#filed » conversations / who's gonna listen when you run out of lies?

[hcneycakc-blog]

@icegods

yet again, jason seemed to have found himself at christopher’s door. it seemed a little stupid, actually. given how much christopher hated the savages for murdering his father and how much jason hated the cobras for murdering his husband. sure, they each had their reasons for what they were doing now, together, but christopher still found that it felt to be the ultimate betrayal. a cobra fucking a savage? hardly unheard of. but the savages leader being hate fucked by a cobra arms dealer? christopher was pretty sure that was a new one. a newer, much lower level of self-hatred. and yet, when he wanted to rid himself of the stress of the day, he found himself at jason’s door. and vice versa. they were as bad as each other. christopher’s hands made their home at jason’s hips, nose bumping against his cheekbone as he pressed light kisses towards his mouth. they didn’t always start this sweet, but christopher didn’t always like to leave out the foreplay. and tonight, he wanted to take his time. he, after all, was not the one seeking out the other. he had spent the late afternoon in the volstead to drink away his troubles. “rough day?” the teasing was masked by a light layer of concern. they might hate one another but christopher wasn’t an animal. he considered people’s feelings. occasionally. he backed jason against the door, fingers working on pushing his shirt up his body, blunt nails dragging over smooth skin. “i’m the only one who can make it better, huh?”

[raphael-simp]

Two Years Ago - Raph x Reader

You never liked talking much.

Never really knew why, you just didn't. Of course, you would still carry a conversation to be polite, but the answers were short and spoken barely above a whisper. There were many times where you tried to change this about yourself, but the attempt didn't last for more than five minutes before you shrunk back into yourself again.

Then how the hell were you friends with four, loud and rowdy mutant teenage boys?

You didn't even know the answer to that one.

And to be honest, the memory of how you met the four of them was still slightly hazy. Of course, Donnie told you what had happened to you, but you personally didn't believe it. Why would robot alien beings want to kidnap a random girl walking home from her night shift? It still didn't make sense to you, nearly two whole years after it happened.

You were fourteen going on fifteen when you first met the four.

You worked at the convenience store not even two blocks from your apartment building, and you had switched shifts with your co-worker Abbigail so she could attend a funeral, which meant you now had the night shift.

It wasn't that big of a deal to you; she asked, you agreed, nothing more was said on the matter.

You texted your parents to inform them of the shift change and told them not to wait up for you, which they obviously denied much to your annoyance.

The shift ended at ten o'clock, but you still needed to do till and make sure the money count on the register matched with what you'd counted. That process alone took you about half an hour, so you really didn't leave until ten thirty. You made sure you switched off all the lights and locked all the entrances before you put the store keys in your jacket pocket and began your short walk home.

It was nearing winter, so the weather was beginning to turn cold, and you weren't exactly the best at dealing with temperature drops. You stood tensed as you speed walked towards your apartment building, wanting to get out of the darkness as fast as you could. There was one building near the end of the street that you almost always completely ran past; a run down looking, white parking garage with the paint peeling and chipping everywhere. It creeped you the hell out, mostly because there were always these two guys that stood at the old entrance, their stare boring into your back as you'd run past. Every day you expected them to run after you or shoot at you, but they never did anything.

Until tonight.

When you looked you didn't see them anywhere, and although you thought it would soothe you, it just made you more anxious.

'Where are they...?' You thought to yourself, nervously glancing around, trying to find the two.

Let's just say you didn't have too look far.

A large white van came screeching around the corner, running over the curb and nearly into you before it lurched to a halt. The back doors flew open and three identical looking men filed out and made their way towards you. In fact, they looked like the men that would always watch you at the entrance to the parking garage...

You literally froze. You didn't scream, move or look away until one picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. After that, you screamed absolute bloody murder, praying you'd get the attention of someone- anyone -that could do something to help you. Thankfully, help came rather quickly, just not in the way you thought.

You fought as hard as you could to at least get the man to slightly falter his grip around you; you punched, kicked, pounded- you even bit him, but it hurt you more than him.

You flailed like a fish out of water and kept screaming, even louder if possible as you got carried closer and closer to the back of the van.

Your voice was cut off when you landed harshly on the ground, trying to use your hands to catch yourself but only hurting yourself even more. You were a shaking mess, trying so hard not to cry but suspectingly failing, bursting into tears and sitting down properly, hugging your knees tightly to your chest as you cried into them. You were absolutely terrified out of your skull.

When someone tried to touch you, you screamed again, though it came out more as a strangled cry than anything else. You'd hurt your throat badly from all of your screaming and had no doubt lost your voice because of so.

"Well we can't just leave her crying in the streets, dudes. We gotta do something!"

You heard hushed voices talking a bit in front of you, but didn't bother to look up or fight. You wouldn't do that unless they actually did something, and that was what you were waiting for.

You cried to yourself, waiting to either calm down or for whoever was in front of you to do... whatever.

But they never did anything, they were quiet for the forty five minutes you were crying and calming yourself down.

"You're gonna be okay, alright?"

You slightly looked up from your knees, and honestly at this point, four giant turtles standing in front of you didn't phase you right now.

One of them was kneeling in front of you, it was wearing a tattered red mask and looking directly at you, with electrifying green eyes.

It looked up at one of the others, but you didn't bother to follow his gaze, your eyes were too tired.

"Don, do you need t' look at 'er?"

"I don't see anything major wrong with her, I think it's just shock right now... to be safe I wanna take a look at her, if she'll let us of course."

It looked back at you, the one with the red mask, and you did your best to keep your eyes open and listen to what he had to say. You were just so tired...

"My brother wants t' take a look at 'cha t' make sure ya weren't hurt too bad durin' that whole thing, okay? You alright with that?"

You barely nodded your head and lied it on your knees, involuntarily passing out.

When you woke up after that, you started freaking out and tried to scream, but found you barely had a voice. You were achy and sore all over and you could barely remember why.

Of course, you properly freaked out when you saw the four turtle figures again, but the ones in red and purple- who were the only ones in the room with you at the time- explained everything that had happened.

Donnie had picked up radio chatter that the Kraang were going to abduct another test patient that night, and the turtles rushed to the location that was shared, and ended up there just in time to help you and destroy the Kraang bots.

You hadn't been too badly hurt; bruised arms and shins from pounding on the metal robots, scraped hands, scraped knees, and a possible emotional blackout, to explain why you didn't remember what had happened to you.

You merely nodded along, trying not to stare too much at the two creatures in front of you, who introduced themselves as Raphael and Donatello.

"(Y-Y/N)...." you stuttered out, thinking that they at least deserved to know your name, after all they've done. Your voice was barely above a whisper, so the boys had to listen carefully to hear your name.

Raph and Donnie smiled, glad to hear that you at least trusted them to that extent.

You asked what time it was, and nearly flipped shit when Donatello told you it was almost 1:30 in the morning. Your parents were going to absolutely lose their minds on you! You scrambled to stand up and nearly fell over, thankful that Raphael had caught you.

"I-I need to get h-home." You breathed out, avoiding eye contact and trying to hide your face behind your (H/C) hair, to hide the fact you were red. Why you were red-faced?

You had no clue.

"I'll take ya. There ain't no way in hell you're goin' alone after this." Raphael stated, standing you back up on your own two feet. You would've fought him on it, had you not have agreed with him. If those Kraang guys still wanted you...

you didn't want to be left alone again. So you just nodded and let him walk you out. You didn't see the other two brothers while you walked out, so you assumed they were somewhere else.

Raphael led you around the systems of the sewer and helped you out of the manhole cover, and once out you took a deep breath of fresh air and closed your eyes in an attempt to clear your thoughts.

"I know you've had a rough night doll face, but we should probably get going."

Your eyes snapped open and you felt your face go warm, and instinct brought you to hide your face with your hair and jacket sleeve. You avoided his gaze and just nodded, speed walking to the sidewalk until you realized:

You had no idea where you were.

"Wh-where are we...?" You wheezed out, slightly turning to face Raphael.

"Just a couple blocks from where we found ya. We gotta take the roofs though... can't really walk out in th' street lookin' like I do."

You nearly asked why until it hit you like a brick. Again, you just nodded and climbed up the fire escape after him. You took notice how some of the roofs were pretty far apart, and hoped to God he didn't expect you to jump over them. Thankfully he didn't, and tried to stick to a route that involved just taking a step across. But for those that involved jumping, he just lifted you onto his shell and jumped across before setting you back down again.

Each time he did so he'd ask if you were okay, and you nodded in response hiding your face. And each time, he'd smile and mutter a small "cute," under his breath, which he didn't know you heard.

Once he brought you to where he and his brothers had found you, he told you to lead the way to your apartment, and you pointed him in the right direction. "So," he started, "Kinda wish we coulda met under better circumstances, (Y/N)."

You nodded in response, keeping your gaze down and stepping over a wooden plank. How the hell'd that get there?

"...You're shy, aren't cha?" Raphael asked, and again you nodded. Not only that, it hurt to talk, but he assumed correctly. He chuckled and lightly nudged your shoulder with his.

"Ya don't gotta be 'round me, I don't bite... much."

You looked up at him with both confusion and shock written all over your face, and it just made him laugh.

"Relax (Y/N), I'm kidding... just a little though."

You rolled your eyes, and yet you couldn't help the small smile that danced across your face.

The both of you walked Ina comfortable silence until you saw your apartment building across the street and elbowed Raphael's arm, pointing to it.

"This is my stop." You whispered, not daring to bring your voice above that. He nodded and hoisted you onto his shell, having to go around the roof tops to avoid going down to the streets. He set you down on your apartment roof, once again asking if you were okay.

"I'm fine, Raphael." You responded, pushing your hair behind your ear. He smiled at you and slightly tilted his head.

"Call me Raph, doll face."

You bit the inside of your lip and looked down, nodding your head. You didn't want him to see your warm and red face, it was extremely embarrassing for you.

"Hey," Raph's voice made you slightly look up, since he wanted your attention. He handed you a folded piece of paper with a number scribbled on it- wait, was this his phone number? Was a guy giving you his phone number? To your face?

"You don't gotta, but if ya don't wanna walk home alone again I'm available if ya need it."

You completely lifted your head to look Raph directly in the face, and he took pride in one thing; making you smile like that. You have him a single nod and held the paper with both hands.

"Trust me, I will.. Raph."

Now it was his turn to smile.

The two of you just stood on the roof for a couple minutes, staring and smiling at each other before something on his belt beeped. He jumped a bit in surprise and glanced at it.

"That's my brothers- I gotta go. You'll be okay?" He asked, taking a small step back.

You nodded, putting the paper in your pocket. "I'm home now. Go."

His smile grew and he backed up towards the edge of the roof.

"Try not t' get into trouble doll face! Just save a little to give me an excuse t' save ya again!" He shouted, just before jumping to the roof next to yours and taking off, eventually disappearing.

"I think I like that. Doll face..." you thought to yourself, still smiling like an idiot. You stood on your roof for God knows how long more before you came to your senses and carefully climbed down your fire escape and slid through your window.

.

"Was that really two years ago...?" You thought to yourself, flipping a pen between your fingers.

Yup. It was.

Two years ago these four boys saved your life, and two years ago you met the boy that kinda saved you, in a way.

It took him time, but he got you to slowly expand your comfort zone. You didn't stutter every time you spoke anymore, and you didn't respond with simple gestures anymore and used actual words that really carried a conversation. And at the same time, you helped him.

You kinda found out about his anger the hard way, having him lash out at you when he was beyond pissed off, and though it did hurt, you didn't blame him. In fact, you made it your goal to try and help him with it.

He'd expressed to you before how he'd never liked his short temper, and so you helped him. You showed him ways that he could release stress and repressed emotions, like actually using his drum kit and playing when he got pissed, or just sitting with you and either talking, or just sitting in silence.

Coming up in December would actually be a year since Raph had asked you out, too.

It didn't really come as a surprise to most, since the both of you were pretty open about affection with each other even before you two decided to make it official, just because.

The two of you would always sit close together, hold each other's hand, cuddle each other and he'd even kiss your cheek every now and again. Every movie night, you bet that the two of you would sit or lie with each other, and Raph would play with your hair or lightly trace an invisible pattern on your arm.

All in all, it wasn't really a surprise to Raph's brothers, April or Casey when he'd asked you out. The only person it surprised was you, but even then you'd accepted in a heartbeat.

And to this day, he still calls you doll face.

Two years later, the boy's nearly eighteen and you the same, you've found a new family.

And a new love.

"(Y/N), doll face, cmon we're headin' out with or without ya!" You rolled your eyes and smiled, shoving the pen in your jean pocket and getting up, grabbing your jacket.

"Yeah yeah, I'm coming Raph!" You called, walking out of his room and slipping your arms through your jacket sleeves as you jogged out to the entrance to meet the boys.

About a year ago, after you'd actually learned how to properly, they let you join along on some of their patrols. Raph made you carry a small dagger though. Just in case you got separated and something happened to you.

Speak of the devil, he heard you coming up behind him and turned around smiling. He extended his arm to you, waiting for you to end up at his side before putting his arm around your waist and pulling you close to his side, kissing the top of your head.

"All ready and fashionably late, doll face?"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, shoving him while failing to hide a smile of your own.

"Shaddup Raph, I was doing important things." You said, zipping your jacket up.

He just chuckled and raised his arms in mock defence.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry baby." He said, lightly pressing his lips to the side of your head and cheek in chaste kisses. You turned your head at the last second to catch his lips in a quick kiss. While he smiled and put an arm around your shoulders, Mikey mock gaged.

"Yup, think I'm gonna hurl-" he said, making a queasy face. Raph reached out with his free hand and punched his baby brother in the shoulder.

"Oh shut it Mike, not like ya don't see it regularly." Mikey hit Raph's arm back, which quickly escalated into an arm punching war. You tried not to laugh too much, looking over to Leo and Donnie, who were trying to do the same thing.

"Alright alright alright guys, that's enough!" Leo called, laughing a bit to himself.

"We gotta get going before it gets too late, we gotta take (Y/N) home by midnight. Let's move out!"

With those words, the five of you took off running towards your normal exit to the top world.

//////

gUIS IM IN ABSOLUTE L O V E WITH THIS ONE SHOT I LOVED WRITING IT SO GOD DAMNED MUCH AAAAAHHHHHHHH

PS THIS WAS WRITTEN AT LIKE 11 pm - 2:30 am SOOOOOOOOO

[robinofgothamcity]

♡ starting prompt: based off a tweet i saw that said ‘we always kinda shipped them together. he kept scoffing that he didn’t like her and yet he always look at her first when someone made a joke to see if she was laughing too’.  

♡ pairing: walter hahn (WWE / NXT) x fem reader

♡ lyric inspiration: “come with me and you’ll be in a world of pure imagination. take a look and you’ll see into your imagination. i’ll be begin with a spin....”

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes

"who’s that?” Walter asked his blond friend. Marcel looked up to see you, headphones in and blaring music so loud that everyone was able to hear. “oh, that’s ( your name ). she’s Timothy’s-,” before he could finish the sentence, Timothy came up to you and gave you a quick hug, “that’s his manager. she also works in the front office,” he continued. 

Walter’s eyebrows went down in confusion. never in the time that they were together in RingKampf had he ever took interest in having a manager and from the looks of it, you were the exact opposite of Tim. from afar, you were bubbly, excitable, and cute. 

Tim was nothing of the sort. polar opposites one might say. 

you were sitting in your seat as Tim was eating lunch. dancing to whatever you were listening, Walter couldn’t help but laugh at your antics. he knew Tim like the back of his hand so the decision to make you his manager was either his doing or something that was out of his hand. 

“she’s....interesting,” he said under his breath, making Marcel look at him for a moment, “any particular reason why you’re so interested in her? she’s been his manager for a while now,” Marcel put in. Walter shook his head, deciding not to respond. 

you were Tim, watching as he scarfed down his dinner while you finished up a few papers that needed to get done for next weeks taping. you were supposed to be dressed and ready to go by six but because of Tim’s new storyline with the boys from Imperium, you had to figure out a few things before the match. 

Timothy was a bit hard headed at first, stating that he didn’t need a manager but after a while, he got used to having you around. you were almost like a pest that he cared about like a sister. 

“hey, your friends are over there! why don’t you say hi!” you exclaimed, seeing Walter, Fabian, and Marcel in a corner, speaking to each other, “no. we’re not supposed to be speaking with each other,” was all he said before continuing to eat. 

you huffed before scooting out of your chair, “well, I’m going to say hello. since we’re going to be working with each other, I guess it’s only right to get formalities out of the way,” you stated, making Tim’s eyes go wide in panic. 

he instantly tried to get you to come back but by the time he tried to reach for you to come back, you were already prancing over to them. 

“hi!” you exclaimed happily. Fabian, the friendliest of the bunch gave you a smile, “i’m ( your name )! Tim’s manager. it’s nice to meet all of you!” you introduced yourself, giving them your hand to shake. 

Fabian introduced himself, giving you a hug instead. Marcel on the other hand just took the handshake and murmured his name to you. Walter remained looking at you, not bothering to say anything outside of giving you a simple head nod. 

to the untrained eye, like yourself and others, Walter’s reaction was a given. he was never a man of many words yet to the boys and Tim, they could see that Walter was holding himself back. almost like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. 

you giving Walter a smile, one that would’ve made anyone fall for you but he just turned his head to another direction and started to speak to Marcel in German. you gave Fabian a confused look, wondering why he didn’t tell you much but you felt a hand clasp onto your shoulder a second after. 

“evening boys,” Tim’s voice spoke from behind you. you gave him another look, wondering why he went back on his word from earlier, “they’re looking for you in makeup and they’re pissed,” he whispered into your ear.

your eyes widened, realizing you were beyond late to get your makeup done. you gave them a quick goodbye, shoving your work into Tim’s hands and screaming at him to put it into your office before basically darting off to the makeup station. 

Tim, Fabian, Marcel, and now Alex who had shown up looked at Walter with suspecting eyes. no one said a word but Tim could sense Walter had taken an infatuation with you. 

+

a few weeks passed since your encounter with Walter and the rest of Imperium. since you were working 'against’ them now, outside of the ring, you got a bit close to Marcel and Alex. they would invite you to sit next to them when Tim wasn’t with you. 

you tried to get closer with Walter but he always closed you off. he would say absolutely nothing to you and when had too, it wasn’t anything besides a few words. at first you thought that maybe you just annoyed him to the point where he didn’t like you but eventually, Tim told you that he was just that way with anyone that didn’t know him. 

“good morning to my favorite Germans!” you said, running up to Marcel and Alex, engulfing them into a forced hug. they stood stiff, basically embracing the forced hug, “and Walter!” you added on, giving him a brief wave. 

“where’s your boyfriend?” Alex asked, looking around. you fluttered your eyebrows in confusion, “boyfriend? wanna tell me who that is?” you asked. Marcel gave you a hearty laugh, “Tim. he’s asking for Timothy,” he stated. 

you let out a laugh, louder than you intended as you sat down next to Walter and Alex, “Tim? my boyfriend? that’s like saying it’s gonna snow in Florida. never going to happen,” you joked, trying to calm down your giggles. “very defensive about it, aren’t ya?” Alex added on. 

“people love the idea that we’re secretly together but Timothy is like an annoying brother. I love him but I wanna kick his ass 90% of the time. the other 10 is caring that he doesn’t get killed by you guys.” 

before you could continue, you heard a producer call your name, telling you that you were needed to clear up a few things for Hunter. you told them goodbye and went over to the producer. 

“so she’s single, huh?” Alex said, tapping his chin. Marcel looked at him, “why do you care?” he asked. Alex shrugged, “now that we know maybe this idiot will ask her out,” he mentioned. 

Marcel let out a laugh as Walter stared at him annoyed, “yeah right. he actually has to make conversation first and he can’t even do that with her. I’ve been hearing a few people have been interested in asking her out. not that she knows or anything,” Marcel said quietly. 

he actually had no idea if anyone was interested in you or not. personally, he could have cared less but he knew his best friend better than anyone else. Walter liked you, he was just too much of a chicken shit to actually admit to it. 

“who?” Walter asked almost immediately. Marcel closed the circle in, “for starters, in the NXT roster is Jordan Devlin and Sami Zayn from Smackdown has been rumored to have gotten her number,” Marcel lied. Alex perked at the names, “and how did you find out?” he asked, a bit suspicious that he knew. 

Marcel shrugged, not bothering to say anything for a moment, “oh, just heard a few of the girls talking yesterday while I was working out,” Walter stared at the table, his mind racing with thoughts. he never knew others actually had taken an interest in you, not that it was wrong to do as such but he was taken back that it was more than one person. 

“what has you so quiet all of a sudden?” Walter shook his head, not responding as he got up, taking his jacket with him and leaving the table. “I wonder what his problem is,” Alex murmured. Marcel laughed, “he’s finally going to grow a pair and ask her out,” Marcel stated. 

-

you were working in your office, sorting through a few different files you needed for a storyline in the women’s division. it was already late into the night as you filed the sheets away and started to get your things ready to leave.

“of course this week had to be my busiest week, now I have to call an Uber home,” you groaned. you had put your car in the shop because of a few issues it had and it wasn’t expected to get finished until at least Monday, “god damn it Tim, you just had to leave,” you huffed. 

just as you pulled your phone out, you saw Walter walking out of the locker room, “hey Walter! what are you doing here so late?” you asked, trying not to make it awkward, “I stayed working out late,” he said. 

you nodded, “ah, don’t overwork yourself now,” you mentioned, “but give me a second? I need to call an Uber home. my car is stuck at the mechanics until Monday and Tim already left,” Walter’s eyes widened, realizing this was his chance. 

“I have a car, I can take you home?” he asked, trying not to come off as intimidating. you perked up in relief, “really? that would be so amazing!” you said happily. he grabbed his keys and jiggled them, “my cars on the other side of the building,” he said.

you followed behind, trying to make conversation and interestingly enough, he was actually responding to you like a normal person would. not those snippets of conversations he would say around the others. 

the entire ride home, you were trying to crack jokes, seemingly trying to make him laugh which ended in you making an idiot out of yourself and making him laugh that way instead. Walter had never realized he actually liked you as much as the others would joke he did but now that it was just the two of you, he could sense the feelings were there. 

the ride to your house was a bit on the shorter side. you lived in a small two bedroom house, closer to Full-Sail than he thought. just as he put the car into park to let you get out, you turned around and gave him a smile, making Walter glad that it dark outside and you weren’t able to see his sudden red face. 

“I know this is weird but would you like to come in? I have food I made for myself this morning after I came from work and I’m sure there’s enough for you.” 

Walter sighed in relief. 

“I would love too.” 

[glowingspence]

34, morcreid? (Is that how you spell it? Ahhh. Derek/Spencer/Penelope) mmm… lol yeah okay sorry bye.

[It's okay! I confuse shipping names all the time too.]

"Please tell me that is ice cream in your bag?" Penelope questions with pleading eyes when Derek walks inside their house, holding the white bag with the logo of the store that is on their road from work to home and is often the source of late night snacks. "If so, don't blame me for stealing some."

"That's okay, I bought two." With a smile he places the bag down on the table and walks over to the kitchen to grab spoons.

"What about Spencer?"

"What about him?"

"You didn't bring him one?"

"It's our first night back home. He is probably long gone in his book." He places a kiss on her lips, "It's good to be home, I missed you."

"Missed you too" She opens the first package and looks at Derek again, "Maybe we should get him?"

"So he sits here and is snappy? I love him okay? But if he isn't getting his alone time he gets unbearable. We just came home from a case, we can spoil him tomorrow." To Derek's luck Spencer doesn't hear that, he only heard the conversation from on when he walked in to him calling him unbearable before he sneaks back up the stairs.

He wanted to go down to them because he felt guilty for locking himself away when he got home but now that he felt okay and wanted to see what Garcia is doing.

Quickly he pulls over a sweater and gets into his shoes before running down the stairs, passing them in the kitchen,

"Where are you going?" Derek questions worried and gets out of his seat when Spencer doesn't answer while putting on his jacket, "Baby?"

"Hotch's" He mumbles and pulls the zipper up.

"What are you doing there?"

"Finishing our model, the missing pieces got in." He lies and grabs his keys. "Bye" Without a kiss, without anything, he hurries out the door and starts walking down the path.

"Let me at least drive you! It's cold." Derek calls after him but he gets ignored and walks back inside, "That is a surprise"

"Did he seem okay to you?"

"Probably got too excited." With a chuckle Morgan sits back down, "More icecream for us then."

"Earlier he didn't seem like he wanted to get out again." She points out. "What if something is wrong?"

"You know how he gets and you know how excited he was to build that model ship with Hotch. Hotch probably just came home, saw the pieces and called him." He places a hand on her cheek spending comfort, "I don't think he could be anywhere more safe than with him." He calms her before adding, "After with us of course."

"Someday he is gonna realize that Hotch loves him more than anyone else on the team." She jokes and takes another spoon full of ice cream,

"Jack is not his only son that's for sure."

They both leave their ringtones on but already expected him to just stay over at Hotch's so when Hotch walks into Derek's office the next day to get some files he is quick to ask, "How is the ship model coming?"

"We haven't had time in weeks. I am just waiting for the day Jack accidentally breaks it, believe me if he does his inheritance gets smaller." Hotch tells him with a smile picking up the files.

