he has to come really close to decipher and-

... huh

“a skateboard?”

pardon him but he’s really lost on this one ok

he is as lost as he was when walmart decided to completely rearrange the whole store

“... and what do you need a skateboard for? y/n when i said that you should get yourself a four-wheeler, i didn’t mean a skateboard-”

in what part does a skateboard look like an SUV

whY are you like this

“it’s for uh... it’s for fun purposes!!”

you’re trying not to raise any more questions in yoongi’s mind but his head is miles miles away now lol

???? you hate trying new things though ???

one time you traded in your beef ramen for pork ramen because the first one was out of stock and throughout the whole meal you kept thinking how much you regretted it

and besides, skateboarding would be the last thing you’d get into!!!

yoongi distinctly remembers that you’d rather choke on chewing gum rather than get your knees scraped

why was that?? because when your knees get scraped, walking and doing everything else?? impossible 

nice try sherlock but the moment you do so much as to not stand up straight?? sIT down?? yeah your knees would give out 

what has got to be something so special that you’d wanna get into skateboarding and risk yourself into getting your knees scraped??

....

....

omg is that what he thinks it is

“... it’s a crush, isn’t it?”

the way you instantly shut him down and practically have to beg him just to press the check out button.,..

aha 

yeah yoongi’s gotten his answer alright :D

whatever this is

or whatever that’s going on

you’re sure that you’ve never felt this content for a long time

you now bring a change of clothes so you wouldn’t go skating in your uniform because that just honestly sucks

you may be too tired to walk to the skatepark which is why sometimes you’d book a ride, but no you’re never tOO tired to skate and see jungkook :D

it’s frustrating enough as it is

yoongi used to skate and that’s the reason why you’ve found this shortcut in the first place because this was where the park was!! you’d always think at the back of your head on wHY was yoongi struggling!!!

smh that’s so easy yoongs </3

joke’s on you now though because trying to balance on the board in the first place scared you shitless because hOW were you supposed to do this??

you can ride a bike and that has tWO wheels and this has fOUR bearings!!! how come you can’t balance yourself??

even managing to stand up on the board without panicking for more than ten seconds AND managing to shift from left to right even if it’s albeit shaky at first, took you a wHOLE evening

but you’re so proud of yourself and so is jungkook :D

jungkook finds it the highlight of his night when you’d hold onto him

yes he knOws you have it under control now and you barely hold onto him for support

“just so you won’t fall, that’s all.”

he always evades your eyes when you go look up at him dreamily like that because how could he not???

you’ve covered the basics of pushing yourself then simultaneously riding the skateboard!!

you do that for one WHOLE week and both jungkook and tae (and yoongi) think it’s time that you do something else besides skate in one straight line and occasionally to a left and a right

ok you’re kind of scared shitless because you already fell a couple of times but y’know what?? it’s time!!

society has progressed past the need of you skating in a straight path

the society NEEDS you to do tricks now

.....

........

confession time:

dear diary the kickflip is simply not kicking the board in an attempt to flip it by itself. it is not. it is not as easy as it sounds. it is the bane of my existence

it’s evident that you’re stalling out of your way with this one but you just need oNE success and that’s it!!! one win to woo jungkook from his feet and then you’d stop

tae has already shut you up too because you keep talking about how your day went when you already is set four times before that

and it must’ve been a lucky first time because you absolutely nAIL it on the first try!!!

you honestly thought you’d land square on your ass and see bruises on it later in the shower but N-O!! you’ve done it perfectly and-

jungkook’s not looking

he didn’t see your feat!!

or maybe he didn’t see it because he chosE not to!!!

OR

maybe doing a kickflip is nothing impressive and it’s obvious that he’s a pro at this compared to you who’s even more of a novice that makes taehyung look like a god

you can’t have that :((

ok ok hOW can you impress jungkook

there must be something you could do to impress him!!

omg

that’s it

this is practically perfect!!

you’re gonna do your first drop-in at a pipe that is nowhere gOOD for a beginner like you :D

one, two, th-

“easy, doll.”

jungkook materializes out of nowhere and you expected him to be skating at the far end!! not mere inches away from your face holding your hANDS

this is the first time you’ve seen jungkook actually this close and you just have this urge to kiss his cheek

he has you whipped for him and he hasn’t even done anything to you!!!

“not the best idea to go down an eight-foot tall half-pipe for your first time, hm?”

he scrunches his nose at your absurd thoughts because absolutely wHY would you do that??

how could you fall in love with him even mORE

“do the two-feet tall one first. go have taehyung teach you.”

the grin in your face goes as fast as it came

no offense to taehyung but he’s not the one your head-over-heels for :((

practically everyone knows about your crush on jungkook BESIDES jungkook himself

you’re tapping tae on the shoulder to come and teach you while you just watch kook shred it at the other side of the park by himself

it’s okay!! progress is progress and you’re gonna get far with jungkook!!

going to the skatepark right after work is now your new routine

sometimes you even come with yoongi when he’s free and he takes all his time to gloat on how you used to make fun of him when he was skating avidly back then

that gives you a grand total of three (3) people teaching you how to skate and giving you pointers

jungkook also now holds conversation from time to time :D

he’d ask you how your day went and you’d have to pretend that you didn’t wait for him to ask so you’re not spilling detail after detail

he now does this thing of pinching your cHEEK when you get something right 

your heart after doing an ollie goes bEEP when he pinches your cheek and tells you eagerly that you did such a good job

yoongi’s laid off his teasing for you and jungkook but god he can’t deny that he gets these weird vibes from him

eh it’s probably nothing

today you’re especially excited because it was an outfit that you just bought and you feel gREAT in it!!!

tbh your day was the absolute worst but jungkook is always a great pick-me-up to whatever day you could have :)

a tennis skirt with shorts already built underneath is the greatest save of ur life

it’s a little on the more expensive side because it IS a name-brand and those don’t come cheap but it’s ok :D it’s gonna be worth it :D it better be :D

oh uhm

jungkook seems different today.... ?

you were used to him looking intimidating and mad even if he wasn’t, but this time it just felt emphasized even more

taehyung’s here but he’s not the only one!!! there’s two guys with jungkook on the other side of the ramp

“those are his friends, i guess?? i don’t know, he hasn’t introduced them to me.”

so you’re nOT the only one who’s lost

jungkook will probably come around later and you could all hang out again :))

chimmy happily chuffs at your side and that just gives taehyung the most wonderful idea he’s ever had this day

“hEY which one of us do you think could out-skate chimmy???”

jungkook is utterly and without a doubt stressed 

he knew that hoseok and namjoon would come over, but he didn’t expect that they’d visit him while he was in the park!!!!

and he already knows what they’re here for and that just makes him grimace :((

“why don’t you want to go pro?”

koo’s ears feel like bleeding when hobi asks him that for the nth time

god it’s always just the sAME question!! he could practically sniff the air on what they’re gonna say next

“jungkook, i think we all know that you’re more than qualified to be a pro!! look at you!!”

it’s the same conversation over and over again

the next things they’d say are that he’s a natural and he’s wasting all his talent doing this thing cASUALLY

he’s not the next tony hawk or anything like that!!! he’s not gonna book a sponsorship and a collaboration with vans!!! but hobi and joon kEEP insisting that he’s that good

“hyung, i think we’ve already talked about this-...”

“yes and you refusE to listen!! why can’t you just accept the fact that you have a much better future in this??”

jungkook’s currently a freelance graphic designer which means he works from home and he’s in charge of his oWN schedule

but it doesn’t necessarily mean that every single day he gets a new commission or anything grand like that

he’s gonna be honest and say that yES he has thought of being a pro skater!! but he’s trying to be as rational as possible about it

because not every competition would be a win and not competitions don’t happen as frequent as a typical job is!!

and what iF jungkook gets injured?? something of an injury that would lay him off from skating 

and being unable to skate??? = he basically gets nOTHING

he feels pressures because hobi and joon are pro skaters already!! and that gives them all the more reason to make jungkook into one

not to flex but uh they’re both quite already kNOWN

and jungkook hasn’t even started his pro career but he’s already known!!! both by his skills and the fact that he’s friends with these two champions

“i literally do not care if you beat me!! just come take the leap and be a pRO already, jungkook!!! it’s a loss as it is that you still consider yourself an amateur.”

their words, not his 

ok uhm what if

what if jungkook opens a skate clinic?? he can do what he loves and in the same time, earn money!!

... yeah

okay! 

that could work!! and if he feels extra prepared, then yeah maybe he’d be a pro

or would a skate clinic be useless if he isn’t a pro by then???

oh my god

jungkook’s so frustrated with all this sudden bombarding and it makes him want to tug at his hair

as much as he loves his hyungs, sometimes they just can’t seem to know when to back oFF and realize that their nudging is more like shoving

“do something productive and worth your time, jungkook. stop babysitting.”

namjoon says with an edge and that tames jungkook

what makes it worse was what they were implying in the first place

hoseok doesn’t make it discreet to look at taehyung and you

“tae, tae, look!! i’m doing it, i’m doing it!!”

you’re saying over your shoulder because omg you’re getting the lead and chimmy’s slowed down for some reason

well actually taehyung’s took it upon himself to stop behind you

“guys?”

you get an immediate answer when you feel someone effectively hALT you still and you almost fall on your ass just by the sheer strength of someone holding you up

jungkook’s holding you down and his hands are quite heAVy on your arms

there’s this unexplainable look on his face but you’re positive that it’s not one of happiness

“you should probably stop doing whatever it is that you’re doing.”

oh

to be honest you’re unsure of how to react

but the way that jungkook looks like he’s mad at you and retreats back to those two guys with a scoff in his step -- 

it’s enough

it’s truly enough for you to reevaluate every decision you’ve ever made

maybe it’s simply not just a bad day for you and a case of overthinking thigs,, and it’s perhaps the fact that he want you to stop

stop whatever that is happening

you probably must be frozen in place because chimmy bounds and pounces at you

you probably must’ve looked like an utter fool,, skating in a tennis skirt and trying to outrace a damn dog in a fucking skatepark,, right in front of jungkook and his friends

“y/n, you uh, y’okay?”

tae’s worried because there’s an instant shift to your mood and he could only assume what you were feeling

tears prick at the back of your eyes and that’s the signal for you to gather your things in a flash because the last thing you’d want is to cRY in front of him

“y-yeah! i’m gonna go home, tae. chimmy’s looking for yoongi.”

the dog in question tilts his head because w hat now,,,.,., wha t,.,. he is???

you learned that dogs could smell emotions and that makes you even sadder

chimmy was behaved the whole time; didn’t even try straying you around when he keeps seeing umbrellas on the street even if he loves them

you’re okay

:)

you should be okay

....

there’s something definitely off

yoongi’s cleaned everything and did his share of chores

the tv is still mounted and the microwave’s clean!!

chimmy didn’t have a toilet accident because if he did, he would’ve already picked it up

there’s definitely something off with yOU

because first of all, why are you here???

“not coming to the park?”

if he can recall correctly, no matter how knackered you were after work, you’d still go to the skatepark!!

... not unless you were injured??

nah because if you were injured then you’d be whining to him now

“nope :)”

you’re lying on the couch where he usually lies nowadays because you weren’t around!!

and you’re drinking from your mug that he’s claimed as his mug

and chimmy’s squished in between the tiny gap of you and the far edge of the couch

“and why?”

he’s always had answers for everything but his mind’s bLANK for this

“wanna spend time with you guys :)”

oh

okay

that’s gotta be the answer, right???

this is definitely weird

for starters, it’s already 11 PM and jungkook’s still in the skatepark and he’s not even skating anymore

he’s just waiting

weird... you aren’t here.......

aH it’s nothing :D you’re probably just tired and didn’t want to go skate

oh and.. you’re not here the next day

or the next

or the nEXT

jungkook spends almost the entirety of his time in the park

he goes there at 3 in the afternoon and comes home at 11 in the evening

no big deal

half of the time is just spent him actually skating and the other is figuring out wHERE you are

uh maybe you’ve started to take ubers now every time you come home??

you’re not walking home anymore and the car would pass by the skatepark and jungkook wouldn’t have a single clue where you are

it’s also this time that it dawns on him that he has no means whatsoever to contact you

he didn’t ask for your number and didn’t exchange socials so he could only gUESS

he can’t come over to your apartment either because he hasn’t walked you home and therefore he wouldn’t know your address

holy shit he’s so dumb and jungkook misses you a lot

like a whole whole lot

he misses you holding onto his shoulders for support and misses your excited grin whenever you nail a trick and had a perfect run

there’s nothing that jungkook could dO besides wait

and miss you so much

and mope

kook doesn’t want to give up and miss a day because what iF you pass by when he’s not there???

he can’t have that and he wON’t have that

he’s just so antsy and he hasn’t had his fix of chimmy bounding towards him and the malamute intentionally pouncing on him whenever he’d drop-in so he could lose his balance

he just needs to see you and your duffel bag and the precious yet beat-up wristwatch you have and-

WAIT

THAT’S YOU!!!

jungkook’s brought his perfume the past few days because he wouldn’t want to be aND smell sweaty when he sees you again

he’s wearing a shirt this time and nOT a hoodie and it’s actually a nice shirt!! the pale orange makes his tattoos pop

he’s also wearing a watch so he could look business-ish and composed and he kinda hATES watches because uhhhh you ever heard of a phone, buddy??

you’re walking striaght and paying no mind at all and to your surrounding and-

there’s suddenly this cRASH in front of you and it makes you recall in response because that came out of nowhere

... and this feels oddly familiar

only this time though, it’s intentional and it’s jungkook who literally tHREW his skateboard down on the spot in front of you

“y/n? wow, what a coincidence!”

you didn’t expect to see jungkook as soOn as you anticipated that he wouldn’t be here

he laughs nervously and he tries not to overanalyze the fact that your face is blank

:|

“yup. totally.”

you’re avoiding his gaze and meanwhile he’s searching desperately for yours 

what is he feeling and why is it hurt and longing at the same time

“can i walk you home?”

the words tumble out of his mouth before he could even ponder over them longer

“i uh, i rEALLY can’t believe i never asked to walk you home!! or even ask for your number!!! but uHhhh it’s late at night and to be honest i don’t have your number and i just need to know that you’re safe and-”

he stops his rambling right there because he realizes that he’s a stuttering nervous mess

you’re a bit speechless because normally you’re the chatty one but this one.,.,,. this one’s a pleasant surprise

“yeah, yeah. okay :)”

he can’t believe either that you agreed to it but he’s immediately gathering himself and swoops your duffel for him to hold

he’s not gonna entertain a single complaint <3

it’s not exactly the most tensioned silence ever but it’s definitely nOT comfortable

“why didn’t you come to the park?”

okay well sHIT you didn’t expect him to be this straightforward

wait no 

you shouldn’t be surprised!! after all, he probably did mean what he said the last time you’ve seen him

what are u gonna say now

well you coulD say that you’re busy and he’d probably fall for it!!

or reiterate the truth that he’s implied and say it with a straight face

“oh. i started intentionally falling on my ass because i missed you,” jungkook spills out of nowhere while waiting for your answer and he now realizes that might’ve been a little awkward

after all he dID admit that he missed you

ahem

“did i uhm... did i say something?”

he rephrases his question and he knows that this was the more appropriate one

your coping mechanism is to kick on the ground as if there were leaves and there are absolutely nO leaves <3

“jungkook, you told me to stop.”

he blinks rapidly at that as he tries to digest your words

he’s trying to backtrack as much as possible and it wasn’t that!!

he simply doesn’t wanna see you hurt

“i can’t explain it but holy shiT i can’t see you hurt!! a-and i know that being hurt in skating is normal but for sOME reason i can’t stand it when i see you in pain o-or-...”

jungkook just can’t explaiN what he feels

“i just -- i just don’t gEt why you’d want to be hurt?? whY are you doing this to yourself??”

you find him ridiculous and this whole situation is just rIDICULOUS

“jesus christ jungkook i did it to try and impress a guy!!”

that earns you a snort and you immediately go defensive

he seems irked and his eyes are just beGGING to be rolled

“who?? taehyung?? the guy who would’ve wiped you out if he did end up hitting you on the head with the deck just a little harder??”