"What do you mean you haven't had time in weeks?" Derek asks anxious.

"The pieces just won't come. Maybe we got scammed." They are quiet for a moment while Hotch studies Derek's puzzling expression, "What is it?"

"Spencer was with you last night, right?"

"No, why would he?" With that Derek can feel his heart starting to beat faster, "What's going on?"

"He rushed out of the house last night claiming to go to yours."

"I was at my apartment all night, he wasn't there." Concerned Derek reaches for his phone just for it to get straight to voicemail,

"Hey it's me Derek, I know you weren't with Hotch last night, we are worried about you, I am not mad. Call me when you get this. Love you."

"What could have brought this on?" Hotch questions.

"I don't know, everything was fine. It's normal for him to lock himself away after a case."

"Maybe he went to one of the others? Maybe something worried him that he couldn't speak out." Hotch tries calming him, "I will check with them."

"Spencer didn't went to Hotch's last night." Derek brings out when he reaches Garcia's office.

"What do you mean?"

"Hotch never called him." Worried he looks down on her, when she already starts tracking his phone, "It's probably at home anyway-"

"He is at the university Gideon used to teach at."

"Was he there all night?"

"I don't know." Guilty they look at the screen, "Why would he not tell us that he goes there?"

"Maybe something about Gideon?"

"He would have told us that." They stay quiet for a moment both silently thinking about what they should do, "Oh god"

"What is it?"

"What if he heard you last night?"

"Heard me?"

"When we were talking about him. When you brought the icecream. He left shortly after." She points out, "How did we not notice?"

"He is not with one of the others" Hotch barges in.

"We know where he is." Derek points at the screen, "I am gonna get him."

"If he really left because of that, you shouldn't." Penelope reminds him.

"Because of what?" Hotch questions, "What happened?"

"We think he could have left because he overheard a conversation we had about him being sensitive when he gets home from cases. And we may have not said it nicely." Garcia admits while she gets scold by Derek with his eyes.

"I am gonna get him." Hotch decides, "Send me the address."

"I am Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, I am looking for a man. Almost as tall as me, blond-brown hair, very thin-" He brings out when he enters the building and reaches the security guards desk.

"Agent, do you mean Dr. Reid?" The security man asks.

"Yes, yes I do."

"Is everything okay?"

"We believe he is here? He didn't show up for work, that's why I am checking."

"He was here all night. Probably in the library down the hall, you turn right and then walk to the last door. There is a room looking like a conference room, if you pass that room there is a door leading to a library." The man tells him and hands him a key, "A few years back the kid would sneak in there using another agents keys, he got caught but the boss couldn't bring it over his heart to take the keys from him for some reason." He tells Hotch.

"Were the keys Agent Gideon's?"

"I don't know his name but he would always come in with Dr. Reid."

"It's okay, thank you. I will get this back to you."

"No hurries, Sir. The library is not accessible for anybody and honestly no one ever asks for the key. I don't know whats in there that has him so fascinated."

He finds the small library and after some

time finds Spencer crouched down on the floor, leaning against one of the shelves as he reads a book that is laying in his lap, "Spencer?"

The younger man doesn't react so Hotch slowly walks in front of him and crouches down, placing a hand on the book. It's the saftest way to get him out of his thoughts when he is reading. Touching him is not an option.

Spencer keeps looking down but after some time nods.

"Have you been here all night?" He nods again, his hair falling into his face. "Can you talk?" Spencer shakes his head and grips the book harder, "No problem, come on, we place this back and then get you to a restroom and afterwards we will grab some breakfast okay?"

Hesitant Spencer nods and places the book back at it's place, "Do you know where the restroom is?" Hotch questions assuming that Spencer had been lost in books all night, probably forgetting everyone around him and even himself. "Come on, we go there okay?" Gently he grabs Spencer by his arms and helps him up, holding him a moment longer to help him through the black dots blurring his vison for a second, "You okay?"

Spencer shakes his head, his fingers tapping against his leg, "Is it okay if we do what I just suggested?" He nods and leads Hotch to the bathroom while the man waits outside to call Morgan.

"Is he okay?"

"He is. I am gonna take him to eat something and for him to have some time to talk before we come in."

"Was he there all night?" Derek questions, his voice filled with guilt.

"Yeah, listen I gotta go, I will bring him to the office when he feels ready."

"Thank you, man"

"It's alright. Get a head start on those files for me please." With that he hangs up and smiles at Spencer who walks back out of the restroom. "You up for some pancakes?"

Shyly Spencer nods and when they arrive at the diner and Hotch orders him a cup of coffee and pancakes he quickly realizes how much Spencer needed something to eat.

"Are they good?" Hotch questions with a smile while he drinks his coffee, watching Spencer stuff the pancakes in while he taps the table with one hand. He nods and grabs his own cup to drink some more, "Eat slowly you are gonna make yourself sick."

For a few bites he slows down but then fastens again until everything is gone from his plate, "Do you want more?"

He shrugs, placing his cup back down.

"We can take a break and then can decide okay?" Hotch offers while Spencer grabs the newspaper that someone forgot at their table and starts reading it, folding his hands and pressing them against the table, pushing them more against it everytime he rocks forth. "Morgan and Garcia were really worried about you when they found out you lied." Hotch starts and sees Spencer hitting his hands against the table with more force as he speaks, "They are not mad, I am not either and you don't have to tell me why you left but you can. I won't tell them anything."

The hits continue for a moment before he gets up from the table and walks around it towards the side of the booth were Hotch sits and points at the seat next to him and the older man understands, moving to the side for him to sit down there and the moment he does, he wraps both arms around him, placing his head against him so he can look out of the window while Hotch takes his hand up to his head, starting to play with his hair.

"I ears-dropped" He admits with a whisper, Hotch almost missed it, so softly it was spoken.

"You did?"

"You did? I ears-dropped on Penelope and Derek." He admits, his eyes focused on what happens outside at the traffic stop.

"Did you hear something that made you want to leave? Was that why you ran away?" He nods ans then climbs over Hotch's lap, crossing his arms on the windowsill and places his head on it and Hotch figures that it is his clue to stop touching him. "Do you wanna tell me what it was about?"

A few men walk pass them, eyeing them but the last one nods towards Hotch, having recognized him and Hotch curses himself for picking this diner when it's actually known for law enforcement coming here.

"Why don't we talk in the car?"

"I don't think Penelope and Derek love me anymore." He suddenly brings out making Hotch freeze in his actions.

"What do you mean?" Hesitant Hotch scoops closer and places and arm around his middle but not leaning down to him. Just reminding him that he is there for the conversation and that he is willing to listen. "Why do you think that, buddy?"

"Because I know it."

"You know it?" Hotch questions, his eyes wander around the room as he feels Spencer shaking under his hand, "What makes you think you know it?"

"They are different than me"

"Different?"

"They like loud, and spontaneous, and chaos and much. They like when things are very full and it's just chaos and all fuzzy and I like things quiet and organized and I don't want things to be so full I like- I- they make me feel all jittery." Hotch has to admit it makes hardly sense to him what Spencer just told him but he didn't expect it to.

"Sounds like you are the one that has a hard time loving them right now."

"I love them"

"But?"

"I don't feel good with them anymore." He admits and Hotch leans over him, wrapping his second arm around him to and placing his chin on his shoulder, "Last night was the final straw I think."

"If that's what you want I am gonna be there for you, you will have a place to stay with me but I think they both love you very much and I think that it would be good if you would talk."

"We have done enough talking. I don't want to go back there." He brings out. "It was enough"

"Alright, then we are gonna drink the rest of our coffee and then you can speak to them okay?"

"Stay like this."

"Stay like this?"

"Just a few more minutes."

"Of course, kiddo."

[Prompt list]

[ahgaseda]

aura | one

driving me crazy, look in my eyes, follow me, come here, dance with me now, I’m gonna make you feel like that...

summary : back again at a camp for kids that can’t behave, you are still brokenhearted over your ill-fated romance with Jaebeom, until your friend Jackson offers to help make your ex jealous in exchange for helping him land the most unattainable girl at camp.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, recurring alcohol or recreational drug use, graphic sexual content, brief mentions of illegal activities, potentially triggering elements involving toxic relationships and emotional manipulation, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

The sun was too bright. Rays pierced the gossamer curtains and shone into your eyes. You vaguely recollected your mother bursting in and throwing the windows open, ordering you to get up. Now, the sun had risen and you were cutting it close.

With a grumble, you threw the blanket over your head and rolled over, eager to sleep the day away. And maybe tomorrow, too.

Being in a constant state of denial and dread was exhausting.

Slowly, you drifted back into a dream. Well, maybe less a dream and more a memory. Perhaps it was all a fantasy at this point, the way you recounted it, lingering on only the good parts.

You remembered every insignificant detail of that night - the night you reached your greatest high and deepest low in the span of an hour. The moon had been full and the crickets were singing. The air had cooled from its typical summer heat, but the dirt was warm beneath your bare toes.

Sneaking off in the middle of the night with a boy. You would have never in your wildest dreams done something so reckless.

But he said he wanted to watch the stars and kiss you beneath the moonlight. Endlessly. You escaped with him down the beaten path, his hand wrapped tightly around yours. Then, he backed you against a tree and kissed you like he had completely run out of patience.

You remembered smiling against his mouth, giggling when his tongue teased your bottom lip. Your hands were on his shoulders while he cradled your face. At some point, you broke away and he stared at the sparkles in your eyes.

“I love you,” was all he said. The first of many lies.

You followed him. It didn’t matter where he went, you were ready to follow him off the edge of the earth if he asked. Jaebeom held you so tenderly, yet tight and secure. You had no hesitations and certainly no regrets when he laid you on your back, kissing you restlessly.

But it was a lie.

You moaned his name when Jaebeom pressed his lips to your neck. You could still remember how your heart thundered uncontrollably whilst he tongued his way between your breasts. You had never wanted someone as badly as you wanted Jaebeom. The boy who made you fall in love with him.

But it was all a lie.

Even the way you whimpered when he took you was a persistent echo in your mind. The noises he had drawn from you were carnal, to say the least. His skin was hot beneath your fingertips, his hair damp when you tangled your hand through his strands, and his naked body heavy on top of yours. He kissed you with such gentle affection when he buried himself inside you.

But it was still a lie.

You truly believed he was making love to you, every last inch of you. He was all you knew in that moment. With Jaebeom, you lived like there was no tomorrow. And you would never forget the way his face tensed with ecstasy, how he groaned your name when he filled you. All you cared about in that moment was his pleasure - his love. It was all you ever wanted.

But it was his biggest lie.

You opened your eyes, tears escaping down your cheeks, and forced away the bitter memories. Every beautiful moment spent with Jaebeom kept coming back and you wanted to set them all aflame until you forgot every single fucking detail.

You remembered how he smelled, how he felt. How his arms flexed around you when he hugged you close. How he smiled when he made you laugh. How he kissed your hand at the most random of times. How he whispered his love into the sensitive skin beneath your ear.

Your heart couldn’t take it anymore. What was once sugar on your tongue turned to ash and dust in your mouth. You didn’t think you were capable of this much pain.

Jaebeom had taught you a very hard lesson. And yet, though you would never admit it to anyone, you still loved him.

Suddenly, the door to your bedroom burst open and a familiar voice announced, “Rise and shine, dear!”

It belonged to your best friend, your childhood rival, and most inconveniently, your next door neighbor.

“Jackson,” you groaned, muffled against your pillow. “Not now. Go away.”

“Baby, you know we on a schedule,” he chirped with the speed of a man who had already ingested too much coffee, grabbing your comforter and ripping it off the bed without mercy.

You cried out at the unexpected cold on your bare legs, curling into the fetal position to try and trap some warmth to your body. You then bounced lightly on the mattress as Jackson leapt into the air and landed on your bed in the most spectacular fashion.

His face moved predictably before yours, inches away, and he was sporting a grin that could be filed under Jackson’s trademarked twisted delight. “It’s camp day,” he said excitedly.

You blinked. “I know.”

Jackson sat up and reached over to smack your butt. “Get up,” he yelled, sidling off your bed. “Breakfast will get cold.”

You huffed profanities under your breath and clambered after him.

Downstairs, your mother and stepfather sat at the kitchen table. Maids attended to them, waiting on their every move. Such was commonplace in the penthouses of preternaturally wealthy people.

“Ah, I knew you could handle it, Jackson,” your mother crooned.

Jackson plopped down at one end of the table, opposite your stepfather with his nose buried in a newspaper. You finished tying the knot of your fluffy bathrobe and took the empty seat across from your mother.

“Everything is packed and loaded in the car,” she informed, her tone a little harsher where you were concerned.

“I promise, Mom,” you began, eyes cast downward. “I won’t go back there again.”

It was true. You were so caught up in negative ways of coping that by the time you realized you were going to get yourself sent back to the one place you would be forced to see Jaebeom again, it was too late.

“Well, if only you had found that resolve last year,” she chided, stabbing a piece of melon with her fork.

You clocked a glance at your friend. Jackson happily stuffed his face, eating everything in sight. Despite living in the penthouse next to yours, with his equally wealthy parents, Jackson opted to eat at your table more often than not.

Preferably so he wouldn’t have to listen to his parents fighting.

“Can we expect the same promise from you, Jackson?” your mother asked, as if she were speaking to her favorite puppy.

She always did love Jackson. He was like the son she never had. Although, in her defense, it wasn’t hard to love Jackson. He was the golden child that every mother’s wet dream was made of.

“Absolutely not,” he retorted politely, grinning from ear to ear. “Some of my closest friends are at that camp.”

Your mother chuckled, having expected as much.

Your stepfather finally lowered the corner of his paper and called your name sternly, as if oblivious - or uncaring - to the conversation taking place.

You glanced up.

“Eat your food. It’s a long drive and I’ll hear nothing of you getting faint on your first day.”

Jackson and your mother both looked to you expectantly.

You flashed him a soft smile and said, “Yes, sir.”

Stepfather number three, despite having more money than God, was surprisingly kind and considered you one of his own. There was a time you overheard him say you were the daughter he always wanted. His three sons had far surpassed mischief and landed in deviance, always on the hunt for his money.

The maid offered sweetly to make you some breakfast, whatever you would like, and you accepted. Jackson swiftly reached over and pinched your cheek in approval.

Most respectable parents would never be so lenient toward a friendship between a girl and a boy, but you knew your mother was hoping you and Jackson would get together. It would be a fine match in high society, given the status of your fathers.

Matter of fact, when she walked in on the two of you eating chocolate and watching movies while cuddled in bed, she was thoroughly disappointed you weren’t having sex.

When you finished eating, you dragged your feet upstairs to your room to get dressed for the trip. Jackson took a few extra minutes to clear his plate and then joined you.

Standing in front of three full panel mirrors in your bra and underwear, you alternated holding skirts up to yourself in the reflection. Jackson folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

“What does one wear for total humiliation?” you asked dryly, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

“Plaid probably,” he quipped, uncrossing his arms and slipping into your closet.

You turned, brow furrowed, and waited for him to come back.

When Jackson finally emerged, he tossed you a t-shirt and jeans. Casual at its finest.

You caught the clothes and surveyed them in surprise. “Really?”

“Put ‘em on,” he said, clapping his hands. “Let’s blow this town.”

You pulled the extra tight jeans on, fastening them with a huff, and pestered, “Do you have to be this excited?”

Jackson came close, taking your face between his hands and pushing your cheeks together. “The sooner we get there, the faster we can get drunk.”

You snickered, rolling your eyes.

The two of you came thundering down the stairs, reminiscent of times you and Jackson slid down the banisters as noisy kids. Your mother waited stiffly at the door, almost cracking a smile when you galloped into the kitchen and pressed a kiss in farewell to your stepfather’s cheek.

She may have been after his money like a cat on a mouse, but she inadvertently found a decent father for her only daughter.

Jackson said his hurried, loud goodbyes and slipped through the open door. You slowed down long enough to take your jacket from your mother’s waiting hand and endure one last scrutinizing gaze.

“Is he seeing someone?” she asked softly.

“Nope,” you chuckled, having expected some backhanded remark about your outfit.

Your mother spoke like she read a whimsical poem, “The two of you would make the most perfect couple this side of the Hudson.”

“Love you, too, Mom,” you teased, pecking a kiss on her cheek and trotting out the door.

The limousine rolled out onto the busy streets of New York City and you peered through the tinted windows. You watched as the looming skyscrapers turned to towering green trees.

As the drive went on, your nerves only grew.

With misplaced optimism, you turned to Jackson and said, “Maybe he won’t be there this year.”

Jackson didn’t even look up from his magazine and droned, “He’s been there every year since he was seven.”

You slumped in your seat, defeated. Clapping a hand on your forehead in self-chastisement, you groaned, “I should have been better, not worse.”

Jackson shifted, leaning back against you and resting his head on your chest. “I’ve never seen you so out of control,” he exclaimed, turning a page in the magazine. “And that says a lot.”

It said plenty. Jackson had warned you about Jaebeom many, many times. Though you held his opinion in high regard, you didn’t listen. You were blinded by love and had no one to blame but yourself.

You grabbed a handful of his brown hair and tugged playfully, earning a tiny whine. “Yeah, well,” you murmured, acerbic. “He stole all of the goodness out of me.”

Jackson scoffed and his tone became stern, “Don’t give him so much credit. And don’t put all of your goodness on your virginity, for fuck’s sake.”

You sighed loudly, thinking about Jaebeom and how he made your pulse race, how he sent fire racing down your spine. The thought of him made you want to cry and you quickly clenched your jaws.

“It’s true though, isn’t it? I’m a bad girl now,” you countered, draping your arm over his chest. “I surrendered my virtuous flower to a boy who added another notch to his bed post.”

Of your memories with Jaebeom, and they were countless, among the stolen kisses and soft touches and sweet words, one stood out above all the rest. The last time you saw him - when he told you it was all a lie, just a game.

That he never loved you.

Jackson sat up, setting down his magazine and facing you. He could feel where your thoughts had wandered, screaming at him to ease the pain despite no words leaving your mouth. Meeting your eyes, Jackson wanted you to hear him even though the two of you had been over it many times already.

“You loved him,” he said, sympathetic but firm. “And he made it a good experience for you. Take that away from it.”

“You’re right,” you replied with a nod, holding back the tears and the quivering of your lip. “I need to let it go.”

Jackson cocked his head and pressed, “But?”

He knew you too well.

“But I can’t,” you whispered, lowering your head to hide your face in shame. “I can’t get over being in love with someone who never - not even for a moment - loved me back.”

Jackson balled his hands into fists. It had taken every inch of his goddamn restraint not to hop a plane, show up at Lim Jaebeom’s house, and beat the living shit out of him. You and his mother were the only people he was willing to go to jail for.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you wiped away the one tear that had escaped. You hated Jackson having to see you like this, staring at you like his precious wounded puppy. With a shrug, you gave a scoff and said, “I wonder who he will have his eyes on this year.”

Jackson frowned and settled back into his seat, shaking his head where the likes of Jaebeom was concerned. He knew three months of unadulterated fun for him were going to be total misery for you. For days he racked his brain over what he could do to help you get over Jaebeom.

Then, the metaphorical light bulb clicked over his head. Who would Jaebeom be pursuing this year? With you crossed off his list, there were simply no more challenges to be had.

Jackson smirked. The solution to this problem was clear as day. He would have to make Jaebeom chase you again.

“I have an idea,” Jackson muttered under his breath, eyes gleaming with devilish intent.

“Oh, boy,” you laughed, recognizing his telltale mischief.

Jackson faced you, propping himself on hands positioned at either side of your legs. “You help me bag Yeona and I will help you make Jaebeom jealous,” he said, letting his tongue linger at the corner of his mouth.

Your expression registered nothing but surprise. Yeona was the bane of Jackson’s romantic skills and the eye of his conquests for years. She was the only girl at camp not the least bit impressed with him and that drove him crazy.

At that thought you realized the similar dynamic. “Do you think that would work?” you asked curiously, piqued.

Relieved to see your approval, Jackson nodded. “He’s like me. He wants what he can’t have.”

To some degree, Jackson added in his head. He and Jaebeom had totally different motivations for stealing hearts.

You questioned in disbelief, “So… what? We just walk around making out all the time?”

Jackson snorted. “Within moderation, obviously. Don’t want to completely turn off either of our targets.”

One of the main reasons you never hooked up with Jackson (on more than one occasion you had been tempted) was to spite your insufferable mother after what she had put you through. That being said, you had kissed him more than once. Usually when dared to do so at parties or during sleepovers when you bared your deepest, darkest secrets to each other. It was always innocent, but this felt forbidden and impure.

You loved the idea.

“Hm, okay,” you said, noncommittal. “At this point, I’ll do anything to make him as miserable as I am.”

Jackson grinned and chuckled. “Take my word for it. There is nothing more miserable than blue balls.”

You pursed your lips, mulling, “He’s already had me. He won’t want me again.”

“I’ll convince him you’re worth having,” Jackson replied, his voice a deep rumble in his throat. “And you’ll do the same to Yeona about me.”

“What makes you think Yeona will be that hard to get? You’ve never really pursued her before.”

Jackson slid to the edge of the seat and reached for a bottle of alcohol currently sitting on ice. “She doesn’t believe in sex before marriage.”

That explained why he threw in the towel so quickly. You cocked a brow and chuckled, “Really?”

Jackson nodded, popping open the bottle of champagne and grabbing two glasses. “Yeah, even wears a promise ring.”

“Wow, that’s commitment,” you smarted, taking the flute of bubbly he extended to you.

Jackson glanced up briefly before pouring his own glass, hair falling in his eyes, and said, “Don’t wallow in self-pity again.”

You rolled your eyes and quickly defended, “No, I’m not. It’s just… I wasn’t saving myself for marriage, but I was saving myself for someone that loved me.”

Jackson exhaled loudly.

You hated hearing his disappointment and ranted irritably, “I don’t know what all the fuss is about. It wasn’t even good. There was no leg shaking orgasm. It was messy and uncomfortable and whatever.”

“That’s because it was your first time,” Jackson said, putting the glass to his lips.

You took a sip. “Yeah, I guess.”

Jackson leaned on his side, sizing you up. His eyes drifted up and down your body. He hated seeing you bent out of shape over a boy, least of all hot garbage like Lim Jaebeom.

After a pause, the following words dripped like honey off his tongue, “We could fool around, you know.”

You almost choked on your champagne, wondering if you heard him clearly or if it was a figment of your imagination. You exclaimed, “What?”

“You and me,” Jackson continued, sidling closer. “I could show you what all the fuss is about.”

He sounded so smug when he said that, his voice even deeper. You swallowed at the offer and asked, “Would that be awkward?”

“No, it would just be sex. No strings attached.”

The knife in your heart twisted and you peered at him. “Could you make me forget about Jaebeom?”

Jackson leaned in. “Baby, I could make you see stars.”

Heat flushed behind your cheeks and you glanced away, faltering under the sudden tension in the limousine. “I’ll think about it,” you finally told him.

Satisfied, Jackson grinned and made himself comfortable, opening the magazine again and proceeding to read.

You surveyed Jackson out of the corner of your eye, lingering on his thick thighs. Years of fencing had built him strong, sturdy. When Jackson said he could make you see stars, you were inclined to believe him.

Especially since the vast majority of his exes tended to brag about how good he was in bed.

You thought about Jaebeom. You wanted him to go crazy at the sight of you in Jackson’s arms. You craved revenge, to serve him a taste of his own medicine, no matter what it cost.

The car eventually came to a stop on the gravel road. Attendants were ready to unload your luggage and transport it to your respective rooms. It may have been a camp for unruly brats, but said brats came from very affluent parents.

An older woman stood by the gate, black hair glistening a little too fiercely in the sunlight. Clearly she had sprayed dye on her graying roots.

“Ah, you two again,” she grimaced at yours and Jackson’s approach.

You took the keys from her outstretched hand and continued on your way without a word. Jackson on the other hand, leaned in with puckered lips and jeered, “Always a pleasure, Miss Hamm.”

“Hmph.”

You continued on the path with your best friend in tow. Your cabin was in sight, on the bluff beside the lake. Jackson’s was adjacent, slightly lower down. Your parents made sure you had the same spots each year, always furnished and equipped with everything you needed.

Some of the campers lived in bunkhouses with other roommates, but not you. Your first year, you swore to your mother if you were forced to bunk with other girls you would not stop until you got yourself sent home. It was an easy compromise to make. She loved traveling during the summer with stepfather number two.

You stopped and pivoted to Jackson, saying, “I’m gonna go freshen up.”

“Alright,” he replied. “Meet at the mess hall?”

Naturally his mind was on food, you mused. “Of course.”

Jackson looped an arm around your waist and pulled you in for a hug, whispering in your ear, “Don’t hide in there from him. Remember - I got your back.”

You nodded, leaning in to kiss his cheek in gratitude.

The two of you broke away at the fork in the road, taking opposite paths to your cabins.

Dropping your purse, you plopped down on the brand new mattress, gripping the sides and looking down at your shoes. The air conditioning had been turned on, the cabin had already cooled off. You would never know how hot it was outside whilst inside your pink-themed prison.

The camp was meant to reform. It didn’t matter that you were a legal adult, you still belonged to a rich and influential family in high society. It was like the parents knew their spoiled, entitled children would indulge in bad behaviors, therefore it was best they did so in controlled environments.

You already imagined the endless nights of booze and debauchery awaiting you for the next three months. Maybe it was time you embraced the darker side of life like you used to, rather than wasting away and pining over a boy.

Rising from the bed, you approached the nearby bathroom and braced your hands on the sink. Studying your reflection, you wanted to curse. You looked like a shadow of your former self.

The girl you knew was confident, vivacious, and a rebel to the core. You were quieter now, tempered. An experience like last summer had opened your eyes to how cruel the world really was.

Still, you were ready to buck up. Jackson had a plan and you were willing to execute if it meant you would have some kind of absolution. Splashing water on your face, you dabbed your cheeks with a cloth and headed outside.

The largest of the buildings, the mess hall was loud and chaotic. The majority of kids went straight to the line for food, hungry after a long trip. The place was alive with a hundred different conversations, varying levels of chatter. Friends reunited dramatically in the aisleways.

You searched for a friendly face, desperate to avoid Jaebeom for now, and spotted a head of platinum hair. Approaching the scrawny boy, you grabbed a handful of blond locks and teased, “Bam, I thought you were gonna let your poor scalp breathe?”

Bambam didn’t flinch at the brief tug on his head and turned to meet your grin with one of his own. “Hey, beautiful,” he exclaimed, leaping up to envelope you in a warm hug. “Thought you were gonna try and avoid this place for once?”

“Yeah, well,” you said coolly with a shrug. “Bad behaviors are hard to break.”

“You’re telling me,” huffed Bambam as he lowered back onto the row with you at his side. “I landed myself back here in the first week of the semester.”

You laughed, smoothing down where you had disrupted his hair. “I expect nothing less.” Looking across the table, you met eyes with Bambam’s best friend and partner in crime, Yugyeom, and greeted, “Hey, Yugy.”

“Hi. I’m glad you came back! Well, not glad, obviously, but…,” Yugyeom rambled, cheeks reddening. “Happy you’re here. You know, it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Thanks,” you replied shyly.

“Any sign of Jackson?” Bambam asked, glancing around. “Don’t you always come together?”

Yugyeom kindly pushed his plate of fruit in your direction and you thanked him. “Yeah, we did. He was supposed to meet me here,” you answered, popping a grape in your mouth.

“Probably sneaking a smoke with Mark,” Bambam grumbled quietly under his breath.

Yugyeom cleared his throat loudly, looking at something behind you.

Just as you turned around, brows stitched, someone sat at your side.

It was Jaebeom.

He didn’t face the table like the rest of you, he straddled the seat, squarely in your direction.

“Hi, baby girl. Imagine my surprise when I heard about all the trouble you got yourself into,” Jaebeom taunted, clicking his tongue in feigned reproach. His fingertips came to your temple, slipping through your loose hair and tucking it behind your ear.

You couldn’t breathe and you certainly couldn’t think. Your heart was pounding in your chest. He smelled so good. The mere touch of his fingers made you freeze in place. You wanted nothing more than to throw your arms around him and bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“I…,” you trailed, hesitating, lost for words. What the hell were you supposed to say?

I love you, but I hate you.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Jaebeom cooed, stroking a finger over your cheek. “Cat got your tongue?”

You could feel the tears gathering in your eyes. Even Yugyeom seethed at how Jaebeom was toying with you.

This was the humiliation you had been anticipating and dreading. You knew Jaebeom wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to remind you that he stole your heart and your virginity and left you with nothing.

The whole camp knew that you had given it up. That you had been such a fool to believe for a second that Jaebeom loved you.

Blind. Blind. Blind, you chanted in your head.

Jackson appeared out of thin air, grabbing Jaebeom’s wrist and pulling him from you. “Can I help you find something?” your best friend snapped.

Jaebeom rose, agitated at being challenged. “The fuck are you doing, Wang?”

Jackson drifted closer to Jaebeom, aggressive. “Keep your hands off my girl.”

Jaebeom’s eyes widened. “Your girl?”

“You heard me,” Jackson hissed, turning to you.

You remembered the game. Jackson’s eyes were expectant.

Finding your voice, you took a breath. “I’m so sorry to break the news to you, Jaebeom,” you began softly, rising from your seat and backing into Jackson, who didn’t miss a beat in wrapping his arms possessively around you. “I’ve moved onto bigger and better things. And I mean much, much bigger.”

Bambam beat his fist on the table, cackling wildly.

Jaebeom scowled, but there was skepticism bold in his eyes. Jackson promptly wiggled his brows and stroked his hands on your waist, intentionally making your shirt ride up.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” you sang, interlacing your fingers with Jackson’s underneath the hem of your shirt. “We’re gonna go make out in the hallway. Seeing Daddy get territorial really does it for me.”

Jackson wagged his tongue at Jaebeom, gladly laughing at his expense, as you squeezed his hand and proceeded to drag your best friend behind you into the hallway.

Jaebeom watched you go, eyes narrowed. Something didn’t sit right with him. He had known you for years, Jackson too. He couldn’t imagine driving you into Jackson’s arms. Not with how fierce and loyal your friendship was.

He didn’t believe it for a second.

Once in the clear, you backed against the wall and giggled. “Oh my god, did you see his face?” you exclaimed, covering your mouth as you chuckled.

Jackson tickled your sides and joked, “Look at your little sick and twisted self. I’m so proud.”

The door next to you opened and like clockwork, Jaebeom stepped out.

The grin vanished from your face in an instant and you quickly grabbed Jackson by the collar, yanking him forward. Jackson collided into you none too gently and grunted, silenced only by your lips suddenly on his.

Jaebeom could hardly believe his eyes. There you were, swept up in Jackson’s arms with your tongue down his throat. He was green with fucking envy. It had taken him a whole summer to open you up and now you were throwing yourself at Jackson of all people.

Jackson slipped his hands beneath your shirt and roamed his hands up your sides, giving Jaebeom a glimpse of your soft skin. You overlapped your arms around his head, making little noises in the heat of his kisses.

Jaebeom felt a twitch in his pants at the sounds you made. That was supposed to be him. You were supposed to be in his arms, kissing him like he was all you had thought about every day since he ripped your heart out and crushed it in his hand for all to see.

“Pfft,” Jaebeom snorted, hiding his jealousy. “Glad I could break her in for you, Jacks.”

Neither of you heard him, which was lucky for Jaebeom because Jackson would not have hesitated to beat him to a bloody pulp.

Jaebeom cleared out. He couldn’t stand to watch anymore. Not when he had spent every day wondering if you would forgive him. Jaebeom shook his head as he continued down the hall, reminded what a stupid fucking mistake he had made.

Kissing Jackson made you forget what you were doing, where you were, and basically any and all information you were meant to be processing at the moment. Finally a sense of clarity hit you, though you had no earthly clue where it had come from.

Breaking away, you panted, “Okay, if we’re gonna do this, we have to lay down some ground rules.”

Jackson kneaded your waist and nipped at your lips, ever flirtatious. His voice came out a rasp when he said, “Give ‘em to me.”

“No sleeping around,” you told him sternly. “I’ve never had a sexually transmitted disease and I’m not starting now.”

Jackson bobbed his head, eager to kiss you again. “Deal.”

“When you get Yeona or I get Jaebeom, what’s between us is done.”

“Agreed.”

You softened, pulling him close for a brief, innocent peck on the lips. It wasn’t the first time you had kissed Jackson and it wouldn’t be the last.

But you realized when you were kissing Jackson, you forgot about Jaebeom and your feelings.

And that was dangerous.

“You’re my best friend,” you whispered delicately, tracing hair from his brow lightly with your fingers. “If either of us starts getting feelings, we shut this down.”

Jackson studied you a moment. He knew he loved you. He had loved you a long time. But it was an innocent love, not a complicated one. You were the only person he trusted with his heart. The only person he knew would never hurt him.

He wouldn’t catch feelings for you, would he? It wasn’t in his nature. He didn’t allow himself to get attached romantically. He hated the idea of commitment or monogamy, after seeing what his parents’ marriage had devolved into.

“Got it,” Jackson finally said, offering a gentle smile.

You swallowed, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him back. Jaebeom was gone. There was no one to convince anymore.

Jackson let his hands slip from your body. “We should go back.”

You nodded. “Yeah, just give me a second.”

Jackson noted the heat on your face, the glistening of your lips and the twinkles in your eyes. Forget making you see stars, Jackson knew in that moment he could absolutely ruin you.

He gathered you back in his arms, pulling you flush against him, and as you peered up at him confusedly, Jackson growled, “Let’s go to my cabin.”

A long, heavy silence wrapped around you and him. The weight of what you were doing landed squarely on your shoulders. And despite that, you found yourself not giving a damn.

Lips tugging in a smile, you purred, “Show me what I’ve been missing.”

But even as Jackson led you by the hand out of the mess hall, you glanced over your shoulder, looking for Jaebeom.

Wanting him to see. Wanting it to hurt him. Wanting to make him crazy.

But mostly, just wanting him to love you.

next chapter →

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[the-peak-of-despair]

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu x Blackend!Reader

I NO LONGER HAVE ACCESS TO THE ORIGINAL ASK!

anon asked:  Hello! I really like your guys page! I was wondering if I could get some HC’s for a Fuyuhiko x reader? Say they are in a trial and they find out his S/O is the culprit? Angst angst angst? If not that’s fine but it’d make my day if you guys did it thank you

Boy howdy I do sure love me some angst, I loved this request ALOT so I wrote a full oneshot! Have fun crying! -Mod Akane

There wasn’t any denying it. 

You had killed Hiyoko Saionji.

Of course, you’d never planned to kill Hiyoko! Sure, she was kinda mean.. but you never wanted to kill anyone. But after Peko’s trial, she was saying all these mean things about Peko, and Fuyuhiko, and it just kept building up…

and you killed her. 

You were just listening to her ramble to herself about how horrible Fuyuhiko was and that Peko was useless, and you couldn’t stop yourself from just… picking up a nearby pipe and bashing her head in. 

You panicked, obviously, when you realized what you had done. You automatically threw the pipe into the ocean and picked up her body, deciding to set her back down in her cottage under the veil of night, using the key she stashed in her kimono.

It was another two days before anyone realized.. And then the trial had begun. 

-----------

Fuyuhiko couldn’t entirely wrap his head around this case. It was borderline insane, Hiyoko had been dead for three whole days before anyone found her. He didn’t like the girl too much, but still, that was awful. He looked up at (Y/N), who had been twiddling her thumbs silently basically the entire trial.

That struck Fuyuhiko as odd. Usually she did her best to contribute whenever she could during the trial. She didn’t wanna die as much as everyone else. Yet still… silent as ever. 

“Hiyoko had her key on her, right? Could the killer have just taken the key out of her pocket to set her in her cottage?” Kazuichi suggests. Hajime hums in response as (Y/N)’s eyes dart over to Kazuichi. 

“That’s most certainly a possibility..” Hajime mutters. “But why do all that?”

“Maybe it was so we wouldn’t look where they actually committed the crime.” Fuyuhiko suggests casually. There wasn’t really much else to guess…

“Actually..” Kazuichi starts, scratching the back of his neck and looking away from the rest of the group, “I might know where it took place…”

“Please tell us immediately!” Sonia pipes in, leaning against her podium with her hands, as if she was leaning herself towards Kazuichi.  

“Y-Yes, Miss Sonia!” Kazuichi seems startled as he begins blushing. “Well, a day or two ago I was in Electric Avenue, on the third island.. And I saw a bloodstain, just in the middle of the ground. Nothing else was around, so I just assumed someone got hurt or something and moved on.. But it was a lot of blood.” 

“Well, why’d you wait so long to tell us?” Akane asks.

“I-I just forgot!” 

“Regardless, if you found it only a day or two ago, by that time the killer must’ve already cleaned up any other evidence.” Nagito sighs. “What a shame, I-”

“Don’t even start.” Fuyuhiko glares at Nagito. For just one trial, it’d be nice if he shut the fuck up. 

“Ah, okay.” Nagito says, and that’s the end of that.

“But if they cleaned up the crime scene, why would they leave the bloodstain..?” Hajime asks. 

Fuyuhiko honestly didn’t have any better answer than anyone else could come up with. He was suspicious of Kazuichi, since he was generally the only person who went to Electric Ave, but that wouldn’t help much to just accuse him out of nowhere. Lives were on the line, it didn’t offer any help to jump the gun and accuse people out of the blue.

“How about we go over the case from the start and see if we find any more clues?” Chiaki suggests. 

“What good is it if we still don’t know the murder weapon?”  Akane suggests.

“M-Maybe.. The killer threw the pipe away or hid it, or something?” (Y/N) adds. “Y’know, to like, throw off the trial..” 

“A pipe..?” Sonia questions.

Her eyes widened, realizing her mistake. “W-Well, I mean, the Monokuma file says her head was bashed in, a-and if she was killed in Electric Ave. like Kazuichi s-suggested, t-then it’d probably be a p-pipe lying around there!” 

“I-It w-would match t-then w-wound on her h-head..” Mikan mutters quietly.  

“Okay, so, say the killer whacks Hiyoko in the head at Electric Ave, right?” Chiaki starts. “And when they killed her they disposed of the pipe somewhere and dragged Hiyoko home, leaving her in her cottage until we found her three days later. What motive would they have…?” 

“Maybe they didn’t mean to kill her…” (Y/N) mutters. 

“What makes you say that?” Hajime asks.

“W-Well, none of us had any grudges or anything against her, right? Maybe it was a spur of the moment thing, like last time..” She trails off and Fuyuhiko winces at the mention of the incident of the last trial.

“That could be basically anyone on the third island three days ago..” Sonia mutters.

“Wait, wouldn’t that be breaking the rules? I mean if they disposed of it somewhere on the island, it could be a violation of the rules, and..” Akane trails off.

“Nope! The blackened threw the pipe into the ocean, technically not part of the land environment on these islands!” Monokuma interrupts.

“Pipe?” Hajime asks, glancing between (Y/N) and Monokuma. There’s no way…

“Whoops, did I say that out loud?” Monokuma nervously laughs before sinking out of the conversation. Fuyuhiko locked eyes with you..

There’s no way those are the eyes of a murderer. He knew you. He loved you, he knew.. You wouldn’t do something as reckless as killing Hiyoko..

..right? 

“So it seems this trial is about to come to a close..!” Nagito mutters. Oh dear god. He turns towards (Y/N). “Well, it seems you’ve dug your own grave, (Y/N)..” 

“Hey, leave her the fuck alone!” Fuyuhiko stops him as (Y/N)’s eyes widen in fear. “There’s no way she’s the killer!”  

“Then how would she know about the pipe, Fuyuhiko?” Hajime adds. “The evidence is starting to pile against her.” 

“You don't know shit! There’s no way (Y/N) would’ve done it!” Fuyuhiko argues, slamming his hands against his podium. 

“Why don’t we ask the girl in question?” Nagito suggests, and the eyes of the surviving students all fell on (Y/N), petrified with fear.

Her podium was directly across from Fuyuhiko’s. It was almost default for him to be looking dead at her. But the fear in her eyes.. Fuyuhiko almost couldn’t look. He hated seeing her like this. If he had any less self restraint, he’d probably run to her side and hold her close. But knowing his luck, he’d bust his stomach open or something stupid in the process.

“I-I didn’t kill her..” (Y/N) stutters, the emotion and fear of being framed building up and pouring out in the form of tears and sobs that made Fuyuhiko- and most of their classmates- wince. “It wasn’t me! Y-You’ve gotta believe me! Hajime, please..! Tell them they’re wrong!” 

Hajime looks away from her. “I’m sorry, but…” 

“You’re really just gonna stand there and look away?!” Fuyuhiko yells. “For fuck’s sake, she’s crying! All your evidence is circumstantial and probability!”

“Then if she can present an alibi for the day Hiyoko was killed-” Hajime calmly argues. 

“She was with me, damnit!” Fuyuhiko lies. He lies, almost on reflex, to find anything that would get them off her trail. There was no way she was the killer.

“I mean, you could’ve worked as accomplices.. Or if you did it..” Kazuichi starts to trail off, scratching the back of his neck once again. “I-I’m just suggesting!” 

“Why in the fuck would I kill her?! I didn’t even know she was dead until we found her today, just like the rest of you assholes!” Fuyuhiko argues. “I would’ve had no reason to kill her, and I’ve never even been in Electric Ave!” 

“One of you two did it, you’re the only suspects!” Akane argues. Fuyuhiko growls under his breath, pissed off to all belief. This trial was spinning in every way it shouldn’t. He can’t help but focus on (Y/N), eyes darting to every filled podium in the room as the room dissolves into argumentative yelling. Underneath it all you can almost hear Monomi muttering about how things shouldn’t turn out like this, but it’d be hard to hear under everyone arguing. 

“There’s 12 people in this fucking court room, and you’re choosing to single out two people who have barely even been on that island!” Fuyuhiko starts yelling once more.

“You don’t have alibis, (Y/N)’s been acting strange this whole trial, and you’re the only two people with any motives!” Kazuichi shouts, making drastic gestures with his hands the whole time. 

“N-No one else has given alibis.. This is simply unfair..” (Y/N) mutters.

“She has a point. We should wait to hear all alibis first before we point fingers. Where was everyone roughly around the time Hiyoko was killed?” Hajime questions.

“I was with (Y/N)!” Fuyuhiko insists.

“I was in the company of Sonia.” Gundham states, arms crossed. 

“Nekomaru and I were in the hotel. I saw Nagito there as well as Chiaki!” Akane adds. 

“Mikan and I were at the beach!” Ibuki exclaims. 

“I was in my cottage..” Hajime states.

“Well, I was on the second island, but…” Kazuichi starts. “I saw you, Fuyuhiko.” 

“What?” Fuyuhiko freezes. He can’t let this go now, if it gets (Y/N) in deep shit.. “No the fuck you didn’t!”

“You were in the diner! And (Y/N) wasn’t with you!” Kazuichi begins to argue dramatically, waving his hands around once more. 

“You don’t have anyone to back you up! You could be lying to pin it on me, cause you’re the only one who fucking goes to Electric Ave!” Fuyuhiko yells.

“Why are you getting so defensive..?” Hajime asks.

“Because it’s fucking obvious Kazuichi did it! He’s the only here who goes there, he’s lying about his claim, and he’s twice Hiyoko’s fucking size! He wouldn’t have a damn issue bashing in her head!” 

“Mikan and I were on the second island a swell.” Ibuki throws in. “We passed Kazuichi on the way to the beach, which means..” 

“You’re covering for someone, aren’t you Fuyuhiko..?” Hajime questions. 

“No, I’m not! Kazuichi is the fucking killer, let’s just vote already and get this over with!”  Fuyuhiko yells. He’s set and believes only Kazuichi could’ve done it. It doesn’t matter if Kazuichi can call his bluff. It doesn’t matter how much contrasting evidence they have against it.

Because if he doesn’t blame Kazuichi, that only leaves (Y/N). She wasn’t a killer. She was kind, and always loving towards Fuyuhiko, and… and that type of person doesn’t just take someone else’s life. No matter who it is, no matter who deserves it.. 

A part of Fuyuhiko knew he was being irrational. Somewhere deep down, he knew she killed Hiyoko. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t care. He would die fighting for (Y/N) instead of watching her be taken away… he didn’t want a repeat of what happened with Peko. He couldn’t lose both of them. 

He wasn’t going to let (Y/N) die.��

“Come on, let’s just start the fucking voting already!” Fuyuhiko suggests with authority. He didn’t care, for just a fleeting moment, he didn’t care about his friends, as long as she would be okay. 

The courtroom spirals into loud arguments and fights again. People arguing over alibis, over who was guilty, people siding with Fuyuhiko and people against his batshit logic. 

“GUYS, STOP FIGHTING!”.  A loud voice screams over the entirety of the arguments. It falls deadly silent as everyone turns to (Y/N). “It was me, okay!? I did it! I killed Hiyoko…” You exclaim, sniffling and crying from fear.

“(Y-Y/N)-” Fuyuhiko stutters, and the events of the last trial all come flooding back. All so different.. Yet still the same outcome.

 “Why did you..?” Hajime asks, before recollecting himself. “Why didn’t you confess earlier..?” 

“I-I don’t wanna d-die..!” She starts crying, tearing Fuyuhiko apart at the seams, the last of whatever stability left being ripped away. “B-But you guys started arguing a-and.. I d-don’t want my friends t-to get hurt cause I did something s-stupid..!” (Y/N) starts wiping away her tears. Whether she minded crying or not, whether she cared about appearing weak or strong.. She couldn’t stop crying. 

“...w-why?” Fuyuhiko mutters, looking up and locking eyes with her. “W-Why!? WHY THE FUCK DID YOU KILL HER!?” 

“I DIDN’T REALIZE WHAT I WAS DOING!” (Y/N) shouts, before a loud sob leaves her as she leans against her podium. “S-She..I ran into h-her at Electric Ave a-and she was m-muttering a-all these mean things..!” A large heavy breath through a snotty nose. “A-About how P-Peko deserved t-to die after w-what she did..! And th-that you should’ve died too..! A-And I got so mad, I just p-picked up whatever was n-next to me and I hit her- a-and by the time I was done I realized and..” 

“Breathe for a second..” Nagito mutters. “You can’t explain all of this when you can barely take in air.” 

“I know that, Nagito!” She snaps up her head to look at him, before staring at the floor again. “W-When I realized what I did, I threw the pipe into the ocean right o-off the bridge.. And I-I felt bad leaving her there s-so I took her back to her cottage a-and laid her down.. So she could r-rest easy…A-and I guess I l-locked the door on my way o-out of habit…” 

All self control left Fuyuhiko as he walked away from his podium and rushed over and basically grabbed (Y/N) by the collar, holding her head up and at his own height, regardless of how tall she was. “Why..? Wh-Why..?”

“S-She was so mean to you and P-Peko and I just- I didn’t mean to k-kill her- S-She was my f-friend-”

“Yet you killed her all the same. Jeez..” Nagito sighs. “W-” “S-Stay the fuck out of this Nagito!” Fuyuhiko snaps at him, eyes watering as he came to the realization that he was losing yet another person who he loved. This wasn’t what was planned. They were going to get out, and survive, and rule the Kuzuryuu clan, and.. 

“W-What’s wrong with you..? Y-You did this a-all to just defend me! And n-now you’re gonna die because y-you-” Fuyuhiko was trying to knock sense into you, trying to get you to justify yourself. 

“I didn’t want y-you to die b-because I- because I messed up!”  (Y/N) cries, Fuyuhiko’s grasp loose enough that (Y/N) breaks through and buries herself in his chest, crying loudly. Fuyuhiko can’t even pull himself to react. He knows he should hug her, or rub circles in her back, or anything, but he can’t bring himself to. 

The unyielding despair of losing both Peko and (Y/N).. Fuyuhiko knew damn well it was only what the mastermind wanted. Yet still... despair took him in a chokehold grip and suffocated him, nearly blinding the world he knew with black spots in his vision. Everything hurt.. He didn’t know if he was capable of crying anymore than he already was. 

“Gosh, all this sappy nonsense, every trial!” Monokuma complains. “Come on, everyone, it’s voting time!” 

Fuyuhiko can’t help but stare at his classmates as they pull their levers, all putting his precious (Y/N) on the chopping block.. They all looked like monsters in his eyes. If he were a sensible man who weren’t overtaken by emotion, he would’ve understood that this is what was meant to be done. Even before he was transported to this hellish island, that was how his life worked. When you’re the Ultimate Yakuza, you can’t get attached to people.

Peko and (Y/N) always felt like an exception, but…

clearly, he was wrong.

“Corrrect!” Monokuma’s everlasting, devilish grin seems to grow even wider, rubbing salt in the wounds. “Our dear (Y/N) has murdered Hiyoko! And she almost got away with it too, phuhuhu!” 

“YOU’RE A BASTARD!” Fuyuhiko screams, as (Y/N) pulls him back by the sleeve. 

“P-Please, Fuyuhiko..” 

He snaps back around. “W-Why..? P-Please, I-I- I can’t lose you too..”

“I’m s-sorry, Fuyuhiko..” 

“I’ve prepared a very special punishment for the Ultimate (talent)!”

“P-Please! I n-need you! Y-You can’t l-leave me too-!” Fuyuhiko is crying his eyes out, harder than he’d ever imagined he’s capable of. 

“Let’s give it everything we’ve got...!” 

“I-I’m sorry, Fuyuhiko.” (Y/N) bows her head. 

“Iiiiits PUNISHMENT TIME!” Monokuma shouts between the bits of conversations between the two torn apart lovers.

(Y/N) pulls Fuyuhiko close for a final kiss, and just as Fuyuhiko kisses back.. That stupid metal chain clamped around her neck. She takes in a heavy breath in shock, and then she’s dragged  away, just as Teruteru was….

No one spoke a word as they watched (Y/N)’s execution. Her mouth was moving, as if she wanted to say something, but of course they couldn’t hear.. Was she calling out for Fuyuhiko.? 

Even as her execution ended, no one spoke as they turned and caught Fuyuhiko, crying with his face in his hands as he was on his knees on the floor. Maybe the most emotion he’d ever shown...the trauma of watching both his childhood friend and lover dragged away weighed down and cracked the man’s very soul. It would take him a much longer time to recover from this...