“what? taehyung???” you’re so confused and jungkook hates it even more, “yeah, taehyung!!”

“i like you, jungkook!”

o-oh

uhm

a.....ha

“me?”

he points to himself to which you eagerly nod your head to

“can you excuse me for one second?”

he barely gives you the time to respond because he’s already walking away and biting his arm

he’s actually sCREAMING

you throw your head back because omg did the two of you just basically admit that you liked each other

jungkook jogs back to where you stand a presses a hefty kISS right on your cheek

he’s on too much of a high that he holds your hand and practically drags you along with him because he’s almost skIPPING from how happy he is

“okay. good. nice. very good!!!” he could now sigh in relief because whEW that robbed him off his breath

“because i fell for you when i first saw you.”

jungkook basically has nO filter now and it’s adorable because god he’s just so soft and you now know what’s going and this wouldn’t be just whatever

“huh. imagine if yOU fell for me too at the same time,,,, that would make me piss my pants.”

he cackles because wow he dO be funny :D

he’s turning to look at you to gauge at your reaction and the waY that you’re holding your eye contact with him is all-telling for your answer

oh my god

jungkook is wrapped around your pinky :’)

[fleckcmscott]

Stepping Stones - Chapter 2

Chapter links: 1

Summary: Y/N and Arthur share a delightful life, one that isn’t perfect but wholly theirs. When his struggles take a serious turn, she's surprised by the toll it exacts. Though the steps they'll have to take aren't easy, walking them together makes all the difference.

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Struggles with mental illness

Words: 3,739

A/N: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to @sweet-nothings04​ for offering to beta-read this story and her encouragement. Her contributions have been invaluable! Also, thank you guys for your support! I hope you continue to enjoy this story. And don’t worry: there may be angst - but there’s love, too. 

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask! I’m still working on requests and Way Back Home!

Y/N wasn't used to being searched. It'd last happened at the District Courthouse when she'd gotten in the wrong line and nearly wound up in the jury room for a murder trial. At least the stout woman in Arkham's visitor entrance lobby was more pleasant than the bailiffs.

Unassuming in a white polo shirt and black pants, her nametag introduced her as Gladys, and the split "I Can Help!" sticker along the top cemented her as a fixture. She was friendly for a Gothamite, commenting on the sunny weather while unceremoniously dumping the contents of Y/N's handbag onto a plastic table pad. Asking about the ride over as she politely ignored tampons and confiscated a nail file. She spelled Y/N's name back to her before jotting it on the sign-in sheet and offered a genuine smile. "You have a nice time with your husband, dear. Just check out with me before you leave."

Visitor's badge pinned above her left breast, Y/N adjusted the collar of her red silk blouse, ensured the heart pendent around her neck was centered, and pushed through the door marked "Visitation."

Her kitten heels click-clacked across the checkerboard linoleum floor. The cafeteria was large, like an elementary school gymnasium without the scoreboards. Lack of funding had turned the once pristine walls to the off-white of a bathtub that had seen too few scrubbings. Large windows dotted them in sets of two, each covered with grate from the inside. Metal fans were riveted to their frames, a poor attempt to compensate for the lack of fresh air. To her left, six rows of steel tables stretched halfway across the room, about a third full of staff and patients, family members and friends. A metal buffet stood to her right, along with a sign stating a menu of beef cutlets and gravy would be served at 5:30 PM. A pony wall separated a family area on the far end. She spotted a patient with his wife and daughter watching cartoons together, ones that were old enough for Y/N to have grown up on.

It struck her how average the place felt, similar to the hospital back home she'd spent far too many hours in. It made sense: the people here were patients like any other, even if they were under lock and key. When she headed to the aluminum coffee urn on a rickety steel cart, there was a woman, around thirty, making conversation with a new wave chick, holding a ragged teddy bear and pulling her hair. Their eyes met and Y/N attempted a friendly smile. Once she'd purchased two cups, she sat by a window and crossed her legs, foot swinging back and forth as she sipped the stale liquid.

She tried to quell her nervous anticipation. Due to his time of admittance, Arthur's forty-eight-hour observation period had stretched late into Thursday night, well after visiting hours. Tasks big and small had punctuated the wait. One of Arthur's clients called to confirm a birthday party, and Y/N, hazy from lack of sleep, explained there'd been a family emergency.

Then it dawned on her that she'd have to find Arthur's gig list, which meant rummaging through his desk, a private space she'd respected since presenting him with it for their anniversary. Thank god he no longer locked the drawers, because she had no idea where he kept the key. (There were only so many hiding places in their three-room apartment, but she had no desire to search every nook and cranny.) The yellow legal pad resided in the top left drawer, under a prop catalog and kraft paper notebook. After ringing Gary and asking him to fill in ("I'm not sure I can do all these, but I can mention them at HaHa's." "That'd be great but don't get yourself in trouble. And, please, leave out Randall."), she telephoned eight households and three businesses with his contact information and apologies.

She worked extra hours in the evening to make up for the time she'd inevitably take off when Arthur was home, an arrangement that wasn't strictly legal, but she didn't see the harm in. Her colleagues graciously ignored the number of personal calls she made, to ask how Arthur was doing and learn about policies. While he wasn't yet rational, staff said, he was cooperative. Well, mostly cooperative. He'd eaten breakfast and referred to everyone as sir or ma'am, but he'd also caused a ruckus when he'd come to and found his wedding ring missing. They'd made an exception to the no jewelry rule and given it back. Personal clothing wasn't permitted, either, besides underwear, and toiletries were out of the question. It irked her - he deserved the dignity of his own hairbrush - but she didn't want to single him out by arguing for further favors. So she shuttled over a week's worth of briefs on her lunch break, chest tight as she gave it to the man with headphones at reception.

Despite the setting, despite the weight of not knowing what mood he'd be in, a thrill bubbled through her veins. Whenever a silhouette appeared behind the glue chip glass of the patient entrance, her pulse skipped. Y/N knew it was silly to expect a lot this first visit but she couldn't help it. She missed him. She missed him. Like it had been thirty days instead of three.

It took about six minutes for the door to crack an inch, and a full ten seconds for it to open completely. An orderly propped his weight against it, pointing in her general direction with his head. She stood and smoothed her palm down her A-line skirt, ensured the hem was at her knee. Maybe it was selfish, perhaps even foolish, but she hoped the surprise would be a highlight of Arthur's day, make him feel better, and she hoped seeing him would be one of hers. He was still her partner, after all. Still her Arthur. That would never change.

Clad in white scrubs and white shoes and about twenty feet away, Arthur stepped over the threshold and scanned the room. She gave him a modest wave when she caught his eye. His approach was more tentative than she would have liked, his steps shorter than usual, fists balled at his sides. As he drew closer, she noted the oiliness of his hair, the two-day black and grey stubble on his chin. His crow's feet had grown deeper, his eyelids slightly purple. Exhaustion dripped from every pore. The cut on his forehead had scabbed over into a thin line, quite modest considering its origin and how much he'd bled.

But he was as beautiful to her as always. The hint of a smile tipped her mouth. "Hi, Arthur."

"Hi," he said lowly. A reservation she barely recognized clouded his light green irises.

Part of her began to suspect popping in like this had been a mistake. Giving up wasn't in her nature, however, especially when it came to the love of her life. She forged ahead, closing the gap between them. Dr. Kellerman had advised her to let Arthur set the pace of their visits, to offer support while respecting his boundaries. Yet, touching him had become as vital to her as breathing, and it didn't occur to her to ask for permission before she reached to cup his face.

His skin felt papery under her fingertips, and red, flakey spots of dermatitis bloomed next to his nose and below his eye. He smelled of cheap bar soap and detergent, though whiffs of his woodsy masculine scent lurked underneath. But his clothes were clean and fit him well, better than half his own wardrobe. "I'm so happy to see you," she said, tracing his sharpened cheeks.

He nodded weakly, lips pursed into a grimace of disbelief. "Good."

"I got us some coffee. We can sit here or on one of the sofas."

"Here's fine."

She took his hand and led him to their table, itching for him to entwine their fingers, lamenting a little when he didn't. While he followed closely, his posture radiated tension like an oven radiated heat. Rather than the gait they'd adopted over the years, he moved as if he was afraid to touch her, as if he feared she'd disappear. Or reject him. Once he was situated and stirring sugar into his cup, she sat beside him and bumped their legs, refusing to let his fears go unchallenged. "How's your room?"

"It's okay. Just me. I'm not there much." He blew lightly on his steaming brew. "I haven't seen this part of the hospital before."

Y/N arched her brow. "No?"

"Penny had trouble getting over here to visit. When I had episodes."

Flabbergasted, a huff of disapproval escaped her. Arthur had been in out Arkham six or seven times, and Penny hadn't made it over once? According to Arthur, she'd been sick for a while, but what about twenty years ago? Even later, they hadn't had any money, which meant she would've had to care for herself while he was away. If she had had the wherewithal to go through the process of committing her son, couldn't she have at least called a cab? Y/N pushed her ire aside, not wanting it to affect Arthur. "Did you see your therapist today?"

"Mhm."

"Is he good? Does he listen to you?"

"He's fine."

She took a long drink. "Did you get the underwear I brought over?"

"Yeah." he sighed, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. "They wrote my name on the waistband."

"I'll get new ones," she said, tapping her chin in contemplation, opting for a little cheer. "Donahue's has a racy number from Mad Mod. How'd you feel about zig-zag bikinis in maroon?" Instead of the laugh she'd craved, the incredulous smirk he saved for ridiculous suggestions, his knees quaked, bouncing and bouncing, freshly wound springs in bleached cotton.

None of this was going as she'd pictured.

Self-consciousness was atypical for her, a personality trait she'd shed in her late twenties after a failed marriage and the beginning of her parents' declines. Being with Arthur felt secure, open, even during his worst days. When he'd discovered his mother's Arkham file, learned the details of his abuse. Or the weeks after she'd passed and any chance of finding out more about himself, the truth about his father and chance to get a crumb of paternal affection, had died along with her.

Gathered at this table with her husband and bad coffee, old insecurities returned with the force of a subway careening at full speed. She sought to encourage him but didn't want to dismiss his feelings, harken back when he'd been burdened with "Happy." Her questions were obviously getting on his nerves - she was at a loss as to how he'd react to more of them. Their banter had vanished. The clues she had to follow were based on an old map, comprised of well-worn paths to joy she could walk with her eyes closed. Now those paths were overgrown with weeds.

But she wouldn't stop trying to trim them. Some shears were in reach: a woman's magazine lay abandoned on a nearby table, famous for its relationship quizzes and bedroom advice. She snagged it, scooted her chair closer to Arthur, and flipped through the glossy pages until the headline "Are You Meant To Be?" screamed in bright pink font. She cleared her throat and read aloud. "'You and your husband are shipwrecked on a desert island. You can take any household item with you. What item would you bring?'" She paused, then went with what first came to mind. "Toothbrush. I can't expect you to kiss me when I-"

"Why are you acting like this?"

Her gaze locked on him. "Like what?"

"Like I haven't fucked everything up."

Automatically, she reached for his thigh, not heeding the angry twitch of his jaw. "You haven-"

He batted her arm away, inadvertently knocking the magazine to the floor. "Don't lie to me," he rasped. "I don't like you seeing me like this. I don't want you to have to come visit and pretend." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, an anger she recognized as shame dripping from every word. "Can you please just go?"

Pain lanced through her, pain she hadn't felt since her father, deep in the throes of dementia, had accused her of stealing from him. Her lashes lowered to hide her hurt. Arthur acting like this was proof of how out of sorts he was, how much he was struggling with his illnesses. But it didn't make his behavior any easier to take, even if she firmly believed it should. She had to try to accept him as he was in the moment. To forgive him and herself for pressing him too far, too quickly. To listen to his request for time, the way he'd listened to hers after the Murray show, giving her the gift of patience and understanding. A gift he also deserved.