[iwantutobehapppier]

As It Was

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You and Steve had been hooking up on the sly for months now. Feelings are caught but is everyone adult enough to deal with them? And who caught them?

Warning: 18+ Only, Smut, Angst, sooo much angst. I’m not a nice person in this one. Described panic attack, cursing etc.

Word Count: 3,990

A/N: I’m in a mood and working through it. There will be sex and angst. Expect nothing more. Enjoy! :) Sorry not sorry. @sagechanoafterdark​ is gonna hate me after this but I will make her latkes to make up for it. Oh and def not MCU Canon. Everyone’s alive, I'm making it angsty enough don’t need dead peeps too. For now kekeke. 

You were both truly naive to think you could hide from a group of spies and enhanced like this but your hopefulness coupled with Steve’s never-ending optimism pushed you into delusions. Or maybe it was just the lies you let yourselves live in, that this was only sex and there was no need for anyone else to know.

“How did that date go last night?” You tried to focus on Wanda’s idle chit-chat waiting for the rest of the team to file into the conference room for a debriefing on the newest mission. Steve stood to the side of the room talking with Bucky; you looked his way to find him staring at you. He shouldn’t be so obvious really but it was hard not to stare as you were in his bed just this morning.

“Hello?” Wanda waved her hand in front of your face. You jerked back giving her full attention but not without a bashful glance.

“Good. I mean probably okay?” You sighed, “No it went pretty bad actually.” Wanda’s frown encompassed her whole face; she had been trying so hard to help you with your love life. It wasn’t like you could fault her for meddling, Vision and she worked so well together and she wanted the same for you.

She just couldn’t know that it was hard to have any good date when you were hooking up with Captain America on the sly. They would all pale in comparison but this date had been quite the spectacle of tragedies.

“Never knew someone could talk about themselves for an entire night. Let’s not forget he flirted blatantly with the waitress then, made some innuendo at me blowing him in his car in the middle of dessert.” Giving a reader’s digest version of the story you wouldn’t mention to her the way his hand kept riding up your skirt or how he practically propositioned the kind waitress to partake in a threesome.

You may have also spared the details for listening ears, specifically the pair attached to a blonde centenarian, who would not respond well to learning you had not been entirely forthcoming with details when wrapped up in his bedsheets following the atrocious date.

“He tried to put his hand up your skirt?!” Wanda’s tone was harsh, her powers lighting up her hands in response to her rage.

“You promised!” You frowned at her, you had requested several times she keep her wandering mind to herself around you. Wanda blushed at being caught.

“I knew you were holding back,” She didn’t even vein remorse, “I’m sorry it went so badly but I am not sorry for prying.” She took your hands in hers about to speak but Tony interrupted.

“I know you all have missed me whilst away,” Tony held his hand to his heart “But I am here!” last to enter with this signature flair of dramatics, “Capsicle take it away!” Tony plopped down next to you with a side smirk that you reciprocated with an eye roll.

Facing forward Steve’s eyes landed on you first, the small frown marring his face indicating he had heard Wanda.

“Let’s get started,” Tightness in his voice made you involuntarily flinch, you knew, later on, there’d be a conversation or worse there wouldn’t be one at all.

~~*~~

You limp your way back to the personal quarters following a very long but successful mission. Not without the colossal share of setbacks landing Natasha in the med bay, Bucky stranded at one point without working comm, Tony’s suit damaged beyond macrobiotics ability to repair and you along with Steve ambushed. What did it matter though if the mission was successful?

Happy to finally be back in the sanctuary for your room you started the shower letting it warm up while you slipped out of your gear. Walking back into your bedroom the welcomed silence was interrupted by your sharp inhale through clenched teeth at the pull of the tight suit on bruised and battered muscles.

“Need some help?” You jump turning around at the sight of Steve leaning against your door jam. His arms crossed over his torn and dirty stealth uniform. Did he follow you to your room from the Quinjet? The jerk on your battered body nearly sends you to your knees in pain. You just wanted to be in that hot shower, let your body feel some form of relief.

“Yes, please,” All you can get out, working hard to keep the tears of pain at bay. There was no reason to hold them back except your own pride. Steve shut your door and strode over to you, helping you peel the catsuit down your back, over your hips, his fingers gentle trailing over forming bruises. 

Steve clenches his jaw the more he exposes your injuries, a rather deep cut on your hip, dried blood trailing all the way past your knee. You place your hands on his shoulder when he ushers your legs from the suit. Left in your activewear bra and underwear you felt an unusual level of vulnerability.

You two had been fooling around for months but neither tended to each other in such a way outside of mandatory mission first aid. 

“I’m going to wash this grime off, did you want to join?” You voice barely a whisper staring down at Steve, his head slowly trailing up your body to catch your gaze. With a brief nod he stands up and you step out of your suit, moving to face his chest and helping him remove his suit. 

Soon the two of you are bare, under the harsh bathroom fluorescents and warm large showerhead’s rushing water. You stand there, your back to his front, almost touching. Almost something more than just a mutual need to clean. You close your eyes and tilt-up, letting the rainfall showerhead leave trails of water down your face. The two of you shampooed your respective hair, he opted to use your gardenia scented shampoo, his own shampoo only ever in his bathroom.

Having him so close and naked but not touching left an uneasy ache in your stomach. The sensation that something was wrong, but what could be wrong? You turned your head back to look at him, his eyes were already on you, they were always on you. His gaze felt different than any others and you weren’t sure what it meant. A storm burning behind those beautiful blue eyes. Often, you find yourself getting lost in those pools of blue. Clearing your throat you turned back around, closing your eyes and tilting your head back up to rinse the shampoo from your hair. 

Maybe you imagined it all? Your desire to want more from him projecting your own wishes in his actions.

You are startled from your thoughts when you feel a soaped washcloth gently drag across the back of your neck, along your back and moving to your front. Rough calloused hands with a tender touch washing you clean of all the harshness of the past few days. A relaxed sigh escapes your lips, the coupling of warm water helping your muscles loosen and Steve’s attention pulls you into a cloud of comfort.

An involuntary hiss pulls from your mouth when he washes the deep gash on your hip. Muttered “Sorry” is his response, bending his knees to be low enough behind you to clear away the blood. Your eyes drawn to the crimson water swirling down the drain, but you were pulled to face him, his eyes assessing your front to find any speck of grime he missed. 

Once he was satisfied you took the washcloth from him, ensuring to ring it clean and reapply soap you begin the task of cleansing him.

Petite hands run over the wide expanse of his chest following the washcloth, this feels different, you want to shake it off and pretend that was not true but it was different. Whatever it was between the two of you, it was growing, mutating, maturing into something more.

With both of you free of the missions burdens and dirt his lips crash against yours. The intensity of his kiss is startling, hands trailing up your sides to wrap around your back, pulling you flush to him. His touch was untethered in a way unfamiliar to you. Finally, he pulls his lips from yours, your lugs desperate for air. Wide eyes look at him, and he can only answer with a low lid gaze, licking his lips as he pulls you in once more to drink up all you have to offer. If he asked you’d give him everything and what was left after that.

Your hands grip his shoulders, needing an anchor in the rocking waves of his desire. His hardening cock presses against your stomach, a soft moan spilling into his mouth that he eagerly consumes it. Hands slipping down your waist, one hand gripping your wound free hip he hoists you up against the cool bathroom tiled wall. 

Legs wrapped around his waist, his gorgeous cock sitting pretty between your lips. You rock against him, your slick coating him, he grunts into your mouth, not once pulling away, you take in much need air through your nose. 

There was no need for foreplay, you were always ready for him, something you hoped he did and didn’t notice at the same time. After all the power he had over you, you wanted to keep him ignorant. Oblivious to your thoughts consumed by him, the way your skin craves his touch, your heart longed to keep him there with you forever. The dates you went on to keep appearance that this was still casual to you. That this was still whatever he wanted it to be so it wouldn’t stop.

Pulling you from your thoughts Steve manhandles your body to line you up. Releasing your lips you watch at his cock sitting at your entrance. You coo, watching him slowly push in. Your fingernails dig into his shoulder, Pushing forward until he’s reached your depths. There’s a lascivious way to how he feels inside of you. His head falling into your neck, peppering kisses on the wet skin. 

“Feel so good around me,” he garbles into your neck. The pace he starts is slow at first, almost loving, but the jarring way he pushes the last few inches in reminds you what this is. Carding your hands through his hair you pull his head back to look him in the eyes.

“Fuck me Steve,” His eyes darken, following your command he pummels into your heat. Driving you both into moaning messes. Foreheads pressed together, slapping of flesh echoing against the tiled walls. He presses his lips to yours, the softness of it contrasting the carnal brutality of his cock driving into you.

Lowering his head he takes a pebbled nipple into his mouth, suckling and pulling. Knowing you love that pain wrapped in your pleasure. Your hands slap against his back, arching into his touch you cry out. Fingers digging into the corded muscles of his back you seek purchase on something, pleasure wrecking your body of any sense. 

“Steve!” You holler, your body drawing tight as the ever needed orgasm nears. “Please,” the gentleness in your pleas pulls Steve’s head back up. A hand leaves your waist, cupping the side of your face. “Yes, I’ll give you whatever you want.” He gasps out face tightening as you both near. 

“Come for me and you can have it all,” he continues hips never faltering. His cock stretching and dragging along your walls. A particular deep thrust sends you spinning, your legs tighten around him fingers digging into flesh enough to bruise if he hadn’t been a super-soldier. 

His pace stutters, a staccato of groans fall from his lips and you feel that telling of warmth shooting inside you. God how you loved the way he felt cumming inside you.

There’s a peaceful silence in the oncoming dawn, the two of you wrapped in each other under your bedsheets. Legs tangled together, your head resting on his chest, entranced by the rhythm of his heartbeat. You woke before him, a first, drawing random patterns on his chest with your finger. 

Idle thoughts race through your head, now that the mission is washed away after a night of rest you could not help but think on your date and Steve’s reaction to you withholding information. If it wasn’t addressed sooner rather than later it would just be a new topic for you two to not talk about, just like whatever this was. 

When he wakes up, his arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against him. The embrace welcomed and certainly something you could get used to as a routine. He lets out an exaggerated yawn and smacks his lips together looking down at you with a sleep ridden smile. A smile tugs at your lips at his adorable morning mannerisms. 

Better to get this all out in the open before the day began and you became a coward.

“About that date-” Before you can say more a shadow falls over him, lips downturned when he practically chucks you off him.

“You’re not obligated to tell me things like that,” his voice rough with sleep, he swings his legs off the bed sitting up with his back to you. “You’re really not obligated to me in any way outside of following mission directives,” the curtness in his voice is searing in your ears. 

Right, right you two weren’t obligated to each other. Obligate meant you had to get something back from him other than orgasms. 

“Oh right…” the silence settles between the two of you, heavy and uncomfortable. You pull your sheets up to cover your chest while sitting up. There are a few moments of controlled breathing, erratic heartbeats, and tense shoulders. Steve stands and makes for his dirty mission clothes, never looking back at you, covering his privates with the clothes but not putting them on. Your room was across from his, not like anyone would see him.

“I’ll see you around,” It wasn’t until he was out of the room that you realized the shared silence between you two was full of all the things left unsaid, or half-spoken. 

You don’t see him again until the next mission briefing a few days later. Only looking for him once, and when he brushed you off to spend time with Bucky you weren’t hurt only upset he never came to you later. 

Entering the familiar conference room you sit next to Tony who was surprisingly there before you. He smiles at you and you return it before facing forward. Steve not looking at you, for once. His eyes on the report in his hands, a grimace covering his face before he begins to discuss the upcoming mission. Eyes never leaving the paper.

“Are there naked girls on that paper man?” Bucky asks a soft chuckle is Tony’s input.

Steve huffs looking at his longest friend, “No.” a grumble under his breath. 

“Then maybe look up, what’s wrong with you punk?” Steve’s eyes divert to you for a moment, so fast you almost miss it before he’s looking at Bucky once more.

“Nothing,” he clears his throat and continues, his eyes perusing the room but never landing on you. Your face downturned to the table, the uneasy feeling you had during the shared shower returned but tenfold. He calls out your name and it startles you, jerking up to look at him. His lips pinched before he continues.

‘You and Tony will be doing this one together,” You look at Tony who gives you a thumbs up with a soft smile. While the two of you had been paired before on group missions it had never been just the two of you.

“We’ve got this Firecracker, right?”  Giving a tentative smile you nod in agreement. Looking back to Steve he’s staring down at his papers once more, brow furrowed and lips pursed. Whatever thoughts he had storming in his brain, not good.

~~*~~

Five days, you’re with Tony for five days on this mission. It wasn’t so bad except Tony loved to complain. You were used to the silence of Natasha and Bucky or friendly conversations with Steve. Not the never-ending complaints of one Tony Stark. 

You escape to your room, leaning against the shut door with a relieved sigh. Silence, blessed silence. 

However, that silence was short-lived when the echo of knocking on Steve’s door carried over. You should move further into your room and not eavesdrop but you were too exhausted to care enough about proper decorum.

“Hey Steve,” a soft familiar feminine voice greeted Steve as he answered the door. Your eyes narrowed. Who was that?

“Oh! You’re here.” He sounded flustered, “I’m so sorry I should have met you out front.” His words are rushed with an uneasiness to it. What was Steve hiding? 

“It’s alright, Bucky let me in and honestly I was just excited to see you for tonight” the soft comforting words carry across the hall through your door. Just as you went to step away, not wanting to hear anything that would do permanent damage to your already fragile heart.

“I mean we’ve been tiptoeing around each other for years then it was radio silence,” there was an awkward chuckle from Steve in response “Was surprised when you asked me out.” There it was. You fall back against the door, the back of your head hitting the door with a thud. 

“Oh, what was that?” The female voice questions but Steve dismisses it quickly and leads her down the hall. Away from you. For a date. A date that Steve was going on. Without you.

Your heart pounds in your ears, sliding down the door toppling onto your ass, the pounding on gets louder. Taking in large gulps of breath you try to gain a sense of reality, it's unobtainable. A buzzing noise is all you can hear. Whatever this was it made all torture you’d suffered in the past seem like child’s play. Crushing, that's what it felt like, being crushed from the inside out. Big fat tears made their way down your cheeks.

Oh, what a fool you had been. Why would you deserve to be cherished? How could someone see you more than a simple means to an end? Laying on your side, you curl up into yourself on the floor of your room. The buzzing in your head and straggled breaths the only sound you could make out.

~~*~~

Much later in the evening, there was a tentative knock on your door. Struggling to open your tear swollen eyes you make out your name being called. Another knock, louder this time, you sit up and with a deep breath, you rub your face. Slowly standing on your knees you open the door and look up to see Wanda’s worry stricken face.

“Oh no,” a soft sigh and suddenly your being picked up, she pulls your arm around your shoulder and leads you out of your room, down the hall where Steve left, with her. You feel the crushing sensation return.

Wanda sensing your ramping thoughts sets you on a stool in the kitchen and takes your hand.

“Deep breaths,” A soft hand on your chest, “In through your nose,” She takes a deep breath and you mimic holding it with her. The hand on your chest glows a soft red, you feel your body relax “out through your mouth,” together again you breath out. “Keep doing that I’m making some tea.”

Watching her movements you continue your breathing as instructed, a thought crept up. Did she listen to him as you did? Was her advice better than yours? Was he kissing her like he did you in the shower? 

“Stop!” Wanda’s voice soft but tone harsh enough to still your thoughts. You hadn’t even noticed your breathing pick up. She brings the tea over and mimics the breathing pattern once more and you follow along. 

“There was something I wanted to tell you before that last group mission,” Wanda pushes the warm tea in front of you. Steam raising out the cup, you curl your fingers around the mug. The heat emitting into your hands helps you realize you had been cold. Pulling the mug up you take a small sip, the warmth blooming down your throat to your stomach releases an uncontrollable sigh from you, shoulders sagging.

“I heard your thoughts, about the date, about Steve,” the way she stresses his name makes you tense once more a sharp breath in. She tips her mug to you and taking another small sip you let the warmth soothe you once more.

“You’re worthy,” she speaks so softly you almost miss it. “I heard it, the thoughts you weren’t good enough, weren’t worth love.” Looking down at the mug setting it on the table you have no words to offer in response.

“You’re worth so much more than this world has given you,” a hand takes your from your mug, fingers intertwining. A feeling of warm euphoria slowly seeps in your hand up your body. She says your name making you look up at her. 

“It’s okay to say what you need,” you jerk your hand away at her words the feelings she provided evaporated.

You open your mouth to say something but the elevator doors ding, both turning you regret ever coming out of your room. 

There he was, handsome as ever, hands in his pant pockets. Head bowed down with furrowed brows. It’s a few steps out of the elevator that he notices you and Wanda. Steve freezes, his eyes didn’t leave you. Trailing up and down your body you suddenly became self-conscious of the fact you had never changed out of your gear and eyes more than likely still puffy from crying. You certainly looked sexy right now. 

He takes a timid step towards you, your back goes straight and you stand up from the stool. Whatever he had to say wasn’t going to help your current mood, you’d rather just avoid the inevitable. You were rather good at circumventing fate. 

When he says your name you make your exit of the kitchen, seeking solace in the four walls of your room. His feet are pounding on the floor as he make chase for you. 

A warm large hand grabs your upper arm stopping your progress. You whip your face around and look up at him. His lips pursed together again, there’s that look, the deepness of his blue eyes. The impossible futures you projected. 

“I-” He pauses and clears his throat, his eyes shifting around you. “I know you heard Sharon and I,” you let out a hiss at her name. Sharon, fucking, of course, Sharon Carter. There was nothing wrong with Sharon, she was a great CIA agent, a remarkable SHIELD agent but she was also locked into Steve’s past.

Not worthy, unlovable, not his, not enough, never amount to that connection. Is all that runs through your head. 

“Right, but you’re not obligated to tell me things like that,” You hate yourself right now, why were you throwing his words back in his face. “In fact,” Stop! Stop! “I’m not obligated to you in any way except following orders.” 

Steve’s reaction to your verbal assault is similar to if you had smacked him, he takes a step back leaning away from you. His hand slackens on your arm and you use this to slip out. 

Without another word you rip your arm from his loosened grip and make your way to your room. Shutting the door behind you, you walk into your closet and shut that door too. You go as deep as you can in the closet, far away from Steve. You didn’t want him to hear you crying, did not want him to hear your heartbreak.

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 22: An Offer

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Lacey has a meeting with Mayor Mills

Read on AO3

Content warning for verbal abuse and sexual fear

The clacking of Lacey’s heels against the sidewalk was music to her ears. She felt right, dressed like a whore and parading herself down Main Street. After her conversation with Mayor Mills, the stupid voice in the back of her head was quiet. Finally, things were back to normal. 

Now it didn’t matter that Mr. Gold had been acting like a stranger since October. It didn’t matter that he didn’t want her, that he was fucking somebody else. She didn’t need him. She didn’t have to be “Mrs. Gold” in order to get what she wanted out of life. All that bastard did was pay her. He didn’t own her. He’d given up that privilege months ago. She didn’t have to belong to him. There were lots of other people out there. Mayor Mills wanted to help her. Mayor Mills wanted her.

At least, she was pretty sure she did. It was hard to tell. Lacey had never had a woman look at her the way Mayor Mills did sometimes. It was a sharp, laser-focused look. A look that cut her to the bone and then began to saw into her marrow. Like everything Lacey was, everything she had ever been or had ever dreamed of being, was laid bare for Mayor Mills’ approval. 

Mr. Gold used to look at her like that.

Lacey dug her nails into her palms. Or maybe she was an idiot. Maybe she had been imagining the little signs. Maybe the mayor of Storybrooke would try to help anybody she came across in town, offer them rides in her sporty black Mercedes-Benz. Maybe she would arrange an after-hours meeting with any married woman who called her up. Maybe it was a public service.

Or maybe not.  

She remembered this feeling, this knowing-but-not-knowing. The anticipation. The unanswered questions. The tension gave her a thrill. A thrill she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Maybe that was why it was so easy to lie when she walked into the pawn shop.

Mr. Gold looked up from his inventory book when he heard her. His eyes were cautious. Afraid? Was this sad little coward really afraid of her? Maybe that was why it was so easy to grin at him, to reassure him with bright eyes and a lilting voice. 

“I wasn’t sure what you were doing for lunch,” she chirped. “Want me to pick up something from Granny’s?”

The corners of his mouth lifted up. It was almost a smile. “No thank you, Mrs. Gold. I brought leftovers from home today.”

She nodded, and tapped her fingers against the counter in front of him. How many times had he fucked her against these display cases? How many times had she dropped to her knees behind the cash register while the shop was still open? He would challenge her to hurry, to suck him off before a customer walked in on them. He told her he would beat her black and blue if she failed.

What kind of things would Mayor Mills want her to do?

“Hey, I’m sorry about this morning,” Lacey lied. “I’ve just been really stupid and emotional lately.”

“You’re not stupid,” Mr. Gold said softly. “I know I haven’t made things easy for you. I’m sorry about that.”

A plastic smile was a wonderful talent. She was used to using it on other people, but now Mr. Gold was as easy to fool as everyone else. 

“It’s not your fault,” she said sweetly, even though she was ready to spit acid in his face. “I just needed some time to myself this morning. But I feel better now. Later today I’m gonna get my hair done. I scheduled an appointment for around five.”

Easy as it was to lie, there was a specific delight in letting him get the wrong idea from entirely factual information. He had taught her how to do that. She would go to Janine’s and get her hair styled. And then she would have her appointment with Mayor Mills at five o’clock on the dot.

And he just nodded, just went along with it. Idiot. “The shop will be closed by the time you’re done. I can pick you up at the salon.”

She wrinkled her nose. Playful, casual. Not a care in the world. “No, I don’t know how long I’ll be, and the weather looks like nothing but blue skies. Besides, you’ll want to start supper. What are we having tonight?”

He began to ramble on about spring onions and fricasseeing, while Lacey counted the hours until her appointment at City Hall.   

****

Officially, the city offices closed at 4 PM, but everybody knew that Mayor Mills stayed as late as she needed to keep the town running.  Everyone admired her devotion, but pitied how often she had to leave her sweet little boy unsupervised. Rumor had it that was why Henry was so troubled, why he kept hanging around shady characters like Sheriff Swan, his birth mother. But his real mother was doing the best anyone could under such circumstances. Henry had appointments with Dr. Hopper several nights a week to keep his moods under control.

Why do you know so much about Regina’s life? Why is that woman the center of the universe in this town? Think about it!

Of course the voice was back. Lacey wasn’t sure if she wanted a stiff drink or a total lobotomy. Whatever would get it to shut up.

City Hall was quiet, that was part of the trouble. The empty hallway echoed so much she could hear her heart beating along with the sound of her footsteps. The voice always started jabbering at her during moments of stillness, moments when she should have been at peace. 

She couldn’t tell if City Hall was serene or creepy. Like most buildings in the rich part of New Town, the design was sleek and modern. The interiors were stark white trimmed in black--plaster walls and gleaming tile floors. Right now, it had the terrible oddness of a place that was supposed to be filled with people, but wasn’t. 

At this late hour, the fluorescent lights were dimmed. During the day the brightness was intimidating, but long evening shadows didn’t inspire confidence either. The doors lining the hall were a fake wood laminate, so dark they were almost black. The only other color came from the occasional piece of corporate art hanging up on the walls. Black and white photos of Storybrooke, all in frames as red as blood.

This is a bad place. You need to leave! 

“Shut up,” she hissed. She would try not to tell Mayor Mills about the voice right away. No need to let the mayor think she was crazy. Besides, if all this went right, Lacey would feel a lot better very soon. 

The door to the mayor’s office was ajar, but Lacey still knocked on the ebony frame.

“Come in,” Mayor Mills’ voice was brusque. For a split-second, fear clenched at Lacey’s stomach. She should listen to the voice in her head and run! Run away from this place that felt like a haunted house, run back home to Mr. Gold or to her father or to Sheriff Swan or anyone but Regina!  

But she didn’t. 

All Lacey did was adjust her purple bustier and walk in.

“Close the door behind you.” Mayor Mills didn’t look up from her paperwork.

Lacey did as she was asked--did as she was told. Her pulse quickened to be obeying orders again. 

Like the rest of City Hall, the mayor’s office was nothing but black and white. The only difference was the clutter of prints and patterns. The wallpaper, the curtains, the upholstery on the conference table chairs--they were all a different print, but they were all monochrome. There was no illusion of serenity here. The room looked designed to disorient.

Even the stone floor was inlaid with black and white. An outline of a circle took up most of the space between the door and the desk. The circle was black, with tapered black flags coming out from the center. It looked like a pinwheel, or a clock, or something a bad guy would use to hypnotize someone in a cartoon. 

Without any other instructions, Lacey decided to stand in the middle of the circle. She waited, at the point where black and white met and disappeared into each other.

Mayor Mills stayed at her desk. After a few more signatures, she set her pen down in a drawer and began to stack the papers neatly into a shiny black file folder. So she was meticulous. Lacey could appreciate that. 

She kept waiting. The mayor didn’t look at her until the desk--a white slab of polished stone set on top of two carved stone pillars--was empty. 

“You were seven minutes early,” she said at last. 

Lacey swallowed and kept her hands at her sides. “Mr. Gold says that punctuality is the virtue of princes, Madame Mayor.”

One perfectly outlined, jet-black eyebrow raised on Mayor Mills’ forehead. “Mrs. Gold, if you’re looking for a prince, I don’t think I can be of any help to you.”

Would it be okay to laugh? Or would Mayor Mills think that was impertinent? Lacey just pressed her lips together and said nothing.

“Do you want to tell me what you are looking for, Mrs. Gold?” 

Now she opened her mouth, but she didn’t have the words to answer.

Rumple. Rumple, help me! Rumple!

“R--r--really, I… I don’t know if I can put it into words, Madame Mayor.”

Mayor Mills gave her a considering look. She stayed at her desk, but leaned back in her black leather office chair. “Sit down.”

Two black and silver chairs sat in front of the desk. Lacey put her purse down in one and perched on the edge of the other. 

“Would you like something to eat?” Standing up, Mayor Mills went to the conference table that took up most of the space on the right-hand side of the room. A large white bowl--ceramic, and shaped so that it looked like a collection of bleached, dead coral--was full of apples. All of them were as red as blood. The mayor took two and held one out to Lacey. “I often find that when I need to think, one of my prize-winning Honeycrisp apples always helps me focus on what’s most important.”

Lacey took the apple and held it in her hands. If she had seen this in a grocery store, she would have sworn that it was a Red Delicious. But of course the mayor would know her own apples. She had grown apples since she was a little girl. The tree that grew these ones was right outside the window behind the desk. 

“Are you going to thank me?” The mayor was quiet, but it was the quiet of a viper about to strike.

“Yes,” Lacey said automatically. “Yes, I’m so sorry, Madame Mayor. Thank you for the apple. And for your time. I--I know you’re busy.”

“I am,” Mayor Mills agreed. Behind her desk, she pulled open a drawer and took out a silver knife. There was a design carved into the handle, Lacey couldn’t tell if it was an apple or a heart. After walking back to the front of the desk and leaning against the edge, the mayor began to cut into her apple. “There’s a lot of trouble brewing right now in Storybrooke. But I’ll make time for you, Mrs. Gold.”

“Why?” Lacey muttered. “I’m just a cheap, trashy slut.”

Grinning, the mayor took a slice of her apple. She chewed, swallowed, licked the juice off her red lips. “Is that what Mr. Gold told you to think of yourself?”

“Yes,” she whispered, looking down at the apple in her lap. She had said the words before to people, said them with a smile, like they were an honor. She had puffed up her own performance like a balloon. Only now she had popped, and there was nothing left of her but tattered shreds of rubber. 

Lacey felt something cold on the bottom of her chin. Mayor Mills held the flat edge of the knife against her skin and lifted her gaze until they were eye to eye. Sitting down, she was looking up at the mayor.  “Is Mr. Gold in charge of you, dear?”

She blinked. “I--He was. But I don’t want him to be anymore.”

“Did something happen?”

“Yes.” Lacey wanted to look down again, but the mayor hadn’t released her yet. “He--he cheated on me. And he’s been keeping secrets from me. And--and he’s just different, I don’t know how to explain it, but I hate it. I hate it, Madame Mayor!”

Mayor Mills took the knife away, and cut herself another slice of apple. She smiled. “He’s not the man you married.” She seemed almost smug to say it. “So now you’re looking for someone who can take his place. Someone who can remind you of why you were put in this world.” 

“Yes!” Absurdly, Lacey felt her eyes begin to well with tears. Those were the words she had been looking for! She had been so right to come here. Mayor Mills knew exactly how to make everything right again! “I--I hope you’re not offended or anything. That I thought of you first when I wanted to find someone who would--would treat me the way I like to be treated.”

“The way you deserve to be treated, you mean.” Her voice was so low, so dark and so dangerous. “You cheap, trashy slut.”

It was like her heart had been ripped out of her chest and she was just perverted enough to love it. Repeating the same words that had just caused her shame, rubbing them in her face. This was exactly the kind of pain she had been looking for. Mayor Mills was brilliant.

She wanted to kiss her boots.

Lacey looked up at the mayor, at the way her crimson dress clung to her curves. Her silhouette was an absolute hourglass, tapering down into legs wrapped in tasteful nylons. So much classier than Lacey’s whorish fishnet stockings. 

Mayor Mills’ eyes were dark and intense. Black, where Mr. Gold’s were brown. Her makeup was dramatic but flawless. Her lips were as red as the apple she was eating, her teeth as white as its flesh.

Lacey had never felt so small before, not in front of another woman. Not in front of anyone but Mr. Gold. She looked down. When she spoke, her voice was a whisper, a breath. “What can I do? In order to deserve you?”

The mayor’s laugh was rich and throaty. It sounded like red wine at a midnight feast. She set down her apple and her silver knife and held Lacey firmly by the jaw with her own silky-smooth hands.

“Let’s make sure we understand one another, Mrs. Gold: You don’t deserve me. You can’t deserve me. Nothing you could ever do would be enough to get you even close to my level. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Lacey whispered. She couldn’t move. Fear and arousal were too overpowering. “Yes, Madame Mayor.”

“Good.” She took her hand away and went behind her desk. “You know, you’re actually a very lucky girl. Until quite recently, I was content with the submissive I had. But then he… disappointed me, and we had to part ways.”

You killed that poor man, you vile--

“So!” Lacey said, too loudly. “Are we agreed then? Will you take me on as a ‘submissive’?”

Mayor Mills looked at her from her office chair. Her gaze was steady and unblinking. “Do you think you can submit to me? Even though I’m not your husband?”

“Yes,” she said. “At least, I’d like to try.”

“Have you ever served a woman before, dear?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “No, of course you haven’t, not properly. Well, I’ll warn you, we’re not like men. We’re not easy. There’s no one-and-done climax while you lie back and think of England.”

Lacey opened her mouth. Her instinct was to defend Mr. Gold, to say that sex with him had never been like that. But that wasn’t anything Mayor Mills wanted to hear. 

“I’m going to demand a lot more of you than a man would,” the mayor went on. “I’m not satisfied by anything but perfection. And the cocks I use never go soft.”

She shifted in her seat. Were these threats or promises? “I would like to satisfy you, Madame Mayor,” she said softly. “I would like to please you.”

The mayor smiled again. “Of course you would,” she purred. “I think everyone in this town understands the benefits of having a happy mayor.” Her eyes flickered over Lacey’s body. “Are you wearing anything underneath that ugly skirt?”

 A flash of heat went through her body. Partially it was the shock and pleasure at the sudden shift in the conversation. But there was also a bit of embarrassment. Lacey liked this skirt--black vinyl with blue tulle ruffles underneath. Was it really ugly?

“Well?” Mayor Mills said patiently.

“Oh! I--yes. A thong. It’s purple, like my bustier.”

“Mmm.” The mayor smiled like a cat with a bluebird in its paw. “Well, that I simply must see.”

Lacey sprang to her feet. She moved to unzip the tight skirt, but then she got an idea. “May I take off my blouse as well?”

“Oh, if you insist.” Leaning back in her chair, the mayor picked up her knife and cut off another slice of apple. She ate it, while Lacey stripped down to her lingerie and folded her clothes neatly on the conference table. 

Then she stood in the center of the circle again, in front of the mayor’s desk, wearing nothing but purple silk, black lace, high heels, and jewelry. 

Looking at her, Mayor Mills crunched into the last bite of her apple, then threw the core into the trash. 

“Turn around,” she ordered. “Slowly.”

Lacey obeyed. God, this was amazing. Under the mayor’s scrutiny, every inch of her felt alive. This was what she was made for. This was the reason she existed in this world.

“You're groomed, at least. And it looks like you have some marks,” the mayor said coolly. “Am I safe in assuming they’re not recent?”

“No--I mean yes. They are not recent. Mr. Gold hasn’t touched me since October.”

“I imagine that would be frustrating,” she smirked. “For both of you. Come closer.”

Lacey stood directly in front of the desk. It was like she was here on official business, like she was going to ask for funding to re-open the library or something.

“Bend over, with your elbows on the desk. Lean forward until that pert little ass of yours sticks up in the air like a bitch in heat. I’m sure you’re familiar with the position. Keep your head up, but your eyes lowered. Don’t look at me.”

She did the best she could, remembering that the mayor was only satisfied by perfection. Once she was settled into place, she kept her eyes downcast. Her head was spinning. For some reason, it was hard to breathe. 

Then Lacey felt the mayor’s hands on her throat. 

She gulped,  but didn’t move. Do the brave thing. And it wasn’t that she was afraid of Mayor Mills. But the movement had been so sudden, so unexpected that it caught her off guard. And the mayor did have a very tight grip.

Her hands weren’t cold, but Lacey would have been hard-pressed to call the touch warm. A better word would have been to call the touch… proprietary. Appraising. She was inspecting the goods before she made a claim on them. 

Obediently, Lacey kept her eyes down while the mayor touched her. She couldn’t see her face. She heard her chuckle as her fingers explored the skin of her neck. 

“All these little scars here look like you lost a fight with a rose bush. How did you get them?”

You gave them to me, you bitch! You and your dragon! She made thorns grow into my skin while you made me fuck you!

“I don’t remember,” Lacey said. Honestly, she didn’t remember having scars on her throat. “I don’t think Mr. Gold gave them to me.”

“Hmm.” Despite Lacey’s ignorance, Mayor Mills sounded pleased. Her hand moved from Lacey’s neck down to the upper edge of her bustier. There was enough space between the cloth and Lacey’s skin that the mayor could have slid inside and copped a feel. But all she did was trace her fingers over the mounds of cleavage and pinch.

“Ow!” Lacey yelped, but stayed braced against the desk. It was a little shameful how quickly she reacted. But a sharp pinch could hurt more than a spanking and she was out of practice. Besides, Mr. Gold always liked her to be vocal. He liked to know exactly how much pain he was causing.  

The mayor rubbed at the sore patch of skin and gradually expanded her touch so that she cupped the whole of Lacey’s breast. 

“Oh poor thing,” she cooed. “I’m just surprised to see that they’re real. Of course, it would be a waste of Mr. Gold’s money if you paid for tits and these were the best you got.” 

The mayor emphasized her words with a sharp twist, digging her long nails into the soft flesh.

Lacey gasped in pain. The heat of it started at the mayor’s hand, coursed through all the nerves in her body, and eventually settled between her legs. The gasp turned into a whine, and then a moan.

“Good girl,” Mayor Mills said quietly. “But remember, slut, this is a public building. I can’t have you defiling these hallowed halls with your grunts and groans. You disgusting animal.”

Pressing her lips together, Lacey tried to swallow her hungry noises. 

“Ugh.” She could imagine the mayor rolling her eyes. She could imagine the disdain, the contempt on her face. Lacey was so worthless. And now she had finally found someone who understood that she was worthless, who would treat her like she was worthless.

God, she was so wet.

“Here.” The mayor took Lacey’s apple from where she had set it down earlier. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you refusing to eat this. That was exceptionally rude. Ungrateful, even. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s ingratitude.” 

“I’m sor--” She began to apologize, but as soon as her mouth opened, Mayor Mills had shoved in the apple. Lacey’s teeth broke through the red skin and she tasted the sour-sweet juice on her tongue. After only a moment of having the apple in her mouth, she felt the juice dripping down onto her chin. It mingled with her saliva and made her a slobbery mess. 

“Better.” Now Mayor Mills’ voice was gentle, sweet. She was happy. It was good to make her happy. 

Lacey heard her footsteps move around the desk. She couldn’t see the mayor, and she couldn’t make any noise. Apple flooded her senses of taste and smell. All she could do was hear. And feel.

The mayor was behind her. Manicured nails scraped at the exposed flesh of Lacey’s ass. She would have made a noise, to show how much her body liked the attention, but the apple was an excellent gag.

“You know, I can smell how wet you are, you tramp.” Her hands rested on either one of Lacey’s hips. “You stink. You’re filthy. You’re a disgrace.”

Unable to moan, Lacey shivered. Her hips rocked against the desk for a minute, until Mayor Mills dug her nails in and she stopped. 

“Why do you even wear panties?” She plucked at the straps of her thong. “You always soak right through them. Every time I walk by you, you reek of pussy. You needy, greedy little cunt.”

She couldn’t stop herself. She jerked up, pushed against the desk in a desperate search for any kind of friction. 

“Wriggling like a worm,” the mayor sneered. “You’re not even really a person, are you? You’re just a sex machine, like a junkie looking for a fix. You’re nothing but your need. Just a trio of fuckholes, desperate to be filled.” 

When had Lacey started crying? She was bent face down on the empty desk. The apple in her mouth was the only thing that kept her face from pressing against the cold stone. Her hands were balled into fists on either side of her. She didn’t dare move her arms.

Everything the mayor had said echoed in her mind until she felt the vibrations of the words in her body. Her flesh trembled and shook. Her cunt clenched and it didn’t matter that it had nothing to clench against. She just wanted. Her body wanted...  

“Don’t you dare!” Mayor Mills roared. “I forbid you to come. Don’t you--”

But then there was silence.

Desperate to obey, Lacey tried to stop her orgasm. She had done that often for Mr. Gold. There was a trick to it--pretty much the same thing as stopping yourself from having hiccups. As her body calmed, she became aware that Mayor Mills hadn’t spoken. 

Then she became aware of a breeze swishing back and forth over her nearly-bare ass. It was like when Mr. Gold would pretend to spank her, just to see her jump. He would laugh at that. But Mayor Mills didn’t seem to find it amusing at all. 

“What the hell?” 

Even without seeing her, Lacey could tell that Mayor Mills was clenching her jaw. Again and again, she felt the breeze of phantom spankings. Did the mayor not want to spank her? What was going on? 

“Hands flat on the desk!” the mayor barked. “Let me see your fucking wrists!” 

Her wrists? Why? But Lacey did as she was told. Gracelessly, the mayor pulled on her hands. She turned them around and examined them. While she was distracted, Lacey dared to look up at Mayor Mills. 

She was livid. Her breath came out in huffs and her red lips snarled around bared teeth. Suddenly, she slapped her right hand beside Lacey’s left. 

“This ring,” she hissed. “That’s your wedding ring, isn’t it?”

Lacey lifted her mouth off the apple and nodded. 

Mayor Mills looked angry enough to burst into flames. “Take. It. Off!”  

Hands shaking, Lacey tried to obey. She couldn’t remember the last time she had taken off her wedding ring. Mr. Gold had wanted her to wear it day and night. But what the fuck did Mr. Gold matter now?

When the ring was off, she set it on the desk next to the gnawed apple. She stood at attention, with her eyes downcast. 

The mayor took the ring and held it between her thumb and forefinger. She looked at it, and shook her head. 

“Unbelievable.” 

Yes, it was unbelievable that Lacey would go to a seduction still wearing her wedding ring. What a stupid whore she was. Thoughtless. Sloppy. Ungrateful. 

Mayor Mills tossed the ring back down on the desk, like touching it made her sick. Then she stood up again.

“Let’s try something else.”

For a moment, her anger had abated. Her hips swayed softly as she walked over to Lacey. Gently, she put one hand on Lacey’s neck, and cupped her cheek with the other. She tilted her head back. 

Lacey closed her eyes and parted her lips--but nothing happened. The mayor’s hands moved away. After another moment, Lacey opened her eyes. 

Mayor Mills had one hand extended toward Lacey’s face. It was flat and open, like she was about to slap her. But she wasn’t. She hadn’t. Aside from some pinching, Regina hadn’t been able to do anything to her.

Rumple, you genius!   

When Lacey caught the mayor’s eye, she started and looked away. Without a word, Mayor Mills walked over to the other side of the room. There was a cabinet by the fireplace, from which she pulled out a bottle and a glass.

Her back to Lacey the whole time, the mayor poured out a measure of clear alcohol and drank it in one gulp. Then she took a deep breath. 

Then she turned around. 

“Mrs. Gold, I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to continue this relationship.” She gave a bittersweet smile. “You see, unlike some people in this town, I value marriage. I couldn’t possibly engage in an affair with a married woman.”

“What?” Lacey’s voice cracked. “No, you can’t mean that! I-- Mr. Gold isn’t taking care of me anymore. Our marriage is dead! I--I need you, Madame Mayor!”  

“And you can never know how happy I am to hear you say those things, dear. But the facts are facts--as long as you’re married to your husband, I can’t touch you. Not in any way that matters, at least.”

“Fuck.” Lacey put her hand over her mouth. “Oh fuck, Madame Mayor. I--I really need this, you know?”

“I know,” she nodded. She went over to the conference table and picked up the stack of Lacey’s clothes. She held them out to her. “And I am truly sorry that I won’t get to punish you the way you deserve. But this is how it has to be.” She turned back to her desk.

“Wait!” Lacey clutched her clothes to her chest. “You--you’re just doing this because I’m married, right?”

The mayor nodded again. She had pulled out a paper towel from a desk drawer and was wiping up Lacey’s spit and apple juice. 

“Well, what if--what if I left him? What if we got a divorce?”

Mayor Mills stopped cleaning mid-wipe. For the first time in a while, she looked Lacey in the eye. “Divorces can be messy. They can take a long time. I thought your issue was more pressing than that.”

“I--I don’t know what else to do, Madame Mayor.” Dumping her clothes on a chair, she got on her knees in front of the desk. “You’re right, I do need what you can give me. I need it now, and I’ll do anything to get it!”

She smiled. A light shone in her black eyes. “Anything?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Hmm.” The mayor stood. She began to walk around Lacey in a slow circle. “Well, my point still stands. I simply can’t do anything worthwhile to you while you’re married to Mr. Gold.”

Lacey opened her mouth to beg again, but Mayor Mills lifted a finger and she fell silent.

“And, as we’ve established, a divorce might take a while to finalize. Especially with your husband’s thorough approach to contracts. So I suppose I’m forced to meet you halfway. I’ll just need some proof that your marriage is dead.”

Lacey licked her lips. “Proof?”

“Yes.” When her circle was complete, Mayor Mills was in front of her desk again. The golden ring was still on the surface. She picked it up and handed it out to Lacey. 

It was a bizarre reverse-proposal. Lacey was the one on her knees. The mayor was giving her her own ring back to her, in exchange for a promise to end a marriage.    

“This is part of a matched set, isn’t it?” she asked. “It’s useless on its own. Your husband wears the other one?”

Lacey nodded. 

“Alright,” Mayor Mills said. “So in order for me to have you, I’ll need both of them.”

“What?” Lacey felt her eyes going wide. “You want me to take Mr. Gold’s wedding ring?”

The mayor shrugged. “If your marriage is as dead as you say, he won’t miss it. If it isn’t, then, well, I have no power over you.”

“No.” Scrambling to her feet, Lacey took the ring from the mayor’s hand. “No, I want you to have power over me. I really do!”

A knowing, full-lipped smile. “There’s not much that would make me happier than having absolute power over you, dear. And it will happen, just as soon as I have both of your wedding rings.”

“It will,” Lacey nodded. “I’ll make it happen. I won’t disappoint you, Madame Mayor!”  

[awstenknyght]

title

warnings: huge tw for ed shit, hospitalization, and josie has mean thoughts

a/n: please don’t read if it’s gonna trigger you- also don’t listen to josie’s brain, her brain is my brain and my brain is stupid

tags: @the-cowbi @yourknightinshiningplastic @ranboo-my-beloved1 @joshkatz @tommyinnitt @love-pyramus @lex-the-soggy-chicken-tender @babymushroomboy (join my taglist here!)

“Nice work ladies, let’s bring it in!” Josie let out a relieved sigh. Their coach started talking about their next game, but Josie wasn’t paying attention.

Her stomach hurt like hell. And she knew exactly why. But it’s fine, she told herself. Only one more day, then you can have something again. That’s the rules; you have to fast if you go over your goal. It’s not that fucking hard, you can do it just fine.

And she could do it. She had been doing it for years now, and look where had gotten her! She was the skinniest girl on the team, and one of their best players. Clearly something that felt so good couldn’t be bad.

She learned to love the brief feeling of dizziness that came with fasting, the way she could see her rib cage when she layed flat on her back, the satisfaction of the scale finally showing the numbers she wanted to see.

Plus, she ate enough. She never went low enough that it would stop her from playing. Soccer was her number one priority, and wasn’t she was doing herself a favor but cutting down her calories a bit?

She followed the team to the locker room, changing in the back corner, away from everyone else. After they were all done, Mouse bounced up to her.

“Hey Jo, a few of us were thinking of getting lunch together. Wanna come?”

Josie hid her discomfort with a smile and shook her head. “I think I’m gonna go for a run, you guys have fun though!”

Mouse frowned. “We just had practice, you should take a break. When’s the last time you ate?”

“This morning!” Josie lied.

Mouse didn’t believe her. She grabbed her hand and dragged her away. “You’re coming, like it or not.”

Josie followed, reluctantly. Fuck.

At the restaurant, she laughed and joked with the others, but she couldn’t focus on the conversation. She pushed her food around, hoping no one would notice that she hadn’t eaten any of it.

Everyone’s looking at you, she told herself. They all know how much you want to eat it, and they all hate you for it. Are you gonna prove them right?

Josie excused herself and ran to the bathroom. She couldn’t do it. Failure, another voice whispered.

Goddamnit, pick a side. She wanted to scream. Okay, maybe she wasn’t fine. But people liked this Josie way more now that she was sick. And that was worth it.

Right?

***

“Okay, Josie you’ll be starting.”

“Are you sure coach? Jo’s been overworking herself lately, maybe she shouldn’t,” Mouse spoke up. Josie glared, but she knew the shorter girl was right. Still, if they lost this game, they wouldn’t make the playoffs. She needed to do this.

“I’m fine, coach. Let me start.”

Medda shrugged. “Okay, just look after yourself, you hear?”

Josie nodded and ran out to the field alongside Mouse and the others. She could do this.

By the last quarter, the game was tied. Josie was exhausted, but she pushed on. She kicked the ball to Mouse, who had a clear shot. She could see Mouse kick it in, hear the crowd cheering, but it was all far away.

Everything ached. She was dizzy. She didn’t even feel herself falling before she hit the ground. The world faded into black.

***

The first thing Josie heard when she woke up was beeping. Hospital. That was the first word that came to her mind. Then she heard Mouse’s voice.

“She’s waking up!”

Josie pushed herself up. Her arm hurt. She looked down to see an IV, putting god knows what into her body, and panicked.

“Take it out. What’s it putting in me?”

“Food, Jo. You need it.” Mouse sat down on the edge of her bed. The whole team was there, cramped into the tiny room, all looking at her sympathetically. She hated it.

“No I don’t. I’m fine. Tell them to let me go back. We have the playoffs!” Everyone looked a little more uncomfortable at that. “What? We made the playoffs, right?”

One of the girls spoke up. “We did. You didn’t.”

“The fuck does that mean? I’m on the team to!”

“Josie, you’re one of our best players. We all know that. But if having you on our team comes with the cost of your wellbeing, then that’s not a sacrifice we’re willing to make,” their coach explained.

“But I’m fine!” Josie yelled. She tried to stand up, but fell back. “I can play!”

“You’re in the fucking hospital!” Mouse snapped. “That’s not fucking fine. I was worried about you, Jo, and I don’t want to feel like that again. You have to recover.”

“I don’t want to recover! I don’t need to!” This is stupid, she thought. I’m fine, I’m better than fine, why can’t they see that?

The girls all filed out of the room, saying their goodbyes, until all that was left was Mouse and Josie. Mouse climbed into the bed next to her and held her tightly.

“I’m sorry Ria.”

Mouse was silent for a minute. “I can’t say it’s fine, because honestly, it’s not. But it will be. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“I don’t need to recover. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Are you sure?”

Josie didn’t answer. She knew there was something wrong with her, she was in the hospital for christ’s sake. But she’d had this problem since she was young, it was a part of her now. It was hard to imagine giving that up.

“You’re going to recover. I’ll make sure of it. And I’ll hold your hand every step of the way, okay?”

Josie nodded. She didn’t want to do this, she wished none of it ever happened. But she wouldn’t be allowed to play unless she recovered.

Soccer was her number one priority. It was her entire life. She still didn’t think she could do it, but she had to try.

[peachyaone]

Lonely Heart pt.5

Pairings: Lierra x OC

(A/N : Hi again! I’m excited to announce that the song “You” in this chapter is written by me! :) So pls don’t steal it :( And I’m also less busy this month so part 6 might be out soon! So yeah, hope you enjoyed this chapter, See you in the next one!)

*Luke’s POV*

They arrived at Ashton’s. His palms are sweating, and his throat was getting dryer by the second. Sierra placed her hand on his shoulder, slightly calming his nerves. They stood in of his door. He hesitated on knocking, Sierra had tired of waiting and knocked. Nothing happened at first, Luke knocked this time. There were footsteps, and the door opened. “Look, its early in the morning, so what the fuc- Oh. You two. He groaned.  “ I-Is Iris here?” Sierra asked him.  “You didn’t check your phones?” He said, slightly irritated. The two took out their phones.

They checked their messages:

[10:00 pm, 09/10/2020] Iris <3 : Hey. Just wanted to tell you that I’m leaving for tour early. I cleared up everything with Ashley and my bandmates. I will be leaving at midnight tonight. You’re welcome to come and see me off, only if you want to. I’ll be with Ashley for the while leg of the tour, we might have separate shows, but we’ll wait for the management announcement.