Pushing herself to stand, she glanced at the orderly and lay a gentle palm on Arthur's back. To her relief, he didn't retreat. "I'm here if you need me," she said softly. "If you feel up to it, give me a ring. We could both use a joke or two." Fingertips caressed his distended shoulder, and she pecked the crown of his head, breathed in the oily musk of his scalp. Not entirely pleasant but him all the same. "We'll see each other soon. Get some rest and remember I love you."

~~~~~

"This woman wandered in off the street the other day. Pointy-toed shoes, fur coat, pillbox hat like she thinks she's Jackie Kennedy..." Perched on Y/N's side of the bed, Patricia dunked her orange pekoe teabag, gave it a good squeeze, laid it on her saucer. "She wanted to sue the Wayne Estate for damages to her Bentley, because Thomas Wayne had broken a legally binding oral agreement - she must have read a legal thriller and gotten haughty - to fix the potholes in Old Gotham when he was mayor. I told her to complain to Public Works, but she decided to camp out at your old desk to clip her nails. Finally, Matt had enough and offered her a phone call to Gotham PD or ten bucks for her trouble." She shook her head with a chuckle. "What a jackass. Retirement can't come soon enough."

"Don't wish your life away," Y/N retorted, inadvertently quoting a pamphlet she'd gotten from the Arkham gift shop, "Care for the Caregiver." The title had made her balk: Arthur bathed himself, fed himself, knew who she was. But it had been a straw to hold onto, albeit feebly. She retrieved a curved, wooden hanger from the closet and stuck one end in the arm of her freshly ironed blouse. "Besides, you've been working since you were sixteen, right? I give it a year before you'd go stir-crazy."

"Actually, I've been thinking about taking a class or two at the learning center," said Patricia.

"Oh, really? What kind? Pottery, advanced baking, conversational Spanish?"

"How to find nicer friends."

Hand on her hip, Y/N smirked over her shoulder to find Patricia's teacup raised for a toast. "Let me know what you learn," Y/N said, hoisting the laundry basket onto the bed. "I could use a few pointers." She batted the older woman with a dress sock, then fished for its companion. She shook them out. Aligned the cuffs and toes, smoothed the nylon with the side of her hand, folded the fabric into thirds. The top drawer's left ball-bearing slide stuck when she tried to pull it open, and she made a mental note to ask Arthur to take a look at it.

Without warning, a profound sense of loss swept over her, flushing her cheeks, her forehead. He'd been gone almost a week, the longest they'd been apart aside from conferences and training. Her days had been blessedly busy but dragged on nonetheless, slow as the secondhand on her watch when the battery had to be replaced.

Arthur had gotten in the habit of leaving a note whenever he had an early gig or errand to run, just a few words stating where he was, that he'd be home later, that he loved her. Though she knew he was in Arkham, she couldn't stop her heart from expecting one when she made morning coffee. She ached to pull him inside before he lit a second cigarette, and for his teasing kisses when he'd resist. The way he brushed his teeth from side-to-side, eschewing her method of small circles and daily flossing. Last night, a hot flash had kept her awake, and she'd longed for the feel of his strong, slender hands rubbing refrigerated lotion into her calves, a trick he'd learned to quiet his mother when she'd gone through what he politely referred to as The Change.

Y/N had never wanted to love someone so much she needed them, but Arthur had made it safe. And now here she was, anguishing over a stubborn piece of furniture. She gave the knob another good, hard heave until it popped off into her palm. With a groan, she slapped it on the top of the dresser, between his wallet and her jewelry box.

A gentle hold on her elbow halted her. "The clothes'll keep," Patricia said.

The compassion in her voice, subtle chords that would sound like judgement to others, loosened Y/N's stance. Granted permission for her to take a break from coping and give into grief. Slinking down onto the mattress, she picked up Arthur's blue house pants from the mound of panties and trousers and hugged them to her breast.

"Your anniversary is coming up," Patricia continued. "Will Arthur be home for it?"

"Yes. Three weeks is all the insurance will pay for, and Dr. Kellerman said we were lucky to get that." Most patients were discharged after two, even if they had nowhere else to go.

"How is he? Do you think he'll be ready then?"

"I'm not sure. He barely comes to the phone." She'd tried letters, too. Written on her office letterhead, declarations of her support and affection that were as stilted as the motions she regularly drafted. Something for him to read when they couldn't speak, when they couldn't touch. But he hadn't responded.

Although Y/N was the sole person he'd added to his list of allowed visitors, he hadn't signed the release. Sure, she'd learn the details of his care if a court remanded him, but she wasn't about to have him declared legally incompetent, not unless everything went to shit. But she had deduced his schedule by calling and asking if he could come to the phone. He's in group, Mrs. Fleck, the charge nurse had let slip. Or, You can try in an hour. He should be out of one-on-one by then.

Therapy three times a day. Safety and daily living skills. Goal setting before bed. No wonder he hadn't had the energy to say good night.

"I know what you're going through," Patricia said. She stretched to put her empty teacup on the nightstand. "When Robert got back from Korea, he kept his distance. Buried himself in starting his business, was gone most nights on extra late repair jobs, worked, worked, worked. It was nearly a year before he really came home. But he made it and Arthur will, too."

The intimacy behind the disclosure was a welcome invitation, a hook that tugged at Y/N's core and confirmed honesty would be all right. She drew a shaky breath, fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of Arthur's pajamas. "I thought I'd seen everything. Losing my mother, going out of my mind with my father. Those were finalities I couldn't prevent." Rapid blinking fought the wetness of her eyes. She swiped at them with the heel of her hand. "If you had seen him, Patricia... I just hope Arthur understands. I don't want him to think I wanted him to leave."

"Listen to me." Patricia adopted her mentor tone and hugged her tight around the middle. "There's no way he'd believe that. Remember when we doubled at Kao Wah? When we were in the restroom, and he ordered your favorite dish without having to ask what it was? He adores you." She swept her hand through the air as if she could sweep away Y/N's woes. "You promised to take care of him through everything. You did what you had to to keep him safe. You couldn't have done anything else, Y/N. Don't doubt yourself."

After some moments Y/N nodded. "You know, my parents had a swimming hole on our property. When I was young, I used to skip stones across it and make wishes. For my doll's arm to mend, for my parents to say safe, for my sister's surgeries to go well." She chuckled and dabbed at her cheeks with Arthur's house pants. "I guess it was like praying, which I never had use for." The slightest smile edging her lips, she turned to Patricia. "Let's go to Gotham Park and throw some rocks."

~~~~~

The next morning, eleven percent of her worries cast away by a currently sore right arm, Y/N walked past Sherwood Florist, a closet of a shop around the corner from her office. Storefront freshly washed, robust floral arrangements on display in large, spotless windows, and an owner in horn-rimmed glasses checking the temperature of the nearest cooler, she decided to stop in. Yes, the florist told her, an expression of dubious curiosity on his face. They delivered to Arkham. Just include the patient's full name and ward in the address, and it'd be sent this afternoon.

She chose a squat, plastic vase filled with daisies and a yellow enclosure card with a bumblebee in the lower left corner. A bit cutsie for her taste, but it was the only neutral choice among birthdays and congratulations. She pondered what to write, pushing back the urge to ask him to reach out. A minute later, she put her pen to the cardstock. "I miss you like thread misses a needle. (Good thing you're the comedian - that was terrible.) You're not alone in this. You have my whole heart. - Y/N."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara​ @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​ @jokerownsmysoul​ @rafaelbottom​ @ralugraphics​ @iartsometimes​

[broadstbroskis]

four times your best friend ruined a date + one time he didn’t | mat barzal

a/n: once again, not the fic i set out to write this weekend, but here we have arrived! enjoy💜

the first

Look, no one has ever told you that you have a problem making your voice heard. You’re pretty chatty. Your voice carried. In fact, usually, people were asking you to stop talking, to lower your voice. 

Not on this date. Max from Tinder had let you say two things in the amount of time since you sat down at the table outside one of your favorite Mexican restaurants in Brooklyn: hello and your food order.

Your meal is good, as always, and the margs can’t come fast enough to drown out Max across from you. Each time you’ve tried to respond to something he’s said, he just talks louder. You’ve given up on this one. You’ll get a good meal out of this and never talk to this asshole again.

But then, you spot a familiar head of hair walking toward you on the sidewalk and you’re shouting out before you can help yourself. Like you can’t keep words in any longer and if Max from Tinder isn’t going to let you use them, you’ll just throw them out anywhere you can. “Mat!”

You almost laugh at your best friend, a 6’0 giant who often looked even larger, as he does a double take, but he is able to track down the sound. He grins when he realizes it’s you and he’s quickly by your side, wrapping his arm around you as you lean your head against his hip, the body part closest to him, and beam up at him. “What’s up?”

You nod over at Max from Tinder, whose face has soured, as he looks at Mat. “Just out.”

“We’re actually kinda in a thing right now.” Max from Tinder says to him, rather rudely, if you had to say. “So if you don’t mind,” He trails off, very pointedly, looking over at the sidewalk.

Your jaw actually drops at that, but Mat just grins and jumps the railing between the restaurant and the street. “I don’t mind at all, actually! I haven’t seen YN all week.” He yanks the empty chair over from the table next door and sits. “What’s new, babe?”

You can’t help but laugh at the look on Max from Tinder’s face as you answer Mat. “Nothing much, boo.”

“Seriously?” Max from Tinder asks, furiously, looking absolutely livid as he attempts to stare Mat down, who for his part, looks as calm as can be as he asks you how work’s been, what’s new with your family, what dumb shit your brother has got up to in his frat this week- all the usual things he’d ask you when the two of you were trying to catch up.

The final straw comes when Mat orders a marg of his own. Max from Tinder just stands up from the table and walks out the door. “What a douche.” Mat says, mildly, dipping a chip in one of the salsas on the table. 

“Look who’s talking!” You laugh.

“Sorry, what was that?” Mat feigns not being able to hear you. “A thank you for not making you sit here with him for any longer?”

You laugh again, pushing his favorite salsa closer to him. “Thank you.”

He beams back at you. “Anytime.”

the second

Ashley lets out a low whistle as you step out of her closet, fuck me heels carefully chosen from her collection to match the little black dress pulled from your own wardrobe. “Damn.” She whistles again and you flashback for a moment to freshman year, when she became your favorite roommate for doing the same thing the first time you went out together. “Where’s Kevin from Finance taking you?” You adjust the straps of the dress in her mirror as you drop the name of the expensive restaurant that your co-worker was taking you to for your third date. “Okay, yeah.” She laughs. “You’re putting out tonight.”

“Ashley!” You laugh, instead of dismissing her entirely. 

“I’ll expect a full run-down tomorrow.” She sing-songs at you, as you grab your clutch and walk out the door to meet Kevin from Finance in the lobby downstairs.

The two dates you’ve had with your coworker have been so far enjoyable- one to a beer garden on what has seemed to be the last warm fall day and the second to one of those axe throwing places with some friends- and despite the heightened atmosphere of this one, it starts off just as enjoyable with some easy conversation. Kevin from Finance orders a bottle of wine for you to split, and you commend his choice while you scan the menu for something to order.

For most of the night, you go back and forth, just crossing over what might be an acceptable line for flirting at the dinner table, but you both know where this is headed later. It was pretty clear to you in the way Kevin from Finance looked you up and down when he picked you up, in the way he caught you sneaking the same once over in return, how his eyes follow your tongue as it tries to catch a drip of wine.”

They darken as your cheeks flush and you try to distract yourself from thinking about where the evening is headed by taking another sip of wine, only to be interrupted by a surprise arrival. “YN?”

“Hey!” You greet Mat warmly, smiling up at him. “How are you?” He beams back at you, exchanging pleasantries. “What are you even doing here?” You tease. “Pretty fancy for an off day.”

“We’ve got a team thing.” He waves in the direction of the private room in back, which you had noticed was closed off for a private event, but hadn’t bothered to look into more. Maybe if you hadn’t been so distracted staring at Kevin from Finance’s biceps straining in his dress shirt, you would have noticed a couple of the Islanders starting to file in. “And you must be the guy she’s been talking about.” He sticks his hand out to Kevin from Finance. “What’s up man, I’m Mat.”

But while you’d mentioned that there was maybe a new guy to Mat, you’d never mentioned that you knew Mat to Kevin from Finance, and that becomes clear the second you look over to him. His jaw is dropped, his eyes are huge, he makes no move to shake Mat’s hand; it’s like he’s frozen. “I’m a huge fan.” Kevin from Finance manages, finally, after what feels like forever.

Mat smiles, much more trained in this kind of situation than you are, because you’re looking your date like he’s got three heads. “Always good to hear, man! Make sure you take good care of our girl, here, eh?” He pats you on the shoulder and Kevin from Finance nods, more seriously than you’ve ever seen him do anything. “I have to head in. Stop on over for a drink on your way out if you want, okay?” Again, a nod from Kevin from Finance, even as you just hmm noncommittally.

And then, things get weird. For as nice and chatty as he was before Mat stopped by, now it’s like pulling teeth when trying to get Kevin from Finance to say something. He won’t meet your eyes, instead looking between the plate that sits in front of you and the room Mat disappeared into. “Can I help you with something?” You ask, finally.

“I don’t think I can do this.” He says, shaking his head.

“What?” You snap, annoyed.

“I can’t compete with that-him!”

“I’ll make it easy for you; there’s no competition.” You say flatly.

Kevin from Finance shakes his head again. “I-you-no. There’s competition!” He stands, dropping his napkin onto the table as your jaw drops. “Sorry.”

After being fucking ghosted in the middle of your date and apologizing profusely to the wait staff for having to immediately bag up both meals (that you had to pick up the check for, these better be the best fucking meals of your life), you make your way over to the Islanders’s private room and drape yourself over Mat’s back, as best you can. “You owe me a lot of drinks, sir.”

He’s surrounded by a few teammates and wives, who all immediately burst into laughter at his protests. “How do you figure that?”

“Because my date left me here because of you!”

Mat winces. “I was perfectly pleasant!” He pauses. “Today. To that guy!”

“Sorry,” Grace bites her lip, like she’s holding back a laugh. “There have been others, that you haven’t been?”

“Well yeah, but that guy deserved it!” It’s too late; they’re all laughing again. 

“This time it was your general existence.” You tell him, moving off his back, but staying close when his arm immediately reaches to wrap around your waist.

“This seems unreasonable.” Mat pouts. “That I owe you drinks just because you decided to date someone too insecure.”

“Dude, we’re not paying for anything here.” Tito reminds him. “Just give the girl her drinks.”

“I always knew I liked you best.” You smile at Tito, who returns your grin.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see if you’re saying that later when I’m the one making sure you don’t fall all over the place in those shoes.” Mat grumbles, flagging down a waiter to take your drink order.

You grin up at him. “If you keep getting me drinks and make sure I get home in these shoes, you can have your Number 1 spot back.”

Mat sighs longsufferingly, like it’s going to be such a hardship for him, even though you both know that you’re the clingiest drunk who does absolutely anything that anyone tells you to and as soon as he drops you off in bed, you’ll be out like a light. “Deal.”

It’s not quite what happens-your clinginess extends to yanking him into bed and not letting him leave- but as soon as he settles next to you and you can curl up into his side, then you’re willing to listen when he whispers, “go to sleep,” as his hand moves to play with the ends of your hair.

the third

Can’t talk now. Have a date!!! You send Mat, after ignoring his FaceTime request, and then walk into the cute little cafe that Jake from College had suggested you meet at.

“Hey!” He grins at you, as you grab a seat at the table. “Did you find the place okay?”

You bust out laughing. New to the city, Jake from College had mentioned that he lived around the corner, and was still figuring his way around. “I’ve been here a few times before actually. I’ve been here long enough to navigate my way around pretty well.” You tease.

He laughs. “Fair enough.”

After placing your orders, you catch each other up on where you’ve been and where you’re at now. You chat about some of your mutual friends, gossip about whether or not you think Jack and Mallory will actually make it down the aisle, and talk a little about your families. 

“Yeah, so my brother’s frat has been-”

“Oh no.” Suddenly, Mat’s dropping into the empty chair beside you, throwing an arm around the back of yours, and there’s Tito slipping in across from him, not looking nearly as thrilled to be there. “What’s that kid up to now?”

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, ignoring his question completely.

“We were just grabbing a post-practice meal.” He says and Tito nods his agreement, but when you look across the table at him, studying his face carefully, he won’t meet your eyes.

“Okay.” You tell him, kind of annoyed that he interrupted what had been an otherwise good date. “So you’re going to grab your meals and go?”

“Well now that I know you have this big huge table…” Mat hints, and you’re all ready to tell him absolutely not, when Jake from College jumps in.

“Yeah, of course!” He says, and Mat grins. “I’d love to meet some more of YN’s friends.”

“Would you?” You mutter under your breath, dryly enough that Mat flicks your shoulder.

You don’t know what’s worse- that Mat, Tito, and Jake from College get along like a house on fire, or that after Mat and Tito show up, Jake from College barely says another word to you. Not because he’s so starstruck by their existence. 

Because they’re genuinely becoming friends. By the time all four of you finish with your meals, it’s like Jake from College has forgotten you’re even at the table, caught up in discussing tennis with Tito and making plans with both of them to play basketball next weekend with a couple guys they know.

When you part ways, he barely says goodbye to you, which is a slap in the face after the bro hugs Mat and Tito both get. “Don’t be mad.” Mat says immediately, when you round on him.

“Seriously?” You glare at him.

“It was a coincidence.” He says, maybe too pushy to be entirely true, and you remember the way Tito wouldn’t meet your gaze earlier, narrowing your eyes at him further.

“Right.”

“It was!” Mat insists and you really have no way of proving it wasn’t so you just huff back at him and start walking, knowing that they’ll be catching up behind you.

the twelfth

“What happened to I’m never dating another New Yorker again?” Ashley asks, watching you get ready to go out with yet another Tinder date.

You give her a look through the mirror. “Ashley, this one might be my dream man.”

“That’s what you’ve said about them all.” She advises. “And none of them have been,”

“I’ll just die alone then.” You tell her dramatically.

She snickers. “I don’t think that’s the case. I think there’s definitely a Non-New Yorker that is very willing to date you.”

You give her a look. “Oh yeah? Send him my way?”

“Hmm.” She says. “Don’t think I’ll need to. He manages to find his own way.”

“If you’re talking about who I think you’re talking about,” You say, fluffing your hair one last time. “Then I don’t think he’s willing to date me at all.” Not willing to watch you date other people, sure, that trend has become quite clear as Mat has crashed date after date in increasingly creative ways. But never once has he made a move toward you, or tried to ramp up his flirting game to anywhere close to where you’ve seen him bring it to girls he’s interested in bringing home.

For Christ’s sake, you’ve pulled the man into bed on multiple occasions- what more does he want from you to know that you’d be interested, if he was?

Ashley returns your look, through the mirrors. “I’m certain I am talking about who you think I am, and maybe if you would do more than just pull him into bed while drunk, he might do something about it.”

You can agree to disagree on this one. There’s been that, there’s been everytime you pout at him for ruining your dates, there’s been every function or event you’ve agreed to go with him to stand by his side for the entire evening in uncomfortable shoes and an uncomfortable dress, every smile you send his way. But you’ll digress the point for now. “Well maybe tonight I’ll be pulling Graham the Perfect Man into my bed while drunk.” You stick your tongue out at her.

She grins, stepping back from your doorway so you can head out. “Use a condom!”

Upon meeting Graham the Perfect Man in one of your favorite bars (with the best burgers), you quickly realize you might actually have nailed this one. His sense of humor is impeccable and he’s incredibly charming...or at least most of the time. He’s a bit of a one-upper, but you try to be positive about it and tell yourself that he’s just trying to impress you- who isn’t on a first date?

It becomes a bit frustrating because he balances it with his humor so well. Like when you start talking about summers spent at your family’s Jersey shore house, Graham the Perfect Man casually mentions his parent’s summer home in South France, but then instantly cracks a joke about red eye flights that has you actually crying you’re laughing so hard.

“Jesus, I could hear you laughing from all the way outside.” Mat drops an arm around your shoulders and squeezes in greeting.

“Come off it, you could not.” You protest, even as he grins.

“Guess you’ll never know for real.” He teases.

“Wow, are you rude!” You huff.

“Me? You’ve been sitting here, haven’t even introduced us.” You roll your eyes, but make the introductions between Mat and Graham the Perfect Man, which actually doesn’t go terrible until someone stops and asks to take a picture with Mat, which you snap for them politely, but does bring out Graham the Perfect Man’s one-upper.

“Hockey?” He asks, and continues before Mat even has a chance to finish nodding. “Can’t say I’ve got much taste for the sport. I was a baseball player. Starting shortstop for my college.”

“But you’re not anymore.” Mat says, kinda like a dick.

“Mat!” You hiss and he just shrugs, unapologetic.

“Just the history, the nuance.” Graham the Perfect Man continues like Mat hadn’t even said anything, and even you have to fight back a laugh on that one.

Mat just shrugs again. “Yeah, alright. Cool, bro.”

“Cool, bro.” Graham the Perfect Man repeats flatly, and you know what’s going to happen before he even stands up. “Yeah, this has been fun, but…maybe...another time.” And he’s out the door, just like your dreams of this maybe happening again, so you turn to your best friend, who’s just got the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

“Mathew.” You frown at him.

“What? Come on, that guy was a tool!”

That...is so not the point. “Stop ruining all my dates!”

Mat scoffs. “All these dates with douchy guys that you don’t even like that much?”

“Yes!” You cry, absolutely done with this game. “Because unless you’re going to do something about it yourself, that’s who I’m still going to be dating.”

“What if I want to do something about it?” Mat says, looking down and avoiding your eyes.

You laugh, hollowly. “Sure, Mat. I’ll believe it when I see it.” And then you stand up from the table and walk out without him. If he’s going to ruin your dates, he can at least grab the fucking bill. He can fucking afford it.

+ one

When you don’t hear from Mat for the entire next week, you think that’s it. He talked himself up some big game, realized it’s not what he wants, and now he was trying to back out of it without making things super uncomfortable. You figured you’d hear from him in a couple weeks, when he’d send you a meme he found, and maybe you’d just never mention that thing you said about him dating you again.

Nope.

Exactly a week after you call him out, he shows up at your door with a bouquet of flowers. “Uhh hi?” You look down at your sweatpants and oversized t-shirt. 

“Hi.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, as he hands the flowers to you. 

“Did um-did we have plans tonight?” If he hadn’t tucked the flowers close to you, you’re pretty sure you would have dropped them, still trying to make sense of this. 

Mat grins. “We do now.”

“Um.” You repeat. “Can I...change first?”

He nods. “Yep.”

“Okay.” You take a breath, starting to get your jumbled mass of thoughts together. “Where are we going?

Mat grins again. “You’ll see.”

You eye him skeptically, but he’s not budging on that, so after you find something to put your flowers in (today’s winner is...a wine bottle), you run into your room and start searching through your closet. Mat won’t give you any hints about where you’re going, fine, you’ll just have to take your  hints from him. 

Moving quickly so as not to keep him waiting too long, you settle on a pair of jeans, booties, and your favorite sweater. A quick brush through your hair and a couple swipes of makeup and you deem it good enough. It’s certainly as good as it’s going to get since someone didn’t give you time to shower.

Mat smiles though, as soon as you walk back in, throwing things into the clutch you plan on carrying with you that night, but he doesn’t say anything or do anything or even move at first. “Are you ready yet?” You tease, standing at the door.

His cheeks flush a little, caught staring, but he jogs over toward you, while nodding. “Yeah, let’s go.” As soon as you lock the door, he’s slipping his hand into yours, merely smiling when you look up at him questioningly.

“Now will you tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope.” Mat grins, tugging your hand to pull you to the right. 

“Come on, really?” But he stands firm, instead asking you something about your day, which lasts all the way until he pulls you into your favorite restaurant, laughing when you realize it’s the end point. 

Dinner is amazing and the speakeasy he leads you to afterwards for drinks is as well. You spend half the time grinning at the place around you, wondering how he managed to find someplace so cool and then backtracking that thought, because, yeah, of course, he did. 

Mat’s smiling at you when you look back at him, eyes never leaving you, it seems, as he swirls his drink around in his glass. “You look happy.”

“I am happy.” You tell him honestly, which only widens his smile.

“So you’d be happy to do this again?”

“Do what again?” You ask, feigning innocence, solely to mess with him. “I don’t actually recall you ever asking me to do this in the first place.”

He throws his head back in a laugh, that big one he’s got that you love. “Can I take you out sometime?”

You nod, smiling as he leans across the table toward you. “I suppose it’s too late to say no.”

“Can I take you out all of the time?” He reaches out for your cheek, brushing his thumb along it.

“Well you do owe me a lot of meals.” You tease. This might better than any date he’s ruined, but you’re not about to let him off that easy. 

“I’m sure I can work something out with you.” He mutters, practically right up against your lips, before kissing you completely.

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 37 - Seven Months

Title: Irreverent Pt. 37 - Seven Months Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: 5302

Trigger Warning: Mentions of Rape/Nonconsent

Irreverent Series Masterlist

*The events of this chapter take place in the seven months during which Emily Prentiss was presumed dead.*

Penelope had decorated Derek's new office. He hadn't taken over Hotch's office - he'd felt weird about that. It was where you found him usually now, late at night after everyone else had left. You'd found yourself staying late quite a bit more.

Reid was taking Emily's death harder than anyone - you know that JJ had been over to his place a lot along with Penelope. Rossi was trying to take him under his wing and make sure he was keeping it together enough to still do the job. You were struggling to get your own oxygen mask on to really help Spencer with his. You hadn't slept more than a couple of fitful hours any night since Hotch left.

The team was down three people and none of you had wanted to go through the hiring process of bringing in and training someone new. However, this meant a lot of extra work for Derek as the new Unit Chief. Rossi was chipping in a bit, but with JJ also gone and no media liaison, his job was becoming impossible. You and Rossi had split up some of the remaining work, with Penelope automating case selection using an algorithm she'd designed. You'd taken on most of the media liaison work in order to spare Derek when he was already on edge. You were all on edge though - all the time.

*------------*

The four of you - Derek, Reid, Rossi, and yourself - were in Austin for a case. There was some sort of convention going on and the killer seemed to be targeting attendees. They'd found two dead already. The team had arrived earlier in the morning and made some progress, but had nothing more to go on for the moment, so you'd all arrived at the hotel for the night.

"They only have two rooms," Derek tells the rest of you, returning from the front desk. With the convention, there hadn't been much space available and the two rooms available were only free because their occupants were dead. The hotel had worked quickly to flip over the crime scenes back into functioning guest rooms.

The three men turned to look at you. "I'll bunk with Derek, if that's okay," you respond, looking at him to confirm if he was alright with it. You didn't want to console Reid tonight and didn't have it in you to deal with Rossi's insistence on talking.

Derek nods and the four of you head up in the elevators to your respective rooms. Reid and Rossi get out on the third floor while you and Derek continue on to the fifth.

"You wanna shower first?" he asks you, opening the door and letting you in first.

"Yeah, that would be nice, thanks."

You go to get clean and when you return, Derek has the case files laid out on the room desk. Upon your exit, he goes to shower himself, leaving you to look over the files and browse through the snack bar. You hadn't had an appetite during dinner and a late night snack was definitely the right call.

By the time Derek got back, you'd made it through half the pack of peanut m&ms and were sitting on the edge of the bed. You look up at his emergence, pajama pants slung low on his hips, and for a second, you have to admire how incredibly fit he is.

"Is that from the boxing?" you ask, eyebrows raised as you more or less ogle his abs.

Derek laughs - a laugh that doesn't quite reach his eyes but the gesture is there. "You should let me train you, princess. I think you'd like it. Work off some of that aggression."

"Hmm, if you can promise me results like that, you're on." You scooch yourself up towards the headboard and pull the covers up, starting to feel just a little awkward about having picked him to bunk with.

"You got it."

He senses your hesitancy as he climbs into bed on the other side. "You're sure you're okay with this? I can take the couch."

"No, I just," you pause, unsure of how to explain. The only other person on the team you've ever shared a bed with is Emily. Emily who holds you and brushes a hand through your hair until you fall asleep. "Sorry, no. It's not you. It's…," you stop again, knowing you really shouldn't say anything at all. And yet, maybe…  "Emily used to cuddle," you mumble, your face immediately becoming warm.

You're not sure if it was because of how obviously embarrassed you are or because he too wouldn't mind having someone to hold right now, that Derek just smiles understandingly. "Come here, princess. We can cuddle too."

That's how you find yourself in a hotel room in the middle of Texas, Derek Morgan's strong arms wrapped around your waist, his lower half tilted respectfully away, and his lips grazing the top of your head in the sweetest way. He was no Emily, but he was exactly what you needed in that moment. You slept soundly for the first time in weeks.

*------------*

Strauss had shut down the investigation into Doyle. She'd cited jurisdiction and said that no one on the BAU was permitted to continue looking into it. You knew that both Derek and Rossi had protested against it, but it was to no avail.

This was the time where you felt angriest with Hotch for leaving. He would've stood up to Strauss way more. Nothing against Derek and Rossi, but Hotch no longer cared about the politics of the Bureau - you knew that by the way he'd stood up to her countless times before. Rossi didn't either but he also had an odd relationship with Strauss - something told you he actually liked her, so he was choosing to respect her decision on the matter.

Derek had far too much going on to wage a war against Strauss and keep running the team at the same time. You were on your own. You took out the card Easter had handed you at Emily's wake from the drawer it had sat in, along with the pearl earrings you'd worn that day. Pearls were for old women and funerals, as your mother used to say.

*------------*

"The Unsub is suspected to be a white male in his mid-to-late twenties. He will have poor social skills - he's probably someone who makes you uncomfortable but you can't figure out why. He will have a low income job which he does not like. He perceives himself as being better than those around him and likely had an older female figure in his life whom he feared. We ask that the public keep an eye out for any individuals meeting this description. Thank you."

You had just delivered the profile at the press conference for a serial rapist who was breaking into women's homes when they were alone, raping them, and then tattooing them with his signature, before leaving them unconscious, naked, and tied up outside their homes. It had been a harrowing few days and the entire city was on edge after the fourth victim had come forward, having been found by her neighbor early the next morning.

Derek looks up at you as you enter the room again. "You alright?"

You simply nod, sighing and lowering yourself into the chair next to him. Reid was working on the geographic profile and so far it seemed that you had your work cut out for you - there wasn't a pattern that was emerging. Rossi had gone out with the lead detective on the case to the newest crime scene. You watched Derek turn back and you could feel the frustration radiating off of him in waves. You have to wonder how much more these cases hit him.