[10:00 pm, 09/10/2020] Iris <3 : I just wanna say that I apologise for being so distant , I’ve been in a really bad headspace lately. I’m sorry. It’s my fault for making you mad, making Sierra upset and everything.

“Fuck.” he whispered. Ashton was staring at them, arms crossed. "Have you realized what you've done?" Ashton said. They didn't have the chance to speak. "You absolutely wrecked her, you know that? Both of you. I thought you're better than this. She came here, soaked to the skin. She could get sick, and you both know that she gets sick easily. She was trying to keep herself together. She on a verge on an attack, thank god Katniss was there to calm her down. I wanted to march up to your house and beat your ass . But Iris wouldn't let me, you know why? it's because she loves you, Lucas. And that's the only thing stopping me from beating your ass." He scolded. Luke was looking at the ground, ashamed.

"And Sierra, you know what the media could do. They'd do anything to tear people apart, fuck with their mental health, twisting lies into stories with without knowing the real truth. One article could turn people against each other. I really thought that maybe you would understand a little more about this." He said. Ashton was disappointed. He sighed. "Now that you have your answer, I have a lemon tree to save. Goodnight." He said, closing the door on them. The two walked back to their car.

What were they gonna do now?

*Iris's POV*

The live session was a blast. Once she felt sensation of the bass, the sound of the guitar, the kick of the drums, she never felt so alive. They were covering "I Don't Love You" by My Chemical Romance. She felt the problems slowly melt away when she started singing. She sang each verse with all she got. It was pure, raw emotion, the one that could make everyone tear up. It's like she was a different person. Long gone the Iris that was depressed. The Iris on stage now was, way more brighter and her eyes seems to shine with unshed tears. This side of Iris only comes out when she's performing. Usually, without the tears. The crowd cheered her on. She was smiling. The trio gave each other knowing glances, once the adrenaline from performing wears off, she would go back to the woman she was before.

Sad and empty.

They thanked the crowd and the host and went backstage. They were buzzing with adrenaline. "You guys, wanna grab some food before we go back to the hotel?" Maia said. Julia and Helena nodded. "Iris?" Helena said. Iris's head snapped up. "You okay there? Your lookin' a little bit pale, shortcake." Helena said. Iris rubbed her face. "I'm alright, Just need fresh air, that's all. Maybe something to eat." She said. The trio was looking at her worriedly. "Guys. I promise, I'm okay, don't worry." she shyly smiled, nervous from the looks her bandmates were giving her. "Macca's?" Julia said. "Sure." Maia said.

*timeskip*

"That's all your going eat?" Julia said. Iris was eating her veggie dippers. "Yeah. I'm not that hungry." she mumbled. "Bullshit. You haven't eaten anything since last night." Julia said. "Take some my fries." Maia said. "Maia, I can't take it. It's your food." she declined. "Iris, we won't let you fuckin' starve. We have a long night of performing coming up. And you need the energy." Maia said. Iris stared at the ground. Helena rubbed her back, "Please, Iris. We all know you have haven't been doing well." Maia said. "Fine."

"Good girl." Julia said. "Wow, Julia. I didn't know you were into that kinda of stuff~" Iris teased. Helena choked on her drink. Julia looked at Helena, confused. Maia shoved Julia's shoulder. The look of realization dawned on her face. "Oh. Iris, you kinky bitch." She said, smirking. "Well, someone's gotta be the Yuri in this club, and you guys don't have to balls to be him. " she teased again.

They heard cameras clicking.

"Paps." they said in unison.  “Shit.” Helena mumbled.  “We have to get out of here, quickly.” Julia said. The group got out and tried to get to Maia’s car. Iris was soon cornered by the paps.

“Iris, you know they can do better!”

“Is it difficult having TWO partners? Having to be jealous all the time and fighting for attention – what does that feel like?”

She kept quiet.

“What do you think to the rumours that you cheated on them? There’s evidence of you spending the night with a mysterious female.”

“You’re really nothing special though are you? They won’t stick around for long, whore.”

“We’ve seen the scars on your arms.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bad image for your band?”

“You should look into conversion therapy, disgusting whore.”

“What about your partners? Should they have to deal with that on top of everything they should be doing?”

“You’re nothing but a slut. A cheating, useless piece of shit.”

“You’ll be better off dead.”

“'Lena…” She mumbled, searching for any of her bandmates over the crowd, she felt her vision go hazy for a bit as she desprately tried to push through the paps. She was so close from losing her sanity. The paps was closing in, blocking her in. Insults was thrown her way. She was going to break.

Then she felt their arms. Helena's strong hand gripping hers and pulling her into their arms, cradling her against her chest and Julia pushing through the crowd telling the paparazzi to fuck off along the way.“Get away from her!” She pushed the paps away from the duo while Helena helped Iris up. “We just want answers!” One of the paps shouted back at them. “Well, you’re not gonna get any so take your camera, shove it up your fucking asshole, and fuck off!”

They got her into the car. Maia drove away from the scene as fast as she could. Iris's hands was shaking. “Iris?” Julia ask, her hand moving to cup her face. “Iris, come on.” Julia pleaded, she was desperately trying to help her calm her down, holding her hands and trying to help her breathe. “They said such horrible things.” Iris mumbled. “They’re just trying to get a response.” Helena said.

"Can we call, Ash?" she meekly asked. "Of course, shortcake." Helena said. Julia called him.

"Hey, Julia. Is everything alright?"

"Um... about that."

"What's wrong?"

"Well, we had a run in with paps eariler and they cornered Iris."

"What?! Is she okay? Did the paps do anything?"

"Well, they verbally harassed her. We might ask management to file a lawsuit. As for Iris? She's the reason why I called, wait a minute-

"'Lena take the phone."

Helena took the phone from Julia.

"Hey, Lemon boy"

"Hey, Helena. Is Iris with you?"

"Yup. Let me hand the phone to her."

"Thanks"

She passed the phone to Iris.

"Hey, Ash..."

"Hey, Sunshine. Are you okay? Did they do anything to you?"

"They were closing in on me, taking photos of me and said bad things."

"What kind of bad things did they say, sunshine? "

"That I’m not good enough, they keep insisting that I cheated. They said that I look into converstion therapy-"

She was startled by Helena's hand on her shoulder. "Let it out." She mouthed to her.

"They joked about my scars, they said I would be better off dead." she choked out.

"They what?! Oh, Iris, I'm so sorry."

She sobbed.

" Iris, listen."

"What they said.... it's all lies. You hear me? They are lies. You are not what they paint you to be, they don't know who you really are. You are amazing. You are the most amazing person I know, the boys loves you.... even Luke. He came by with Sierra the night after you left. I didn't do anything, like I promise. But you bet I gave him an earful. But all that aside, Iris, you deserve to be here, and you are good enough. You make people happy. Your fans? They all love you, you make them smile, you make them feels safe. This will pass, things will get easier. I promise you."

"What if I fail to do so, Ash? What if I disappoint everyone?"

"You won't. Trust me, you are not a failure. You will get better. You will heal. You will be stronger than ever. You will make it through this."

"Are they alright?"

"You're seriously asking that? You're not okay and you're asking if they're alright?"

"Please Ash... I want to know."

They arrived at the hotel.

"Yes, they are. You don't have to worry. All you have to worry now is me giving you a lecture. Look outside."

"What?"

"Just look outside."

She looked outside to see Ashton, giving her one of his signature smiles. Beside him.....Luke and Sierra.

"Ashton?"

"Hey, sunshine."

She paled. She turned at the bandmates and chuckled shakily.

"Am I finally going crazy? Is they really here?"

She looked at Luke and Sierra, laughing disbelievingly. Shaking her head, she walked up to them. She prodded Luke at his chest angrily, as she laughed. "You had the fucking nerve to show up here." She was chuckling yet crying in the same time. "Where were you, Lucas. Where the fuck were you when I needed you?!" she said. She stumbled back, shaking her head. Iris's knees gave out. Maia reached out to steady her. "Can we get out of here, please?" She whispered to her. Maia looked at Helena and Julia. "Let's get her inside." She said, quietly. They nodded. They moved to get her inside. Sierra moved to stop them. "Let's talk this through, please." She said to Iris. Helena glowered at her. She stood in front Iris protectively.

"After what you've done, you think you could just come up here and expect her to talk? After the pain you put her through? No, ma'am. You lost that right." Helena said. "Hey, don't talk to her like that." Luke defended her. Julia stepped forward. "Don't think we forgot about YOU, Hemmings." She said. "You don't get to come up here, all high and mighty and expect that we let you go that easily." Helena said. “You two are fucking dumb if you really believe that's a way to treat our bandmate.” Maia said.

“If anyone should be arguing, it should be me.” Iris said, as she straightened up and six pairs of eyes snapped to her. "Thank you for standing up for me, guys." she said to her bandmates. They shrugged and smiled. "Pop off, bestfren." Maia playfully winked at her. Iris smiled and turned to face the duo. The look that they gave her made her newfound anger surge.

“You both don’t get to look at me like that.” She snapped, causing them to reel back in suprise. They never seen her this mad, never at them. "If you gave me the chance to talk back then, we wouldn't have this bullshit." she said. Their faces fell in guilt. The Iris she was before this would've cave in and forgive them but she was seething with anger now to care.

"If you'd noticed the sleepless nights I had, the bag under my eyes. If you'd have cared to even try and listen to what I had to say, maybe I wouldn't be fuckin' pissed at you right now!" Iris snapped and Luke flinched back.

If they'd only looked into her eyes, they would see the bottled up emotions that was threatening to explode. It felt wrong to see Iris so angry. She was always been the one to break up arguements, not start them. "Did you know how much suffering you caused me? Do you know how much pain I've been through? I never asked for this, you know? I never asked for us to fight. I hate fighting, you know that?" She said. She looked at them, they were looking down to the ground.

"Look at me." she pleaded. Her anger disappated. Their heads immediately snapped up."I d-don't think I contribute to this relationship anymore." her broken voice reached their ears.

"Iris!" They called out, but she's gone. Luke frantically searched for her. "Luke, we still have one more chance." Sierra said. "Sierra, there's no more chance. We lost her." He said. "And it's all my fault." he whimpered. "Luke, honey. We have her concert tickets, thanks to Ashley. Let's not waste this chance alright?" She said.

*timeskip*

Two hours till the concert. The stage staff were moving around, making sure that everything goes well. After the encounter, Iris fell in the hotel bed and proceeded take a long nap. And woke up just in time for rehearsal.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours. Iris drank some vodka that was prepared by the staff, it did so little to calm her nerves. She was pacing around. “Iris?” Her makeup stylist called out. Her head shot up, “Yes, David?” She said. “It’s time for your makeup, and then your outfit." He reminded. She smiled softly at him, "Alright, I'm coming."

She got dressed and sat on the chair."So what would we like on this wonderful night?" He said prepairing the brushes. "I was thinking of skeleton kinda look. Some black, a little red." She said. "That sounds good. Would you like some to put glitter on the black part?" he asked. "Sure" she nodded.

(A/N: Here’s the outfit. Credit to @boy..brainr0t for the makeup look)

They made a small talk about the weather and the upcoming shows. Half an hour later, David finished. "Wow, you did a great job! I love it so much, thanks David! " Iris said, her mood brightened. "No probs, Iris." He said with a smile. She side hugged him and left the room.

"Looking good, shortcake! That choker looks deadly, in a good way." Helena hyped her up. Iris flushed. "Enough about me, look at your mohawk! The spikes are as deadly as my choker! " She said, smiling. "Can I.... touch them? " Iris said. It was like a child asking for candy. "Knock yourself out, shortcake. " She shrugged. Iris's eyes shined with excitement and she poked it. "It's rock hard, did you use hairspray?" she asked, "I did. Used a little bit of hair pomade. Gotta make sure it won't fall while performing." Helena explained. "That's cool." Iris giggled.

 "Hey, cuties!" Julia hollered from arcoss the room. "Its almost time, get your sexy asses over here!" Maia said alongside Julia. "Alright, alright, we're coming!" Iris shouted back. "You look like Gerard Way, Iris." Julia said. "Awh, Julia that's nicest thing you ever said to me" she joked. Julia playfully punched her in the shoulder. "Heeeey" She pouted. "Hey guys!" Ashley jogged over to them. "Hey, Ashley" They said. "You ready to go up there?" She asked. "Yeah, it's been a while since we last went on stage, still kinda nervous, but excited." Iris said. "Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, but you guys are up in 10" the stage manager informed them. "Alright, thank you for informing us" Julia thanked the staff. "You welcome." the staff said, then walked away. 

"Go get ready, I can't wait to see you guys out there." Ashley said, before leaving to get ready herself. "You ready?" Maia asked. " As ready as I'll ever be" Iris said. Her eyes shining with excitement. The group fistbumped each other and went on stage.

"GOOD EVENING, LONDON!" Iris screamed into the mic. The crowd screamed. "ARE YOU READY?" The crowd cheered. "WE CAN'T HEAR YOU" The crowd screamed.The intro for their song "You" started playing.

You, 

The thought of you makes me sick

Heaven and Hell doesn’t scare me anymore

Not when your with me

Why you gotta be so greedy?

I’m giving all I have to you,

But you keep asking for more,I’m dying, can’t you see? (Look at me)

My blood stains the floor

And I know you love seeing me like this

When it comes to you, (you temptress)

You act so innocent, like an angel in disguise

Always painting yourself as holy

But your tainted halo says otherwise, my dear

Iris sang, stomping her feet to the rhythm. She was smiling, looking out to the crowd. And then she saw familiar head of curls. It was Luke. Her eyes widened, trying to maintain her composure as she sang. She looked at Julia, who noticed them too.

Look at what you’ve become

My still beating heart you hold,

Your knife against my throat.

I’m on the floor, barely breathing (Gasping for air)

My mind tormented by your lies

There’s no escape from you (Never)

There’s no saving for me

“Oh, my darling sweetheart” you said,

With your hands around my neck 

“Let me own you” you whispered

Your cold breath makes me shiver

Death knocks on the door (It’s time)

She puts on a facade, performing all the energy she had. Maia and Helena soon caught up with the situation immediately. They were soon picking up on the energy that Iris is giving out. She was nervous. Very nervous.  Her heterochromia eyes instantly found blue ones.  She wanted to run off stage but her pride wouldn’t let her. What would the fans think of her if she did? She didn't want to be coward.

*Lierra's POV*

They were standing somewhat near to the stage, same as the people that are there, they were all waiting for the show to start. Soon, Iris came on stage along with her band mates. The crowd screamed and cheered.

"GOOD EVENING, LONDON!" she said. She sounded so different from 4 hours ago. She looked beautiful as always, her facial features were enhanced by her stage makeup. "ARE YOU READY?" They cheered. "I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" They cheered even louder.

Iris smirked. "Helena, darling. If you please." she said. They both knew it was her persona on stage to be a little flirty , but Sierra couldn't stop but feel a little bit of jealousy. Helena was smirking on the screen. " ONE, TWO, THREE-" Helena said, before she started playing the drums. The intro sounds familiar to them. Then Iris started singing.

In their eyes, she was the most ethereal being they ever seen. She was confident when she sing, it was beautiful.

Midway through the song, their eyes met. Luke could see her eyes widening. She turned to Julia. Julia gave her a brief nod. She turned to the front, with a smile on her face. He gave Sierra a look.She shared the same look, they clearly knew that she was faking her expression. And the thought of that made them feel even more guilty.

*Back to Iris*

Look at what I’ve become

My still heart you hold,

Your knife still against my throat.

I’m on the floor, still and silent

My mind corrupted by your lies

There’s no escape from you

There’s no redemption for me.

As she sang the last verse, the crowd cheered and clapped. She was a little sweaty and she was a little out of breath.  She kept on smiling. Her bandmates joined her at the front. Ashley comes on stage next. “Good Evening, London!” Ashley said. The crowd screamed. “ I would like to thank my good friends, The Temptress, for their AMAZING performance tonight!” She exclaimed. The crowd screamed again. "You welcome, Halsey." she said. 

In the corner of her she saw a sign. The sign said "It's Nia!". Her eyes shined. "Well won't you look at that, Hi Nia." She waved at the girl direction. A group of girls were screaming as she said that. "Thank you again for the wonderful gift you gave me yesterday, darling. I really appreciate it." She said. The group screamed again. She was smiling. A real smile. The camera was on her and the crowd screamed again. She and her bandmates said their goodbyes to the crowd and Halsey and went off backstage. 

She took off her facade and became unsually quiet. She plopped on the couch and drank the vodka she poured for herself. Her friends didn't know if they should comfort her or give her space. "Hey, shortcake." Helena said softly. Iris just leaned against her, her head on her shoulder. "You okay, bub?" Helena said. Iris just buried her face further into her neck.

 "I don't know, 'Lena."

[aswallowssong]

Second Child, Restless Child

Chapter 9 - The Devil Whispered Lies

@valkyrie-5583

Read on AO3

If I told y'all I got engaged and that's why this chapter is literally a billion years late, would that make it better??

Jokes aside (not really a joke, I did get engaged, I just hid it in the notes a few weeks ago) spring break is one week away for this teacher, and my goal is to write a whole bunch so I can not have to post chapters like... 2 months apart.

Let me know what you think of this one!! Have a lovely day!!

Continuation of chapter 8 - Heaven Knows How Hard I Tried. The Keystone Killer has given Kit a lot to think about; including some things she wasn't quite counting on.

Kit wasn’t quite listening when they walked back into the precinct. Her conversation with JJ earlier in the day had helped. If JJ had met pushback, but now she was allowed to be a full part of the BAU team, she should stand up for herself. The director himself saw all of her reports, she could tell Ramos she disagreed with him. Especially if, for the time being, her work was good enough for the literal director of the whole FBI.

But her talk with Hotch outside of Harbin’s house hadn’t done her a lot of good. Her mind was still reeling from the events of the last hour, she still hadn’t slept since Friday night, and it was actively Sunday. 

What brought her back to reality was Morgan’s voice, deep and steady at the front of their group. It caught her up to the present so quickly she almost stopped short, which would have sent Hotch right into her.

“Well, that's got to be a first. A killer actually leading us to another killer.”

“Come on,” Gideon said from further back, “we all know they make the best profilers. They admire each other's work.”

“Ya, but usually from afar,” Elle said as they spilled into the conference room.

Kit didn’t even let herself imagine sitting down. There was no way she would be able to stay awake when she had nothing of value to add. At this point, she was waiting to get back on the jet and back to her apartment. The image of Claudia was twisting in her mind, and she couldn’t help the desperate need she had to see Monty face to face.

Hotch didn’t let her stay in her head for very long. “At least we got Harbin off the street. All right, let's review. What do we know about the Keystone Killer?”

He’s killing women at an alarming rate.

“Well, we know that he's not dead or in jail,” Elle offered.

Gideon continued. “Enjoys taunting the game.”

“Ya,” Morgan agreed easily. “He's in complete control.”

Reid was quick to add on, statistics rattling from him easier than Kit was even keeping her eyes open. “He strangled seven women in the 1980's, stopped for eighteen years, and then began again suffocating them. Ten percent of all violent crimes are caused by strangulation, it only takes eleven pounds of pressure to fully incapacitate your victim and if you hang on for at least fifty seconds, they will never recover.”

“Yeah,” Kit said, stopping short once she’d realized the words had come from her mouth, not someone else’s. Everyone’s eyes were on her, and she took a moment before she voiced the fact her brain had produced for her, however reluctantly. “It’s one of the most lethal forms of violence. Victims can be unconscious in a matter of ten seconds.”

Hotch shook his head, confusion pushing from his before he said, “When you suffocate someone you actually have less control over their death. It's actually more passive because the killer doesn't feel the life leaving the body.”

“He's changed almost everything that he does,” Elle said. She was lost, mild annoyance and confusions coming off her in waves. Elle had joined the team just as JJ did, and Kit wondered if she ever felt as completely baffled as she herself felt.

In that moment, it felt like the answer could be yes, and that was comforting.

Gideon took over then, speaking to them as a whole in a series of questions. “Why why why why? What? I mean, what's he getting out of this new M. O.? Where's his payoff? You got Carla Bromwell, she sustains a significant head injury. Blitz attacks suggest disorganization, no self-confidence. This is a guy who walks into seven victims' homes prior to this. There was no forced entry at any of the scenes. Where's the loss of confidence?”

There was a beat of silence, and she really hoped anyone had any idea. It was moments like these that made Kit feel the most out of her element. She had no idea why the Keystone Killer would want to kill anyone anyway, how could she know why he would change his methods?

“He would never change the way he kills by choice,” Ryan said, breaking the silence.

“What?” 

Ryan spoke again, confident in a way the rest of the team lacked. “We've been operating under the assumption that he purposely changed his M. O.”

It was like something physically snapped into place. Kit looked around as everyone was suddenly much more engaged. 

“You're saying he changed because he had to change?” Gideon asked.

“He knocked her unconscious. And it wasn't to scare.”

Elle seemed to be catching on, and Kit wished selfishly she wasn’t. “Because he couldn't control her physically while she was awake.”

Ryan nodded. “He could be incapacitated.”

Gideon latched back on. “At least partially.”

“Maybe an injury.” 

“Or a stroke,” Hotch added, and Gideon started nodding. “Either way you're gonna have to have medical records. Agreed?”

It took her more than a few seconds to notice that no one had said anything else, and she looked over at Gideon, who was looking directly at her.

Why is he looking at me? He never looks at me? We have a spoken rule to not look at one another during cases so why is he looking right at me?

“Colghain?” he said, and she shook her head. He most certainly was looking at her for an answer, and everyone else had gone quiet so she could answer.

“Yeah.” She said, and she saw Ryan raise an eyebrow in annoyance before she stumbled over herself to continue her answer. “Yeah, yes, sorry. Yes. There would be injury reports, charts, notes, scripts. It’s a lot of records, depending on who your doctor is and what hospital you’re at.”

There was another pause before they were all nodding, taking in what she’d said and running with it.

Morgan was first to speak. “Okay, so what are we talking about? This had to have happened after the middle of 1988 in Philadelphia?”

Gideon nodded, first at Kit, and then to Morgan. “Somebody who fits the rest of the profile.”

“It's a lot of hospital records,” Reid said, also looking towards Kit, who nodded her affirmation. “There’s hoards of people going into ERs every day for exactly those sorts of things. It’ll be a huge pool.”

He smiled at her, and she found herself taken a bit aback, but returned his grin with a shy one of her own.

“Call our girl Friday,” Gideon said, directed to Morgan, and as the flurry of movement and new hope danced through the room, she found herself feeling much less tired than she did before.

She’d been helpful. Gideon had known she was an expert about something and asked for her agreement and input before simply inserting a thought. 

Her feelings were incredibly jumbled as she stood there, waiting for directions. Gideon’s affirmation made her feel better than she thought it would, considering they didn’t usually talk if not to argue. JJ’s conversation still lingered in the back of her mind, and she wanted to talk to Ramos. If JJ could stand up to the coms department and get what she wanted, why couldn’t she stand up to Ramos?

But Claudia filled the leftover space in her consciousness, and she didn’t know if she could fight for more time with the BAU, or to try to be more fully integrated, or whatever it was that she actually wanted if the cases were going to stay with her.

To scare her. To make her feel like she needed to know that her sisters were alright, even though there was no way to do that while knees deep in a case. 

What do you even want, Kody? What do you want?

She didn’t have an answer for herself.

-----

Kit stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom of the precinct and splashed another cupful of water onto her face, holding her cheeks in her hands a moment before looking up at her reflection. 

You look exhausted.

Monty’s voice, as always, chided her. Sometimes she wished the voice of her overinvolved consciousness was her brother Al instead. Alaska couldn’t be bothered over things like that. His biggest qualm in life was the fact that his name was Alaska, and it had been quickly remedied by Ari telling him he could just go by Alex at school. 

You’ve got bigger problems than that. You’re having a moment in a police precinct in Philly while the rest of your team waits on a comprehensive file to be faxed. 

A feeling of dread shot through her chest at the realization that Monty didn’t even know she was gone. She’d been so tired and so incredibly thrown by Garcia’s text, and then Hotch’s insistence that she was on the jet that she hadn’t thought to walk down and tell Ari she was leaving. He’d been on the clinic floor; out of sight, out of mind. Then she was on the jet, and then at the crime scene. 

She hadn’t even sent a text. 

Hell, she hadn’t even really slept since then. Her time in the jet and her few minutes in the car were nowhere near what she needed, and with all the feelings and thoughts she had flying around her head, she was surprised she hadn’t crashed. She was definitely feeling “Big Feelings,” and she didn’t have time for it.

Ari and Monty always helped the big feelings. They had to be wondering where she was. Why hadn’t they called her? Or texted? They had to be worried. Girls didn’t just go missing in the middle of the day.

But they do. And worse, they’re murdered too. Right out of nowhere for no reason at all. People are sick, Kody. They kill for pleasure. They kidnap for pleasure. They’ll take anyone at any time. 

She had her phone out and dialed in record time.

“Penelope’s hotline for all things truth. Speak and know.”

“Garcia.” She swiped at her eyes. When had she started crying? “I need a favor.”

“Oh, Kit, hey.” Her voice was as sunny as always. “I’ve got that file almost through, the medical was-”

“It’s not about the case.”

There was silence on the other line for a moment. “Oh?”