It took another two days and one more victim before a real pattern emerged and after finally getting the results back from the lab, Garcia was able to track down the Unsub using a specific dye he was using in all of the women's tattoos. Everyone was upset with themselves - this was hardly a victory. You take note of how aggressively Derek puts the Unsub in handcuffs and shoves him towards the car.

It's evening by the time the plane lands in D.C. and you get back to the office. You're about to head out, but decide to swing by Derek's office to check on him. Grabbing your bag, you walk down the empty hallway towards his office.

"Hey," you say, arriving in his doorway. He's sitting in mostly darkness, only the light from his desk lamp illuminating his office.

He looks up at your voice, a soft smile gracing his face. "What're you still doing here?"

"Wanted to check in on you, boss," you tease, smiling back at him, and make your way into his office. You drop your bag to the floor and settle into the chair across from him, pulling your legs up. You had a feeling he wasn't leaving anytime soon, and you didn't really want him to be alone in the office on a Friday night.

He shakes his head as you make yourself comfortable and grab the top half of the files sitting directly in front of him, plucking a pen from the holder on his desk.

"You should go home, you didn't sign up for this."

You look up at him, taking in the eyebags and tired shoulders. "Neither did you."

The two of you work together and make a significant dent in the files that had sat on his desk. The growing stack of completed folders was motivating you to just barrel through. The more you two got done tonight, the less he would take home with him for the weekend.

You find yourself watching him as you work. You know this case was hard on him - both because of how brutally the victims had been treated as well as his own history with Carl Buford. Merely the thought of Buford was enough to piss you off - you were glad he was serving a life sentence, because when he'd first been arrested, it had taken everything in you to watch the detective put him in handcuffs and not punch him in the face. You'd barely known Derek back then, and yet you could tell how completely Buford's act had hurt him, changed him, and stayed with him.  

"How are you doing?" you ask softly, pausing your work and watching Derek's face carefully. He'd know what you meant.

Derek stops and looks up to meet your eyes. He puts down his pen and leans forward in his chair, across the desk. "I'm alright. They're always rough. Him being in prison didn't make this part any easier. But…I'm hanging in there, I guess."

You nod. He's not alright, but it doesn’t really help to vocalize that unless you have the time and capacity to deal with it. It's easier to say you're alright until you are.

"Are you?" He'd noticed you had been just a little off - just a little too nice to the victims, a little too eager to rough up the Unsub in the interrogation. He'd been on cases like this with you before, but it was the first time since Hotch and Prentiss were gone. Everything about you lately was like a raw nerve and he knew something wasn't quite right.

"What do you mean?" You hadn't expected him to ask you that.

Derek fixes you with the same look he gives you when he's coaching you in the ring and you try to pretend you hadn't carelessly left yourself exposed. That was the bad part about getting close to people - it becomes harder to cover yourself.

You take in his expression, knowing he wouldn't just let you avoid it. You shift to put the files on his desk, adjusting to pull your knees in front of you, feet planted firmly on the seat of the chair, and wrap your arms around your legs. The darkness of the office helps you feel less exposed.

"It wasn't the same as you. I wasn't a kid," you tell him, your voice low and eyes trained on his hands which lay on the desk. You'd been old enough to know better and you should've been strong enough and confident enough to stop it. It was so different from how it had been for him.

His brow wrinkled as he took in what you'd revealed. Standing slowly so as to not startle you, he comes around to your side of the desk and crouches down to be eye level with you. His hands rest on top of your, sending warmth throughout you. You look to meet his eyes, expecting to see something akin to pity - you didn't want him to see you that way. However Derek's eyes are warm and kind and so very him - not a hint of pity in them.

He appears to hesitate for a moment, but seems to convince himself to go through with it. "Who?"

You move your hand to grip his and he squeezes. Your voice is barely audible. "My ex, Matthew."

Derek sucks in a breath at the familiar name. He'd had some indication in the past that your ex-fiancé was bad news. After all, you'd ended an engagement with him and he knew you well enough to know you didn't make decisions like that lightly.

There was a lot you didn't talk about when it came to Matthew - while the truth about Julian's death had been the nail in the coffin, propelling your escape, your relationship with Matthew had been rocky for months preceding that. In hindsight, you wondered when it had ever been actually good.

You know you owed Derek more of an explanation, however. After all, he'd trusted you about Buford.

"It was towards the end," you continue, your voice scratchy as you blinked back tears. "I didn't really want to sleep with him anymore, but - ." You stop. You hadn't realized how hard it would be to share this with someone. Derek's thumb is rubbing soothingly against your hand and you decide to focus on that. "Fulfilling your duty - that's a big deal in the circles I'm from," you explain. "I was set to be his wife. I wasn't allowed to say no to my husband. So I just…let him do what he wanted."

Derek could tell it hadn't been a one time thing but he didn't think he could stand knowing how often that bastard had forced you into it. All he could see was how small you looked in the chair - he didn't have a doubt in his mind that the woman in front of him today was more than capable of dealing with a monster like that. But back then, with no one to teach you how to protect yourself, he could just imagine how scared you'd been and how going along with it had been your safest option.

He tries to stifle down the anger he feels but his hand is shaking and he knows you can tell. But he also knows what it's like to share something awful and then have to comfort the other person instead. So for you, he takes a deep breath and forces a sense of calm that he doesn't truly feel. To be fair, calm wasn't a feeling he was familiar with anymore.

"You being an adult doesn't change anything. You being in a relationship with him - that's not an excuse," he says, his large hand cupping your face, looking into your eyes. "What he did - only someone rotten to the core could do that. And you still got away. You won."

You lean into his touch and allow yourself to fall into him. Derek shifts on the floor, back against his desk, bringing you down next to him. His hand still clasped tightly in yours as your head comes to settle on his shoulder.

"Thank you."

And you know you don't have to ask him to not tell anyone. Of all people, he wouldn't.

*------------*

You had spent the entire day at the Zoo - Jack, Sophie, and Evan had wanted to see every single animal and had dragged you through the entire place twice.  You got a ton of photos of the three of them posing adorably in front of every exhibit. Jess would want a copy of every single one, you were sure. She and Andrew were spending the day at home without the kids and had plans to go dancing in the evening.

By the time you got back to Jess's place after grabbing burgers for dinner, it was late - late for children at least. Sophie and Evan were quick to clean themselves up, thanking you for everything, before turning in for the night. Jess had raised two really good kids and you got why it was easy for Hotch to leave Jack with her. You might not fully understand how he was able to leave Jack in the first place, but you could see that it was a little bit easier knowing that someone like Jess was there to help.

You and Jess had grown closer these last couple of months with Hotch gone. The first time you'd showed up at her door unannounced, she'd greeted you with a hug and welcome you in to see Jack. You'd been so grateful for her understanding. Seeing Jack made things feel a little better, if only for a few hours.

You approached the door to Andrew's office, which had been converted into Jack's bedroom. Knocking softly, you turned the knob at Jack's invitation. He had changed into his pajamas and was sat at the little play table in the room.

"Hey baby," you whispered, trying to keep your voice low so as to not disturb the other two kids. "What're you doing?"

Jack was sat in the little chair, his tiny hands gripping a marker in one hand. You walked towards him and sat on the ground next to his chair.

"Y/N, can you help me?" He mimics your soft tone, understanding that it was time to be more quiet.

"Of course I can. What do you need help with?"

"With my Val-Valem-Valentine's Day card," he explained, stumbling over the long word.

You smiled encouragingly. He was really getting better with the big words.

"Yeah, I can help. What do you need me to do?"

"Auntie Jess said we can mail it to Daddy," he said, pointing at the blue piece of construction paper that he'd folded in half. "Can you please draw the heart? Mine doesn't look right." The little pout on his face was too adorable to resist.

You looked at the card he was making. It already had Daddy written on it in Jack's childish handwriting and about a hundred stickers. Jack was indicating towards a small spot at the end right above his name.

Your heart aches, knowing that this is the kind of thing that Haley would've done with him. You're happy that at least Jess is around to make sure that Jack and Hotch both have some of these sweeter moments. Jess would think of something like this. Most of your actions around Jack were driven off of asking yourself what your own parents would do - and then doing the exact opposite. But things like this, you couldn't help but feel out of your depth - you wouldn't have even known to do it.  Your parents hadn't been the kind to appreciate things like children's artwork and homemade gifts.

You smile at Jack and ask him which color marker to use. He picks out a red one. You carefully outline a heart right where he'd pointed and then hand him the marker to color it in. Once he's done, he blows on it to make sure its dry, before closing the card.

"Jack, did you put all your love into the card?" you ask, quirking an eyebrow up at him.

He turns to you, confused. "I put hearts everywhere," he replies, pointing at all the stickers on the front of the card.

"That's good, but I think its missing that extra little something. Has anyone ever taught you how to put all of your love into a card, before?"

He shakes his head and you can tell he's intrigued.

Your voice is low as if revealing a secret, making him lean closer to you to hear. "Cards are special because they come from people we love," you explain, "But you can make them extra special. All you have to do is hold the card in your hands, close your eyes, and think about the person the card is for. Think about everything you love about them and let that feeling fill you up. Then you place a kiss on the inside of the card and when the other person opens it, they'll feel it. They'll feel all of your love for them when they read the card."

Jack is quiet for a bit as he thinks through what you said. You watch as he gets up and pushes his chair out of the way to sit by you on the ground. He looks up at you, card clenched tightly in both hands. "Will you do it with me, Y/N?" he asks, his brown eyes shining up at you, a perfect reflection of his father's. "That way Daddy has more love so he gets back home okay."

You force yourself to smile at his request. You can't tell a child that you're still pissed at his father for running off to Pakistan. "Of course baby, come here." Pulling Jack into your lap, you wrap your hands around his, clutching the card. "Alright, remember, close your eyes and think about everything you love about Daddy."

You know Jack is going to take this extremely seriously, so you know you have to as well. Closing your eyes you (temporarily) let go of the anger you feel towards Hotch. Instead you choose to remember his smile that brings out his dimples, the warmth that radiates off of him and penetrates you anytime he hugs you, that time he drove out forty-five minutes in the rain to help change your flat tire, the way he makes you feel completely safe anytime you're with him, and how good of a father he tries to be to Jack. You take a deep breath and let the good memories of him permeate through every part of you. When you open your eyes Jack is waiting for you, card open. You watch as he places a small dry kiss to the center of the card and then holds it up towards you. Tightening your hold on him, you lean forward and brush your lips against the same spot.

Jack quickly closes the card shut, as if afraid the love would float away otherwise. You stand up, lifting him along with you. After tucking the card in a safe spot, you help him get into bed and pick up the book on the nightstand. He's out before you even get to the second page.

*------------*

You hadn't heard much from Easter in the way of Ian Doyle. Part of you thought you should tell Morgan and Rossi that you'd contacted him, but you knew they'd object. You figured it was better to wait until there was something concrete. Easier to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission. However, you couldn't help but feel dejected at the complete lack of progress. Doyle seemed to be underground and there was no intel on his whereabouts.

Work hadn't improved - if anything it appeared the cases were even more rapid fire, as though Derek was taking on more and more to avoid being home at all. This was only the first night you were back in two weeks. The last two cases had come back to back, so you'd flown straight to Tampa from Utah. You did understand Derek in a way - staying busy was the only way to stop wallowing. But he was running everyone, especially himself, ragged.

You and Rossi had put your foot down with him on the jet and insisted on no new cases for at least two days. Penelope was under strict instructions to not even hint at a case to him. Rossi had promised her a nice bottle of Chianti for her trouble and she'd been easily persuaded after you told her how tired Derek looked.

As you parked and got out of the car, you felt an overwhelming sense of unease. You'd been around someone or the other for the past two weeks straight with hardly a moment alone. Derek and you had gotten oddly comfortable sleeping next to one another, so even in a room with two double beds, you'd found yourself in his bed or vice versa most nights. Walking into a large, empty house all by yourself felt intimidating.

You opened the door and set your bag just inside, before locking it again. You drove first to the corner store and picked out some supplies, before driving again towards your destination.

When Derek opened his door to you, you could see the slight surprise on his face at the sight. There you stood, still wearing the leggings and sweatshirt you'd changed into on the plane, clutching a bottle of scotch in one hand while your other was wrapped around a box of the powdered sugary donuts that were his ultimate weakness. He finds himself letting out a small chuckle as he waves you inside.

"Thought you'd gotten enough of me already. Isn't that why we're on mandatory time off?" He follows behind you as you flop yourself onto his familiar couch.

You rolled your eyes at him. "You know we all needed the time off."

He sits down beside you, reaching for the box of donuts. Your last meal had been an early lunch before the plane ride home and you reckon he hadn't eaten anything since then either. You take the top off of the bottle of scotch, and not bothering with a glass, just take a swig straight from the mouth.

Derek raises an eyebrow at that. "Something you wanna talk about, princess?" His mouth already had the sugar dust around ,it as he reaches for a second donut.

"Just didn't wanna be home alone," you mumble out, handing over the bottle to him and breaking off half the donut in his hand for yourself.

You sitting on his couch - that wasn't an unfamiliar sight for him. You drinking scotch straight from the bottle, however, that gave him some pause. You weren't really a cheap liquor straight from the bottle kind of girl - that had been more Prentiss's thing. Even though it was the higher end of the bodega scotch, it still wasn't at the level of stuff you kept stocked at your place. He had to surmise that you hadn't even bothered to go inside.

"Are things ever going to go back to normal, Derek?" You settled in closer to him and he could feel the warmth of your thigh against his own. Your question caught him by surprise, but it was really the way you sighed out his name that made his brain stutter.

He had to really think about the question. He'd asked himself that countless times and each time he'd give up on crafting a response - he didn't have one. It had been more than five months since Prentiss died and Hotch left him in charge. That hadn't been how he'd wanted to get the job and every day he became more and more certain that he actually never wanted it. Hotch had managed it all, on top of a kid and made it seem effortless. He'd known it wasn't of course - Hotch worked harder than anyone else in the Bureau, but he was also working his way into an early grave. Derek didn't like seeing himself on the same path. But he couldn't quit now. Not when you'd lost both Prentiss and Hotch. He wouldn't leave you or Reid like that.

Normal though, he couldn't even wrap his brain around the concept anymore. None of this was normal. Strauss was pressuring him to hire someone already but he was resistant still. Keeping the team as it was - you, Rossi, Reid, and Garcia - that was the closest thing within his grasp to normal. He wasn't ready to let that go.

He realizes he's been quiet for too long and you're still waiting for some sort of response. He turns and he's met with your large doe eyes looking right at him and your face is so close to his. For a second he thinks you're drunk already, but the bottle of scotch barely has a dent in it. You hadn't drank more since you'd passed it off to him.

"I don't know," he says, his voice low and deep, sending a pang deep in your stomach. His face is so close to yours but you know it's your own fault for moving to be right beside him. Derek hadn't done anything wrong. You'd shown up at his door, at night, a bottle of liquor in hand. You weren't sure what you were thinking - all you'd wanted was to not be alone. It was Derek and right now he was the only person that made you feel not alone.

Your head is still rested against his shoulder and his face is tilted towards yours. There's a look that passes between you. You're not sure which one of you leaned in first, only that his lips are pressed against yours. In the next second, you're hauled up and placed on his lap, knees resting on either side of him. You'd opened your mouth and he's exploring yours, drawing a moan from deep within as his large hands wrap around your back. He tastes like sugar and scotch and you know you taste the same. Your own hands travel under his shirt, mouth never once leaving his, the trail of your light, cold fingers sending a shiver down his spine. He's pulling you impossibly close against him and wow it's Derek but oh my goodness it's Derek but it's Derek and it's Derek and it's Derek. You're panting into his mouth and grinding yourself into his lap and it feels so good. You've managed to slip his t-shirt up and he breaks away from your mouth to pull it off all the way, giving you a moment to breathe.

Your eyes meet his again, only this time neither one of you leans in. The moment to breathe was a moment of clarity and you both watch one another with uncertain eyes. He breaks first, and the sound of his laugh - the first truly happy laugh you've heard from him in months - sets off yours as well. It feels incredible to laugh again - like it’s a high. To laugh and to have it reach your eyes and to see it reflected in his - you hadn't realized how foreign that had become to you.

His chest rumbles underneath you as you come to grips with your situation. His hands drop from your waist and yours come back to your side as you swing your leg to get off of his lap. The remnants of laughter still linger between you as he slips his shirt back on over his head.

His hand finds yours on the couch and squeezes. "Are we going to be okay?" he asks, the laughter finally subsiding.

"We are okay," you tell him swiping at the sugar on his chin.

He nods, pushing up off of the couch and then reaching back to pull you up as well. "Alright then, princess. Let's go to bed."

Hand still gripped in his, you follow him to the bedroom.

It had been five months too long of this new not normal.

[backtobackbakubabe]

I am the Alpha Now Part 15

Bakugo X Reader

Words: 2123

Masterlist

Reader is from America and somewhat of a delinquent with an alpha quirk that allows her to turn into a wolf as well as bond with dogs. She is sent to UA to straighten out her attitude. She ends up in a power struggle with none other than our favorite hot head. Words in Italics are words said telepathically.

***********************************************************************

“Does everything make sense?”

You were seated across from Hawks who was going over the plan. Dabi was off somewhere picking up supplies. Those supplies most likely being alcohol because he was less than pleased when he discovered this little hide out didn’t have any booze.

You stared grimly at your lap as you played with the hem of your shirt. “In theory… yes. But… I- I don’t think I can… I don’t know if I can do it.” Hawks moved from his seat to come sit next to you and took one of your nervous hands in his. You took a deep breath before looking him in the eyes, “I don’t know if I can kill him.”

Hawk’s look of concern was starting to morph into confusion, “But you’ve killed before? Right? In America?” He pulled a file out of inside jacket pocket and tossed it onto the table in front of you. “We’ve done our research y/n. You’re responsible for at least five deaths in the states.” He went to open the file but you didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want the faces that once belonged to the ones who captured you. Who tortured you until you were barley human. Didn’t want to feel those emotions that you had been keeping at bay for years now.

You pushed the file away and off of the table. “So, what if I did? I don’t even remember it!” Tears started rolling down your cheeks involuntarily. You wiped them away. “At least not really. I remember the feeling of snapping. Of losing control.” Your hands began to shake. “I remember the overwhelming power that took over.” You could feel Hawks eyes burn into the side of your head as you spiraled. “I remember the immense amount of pain it took to cause me to finally break.”

Your watery gaze snapped up to Hawks as you sucked in a shallow breath, “But that wasn’t me! Please don’t make me do this! I can’t!”

Before you could say anything else, Hawks was pulling you into his chest, “Just breath with me kid. Listen to my heartbeat and try to match it. Okay? Can you do that?” He started taking deep breaths and you clenched your eyes shut as you came down from the panic attack you weren’t even aware you were having.

Hawks hummed praises as you relaxed, “That’s it kid. You’re okay. You’re safe right now. It may not feel like it I promise we’re not trying to hurt you. Dabi may be an asshole, but even he has his limits.”

You pulled back sniffling, “Why are you even working with him? None of this makes any sense…”

Hawks sighed and looked off into space for a moment. “I guess you could say I’m not 100% a good guy, and Dabi isn’t 100% a bad guy. And somewhere, somehow… we meet in the middle. We balance each other out. Neither of us like the extremes. We like to operate in a grey area. We don’t like the being at the mercy of others who like to play God. Whether it’s heroes or villains… doesn’t matter they’re really all the same if you think about it. The only difference between us all is circumstantial at best.”

You nodded. You yourself had struggled for most of your life grasping the concept of being a hero. Your preferred the grey area yourself, hence why you had become a vigilante in the states. “I can see how on paper, it would seem like I would be the perfect candidate to join your little antihero club… but I don’t think I’m up for this.” You ran your hands through your hair, “I get it. I’m a former American vigilante who has a body count, a bad attitude, and the ability to heal. But he’s the leader of the biggest baddest villain group on this side of the country. And you want me to do it alone?”

Hawks smirked at you, “Hey, you can do this. We’ve done a lot of research. Believe me. Dabi and I have been looking for someone like you for years. You are perfect for the job. Like you said before you’re a former vigilante. You’ve don’t the dirty work before. Just one more time. The world will be better off without that psychopath. No one even has to know. It can just stay between the three of us.”

You shook your head, “If I do this… I’ll never be the same. I know it. I don’t think I could put on the hero suit and walk around pretending to be something I’m not. If I do this I don’t think I could go back.”

A cup of coffee was shoved into your hands. And it wasn’t until then that you had noticed Dabi had returned. “So don’t. You can always hang out with us. Be the true neutral player we need. Feathers over here obviously leans more towards the heroes. I obviously lean more towards the villains. You could be the middleman.” He saw your surprised expression, “Look I’ve been tailing you for months now. I know you like coffee. You looked stressed, so I got you one. Don’t look too much into it alright. I still don’t like you.”

You scoffed as you took a sip. It was your exact order. Fucking creep. “As tempting as becoming the third musketeer sounds… I can’t just leave my life behind me. I’m an Alpha of my own pack. We’re bonded. Our lives are connected in ways that I can’t even explain. Mercy would follow me no matter what… but-“

Dabi sat across from you kicking his feet up onto the table, “But your goody two shoes boyfriend might feel differently huh? Well I say fuck em then. Never liked him anyways.”

You narrowed you eyes at him. “I do fuck him. Often. Because I do like him.”

Hawks chuckled, “Okay so before this gets even more awkward than it already is. Dabi, what did you find about Crusty?”

Dabi took a sip from his own coffee cup that smelled faintly of rum. “He’s out of the country for the next week. He’s requested that in that time we ‘initiate the new recruit’. He’ll be checking in when he gets back for a status update.”

You fiddled with the lid if your cup, “So we have a week then? Before the big show?”

Dabi smirked, “Give or take a few days yeah. I hope you’re ready, because between now and then I’m going to push you to your limits. I wasn’t kidding when I said I couldn’t wait to break you.”

You threw the now empty cup at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

Dabi lit the cup on fire and chuckled at you. “We need to get you ready to fight him. So, me and you. We’re going to train.”

You cracked the stiff joints in your shoulders and neck. “As much as I’d love to kick your ass. I’ve been training relentlessly with Bakugo for months now. Training with you would be like a downgrade.”

“That’s cute. I trained night and day for years with Endeavor. You know the current number one hero. Besides I’m sure he’s never helped you train your healing ability.” He could see the confusion in your eyes so he elaborated with a smirk. “Let me spell it out for you. I am about to hurt you… a lot… on purpose. So you can practice healing.”

Your eyes bulged and shot to Hawks. “So much for not hurting me! What the hell do you think that’s going to accomplish? My healing is something that happens automatically. I don’t control it.”

Dabi’s eyes gleamed with mischief, “But what if you could?”

************* Bakugo’s POV*****************

Bakugo sat around a map with Kirishima, Mercy, and Todoroki. “Okay, so from the brief image I got I figured out she was looking at this group of buildings.” He circled a section on the map. “Meaning she would have to be somewhere over here. “He made a larger square shape on the map. “Now I noticed there was a parking garage across the street with a big 5 on top. Meaning the building she’s in is at least 6 stories. It looked industrial. We split up. Kiri with me and Mercy with IcyHot. Mercy and I will be able to communicate with each other.” He rolled up the man and handed it to Todoroki.

“So where will Midoriya go?” Todoroki looked calm as he stuffed the map in his backpack.

Bakugo’s jaw clenched, “What the fuck does Deku have to do with this?”

Todoroki blinked back unphased by his hostility, “He is friends with y/n as well. So I invited him. He would be a great asset to our search. He is very fast.”

Bakugo pinched the bridge of his nose in attempt to keep his temper in control. Kirishima patted his back, “Hey relax man, the more people we have looking, the quicker we’ll find her.”

Bakugo’s shoulders relaxed as he nodded and grabbed his bag. “Let’s do this.”

Midoriya was waiting for them by the front door ready to go. Bakugo stopped in front of him for a brief moment before nodding his head, “Thank you.” He stormed off not waiting for a response from the stunned Midoriya.

The boys made it to the gates of UA when a figure stepped out the shadows blocking their way out. “I don’t assume there is anything I can do or say that will change your mind about this?” Aizawa stood with his arms crossed. Looking intensely at his former students.

Bakugo growled, “We don’t have to listen to you anymore. We aren’t your students anymore.”

Aizawa softened, “Your graduation ceremony is tomorrow. This can’t wait until after then?”

Bakugo gestured to the guys behind him, “They’ll make it back before then. I couldn’t give a shit about a piece of paper. I’ll be out there as long as it takes to find her.”

“Bakugo. There are plenty of heroes out there as we speak looking for her. We even have the number two hero Hawks on it. Leave this to the pros.”

The air filled with smoke as Bakugo struggled to keep his quirk in control, “We are fucking pros. Walking across a stage tomorrow wont magically make us heroes. We already are! We have been! We were all forced to fucking grow up years ago. Don’t you dare look at me knowing what we’ve been put through, knowing what we are capable of, and talk to me as if I’m still the same hot-headed child that stepped into your classroom all those years ago. You taught us how to be heroes. YOU molded us into fighters. YOU turned us into soldiers, and now it’s time for you to fucking let us do our fucking job.”

Bakugo shoved past his old teacher calling over his shoulder as he went, “I will always respect you Aizawa Sensei, but I don’t have to listen to you anymore.”

Aizawa’s scarf wrapped Bakugo up and held him tight. “I’ll let you go…I just need you to hear this first. A hero will sacrifice everything he loves to save the world. A villain sacrifices the whole world to save what they love. Please remember who you are. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Bakugo’s fists clenched. “Let me go you fucking coward. I’ll do what I have to do. I have the nerd with me. I’m sure he’ll let me know when he thinks it’s too much.”

The scarf released Bakugo, “If anyone asks where you went, I will cover for you. This is the first and last time I will lie for you… Good luck.”

Mercy nudged Bakugo’s leg with his nose. “He has a point though. You do need to calm down. I can barley function with all of the intense emotions your pushing through the bond.”

Bakugo sighed and ruffled Mercy’s fur, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’ll try to reign it in. Have you had any luck trying to break through to her?”

Mercy growled, “No. I know she can tell I’m trying though. The only response I get is a slight mental shove. It’s something she used to do when I wasn’t great at communicating yet. She can push us away or pull us closer. And right now, she is pushing me away with both hands. She really doesn’t want us to find her.”

It was Bakugo’s turn to growl, “Well thats too damn bad, because we’re coming for her anyways. Stubborn brat. Keep trying and let me know.”

Bakugo met the glare of a very confused Todoroki, “Are you… talking to a dog?”

***************************************

Tags :

@tspice283 , @realityisoftendisapointing , @imbi-101 , @thoughtfulpandazine2 , @hotarumorikawa , @huh-iwasntpayingattention , @starfishlovingbnha , @weebnumber3622 , @mixedfeeelings , @munchmunch01 , @inumorph @xxoperatexx @runrabbitrun3 @insane-without-delirium

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 14

Happy Chronicles Update! I promise I'm still trucking along on this baby. I think?? We've also officially reached the halfway mark on this installment, which is kind of. Wow. That's WILD.

anyway, I hope you enjoy!

welcome to today’s episode of Luka’s Word to the Wise: whatever it is, it doesn’t have to be perfect. it just has to be good.

thanks, I.

Ivan is right. And technically, so is his Ma, who’s been telling him and Juleka this for as long as he can remember. But Luka will give them the gratification of saying I told you so when this is all over. Even though he could take a stab in the dark and guess that only one of them would take him up on that offer. And it wouldn’t be Ivan. And it wouldn’t be his Ma.

In between messaging back and forth with Bubbles over the next couple of days, Luka puts together a flyer. It’s not exactly the best—just something he threw together on one of those free graphic design websites, definitely nothing like a Gabriel billboard. But it’s punchy, and it fits the vibe, and it gets the overall message across. And more importantly, Juleka doesn’t give him The Look for it. In fact, she smiles over his shoulder when it’s done, and she rubs her fist in his hair, and she affectionately says, “Now can you chill?”

Luka only grins and throws her into a fireman’s carry for another round of ping-pong. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t know how to be totally chill any more.

They pool pocket money, leftovers from past paychecks, to put in an order for copies at the local print shop. Only Rose has ever been; she tells them she’s tagged along with a couple of old friends from an art club to print issues of the comic they’ve been working on together. It’s nice to see her take the lead, point out the best paper stocks and finishes and spot colors, whatever those are, based on what she’s overheard. It certainly beats the alternative: four barely-adults standing awkwardly at the counter, pretending they know what they’re doing.

Even if, according to Luka’s Ma, that’s most of what adulthood is, anyway.

They decide on something glossy because it makes the colors pop, and admittedly Luka has to thank his lucky, anxious stars for saving the file in every format imaginable because he wasn’t sure which one they’d need. Before he leaves them and heads to work on his bike, Juleka gives him another smile, and Ivan manages a single, subtle nod, and Rose’s eyes sparkle. And it’s starting to feel a little less like a thing he needs to do. It’s a thing he wants to do. With them.

And, well. Any bonuses are just that. Bonuses.