“If I gave you the first and last name, could you trace a cell phone?”

“A cell phone? As long as it’s registered to the same name, yeah, I can. Why?”

“Virginia.” She said. “Virginia Colghain.”

She didn’t know why she picked Ginny. Something inside her said that Seese, George, and Lina would be at home with their mam. Ginny lived in the city, and Kit couldn’t call her. 

Ginny didn’t know she was in the field. Ginny didn’t even know she’d been paired with the BAU.

“Where should it be? Just so I know what I’m looking for.”

“Probably the US Attorney's office.”

“Which branch?”

“The one in the district. On fourth street.”

Garcia hummed as she typed, the clicking of her keystrokes halting as she said, “Wait. Wait, Colghain?”

Kit bit her lip. She was sort of hoping Garcia wouldn’t notice. 

Which is stupid, because of course she’d notice.

“Yes.”

“Virginia Colghain?”

“Yes, Garcia, can you track it or not?” Kit glanced at herself in the mirror, letting her reflection ground her. She tugged at one braid, and then the other with her free hand before wiping at her eyes again.

The clicking started again before Garcia said, “Virginia Colghain’s phone is, in fact, inside the US Attorney’s office on fourth street.”

Kit breathed a sigh of relief. While it wasn’t proof that Ginny was okay, it certainly helped Kit’s nerves. “Thanks, Penelope. Sorry about that.”

“Sure, my sweet clover. But, why don’t you just call her and ask where she is? I’m going to assume that’s one of your many many siblings.”

Because I haven’t quite told her I’m working with the BAU now, or going in the field again, and I’m not ready to have that conversation with her just yet, considering no one knows but Ari and Monty.

“I don’t want to interrupt her at work, I just needed to know she was okay.”

Garcia was quiet again before saying, “You know, we’ll get him. My system has faxed almost all the papers now, and then you can go bring him in.”

Kit took a breath, glancing again at the reflection in the mirror. She almost didn’t recognize the face staring back at her. Had she always looked so sad?

“Thanks, Pen,” she said quietly. “I, um. I’ve gotta go.”

“Go fight crime, clover. But, hey,” Penelope’s voice took on a different quality. A serious one. “You and I should talk when you get back.”

She sighed, but nodded. “Okay… bye, Penelope.”

Kit hung up the phone.

Ginny was fine. She knew that it was a given, and she probably just looked like a crazy, paranoid moron, but she also knew deep down that Penelope didn’t care. Maybe she understood.

Before she could convince herself otherwise she hit the first position speed dial, pacing a bit in front of the sinks as it rang.

“Dia dhuit?” Came Monty’s groggy, listless voice over the line, and Kit nearly burst into tears at the combination of her sister’s voice, her real voice, and their mother tongue.

“Monty.”

“Yeah, it’s me. Where are you? Thought you were in the living room, but I only hear you on the phone.”

Kit wiped at a stray tear trailing down her cheek. There was no way she was keeping it together when she finally got home.

Monty’s accented Irish was thicker than it normally was. Her voice was lower too, telling of the fact that she quite possibly woke her twin up. She bit back a bit of guilt, her own voice launching into a language just for them.

“I’m sorry, I woke you, didn't I?”

“It’s alright, I’ll go back when we’re done. Where are you?”

“Are you feeling any better?” She was stalling. “When was the last time you took-”

“Dakota.” Kit stopped in her tracks. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything is fine.”

“But why are you crying?”

Damn it.

She tried to keep any tremor out of her voice, but she knew Monty would always be able to tell. “I’m not.”

“Why are you calling me, crying-”

Kit sighed, her pacing stopping dead in its tracks as she tried to keep herself together. “Everything is okay. I’m not hurt. I’m fine. Everyone is fine. I needed to hear your voice.”

The coughing across the line was grating, and then, “Kody, where are you? What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

“I…” Kit started, steadying herself with a hand on the counter. “We’re in Pennsylvania.” 

“You’re what?” 

“It’s fine, I had to leave overnight. We’re on a case.”

“You didn’t call,” Monty said, obviously upset. “You didn’t even send a text. Ari was at the bureau last night, too, why-” She cut herself off to cough, the line being muffled as Monty pulled away from the speaker.

Kit ran her hand down her face. This wasn’t the conversation she needed to be having. She should have called Ari. He tended to be a little more level headed when he was upset. 

“Why wouldn’t you say anything?” Monty finally asked, voice much rougher than before. “What if something happened?”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Kit said, her voice more steady than she felt it should be. “I’m sorry, Mont. I’m so sorry. I know I should have told you.”

“Why…” Monty trailed for a moment before she said quietly, “Why did you call now?”

Claudia’s face flashed to the front of her mind, and then Monty’s; the reflection of her own staring back at her in the mirror. 

“I needed to hear your voice. I had to know you were alright.”

Another moment of silence passed before Monty asked, “Something happened, didn’t it?”

Kit sighed, sniffling quietly before letting out another, deeper sigh. “I don’t know if I can do this, Mont.”

The door to the bathroom swung open, JJ standing on the other side.

“Hey, the whole file finally came through, we’re meeting in the- are you crying?” 

Kit’s head whipped around to look at JJ square, and she hastily wiped under her eyes. “No, I, um. I’ll be right there.”

JJ tilted her head, but nodded and shut the door again. The air between the twins crackled quietly before Kit cleared her throat.

“I have to go. I… hopefully I’ll be home tonight. I’m sorry, Montana. I am.”

“Kody, wait-”

“I love you, Mont, I’m so sorry.”

“You can’t just say those things and then go put yourself in danger! You can’t do that to me! I-”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I-” The door to the bathroom was pounded on. “Lep! Let’s go!”

Derek.

“Dakota!”

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

Before Monty could say anything else, Kit snapped her phone shut. 

------

Her leg bounced as she sat in the SUV in between Reid and Elle. She was twisting at the hem of her shirt, and some of the threads had ripped and stretched. It was keeping her from pulling on her hair though, so she didn’t care about that. Ginny could sew it for her when they got back to DC.

If Ginny’s still there. Anyone could grab her at any time. Anyone could-

“Are you okay?” Reid asked quietly, his eyes locked on her fingers as they tugged at the material.

She stilled her hands immediately, feeling the concern dripping from his tone.

“Yeah,” she said. “Just… tired.”

“You could probably sit out if you need to,” he said, not noticing the way her face had started to heat up. Everyone in the SUV was actively pretending they couldn’t hear their conversation, but Kit knew better.

“I don’t need to,” she said quickly. “I just want to get home, so the faster we cuff this creep, the better."

"Because of your sister?"

"What?"

How could he have possibly known what you were thinking about Ginny? Did you say something? Did-

"Your sister's sick, right?"

She stared at him for a moment before it clicked. He wasn't talking about Ginny. Of course he wasn't, the only one that knew about her minor meltdown was Garcia. Monty being sick was common knowledge. 

"Oh," she said. "Yeah. And because he's, you know." She gestured vaguely. "Murdering women."

Elle laughed quietly next to her, nodding as she said, “Right, there’s that. We’ll get him. Right, Gideon?”

“Oh, we’ll get him,” Gideon said, sending more anticipatory energy into the world than usual. Kit didn’t have to think about the implications of that, though, as the SUV came to a halt outside a two story home.

They got out of the van quickly, all thoughts of Monty and going home gone as they strapped into Kevlar vests and double checked their weapons.

“I believe Walter Kern is in Sylvia Gooden's home now,” Gideon said, addressing the five of them and the SWAT captain. “Hotch confirmed he left the community center hours ago, and Kern's car's parked on the next block.”

“I want Walter Kern alive,” Ryan said quickly, and the SWAT captain nodded at his request. “I'll stand by for the word.”

“Reid, Greenaway, I'll call you when we've secured Kern. Morgan, Colghain, you’re with me and Ryan. Okay, let's move out.”

“Yeah,” Elle said, watching them as they walked away, Kit trailing just behind. 

It didn’t feel right to her that she was going and Elle was staying back, but that was one of the reasons she was even on the team.

Or, working with them, at least. There’d been too many conversations surrounding that topic for her to understand her feelings about it.

They crept towards the house, pausing as the SWAT team pried the door open. Gideon led and Kit held the rear, covering and watching to make sure that nothing happened to them. Team or not, they were her responsibility.

They weren’t in the house for very long before they could hear Gooden crying for help on the second floor. Every movement they made was succinct, and within seconds they were in the room.

“Don't move! Don't move!” Gideon yelled, all weapons drawn at Kern as he tried to hold a plastic bag over Gooden’s face.

They scuffled for a moment, Morgan able to knock Kern’s gun out of the way before holding his arms behind his back. “Down on your knees! Down! Don't move!”

Kit held her gun steady, shifting into a position that allowed her to still have a sightline on Kern; at least until he was cuffed. Not that she believed he could get out of Morgan’s hold.

Gideon spoke quickly into the com, letting Reid and Elle know that Gooden was alive, and Kern was secure.

Morgan struggled a bit to keep Kern’s hands together, and Kit didn’t change her aim. “Cuff him, Morgan.”

“Gideon, I need your cuffs, man,” he said over his shoulder.

Gideon didn’t move right away, but Kit didn’t take her eyes off Kern. She couldn’t until she knew he didn’t have any chance of getting away.

“Why don't you do this? I'll take care of her.” Gideon had spoken to Ryan, who had clearly been soothing Gooden until that moment. 

"That's enough. Now get up,” Morgan said, passing him off so Ryan could cuff him. “You got him?”

“Ya, I got him,” Ryan said, and Kit lowered her weapon as she heard the click of the cuffs secure around Kern’s wrists.

“Colghain,” Gideon said, “Some help, please.”

Kit turned quickly, realizing that Sylvia Gooden, who had just been nearly suffocated, was still crying and panicking with flex cuffs around her wrists. 

She wasn’t done yet.

The two steps to the bed were swift, and Gideon stepped aside as she spoke to the traumatized woman. “Hi, my name is Kit. I’m a nurse, and I’m going to check and make sure you’re okay. Is it alright if I touch you?”

Gooden looked up at her for a moment before she nodded stiffly, taking a deep breath before dissolving into hysterics. 

Kit grabbed her hands and squeezed gently, giving the older woman a small smile despite all the crazy going on around them.

“You’re going to be okay,” she said. “I promise. It’s all going to be okay.”

-----

Kit sat next to Reid on the jet, which was odd, because she normally tried to keep herself as far away from everyone as possible. She’d gotten a very strange read off of Hotch, though, who had secluded himself in the corner she usually would have taken, so she figured the conversation would keep her awake if anything else.

It didn’t stop her from propping a blue notebook open in her lap and tapping at it quietly with her pen. They were laughing at a story Ryan was telling about Gideon that made him seem almost human, and the laughter she shared was genuine. Gideon had stepped aside for her to take the lead with Gooden, which meant he was going to be true to his word when they were in the field. Stay out of each other’s way, and things will be fine. 

She just hoped it would last.

“What goes in that notebook?”

She looked up at Reid’s voice, noticing that while she’d allowed herself to be in her own head for fifteen seconds, everyone had splintered into their own conversations. Elle had even walked away from them, and was now engaged in a quiet conversation with Hotch.

“Hm?”

He nodded down at the blue notebook in her lap. “What goes in there? I’ve only ever seen the red one, and that’s where you write all of our medical information, and things that happen to us medically during cases. Like when I was sick in New Jersey. But that didn’t happen this time, nothing did, and that notebook is blue, and it’s much more worn, and -” He stopped short, frowning. “I’m rambling.”

She shook her head quickly. “No, it’s alright. I don’t mind. I was waiting for you to be done before I answered your question.”

Reid’s eyes widened a bit, his jaw dropping for just a moment before he seemed to right himself. “Most people don’t wait until I’m done.”

“It’s a skill I picked up in college. It’s hard to help someone if you won’t listen to their entire story.”

“Huh,” he said. He seemed to think on that for a moment before he said, “So, what’s it for?”

She blinked up at him. “Oh.”

She hadn’t thought she’d actually have to answer. She was sort of hoping that he would talk himself in circles until he was on another topic completely. He’d done it a few times over the short time she’d known him.

“Oh?”

“Well, it’s sort of personal,” she settled on.

“Like a journal? A diary?”

If he noticed she was blushing, he didn’t let on. “A little bit, it’s like-” She stopped short as she saw JJ move from her seat towards the coffee machine, and her brain flipped a completely different switch. “Sorry, I need to talk to JJ,” she said, and before he could protest, she’d dropped the notebook on her seat and was across the short length of the plane.

“Hey, JJ,” she said, causing the blonde to turn around and smile. 

“Hey, coffee?”

“No, actually I-” She hadn’t quite thought the rest out. “I um.”

She found her hands grabbing for the ends of her hair, but she stopped herself before she could start tugging. She was far too late on her meds, which were officially out of whack, considering the fact that she hadn’t slept in two days. She wasn’t even sure what day it was.

“Is today Sunday?” She said, which was not at all how she’d intended to start the conversation she wanted to have. 

JJ laughed. “I have no idea. Maybe? When we left it was the middle of the night, so I would need to check my phone.”

“Right,” Kit said, easing a bit and giving a quiet laugh of her own. “I um. Well, I wanted to tell you that I thought about what you said.”

JJ tilted her head, eyebrows pulling together. “What I said?”

“What you said about pushing back.”

“Ah,” JJ said, eyes flashing with recognition. “And?”

“I… Claudia really threw me.”

Her head tilted before she said, “The woman they found under the bed?”

Kit shivered. “Yeah.” She didn’t regard the moment with fondness. 

JJ didn’t seem to notice. She thought for a moment before shrugging. “I heard Morgan telling Gideon that you were incredible with her. That you didn’t leave when EMS got there because she didn’t want you to.”

Kit shook her head quickly, deflecting the praise. “I didn’t really do anything. She just… I don’t think she wanted all those men around her without another woman around.”

“And you were that woman for her.”

Kit stopped for a moment, watching JJ’s eyes soften. She was going to deflect again - insist that she’d done exactly what anyone else would have done, but something stopped her. 

“I want to be here,” she heard herself saying. She hadn’t had time to process it herself, but it seemed she was going to do it outloud, in real time. “I want to be a part of this, but I’m scared. Because there will be more Claudias. And more Sylvias… And more Kerns.” She moved a hand to play with the seam at the hip of her slacks. “And we won’t always get there in time. I won’t always get there in time.”

The two women stood in silence for a moment before JJ reached out and took Kit’s right hand off her braid, squeezing it gently between her own fingers.

“But we’ll always try. And sometimes?” She shrugged. “We win.”

Kit took a deep breath, allowing that thought to fill her senses. Sylvia Gooden was alive. Claudia was alive. Kern lost. 

“I think you should talk to Hotch when we get back. Not now. You look exhausted.”

They both laughed, Kit’s a little lackluster. “It’s that obvious?”

“You’ve got two black eyes.”

“Damn.” Kit shook her head, averting her eyes from JJ’s before saying, “Thank you. For listening and telling me what you knew and for making me feel like I deserve to be here.”

JJ nodded, saying simply, “You do.” She gestured to the coffee machine again. “You sure you don’t want some?”

Kit laughed, shaking her head again. “No, really, I shouldn’t. My body doesn’t know what time it is already, I think that would put me in dangerous territory.”

She stood on the Red Line platform, struggling to keep her eyes open. She pinched the skin between her thumb and forefinger, trying anything subtle to get her from point A to point B as quickly as possible. It was already dark, and she didn’t need to fall asleep on the train, or worse, while standing and waiting for the train. 

That would really cap this weekend. Falling asleep on the train, missing your stop, getting abducted…

“Do you have a headache?”

“Ah!” She jumped, turning over her shoulder and swearing loudly. “Reid, what the hell?”

“Sorry!” He said, ducking just a bit, as if he was worried she was going to strike him. “That pressure point is effective in relieving headaches, grounding panic attacks, and quelling nausea. Are you sick?”

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “No, that’s not- I know exactly what this pressure point is used for Spencer, what the hell are you doing here? At my train stop? Again? I told you that I don’t-”

“I wanted to make sure you got home safely,” he said quickly, cutting her off before she could really get going. The anxious sincerity flooding off of him stopped her long enough for him to continue. “The odds of being accosted on the Red Line are significantly lower than the Blue, but you’re exhausted, and this case made you nervous, so I just wanted to be sure you…” He slowed, a dark flush rising in his cheeks. “Got home safe. Which I’m sure you can on your own, because your field scores dwarf mine. I, um…”

He had stuttered to a halt.

He’s embarrassed. And he wanted to help you.

She didn’t have time or energy to process the fact that he’d most definitely profiled her. The sentiment was sort of touching.

Sort of, as far as Spencer Reid was concerned. 

“This… isn’t a Gideon thing?”

Reid chuckled quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “No. It’s, ah, a me thing. Gideon offered me a ride home, but I said no.”

She tilted her head at him, frowning as the train squealed into the station. “No shit?”

He laughed again, shaking his head and offering a small smile, his cheeks still flushed, but relief in his eyes. “No shit.”

“...Fine. But only because I’m really tired… You know, you could have said all this, or offered, in the bullpen, right? You didn’t have to follow me to the train like a stalker.”

The blush flooded his cheeks again, and he shrugged, unable to meet her eyes. “I didn’t want you to yell at me or something in front of everyone else.”

Her heart sank. 

Look what you’ve done, Kody. You made him anxious to be alone with you because he thinks you’re some crazy person that’s going to fly off the handle.

Well, aren’t you?

“I wouldn’t do that, Spencer,” She said, starting towards the train door. “I appreciate the concern… thanks.”

He looked up, eyes flashing a combination of relief and hesitance. “Oh. Yeah. Ah, yeah, sure.”

They sat down inside the train, Kit immediately leaning her head against the window. She sighed, closing her eyes.

Maybe Reid isn’t so bad. Maybe he’ll stay quiet, or read the whole way and you can actually get a short-

“You know, there’s a staggering amount of germs on the window on a DC train. Approximately 45% of people…”

-----

Spencer stalked away from her door, his long legs making him look somewhat like a baby giraffe as he turned to descend the stairs. He gave a last, incredibly awkward wave.

“See you tomorrow, Dakota,” he said.

She fought back the instinct to groan. “Bye Reid, thanks.”

He grinned as his head slipped below her sight line and she let out a sigh, her entire body seeming to settle into exhaustion. It was late, and dark, and hopefully she would be able to slip into the apartment and deal with her siblings in the morning before she left for work. She’d talk to Monty then, and Ari at the clinic, and everything would be fine.

She’d need to call Ginny, but she could do that in the morning as well. She needed to sleep first. Sleep, and then deal with whatever came.

Her hand fumbled a bit with the key as she tried to fit it correctly into the door, eyes dry and tired and brain scrambled. The residual jittery, anxious feeling of both the case and messing the the time on her medication wasn’t helping her fine motor skills, and she’d nearly resigned to search through her backpack for the flashlight she kept when the doorknob was ripped away from her hand, the door flying open. 

Something hard slammed into her body, arms wrapping around her in a vice grip and knocking the wind out of her.

Instead of words, there were hitching sobs from her attacker. Congested sounding, sad, and overly frustrated, matched with hot tears that were falling onto her shoulder. She took a breath, wrapping her arms around Monty and holding her as close as she could.

“Shh, it’s okay, dair, I’m okay,” she mumbled quietly, feeling her twin’s arms tighten around her. 

“Don't… ever do that,” Monty managed, voice gravely and tearful. “Never, ever.”

“Oi, Mont, what-” Ari turned the corner, making eye contact with Kit over their sister’s shoulder. She watched physical tension release in his shoulders. “Ah. Okay. Mont, deirfiúr, come in and close the door. She’s okay. We’re fine.”

The mixing of languages wrapped around Kit, filling her like a breath she hadn’t taken in days. Monty let go, rubbing furiously at her streaming eyes as she walked back through the door, settling down on their couch and curling herself into a ball.

Ari pulled Kit through the door, looking at Monty and shaking his head. There was no need for the mix now, they could speak as they did among themselves. “Ah, no, get up. Come on. She’s tired, you’re sick. Bed. Now.”

Kit didn’t know how it happened, but they all ended up in Ari’s bed. Granted, it was the biggest. He didn’t share a room, and he was significantly taller than both she and Monty had ever hoped to be. They’d slept all together as children often, and when they were first living in the district on the floor at Ginny’s, they ended up in some sort of pile of limbs the nights they all worked the same shifts. 

Now they rarely did. Six months before when they were back at home after Al needed to get his appendix out. A year before that when their Grandad had died. Before that? She wasn’t sure she remembered. 

Monty’s head rested on her chest, quiet congested snoring coming from her in even breaths. Her face was flushed; from fever or crying, Kit wasn’t sure.

She’d been nearly pulled into Ari’s lap, and now her head rested on his stomach, rising and falling just slightly as he slept. 

Regardless of how incredibly exhausted she was, she forced herself to stay awake and listen. To feel them breathing. To be sure they were there, and alive.

JJ’s words played in her head. 

You do.

She deserved to be with the BAU. She deserved to be there.

Her senses focused back in on her cúpla, and the stress she’d caused them. The fear. The anxiety.

But do you really want to be?

-----

It's me again!

The plan right now is to make each season (year?) a different story, with a different song as the title and lyrics for the chapters. I'm a music person, this is the only way I operate.

If you've heard a song that made you feel feelings, hit me with it!

[currywaifu]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: hidden side 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: chigasaki itaru/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 3.4k words

𝐚𝐧: Thank you for the request ♡ Lowkey based off similar experiences from school lol ~♪ I had so many different ideas, but I wanted to write this one for a while so here we go! P.S, happy belated birthday @starryneve​ :> ♡

Normally he’d be able to withstand not opening his phone every few minutes— he’d always make sure to clear all his AP, LP, SP, BP, whatever P before heading to work. Stamina bonuses were never a problem too, either he’d head to the comfort room or log-in during lunch break.

However, events were simultaneously running right now and he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna rank in the top 1%, no, 0.1%.

Itaru discreetly looked around the office, and as soon as the coast was clear he opened up his desk drawer. His phone was stored inside, his team of expensive waifus auto-battling against the enemies for this event.

They weren’t doing bad at all, but he trusted himself a little more than the AI.

As he went over the best skills to use on the final boss, he heard a knock against the divider separating his desk from his co-workers.

“Code red, Chigasaki-san.” You muttered, volume low enough so only he’d be able to hear you.

Yikes, a red so early in the day? His boss must want something done immediately.

He hastily shut the drawer, sighing in relief that the metal filing cabinet barely made any noise.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully as he watched his boss approach from the corner of his eye, already looking agitated with a word yet to be spoken.

“Chigasaki, I need you to work on a new project,” his boss drawled on with the details; Itaru’s ears somehow being able to pick up on the necessary information despite all the words blurring in his head. Something about a presentation being needed and closing a deal— he’ll just check his email for specifics.

He continued to nod, pretending to absorb everything when in reality he was just looking forward to finishing the battle and getting his rewards.

However, hearing your name halted his movements. As you peaked over from your desk, Itaru could tell even you looked a little caught off-guard at the sudden mention.

“Yes, sir?” you questioned, swiveling your chair to face the two men.

“Since you’ve dealt with GeneSys before, I’m assigning both you and Chigasaki as the heads,” he explained, “there shouldn’t be a problem with this arrangement, right?”

“No, sir,” you replied.

“Not at all. We’ll start on the project as soon as possible,” he sent off his boss with a polite smile as the both of you watched his back disappear.

The silence restored in the room, you let out a quiet laugh to break the tension. “Honestly, thank god I’m partnered with you,” you sighed in relief, before humming thoughtfully “although I might get some envious stares for a couple of days.”

He pursed his lips.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he said, but by the twinkle in your eyes, he could tell you knew he wasn’t being truthful.

Not that he minded. It would be an understatement to say he was pleased you were the one assigned to help him; if he could set a favourite co-worker, it’d probably be you. Not only were you dependable with work, but you didn’t bother him needlessly either. Even so, the two of you weren’t exactly friends, at least not until a month ago.

“Thanks for saving me. If he found out I was using my phone…” he trailed off as you shook your head understandingly.

“It’s fine, Chigasaki-san. After all, you’ve saved me a bunch of times as well,” you reminded him, “so what were you doing this time?”

Oh crap, he probably should get back to the game. He shouldn’t keep his waifus waiting, right?

“Oh, just messaging my troupe mates. They wanted to know what time I’d be home for practice,” he lied, pulling the drawer open and quickly selecting the skills and moves to beat up the final boss.

After collecting his rewards, he saw the little red exclamation point by the bento box icon. Lunchtime stamina bonus time~

“I didn’t realise it was 12 already,” he mentioned off-handedly, missing the way you jolted up for a second before pulling open your file drawer as well.

“Should probably have lunch in a while,” you said, unknowingly opening the same game Itaru was playing. “Want to eat lunch together? I’ll go over my previous experience with GeneSys Tech Corp.”

“Sure. The faster we get this over with, the better.”

‘So I could get back to my games in peace,’ the both of you thought.

Corporate slaves needed more rights. The project wasn’t so difficult that he’d collapse in exhaustion, but he was definitely frustrated with all the demands that needed fulfilling.

Should he game to destress? Ah, but he once he starts he might not be able to stop-

Itaru’s phone screen lit up, and he would have thought it was a game notification if it wasn’t for the ringtone blaring. As soon as he saw your name, he wondered if you somehow picked up on the fact that he was planning on slacking off taking a break.