These days, Luka’s made it a point to bike past the bakery on his way to work, because if he’s as much of a regular as the Dupain-Cheng family claims, then he might as well act like it. To be fair, he doesn’t always stop in to talk or buy something; in fact, most times he doesn’t. maybe it’s some silly sense of hope that he’ll be seen. That Marinette really did talk to her parents about picking up an extra shift or two behind the counter. That there’s still room on the bulletin board for him—them. And most times, it is just Mrs. Cheng at the storefront, organizing displays or chatting with a friendly customer.

But sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes it is Marinette, idly staring at the window with what he can only assume is her sketchbook at her side and her apron tied around her waist. And sometimes, she looks up at him. And sometimes, she waves and smiles with all the warmth and none of the sweat of July.

That’s why he does it. For the sometimes.

The flyers, once they’re printed, are nothing short of gorgeous, but Luka can’t bring himself to take any of the credit for it. More than anything, he’s just happy to see his bandmates all in on this, even if he did jump in with both feet. Even if they do still rib him during practice about how he’s way too invested in this. (At least Mylène has only nice things to say. He’ll have to remember to order a few extra pastries just for her.)

They split the flyers into four stacks, because of course Mylène insists on helping and of course Rose and Juleka insist on going together. They run or pedal off in different directions once they’ve put a game plan together, and at least Luka can credit them for not teasing when he offers to take the third and fourth arrondissement. They all know it’s where the bakery is, in spite of how he talks up the Place des Vosges. They know, and they don’t have to say anything.

He’s still trying to figure out whether it’s a blessing or a curse to have your real-life friends on your social media accounts.

Even as he’s hanging the flyers in downtown coffee shops, in libraries, on signposts and public bulletin boards, Luka can’t stop staring. With every flyer he pins or tapes up, he finds something new to love about it. A splash of neon color in the top left corner. The jagged, cutting edges of the lettering. The blurred glow of a spotlight. Every time he looks, he gets the feeling that he’s already there. Music pounding in his ears, stage lights burning so bright and hot they make him sweat, fresh calluses on his fingertips that he’ll regret and adore later. He doesn’t think of stardom often, but he imagines this is something close to it.

At the very least, it’s what he would want to make of it.

It’s close to closing by the time Luka arrives at the bakery-patisserie; the usual lingering smells of fresh bread and sugary frosting and the easygoing music are both conspicuously absent when he walks in. But Mr. Dupain and Ms. Cheng are both missing from the storefront, and he has to double check the time on his phone to make sure he didn’t accidentally arrive too late, or that he’s not interrupting some closing routine. It shouldn’t take long; he spent almost the whole bike ride over rehearsing what he needed to say. He looks around cautiously, even clears his throat in case it gets someone’s attention.

It does. Marinette pops up from behind the counter with a squeak, and it startles him so much he nearly drops the stack of remaining flyers in his arms. And that would’ve been a pain in the ass as much as it would’ve been straight out of one of Rose’s cute romcoms for Marinette to round the counter and help him pick them up until their hands brushed over the same one.

Jesus. He really needs to get out of the house on his sister’s date nights.

He really needs to have a date night.

He also really needs to stop thinking about date nights when the person he’d actually consider a date night with is right in front of—

“Luka?”

He blinks to attention, standing awkwardly in the quiet. God, he really hopes he wasn’t staring at her when he zoned out like that. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Marinette shrugs it off with an apologetic smile. “We’re fresh out of napoleons, you know,” she says casually, slipping past him to flip the sign on the door. “Guess you’ll just have to come first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I guess I will—wait—” He shakes his head. “No, that’s not why I’m here.”

Marinette pauses at that. Even seems to stand a little taller, intrigued. Hopeful? “Oh…? Then why…  are you here?”

Meekly, Luka holds up one of the Kitty Section flyers and nods toward the bulletin board. Here’s hoping he—it— isn’t too much of a disappointment.

Marinette squints at the flyer for a second, and then her eyes widen and spark in delight. She looks… impressed, at least. which isn’t to say she’s never seemed impressed by him before. It just makes all the things he’s been working for a little more worth it. “Wow,” she says. “You really weren’t kidding about being in a band, huh.”

���You know it,” he says with what he prays is a casual shrug; this… wasn’t part of the script. “I don’t wear this thing on my back just to look pretty.”

She stifles a laugh, then claps a hand to her mouth immediately. “Sorry, I didn’t—I wasn’t implying that you’re not handsome—pretty— “

Oh God. She’s stammering. And it’s adorable.

Marinette composes herself with a deep breath and her arms folded over her chest. “There are pushpins in the corner,” she says. “Hang it up wherever you want.”

Except Luka can’t help feeling like she’s got her eyes on him the whole time. Either she’s coming to terms with the fact that he was telling the truth all along, or she’s… judging him. Or the flyer. And honestly, he can’t tell which is worse. “What’s wrong?” he asks once he notices she’s still staring. “Did I put it up at a funny angle or something?”

“No, just… thinking…” Her voice sounds distant, perhaps somewhere he might never find her. But then she snaps her fingers, and she says, “That’s it!”

“Uh.” Luka’s brow furrows. “What’s it?”

“Oh, just… sorry, my thoughts just ran away with me, I guess.” Marinette steps toward the flyer, brushing her fingers over it and wincing. maybe it’s just from the finish; his nails have scraped over then more than once, and it felt just as bad as a chalkboard. “I was just thinking, well…  you’ve been good to my parents and all. Why don’t we help you with promotion? You know, put postcards in the boxes or bags. It couldn’t hurt, could it?”

Luka nearly spotters, but the only thing he can manage to say is, “Where am I gonna get postcards?”

“I can make ‘em.” She says it like the simplest, most obvious thing in the world, and looks him up and down when he falters. “If… you and your band are okay with that, I mean. Cause I, y’know… dabble, in graphic design. But I don’t want to impose, if you’re okay with this. It’s your band and all.”

“I can,” he starts to say; then he stops himself, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I can ask them?” Idiot, he thinks. That wasn’t supposed to be a question. “I’ll let you know what they say. Have to come in bright and early tomorrow anyway, right?”

Marinette only smiles. It’s faint, almost absentminded, but that sweet little tug at the corner of her mouth is hardly lost on him. “You don’t have to.”

“Ask them?”’

“Come by.” Her bag is hanging on a peg by the register, and she’s off rummaging through it before Luka can ask what she means. He gravitates toward her more than he actually walks to her, and by the time he reaches the counter she’s fishing a card out of her wallet. It’s pink and black, decorated with the same spray of flowers and monogram as her apron. when he turns it over, there’s her name at the top, and below that, two email addresses. And two phone numbers.

He looks up, wide-eyed.

“So,” Marinette says. “Unless you’re coming all this way for a napoleon, a pear tart, and my pretty face, I think you’re good.”

“I—” Luka turns the business card over and over as though it will teach him now to speak again. “I guess so.” Does she know he thinks her face is pretty? Wait—of course she does, he gave her that note. Oh, Jesus, does she still have that thing? It’s been weeks. “Well,” he says, scuffing his heel against the tile. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll come anyway.”

Okay, that was definitely not part of the script.

But then, neither is the way her eyes are sparkling. “Well,” she murmurs. “Maybe you will.”

“I should, uh—” He jerks a thumb toward the door. “Go, um. Happy closing?”

She laughs behind a hand, glancing between him and the tacked-up flyer before she grabs a broom and sends him off with a delicate wave. And to be honest, Luka’s never been angry with nature before, but he curses the wind for being so loud that he can’t hear that giggle in his head, over and over. Almost as much as he thanks it for drowning out all the stupid things he said, and the lingering questions of why she offered at all.

Luka’s Word to the Wise, Part 2:

Progress isn’t linear but it sure as hell doesn’t mean you can’t stutter your way through getting a girl’s number and succeed.

[detective-giggles]

Sandwich Dismissed

Up until recently, my friend had the only fic in the Rafael Barba/Sandwich tag on AO3, so I did a thing. Thanks to Sarahcakes613 for the beta, and thanks to @teamsladsandgents for coming up with one of the scenarios!

Warnings: None, just a few swears.

Word count: 2500

Pairing: Rafael Barba/Sandwich. Disclaimer: it is Pre-Barisi, so while there’s no explicit Barisi content, it’s strongly hinted at.

 Monday:

Rafael took a quick peek as his phone lit up with a text.

Carmen: Your lunch is on your desk. Thanks for letting me sneak out early today, See you tomorrow!

He glanced at the clock and grinned. They should be breaking for lunch soon and then he could go back to his office and have his sandwich.

Not just any sandwich, but his favorite sandwich from his favorite deli. They closed unusually early for a restaurant in the city, so he was rarely able to make it after work.  It had been months-maybe even a year since he had one last. Just the other day the DA had lunch catered for a meeting and, as luck would have it, he hadn’t been able to get his hands on one of the little sandwiches.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about it, however, and quite frankly, it was distracting.  Rafael had walked in this morning, handed Carmen a twenty and told her if she could have a sandwich waiting for him when court recessed for lunch, she could have the rest of the day off.

As soon as the judge dismissed them for lunch, he jumped up and grabbed his attaché case and turned around... right into the defense.

“Mr. Barba!”

“Counselor Henderson. You here to take a deal?”

The attorney shook his head. “Not exactly.”

“Then I’ll see you in an hour. Excuse me.”

“You’re going to want to hear what we have to say.”

“I don’t think so.” Rafael motioned with his hand. “If we’re talking, we’re walking. Let’s go.”

Counselor Henderson laughed but followed Rafael out of the courtroom. “They won’t run out of coffee downstairs, Mr. Barba, and I have an innocent client. I think you can spend a few minutes hearing what we have to say.”

“I haven’t seen anything that points to your client’s innocence and I’m not interested in any uncorroborated-” Henderson thrust a manila envelope towards Rafael and he grabbed it with a sigh. He could feel photographs inside, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Come on, Mr. Barba, let’s chat. Maybe you can still salvage some of your case against the other two defendants.”

Rafael rolled his eyes and tried to ignore his growling stomach as he allowed himself to be led into a conference room.

Tuesday:

“I don’t know, Liv… I just…” Rafael shrugged. “I’ll think about it,” he promised.

“Don’t think too long. But it’s kind of obvious when you finally notice it. You can’t un-notice it.” Olivia gave him a look and then pulled her phone out of her pocket, firing off a text.  

“Lovely,” he muttered. The elevator doors opened, and he filed out, followed closely by Olivia.

“I’ll be over in a second,” Olivia said, nodding towards the bathrooms.   Rafael nodded and paused at the vending machine just long enough to grab a bag of pretzels, the perfect side for the sandwich he hoped was waiting for him in his office.

“Mr. Barba, your lunch.” Carmen handed over a small cardboard box in the deli’s signature lavender.

“You’re the best, thank you.”

“Do I get to leave early again?” she asked.

Rafael shook his head. “Not a chance!” Her laughter followed him into his office.

He made his way to his desk, setting the pretzels and sandwich down, and peeled off his jacket, hanging it neatly. Rafael dropped into his chair and stared at the box for a moment, an 8 written in messy handwriting in the corner, and under that, XTRA PICK. His mouth watered at the thought of the sour tang from the house-made pickles and he couldn’t wait any longer, tearing into the box.

A wave of disappointment hit him when, instead of a large Ciabatta roll, he saw rye bread. “Oh no… no no no…” he whined. “Carmen!”

“Rafa? What’s wrong?” Olivia took a seat across from him and watched as he carefully picked the top piece of bread off and groaned. Carmen popped her head into the doorway.

“They gave you the wrong sandwich.”

“No! It’s a number eight! With extra pickles just like you asked for.”

“I know that’s what the box says, but that’s not what’s in the box!”

Carmen and Olivia exchanged glances, “I can go get you another?” Carmen offered, although they all knew she had more important things to do then run around and fetch his lunch.

Rafael sighed with defeat, “No, thanks. We don’t have time; we have to get over to the precinct by one.”

“So you’re not going to eat the sandwich?” Olivia clarified, leaning in to see what was inside the box.

“Nope.”

“Oooh. What kind did they give you?” Carmen asked, walking over.

“A Reuben.”

“Wanna split it?” Olivia offered. Rafael sat back and pouted as he watched the ladies divide the sandwich and they each took a bite.

“Oh Rafa, this is really good,” Olivia murmured, “you sure you don’t want some?”

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in. That sauerkraut is making my office smell.” He griped, wrinkling his nose.

Carmen headed towards the door, “I’ll get you another one tomorrow,” she assured him. “And I’ll check it before I leave the deli!”

 Wednesday:

Rafael made his way across the room and poured a fresh cup of coffee. He paused to take a couple of large gulps, and then topped the cup off again.  He set it on the conference table next to the purple box. Carmen assured him it was correct today, but he popped the box open and sniffed; his mouth watered as he inhaled the slightly spicy scent from the meat’s marinade. Rafael pulled the sandwich out and peeled back the paper, flattening it to make a makeshift plate on the table.  He carefully pulled a thin slice of meat off the sandwich and popped it in his mouth, moaning softly.

“You okay over there?” Carmen asked, poking her head in.

Rafael scowled at being caught. “Yes, thank you,” he reached into his wallet and pulled out a couple wrinkled bills. “You heading out for lunch?”

“Yes. I’ll be back before your meeting.” Carmen turned to leave, “Oh, and this vending machine hasn’t been filled yet, you’ll have to go to the eighth floor for pretzels,” she called over her shoulder.

“Damn it.” Rafael grabbed another sliver of meat and headed for the elevators.

*** Five minutes later, Rafael was back on his own floor, his little bag of pretzels in hand. The door to his office was opened, which was odd, he could have sworn he had pulled it shut on the way out.  As he got closer, he could see movement inside, and he rolled his eyes.

”You’re early,” he grumbled. He entered his office and tossed the pretzels on the table.  

John Buchanan looked up, his eyes wide with mock surprise. “Am I? Ooooh, and I interrupted your lunch too!  It’s okay. Take your time. I’ll wait.”   He smirked, not taking his eyes off Rafael.

“Outside?” Rafael gestured to the row of chairs in the hall. Buchanan was 45 minutes early, obviously a tactic to annoy the ADA. Rafael sat slowly, he didn’t particularly want to eat with an audience, but he also knew they’d be arguing for a while.

“Oh, no. Don’t be silly. Enjoy your lunch, it’s fine.” Buchanan looked around and feigned excitement when he spotted the newspaper with a picture of his client on the front page. “I can occupy myself with this.” He grabbed the paper, shaking it with a flourish. His hand hit the coffee cup and, before Rafael could react, his sandwich, the table, and his pants were covered in the brown liquid.

“Fuck!” Rafael hissed and jumped up. Luckily for him, it wasn’t as hot as it could have been - the drink had cooled considerably in the time since it was poured.

To his credit, Buchanan actually looked mildly embarrassed. “That… was not intentional,” he stated, although he made no effort to actually apologize or attempt to help clean up.

“I’m going to need you to wait outside while I…deal with this.”

“Right. Yeah, I can do that.” He stood and crossed the room slowly, shutting the door behind him.

Rafael grabbed the garbage can and sighed as he shoveled the mess into the trash, mourning his third sandwich of the week.

 Thursday:

Rafael tossed his pen on his desk and rubbed his temples. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. His head was pounding, and he was no closer to finishing his opening statement than he had been three hours ago.  He opened his eyes and realized Sonny was staring at him.

“What?” Rafael snapped. He sighed, muttering an apology.  

“Let’s take a break.  I can pick up lunch for us? And some coffee, of course. Or just the coffee, if you’d prefer.” Sonny teased, flashing a dimpled smile.

“No, thanks, Carisi. Carmen should be bringing my sandwich in a bit. I didn’t realize you were staying so long. I can text her and have her bring you something too?” Sonny was helping him (on a day off, nonetheless) so the least he could do was be polite. And he definitely didn’t want to look up all this case law on his own tonight. If the extra help only cost him a sandwich, it would be a cheap trade.

They heard a knock on the door and looked up, Rafael motioning for Carmen to come in.  “Mr. Barba, your sandwich. Good afternoon, Detective.”

“Thank you, Carmen.” She set the box on the corner of his desk and quickly left the office, shutting the door behind her.

“Look, Barba, so I was thinking…” Sonny started. He crossed the room and was at Rafael’s side in a couple of quick strides.

“Oooh, that’s dangerous.”

“Haha,” Sonny rolled his eyes and perched on the corner of Rafael’s desk, “Seriously. I’ve been thinking and I wanted to ask-” Sonny shifted, suddenly anxious, accidentally nudging the items behind him. As if in slow motion, Rafael watched in horror as the lavender box tumbled to the floor.

“You.”

“I, uh… Oops?” Sonny slid off the desk and stood quickly, walking around to inspect the damage.

“Please tell me my sandwich isn’t all over the floor?”

“I could. Tell you that, I mean. But then I’d be lying and…” Sonny swallowed hard and knelt down to pick up the scattered pieces of Rafael’s lunch. “I’m sorry, Barba. On the plus side, no aioli got on your carpet. That would leave a nasty grease stain...” he paused, “Barba, are you okay?”

Rafael laughed, harder than Sonny expected for someone whose lunch was currently inedible, “That…is just my luck. Do you know how much money I’ve spent this week on lunches I haven’t gotten to eat?”

“Um, no? How many sandwiches are we talking?”

“Four.”

“Oh, shit. Barba. I’m really sorry. I’ll go get you another one right now. It’ll take twenty minutes, tops.” Sonny grabbed his coat.

“No, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind. You can get a little hangry and I don’t want that on my conscience when you walk into the precinct later.”

“Carisi, I’m not actually angry, so stop talking while you’re ahead.”

“Yeah, okay. But I really am sorry,” Sonny sat down at the table and grabbed another book, “I promise, your next sandwich is on me.”

 Friday:

Rafael sighed, relieved, as he made his way into the deli with fifteen minutes to spare. “Hi, Can I get a number eight, please. Extra pickles and cut in half. To go.”

The teenager behind the counter looked bored as she tapped at the screen. “$12.95.”

Rafael slipped his hand into the inside pocket of his suit and froze briefly when he realized the pocket was empty. He shoved his hands into the front pockets, also coming up empty. “I, uh... sorry, I don’t...” he tapped the front and back pocket of his pants-no wallet.

He felt his inside pocket again and groaned, hoping he hadn’t dropped it somewhere. He could already feel his temple throbbing at the thought of having to go home and cancel all his credit cards and replace his license.

“$12.95.” The girl repeated with an eye roll.

“I heard you the first time. Clearly, I’m having an issue.”

“Apple-pay?” She suggested.

“What?” She tapped the machine in front of Rafael and he shook his head. “No, I don’t Apple-pay.”  He closed his eyes. The last time he saw it was earlier today when he had given it to Carmen to purchase some flowers for his abuelita. She always locked it in his top drawer when she was done and in his haste to get out of the building he must have forgotten to grab it.

Rafael dropped his head in defeat. He couldn’t make it to his office and back before they closed for the evening, and even if he could, his key card to get into the building after hours was in his wallet.

“So, do you still want the sandwich or what?”

“Yeah, he’ll take the sandwich.”

Rafael didn’t need to look up to know it was Sonny standing next to him, handing some cash across the counter, telling the girl to keep the change.

“Carisi, you didn’t have to do that.”

Sonny shrugged, “but it was my fault your last sandwich didn’t work out. Luckily, I decided it looked really good while I was picking it up off the floor.  My debt to you is now repaid.”

“My hero.” Rafael grinned.  The pair stood in silence for a minute.  “I guess it would be pretty rude if I didn’t ask you to join me, wouldn’t it?”

“Nah. Rain check?”

Against his better judgement Rafael asked, “you... you don’t want to have dinner with me? Isn’t that what you were going to ask yesterday? In my office?”

Sonny looked surprised. “I would love to,” he admitted. “But I know that you want nothing more than to go home with your sandwich and your obscenely expensive bottle of scotch and forget about this week. If we ever have dinner...together... I want it to be because you want to and not because you feel obligated to. Go home, enjoy your sandwich, and I’ll see you Monday?”

“Thanks, Sonny.” Rafael watched as the detective flashed a quick smile and exited the deli. Maybe, someday soon, he’d be spending some extra time with a blue-eyed detective. But for tonight, it would be just him and his sandwich, and he was just fine with that.

Taglist: @itsjustmyfantasyroom

[hellflame-for-a-reason]

Vampires don't have blood quirks

Part two

Tw for blood and loss of control

Training, it was the last lesson before lunch so they were all a little antsy. Mr Aizawa led them all to a large building and told them they were going to play a little game; everyone was given a little marble, and they could store it anywhere on them, the object of the game was to steal as many marbles as possible and the moment you lost your marble, you were out. There were to be three rounds, or at least as many as they could manage before lunch. So they took their marbles and hid them somewhere in their gym outfit, this task would be unfair if they were to use their hero costumes. Tenya certainly knew that it would be easy to hide a marble in his suit- he was half tempted to put it down an exhaust pipe but he knew that was too risky so he simply slid it into his shoe.

The whistle was blown and they all rushed into the building, Tenya knew that fights would break out as soon as the whistle was blown so he ran as deep into the building as he could get- it would be too risky to pick up stray marbles. He was wondering how he should play this while kind of wishing he’d brought a small snack, he’d only had a small juice box for breakfast after all. He simply ignored that and did his best to head around the corridors, sticking to the shadows. It was a good strategy as most other students were running about hunting each other… oh he shouldn’t use that word, it made him think about how much he couldn’t wait for lunch.

His way of doing things paid off, he managed to get second place in the first round, and now in the second round, he already had 4 marbles clasped in his fist. He turned a corner at full speed, suddenly finding himself on his back as a weight landed on his chest. For some reason he couldn’t see who it was… oh wait, “Hagakure?”

She giggled, “yep! Sorry Iida, can I have your marble?”

“Of course you can, you’ve earned it.” he pulled the marble out from its hiding place, holding it out for her, she took it. “This is certainly your kind of exercise isn’t it?”

Hagakure laughed at that, “it is, it's very fun! How about you?”

“It’s definitely fun,” he agreed, pausing when a very familiar smell filled his nose, “are you hurt at all?”

“Hm? Oh I did cut myself slightly earlier but it’s fine, I put a bandaid on it.”

“The bandaid’s come off.”

“Oh? Oh! It has! Thank you Iida!” She finally got off of him, he did his best to hold his breath as he stood up, slowly leaving the building, where he allowed himself to breathe deeply. Great; now he was even more hungry, and they still had a round to go.

The third round, Iida didn’t want to get too close to anyone, he was kicking himself for not getting more breakfast. He could smell Bakugo’s brand new nosebleed from three rooms away, and it was making him dizzy. He resolved himself to just sit in the window of one of the rooms, staring out and trying to breath without smelling anything. It wasn’t like he was trying to make himself hungry, this was just a terrible situation. He prayed no one would come into the room he was hiding in, he didn’t care about his marble but he couldn’t exactly trust himself like this.

He could see the people who were knocked out of the game leaving the building from here, it was a nice distraction but there was a small part of his brain that was begging him to jump down there and hunt. So the footsteps that came too close weren't entirely unwelcome of a distraction, he still froze in place, not wanting to move a muscle for fear he’d lose it. He knew it was Midoriya, from the bouncing footsteps to the scent of fresh cut grass and residue blood. Midoriya was the last person Tenya ever wanted to hurt.

“Iida?”

Oh the hand on his shoulder was a mistake and within seconds Midoriya was pinned against the floor with Tenya perched on top of him. The green haired boy had turned red, staring up at him as Tenya leaned too close, way too close. Tenya knew it was wrong, he knew that, but Midoriya just smelt so good, and he simply couldn’t take it. He inhaled the scent deeply, feeling his heart rate jump up to almost that of a human’s. His mouth had filled with saliva and he felt incredibly warm and adrenaline-filled.

“...I-...Iida..?”

“You’d make a much better damsel than Uraraka…” he was unable to think of anything but how his friend might taste, his engine warming up on its own, the adrenaline kicking it into gear.

“...what?”

“Huh?” Midoriya’s confusion gave Tenya the moment of clarity he needed, “oh! Yes, the marble, where’s the marble?”

“My pocket… are you okay?”

“Mhm!” he nodded, taking the marble from Midoriya’ pocket, “ah you’re out it seems, best get down and tell Mr Aizawa,”

“I can’t, you’re still on top of me.”

“Oh, I’ll just get off of you then…” he stood up, struggling to keep his thoughts coherent.

"Yeah…" Midoriya got up, brushing himself off as he stared at Tenya in confusion, "are you alright Iida? You're…"

"Fine, I'm fine," Tenya waved his hand dismissively, "you should go wait out the rest of the round."

Midoriya hurried off and Tenya was alone with his thoughts, kicking himself for losing his cool the way he did. He couldn't believe he was seriously considering biting him, he would never hurt his friends, he loved his friends. He's never even bitten a human in his entire life, that's not something a hero does! Tenya couldn't shake the feeling that Midoriya's smell had given him though, it had been so incredibly intoxicating, in more than one sense. For a split second he wondered if Midoriya would taste as good as he smelt, he instantly killed that thought the moment he had it- that was something he should never be thinking about, he wasn't a monster!

When the round ended, Tenya stumbled out of the building and stood there silently, trying to ignore the small cuts and bloody noses of his classmates though it drove him crazy. Mr Aizawa had asked them all how many marbles they had, and out of the students still left in the building by the end, Tenya had the least amount of marbles, only having taken one. Bakugo, who had gotten the most, seemed to find this funny. Laughing at Tenya, he leered, "what were you even doing this whole time? Sitting on your ass?"

Tenya just sighed in response, not feeling like retorting, but as class president, he had a duty to take no shit and be an example to his fellow students. "For your information, Bakugo, this isn't really my forte; my quirk and skillset are built for speed and power, not for ambushing and hunting." He was right, although the part about not being built for hunting was incorrect, his entire species was built for that sort of thing.

"You have a point Iida," Mr Aizawa spoke up, "however you were quite good in the first round, and if it wasn't for Hagakure you definitely would have gotten a good score there too. So did something happen this round? Is there a reason for your sudden lapse in performance?"

"Sir?" Midoriya raised his hand quietly, "not to overstep but it was my marble he took and when I found him, he seemed a little… dazed? I don't really know how to describe it…"

Tenya couldn't look at Midoriya, he didn't want to feel the way he'd felt then again. He hadn't meant to freak poor Midoriya out like that, he couldn't imagine a worse thing to happen. Mr Aizawa turned to him, clearly waiting for an explanation of this behaviour, but there was no way Tenya could tell the truth. Instead he just sighed, trying not to meet his eyes, "I am feeling a little… dizzy, sir. I apologize for not doing anything about it."

"Ah, I see. If you're feeling under the weather then you shouldn't push yourself to train, you should have just told me you felt ill."

He bowed his head in shame, "yes sir, my apologies."

"Stop apologizing and go get some rest, class is dismissed, I'll go over my observations with you tomorrow."

The class filed out of the room, most of them heading to the changing rooms or the cafeteria, but Tenya found himself rushing across the campus to get to the dorms. He could feel his mind clouding again as he got through the door, the entire dorms smelled of his friends, it smelt so unbearably human. Quickly making his way up the stairs, Tenya could only pray his friends weren't kind enough to try and check up on him. The moment he got into his room, he slammed the door shut, he was unable to lock it so he did the next best thing and slid a chair under the handle. Hopefully that would keep any would-be-victims out of the room. With the last of his control fading, Tenya let out a groan that quickly turned to a hiss, good gosh he was hungry.

He got to the floor, opening the minifridge that he kept under his bed. Unfortunately he opened it so quickly he tore the door off, but in this state, he really didn't care. All he cared about was feeding. He grabbed the biggest bag he could, not even bothering to use a straw as he tore into it, ignoring how it got on his face; all he could focus on was the taste and how much he needed this.

It was only animal blood; he'd heard that human blood was better but he would never consider trying it, animal blood was all he'd ever done and it should be enough to quell his frenzy. That was what it was, a feeding frenzy; something that happened when a vampire got particularly overwhelmed with thirst. Any control or logic went out the window in favour of doing anything and everything in his power to feed, that was why he'd put the chair under his door handle, he didn't want to get out and during a frenzy he likely wouldn't be able to figure out how to escape. Luckily the blood bags seemed enough for him, and he was happy to just sit there and tear open bag after bag of the red nectar.

After around ten minutes of feeding, Tenya found himself a lot calmer, allowing himself to slow down with the feeding. His floor was littered with empty blood bags now, so he'd probably have to clean up before the next lesson. For now, though, he could just relax and enjoy his lunch, this particular bag was beef blood- his favourite. He was just vibing, he wasn't expecting a knock at his dorm room door. Naturally, he panicked, grabbing all the bags and shoving them into the fridge, not caring if one popped. "One minute!" He hoped they wouldn't be suspicious by how long it took him to get to the door, he didn't have a mop so he had to go at his floor with a tissue.

When he finally opened the door, he saw that it was Midoriya and Todoroki standing there. Midoriya smiled up at him, "are you feeling any better now Iida?"

Tenya smiled, appreciating that his friends were so caring, "of course, I'm perfectly fine now. Not to worry Midoriya, I'm feeling better now."

"That's good!" Midoriya smiled, walking into the room, followed by Todoroki, who frowned the moment he'd stepped through the doorway.

"Wh-" Iida closed the door behind them, "did you need anything more?"

"No, Midoriya suggested we come and check on you to make sure you were doing alright. Have you eaten yet?"