“Good evening,” you greeted him, voice calm and not at all angry— right, he can strike off the ‘my co-worker has a 6th sense?’ theory. “Sorry to disturb you, just felt like checking in. How’s work going from your side?”

He looked at the graph currently shown on his desktop, already feeling a headache incoming. “Not too bad, could be better,” Itaru answered vaguely, not wanting to give you a bad impression.

He couldn’t figure out whether you believed him or not, the only tell being the hum you let out.

“Same boat, then. Seriously, for a company whose most relevant success is a video game in the 90s…”

Itaru immediately perked up, pressed at the mention of the game. “Right? Then again, what do you expect from them after that total disappointment of a sequel that-“ he suddenly stopped.

If he said any more he totally could’ve been in trouble just there.

“Oh, how’d you know about the video game? GeneSys rebranded themselves a couple years ago, so I didn’t think you’d know about it,” you questioned him, leaving Itaru to scramble for the best excuse he could think of.

Yeah, he’s not about to take the risk and assume you knew the game because you’ve played it before.

“Did some research on the company’s past endeavours,” he began, sounding as nonchalant as he possibly could, “I suppose I got a bit invested.”

That was one way to put it. He still remembered being upset as a teenager that the long-awaited sequel was a total cash-grab.

“Pfft,” you let out a small laugh, and for a moment Itaru felt frantic— did you somehow figure him out? He wouldn’t put it past the you who caught him using his phone, when no one else had, a month ago.

“This oddly passionate side to the princely Chigasaki Itaru-san is really nice.”

He was eternally grateful to whatever higher being (beings?) there was that this conversation was taking place over the phone. Despite the air conditioning, his face began to warm like his phone would overheat after playing for too long.

Seriously, all you said was that side of him was nice— not that you knew the full extent— so why did he feel like a cliche otome MC? Wasn’t he past the stage of getting flustered over stuff like this?

“Chigasaki-san, are you still there?” you called out, and Itaru calmed himself down to the best of his abilities before answering.

“Yeah, sorry. Connection got cut for a bit. You were saying?”

If a smile had a sound, he was definitely hearing it right now. “Oh nothing~ I was just thinking that your fans would be so jealous if I told them I got to see a hidden side of their prince just now,” you teased.

Probably not. It’s not exactly the definition of charming, not even urban dictionary worthy, but he’ll indulge you.

He didn’t even bother covering up the huff that escaped him. “And who knew my dependable and quiet project partner was so chatty? Keeping a guy up this late and distracting him from work?”

It was your turn to be silent, and before he could apologise you beat him to it.

“I didn’t realise it was so late! Sorry, I wanted to chat away the stress,” you explained, “should probably stop disturbing you, right?”

He looked at the time. He’s not sure what he’s doing exactly, but he doesn’t need to go in-game until the reset at midnight— might as well refill his irl stamina too, right? Well, if he could be the bento box that helped you refill your energy, why not?

… Yeah, that sounded better in his head.

“I mean, we could probably talk about work on call… or,” he paused for dramatic effect, “we could just talk.”

Itaru’s equally as relieved as you when you breathe a sigh of relief. Oh thank god, he didn’t want to actually talk about work. It was only the first day of the project, both of you had time to kill. Probably.

“Why do I have a feeling you’re gonna end up sniffing out my secrets?”

He snickered at your suggestion. “Then I’m not the co-worker you should be worried about then,” before you could question who he possibly meant, he continued, “though since you got to see a quote, hidden side of me, unquote, shouldn’t I know more about you?”

“Hmmm? Like what?” you asked.

“Like what you even do on your phone anyway? You’re on your phone just as much as me,” as he uttered those words you were voiceless for a split second, not unlike the momentary silence committed by Itaru minutes ago.

You tittered, your awkwardness not going unnoticed. “Mostly reading e-books, nothing too special.”

Okay, but the way you made it sound gave off the impression of it being fan fiction or something. Not that he’d judge, just a little surprising for you he guessed.

“Oh? What’s it about?”

His suspicion died down quickly enough as soon as you went off about the plot and characters of the story you were reading. He made a noise every now and then to let you know he was still listening, moving to his bed as he slipped on his headphones.

As you ranted about some complicated love triangle he figured would be popular in TV dramas and reverse harem routes, the more he found it undeniable that he enjoyed seeing this side of you, too.

He felt the tension of the workday slip off his system, your voice washing it away. Who knows? Maybe you’d consider a career in streaming or ASMR or something.

A couple of minutes pass by, and Itaru’s wordless responses died down after a while.

“Chigasaki-san?” you asked gently, not wanting to disrupt him should your suspicions be correct. When he didn’t respond, you smiled to yourself. Well, midnight just struck after all.

“Good night, sweet dreams,” you whispered before ending the call.

Imagine finding out from a 17-year old brat that his ranking dipped because he fell asleep listening to his co-worker’s voice while waiting for the reset. He was a little upset at having to spend diamonds just to climb back up the leaderboard, but at least he’s in the top 0.1% again. It was nothing a bunch of grinding couldn’t fix.

What he was mortified about, however, was falling asleep in call. He was the one who suggested staying in the call in the first place, yet he dozed off on you. You didn’t send him an angry text or anything, but he was still prepared to press an f in the chat for himself.

Itaru found that you were already sat at your desk by the time he arrived, prodding at the phone inside your drawer. While it was mostly hidden, if he looked close enough he’d probably be able to see what you were doing.

… Not that he was going to, of course. You were mutuals in this we-secretly-use-our-phones-at-work tendency, he wasn’t going to betray you now! Still, he was a little curious. A peek over the shoulder wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Chigasaki-san, good morning! You looked like you rested well~”

Mission failed. We’ll get ‘em next time.

“Aha, my apologies. I suppose I was more tired than usual,” he paused, feeling something off— by the way you narrowed your eyes slightly at something behind him he could tell people were probably eavesdropping.

“Don’t worry! It was getting too late to discuss the upcoming project anyway,” you replied, putting emphasis to deter any rumours. Though you weren’t shouting by any means, the sudden volume definitely got you the response you wanted by the upwards pull of your lips. “We can continue working on it now that you’re here.”

As he sat down, turning his chair to face you, Itaru was unable to mask the small grin he sported on his face. “Very cool of you. So you have this side to you as well?”

“I’ve always wanted to try out a scene like that! Though I always imagined myself more on the MC’s side than the ML’s.”

“Hm? MC? ML?” he asked, feigning ignorance to the terms used. Not that those terms were limited to use in games, but still it was a teensy bit suspicious.

“Oh? Uh, MC for main character and ML for male lead,” you explained to him, not knowing that he already knew what they stood for. “Reviews for novels use those terms a lot, so I guess I picked up on them.”

… damn you right, though.

“Didn’t peg you for an office romance lover,” Itaru said, watching you shrug your shoulders.

“What can I say? I’m a versatile person with many interests~” you grinned, the sudden flash of your teeth a little blinding.

Unexpectedly all it took was one late-night phone call for you to be more comfortable around him; he finds himself feeling much of the same. Still, weren’t you getting a little bolder with your vague responses?

Well, if his dating simulators taught him anything, it was clear that you were begging for a response. For an unathletic man, his heart rate increased steadily like a man on a morning jog— the anticipation similar to what he felt when a game continued to throw him pleasant surprises.

“Really? What else are you interested in, then?” he asked, keeping his voice low so that only the two of you could hear each other. On the outside, the two of you probably (hopefully) looked like you were discussing work; at worst, conspiring a business scheme together— the glint in both of your eyes said otherwise.

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” you laughed quietly, almost tricking Itaru into believing you wouldn’t say any more. “For starters, I’m interested in you,”

He’s, well, more than a little dumbfounded. Shellshocked might be the appropriate word for it. Seriously, who told you it was okay to be so direct? Illegal, absolutely illegal. Someone arrest you already.

Still, his face is as calm and relaxed as ever; you wouldn’t have noticed anything was wrong if not for the colour beginning to dust his cheeks.

“What specifically about me?” He could be digging himself a deeper hole, but all the same, he could use this to turn things around.

You rolled your eyes at him, as though the answer was obvious. “Everything, pretty much— though especially your, let’s call it the non-princely persona. I’m onto you, Chigasaki-san~”

He resisted the urge to laugh, pushing down the bubbling feelings of excitement that threatened to leave him.

“Not if I expose you first, sweetheart~” he threatened jokingly.

Thus began a game that would end sooner than both of you expected.

“Chigasaki-san, is it alright if we end our planning session early today?” you asked him, picking up your mug and placing it between your lips. He found himself mirroring you, drinking his coffee as well before responding.

“Sure. You have something you need to do?” He asked curiously, the dip in his smile showing the slightest disappointment on his features.

Work was still stressful as always but your presence, especially over the past week, had made things bearable if not enjoyable at points.

“Yeah. I have to pick up something from a store and I don’t wanna rush before closing time,” you explained, setting the now-empty ceramic down. “Thank you for the drink, Chigasaki-san. It’s easier to work with no one to bother us, you know?”

“Don’t mention it. You treated me yesterday, so it’s my turn now,” he waved off, shutting his laptop to begin packing up his things. “Need me to drive you to… wherever?”

The two of you exited the coffee shop, the cool breeze hitting your faces as the two of you descended the stairs. As you turned to greet him farewell he fought to keep his hand still as he looked at your wind-blown hair, slightly unruly but endearing at the same time.

“If I didn’t know you better I’d say you just wanted to be around me a little longer,” a soft, airy laugh escaping your throat. A smile touched the corners of his mouth and played in the laugh lines beside his eyes.

“Who’s to say you’re wrong, though?” he watched the red creep from your cheeks to your neck, half reveling in his success and half wondering if it went any further. He’s only a little dismayed that you hastily wished him goodbye and ran off to who knows where, but there was always tomorrow.

By the time you enter the game shop you’ve calmed down, for the most part, hair still a little disheveled but otherwise alright. Did playing around and teasing him finally come to bite you in the ass?

Ugh, that felt like a moment in otome games where the MC decides to tease the ML and the comeback has them all flustered and they run away.

Okay, that’s exactly what happened.

Seriously, you were an adult, what were you doing acting like a teenager? Did the dating simulators infect your brain or something?

You browsed through the new figurines to distract yourself, waiting for the inventory manager to retrieve the game you pre-ordered a while back. Once you and Itaru Chigasaki finished this deal with GeneSys you were going to immediately put in all your free hours into playing the game.

From the corner of your eye, you could see a familiar character, his figurine hidden a couple rows back.

“Damn, haven’t seen you in a while,” you muttered to yourself, grabbing the figurine. Shitty sequels aside, the OG game was totally fun. Maybe it was due for a replay of the game? You could probably dig up the cartridge somewhere in your room.

Distracted by your nostalgia, you wouldn’t have noticed him if it wasn’t for the narrow space causing you two to bump into each other.

“Ah, sorry…” you apologized for blocking the way, about to put back the figurine and move on until you heard your name.

Shit, you knew that voice all too well.

“Chigasaki-san?!” you exclaimed, taking in his widened eyes and knowing your expression wasn’t too far off from his own.

Once the initial wore off, rationality and relief took place. To think you were hiding the extent of your, uh, gaming obsession when in reality he wasn’t too far off, as far as you could tell by the sleek, limited-edition controller he was holding.

Yeah, he might even be worse than you.

“When I implied wanting to spend more time with you, I didn’t think it’d be like this,” he said, a good-natured laugh leaving him. Despite your original embarrassment, you followed suit soon enough.

“I guess we both ended up seeing each other’s secret pastimes at the same time, huh?” you replied, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of it all.

“I was right though,” you began, watching Itaru’s eyebrow quirk upwards.

“Right about what?”

“Liking this hidden side of you,” you smiled in delight as he looked at you uncontrollably fond, finally getting to fix your hair with his free hand.

He’ll ask you out properly some other time, but for now…

“Just the hidden side of me?” he teased, his hand sliding from the top of your head to poke your cheek. “Meanwhile here I am, liking all of you.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes in faux exasperation. “I like all of you, too.”

want to order again?

[mulderist]

Wicked Game

Chapter 1  // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3  // Read on A03

Washington, D.C - 1948. Fox Mulder is a detective on the top vice unit; scandal, corruption, and lies come with the territory. He is forced to investigate a fellow officer and finds the lies go much deeper than the truth.

tagging @today-in-fic​

CHAPTER 4

3rd District Precinct Washington, DC

The modest forensics lab was situated in the basement of the precinct building. A fitting location. It was always a strange trip downstairs, almost like walking into a spook house at an amusement park. You’d notice every creak from the antiquated filing cabinets, there were shelves of textbooks, yellowing medical journals, rows of glass jars containing shriveled specimens. The morgue was tucked away in a corner with a series of metal doors on the tiled wall and a surprisingly shiny slab resting comfortably over a drain in the floor. No more room at the inn by the look of it. Autopsy tools hung neatly on the wall like a butcher’s knife set; at least in this corner the boys kept things tidy. I walked a little deeper into the lab and saw Byers flipping through an issue of National Geographic. I cleared my throat as I approached.

“Mulder. What brings you to our neck of the woods?” Byers asked, dropping the magazine in his lap. The 3rd was fortunate enough to have three pillars of forensic science in Melvin Frohike, Richard Langley, and John Byers. They had their finger on the pulse of crime investigation techniques and were eager to share their findings with practically anyone who would listen. A good deal of the jargon went over my head but it enhanced my vocabulary to say the least. 

“Frohike called me regarding Spender’s case,” I replied, “We might have a golden ticket on our hands.” 

“He and Langley have been upstairs for a while but they should return soon. Have a seat.” He motioned to a wooden stool near a cluttered lab counter. I obliged. Byers was not much of a talker when he was by himself so his attention shifted back to busywork. I picked at the rough edge of my thumb watching Byers place a metal canister on the end of the counter. He opened it then took a sample of a dark substance, added it to the boiling water, and adjusted the flame on the Bunsen burner changing the intensity. He looked up at the wall clock and turned back to his experiment. The color change in the beaker shifted to a dark brown. Byers gave it a stir and covered the top. He sensed my curiosity.

“Coffee will be ready in a few minutes if you’d like some.”

I laughed and politely declined.

“Don’t you have a percolator?”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Just then Frohike and Langley entered the lab.

“Oh good. You’re here,” said Frohike as he reached for a nearby lab coat, slipped into the sleeves and flipped it up onto his shoulders.

“We had a whale of a meeting upstairs,” Langley added, shoving a worn out briefcase across the counter making an open space, “Looks like Spender’s dirty little secret is out.”

“Krycek, my informant, pegged him as a hop head. I knew Spender could be a little on edge but I thought he was too straight-laced to use heroin.” I folded my arms. “What did Skinner have to say?” 

“The boss was none too pleased to find out that one of their top boys was on the horse.” Langley stated.

“And a thoroughbred at that. He was probably dipping into Vincenti’s supply.” Frohike remarked as he adjusted his glasses.

I sighed and shook my head. Byers poured his scientific brew into a small mug for himself and took a sip before saying, “Well there’s your motive.”

His colleagues shrugged in agreement as they each grabbed a cup of coffee.

“Makes you wonder if he was just starting out and got careless,” Langley said.

“Or he had been knee deep in the shit since making a deal, overconfidence took over, he couldn’t pay up and then blammo,” I said as I stood and leaned against the lab counter. Something about this seemed too easy. We had the gunman, we had a relatively clear motive, and we had the Captain scrambling to stuff this whole matter back under the rug. I needed to track down The Titan and put the squeeze on him for some information. Though with a newly buried partner I would need a second set of eyes on my surveillance job.

“Well boys, it’s been a treat but I have to make some telephone calls.”

“Hey Mulder,” Frohike called, “you should take some time for yourself; slow down for a day maybe.”

“That’s what whiskey is for.” I replied as I left the lab and took the stairs, not knowing what I’d walk into when I hit the bullpen.

Several officers didn’t bat an eye as I passed by their desks and I continued to avoid any eye contact as I glanced at my wristwatch. I reached my desk and pulled the phone closer as I took a seat, picking up the receiver. My index finger hovered over the rotary and just as I started to pull the number I heard the distinct baritone of Captain Skinner calling my name. It wasn’t bellowed so I knew I wasn’t being called in to serve detention for misconduct. I placed both hands on my desk and stood then met him at his office door. He blocked the threshold.

“Have you heard?” he asked.

“Yes. I was just down in forensics. I came up here to get started on what I presume is a surveillance assignment.”

Skinner thought for a moment.

“I want you to get a hold of Krycek. He’s going to accompany you on this detail.”

“Oh he’ll be thrilled.”

“Go on then,” Skinner said as he tensed his jaw, “And get me some goddamn answers.”

------

Georgetown Waterfront 1:05 p.m.

  Rain tapped angrily against the roof of the unmarked cruiser as I sat parked down the block from the Piccola Italia restaurant. It was a hole in the wall but a well known haunt for some of Vincenti’s crew. I hoped Carlo Lodi would be tempted by a lunch special of pasta arrabiata and cheap wine. My deli sandwich and soda I grabbed before the cloudburst paled in comparison, but I needed something in my stomach. I took another bite and watched a series of passersby through the streaks of rain on the window. I was early. I adjusted the radio dial and finished my lunch. With a swipe of the wiper blade I noticed a black coupe pull up in front of the restaurant. The door popped open and a hulking figure exited the passenger side, adjusted his jacket, and stepped under the awning out of the rain. He waited for his driver to join him before opening the front door. Just then there was a knock on my window. Krycek had his collar pulled up and drips of water cascaded off the brim of his hat. I rolled the window down to get a better look.

“You gonna let me in?”

“I don’t know if I can afford it.”

“Damnit Mulder...”

“It’s unlocked, Krycek.” I said as I looked at the empty passenger seat then rolled up the window, catching a splash of rain. He crossed in front of the car and waited for traffic to clear before opening the door. He sighed as he removed his hat and brushed off the rainwater. 

“Alright fill me in,” Krycek said. I turned down the radio and had the last swig of soda. 

“Recognize the car down there?” I began. He leaned forward and caught a glimpse as the wiper blade swiped the windshield.

“That looks like Carlo Lodi’s coupe.”

“He’s not alone. His lunch date is a suit that’s either a driver or a business partner, if you get my meaning. They’ve been in there for maybe ten minutes so if I move I can get what I need before his main course arrives.”

“Okay then,” Krycek said as he put his hat back on. 

“I’m just going to have a nice conversation. I need to get him talking. If I get him back to the precinct I can be more heavy-handed.” I adjusted my fedora and touched my weapon for reassurance. 

“You’re not saying “we” a whole lot. What the hell did you need me for?”

“At first I had you joining me on spoiling Lodi’s lunch but then I thought he might recognize you as a mole so you get to stay put. Keep the car running. If things take a turn I want you to head to the 3rd; with or without me. Ask for Captain Skinner.”

“Aw shucks this feels just like old times,” Krycek replied as he fished out a beat-up pack of Morleys shaking a stick loose. He pulled it out with his teeth then tipped his head down as he flipped his lighter, marrying flame to paper, blessing the squad car with a halo of smoke. Car tires splashed through wet pavement and I took that as my cue to get this show on the road. I opened the door and stepped onto the curb. The rain had slacked up as I walked. I narrowly avoided an umbrella being opened by an old man exiting a taxi. He continued on like I wasn’t even there.

Piccola Italia’s brick facade with its windows dressed in red and white gingham curtains fit the stereotype, as much as I hate to admit. But none of that mattered when I stepped inside and was hit with the aroma of bread, oil, and garlic. If I didn’t have a more pressing obligation I would have claimed a table and ordered a plate. I flashed my badge to the young woman at the cashier’s counter and she quickly nodded then went back to straightening menus. I moved past dark wood tables with diners enjoying an array of pastas and soups. My instinct led me through the dining room and I happened upon a curved booth tucked in a back corner near the kitchen. Lodi was there with his driver, luckily still just the two of them. He was reading the sports page from the newspaper and folded it in half then tapped a finger against it.

“That fuckin’ horse is gonna make me a stack of green, I’m telling ya.” He boasted with a laugh.

“Excuse me, Mr. Lodi?” I asked as I approached his table. He put down the paper and took a sip from his glass of wine and gave me a quizzical look.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah I believe you can.” I carefully reached for my badge and flipped it open. “Detective Fox Mulder. I just want to chat.”

“And what makes you think I want to listen, detective?”

“I see you got the sports section there. What’s your game? Baseball, football?”

Lodi shot a look at his driver and gestured towards my direction. 

“This guy...if you must know Mr Mulder, I like the races.”

I took a seat across from him and folded my arms. Then I truly realized how much of a mountain this man was. His square jawline met a thick neck that was being held together by a stiff shirt collar and silk tie. I was waiting for it to burst open with each swallow. Broad shoulders and a barrel chest led to limbs that were solid muscle. The ring on his left pinky finger was about the size of a doorknob and had an insignia in the center. His pin-striped suit looked custom given his proportions. I got a little too comfortable and leaned forward in my chair, threading my fingers together.

“About a week ago, did you talk to a Jeffrey Spender about a horse race. Maybe come to collect a bet?” The mention of the name caught Lodi’s attention and he picked up on my code. Before he could respond, a waiter saddled up to the table and delivered a plate of pasta with a fiery red sauce. Lodi took another sip of wine.

“If I had to come collect you know there was a good reason for it,” he said as he twisted pasta on his fork then took a bite. The other man at the table started to undo his cuffs and slowly roll up his shirt sleeves.

“Well on behalf of the 3rd District precinct, I’d like to invite you over for a little heart to heart.,” I maintained a relaxed facade even though I knew what was coming, “We’ve got evidence placing you at a bar in Adams Morgan the same night as Spender.” Lodi ate another bite and closed his eyes savoring the spice. As he took his wine glass he raised his pinky finger which was the signal. I blinked and then I swear to God I saw enough stars to grace the American flag. A meaty Italian right hook slammed into my cheek like a sledgehammer. Glad he wasn’t wearing a ring. I was knocked sideways to the floor and I tried to catch the nearby table but instead let a dining chair unceremoniously break my fall. I never could take a hit. The few patrons in the restaurant barely took notice at the commotion. Carlo dabbed at the corner of his mouth and rose from his seat.

“Thank you, Theo,” he said as he moved over to pat my assailant’s shoulder. The enforcer’s goon cracked his knuckles and stood looking very pleased with himself. I moved my tongue to the inside of my cheek tasting fresh blood. I adjusted myself to sit upright, though not ready to stand just yet. I snatched a neatly folded napkin from one of the empty place settings and tried to dam the small crimson river from my mouth. Carlo crouched down next to me.

“So, you thought you could just walk into this fine establishment, disrupt my meal, and arrest me?”

“Until now it hasn’t stopped me,” I mumbled against the napkin. 

“Unless you got a warrant in hand, I’m not going anywhere. And this business with who was it...Spender? That’s done and so are you.”

“Why don’t you just bump me off like you did him?” I asked as I tossed the bloody napkin aside. Carlo thought for a moment and leaned in closer.

“I like seeing you get knocked around every once in a while, Detective Mulder.  Puts a smile on my face.” He blessed me with two exaggerated slaps on the cheek then got to his feet. “I think we’re finished here. Theo, show this son of a bitch the way out.” Carlo returned to his meal and raised a glass in my direction. I was still on my ass. I reached for my fedora and Theo took the liberty of hoisting me to my feet. The gorilla hands that left a new beauty mark gripped my upper arms and shoved me towards the kitchen.

“Easy there junior, my dance card is full.” I said as we moved through a swinging door. I was briefly distracted by the aroma of simmering marinara, stewing beef, and an array of spices.  The sous chef and line cooks unphased by the disturbance continued prepping as I was hustled towards the back door and pushed out into the alley.  I stumbled into the brick wall across the way and before I could turn around to get the final say, the goon slammed the metal door shut.  My head tilted back and I gingerly rolled it from side to side. I adjusted the brim on my hat and shuffled down the alley towards the street.

The rain had passed and I found Krycek parked where I left him. He had a fresh cigarette in his lips and was reclined against the car seat.  I tapped on the window and he unrolled it letting the rhythm of Count Bassie and his orchestra glide onto the sidewalk. 

“Looks like negotiations went well,” he said with a chuckle.

“Yeah you could say that,” I replied. My cheek felt like someone was inflating a balloon under the surface. I needed a drink. A wisp of smoke swirled out of the window and Krycek flicked the butt into a puddle. 

“Take the car back to the precinct.”

“What?”

“You can leave it running with the doors open if you want.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Take some advice I was given earlier today and get some rest. This case isn’t going cold anytime soon.” I watched as Krycek shifted gears and pulled away from the curb. There was a pang of mistrust thinking that the unmarked squad car would end up somewhere along the Potomac; but I also got the suspicion that Alex liked playing detective. Also long as I kept him on a short leash I could use him to my advantage. I crossed the street and walked the block until I found a phone booth. Before I slid open the door I had to spit out the stale blood that was collecting in my mouth. My cheek burned like fire. I picked up the receiver and dialed the operator.

“Yes I’m looking for a Dana Scully. Georgetown address.”

[fanfalc-616]

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Twelve

(Prevoius chapter here)

(Discord Here)

Happy 10th Anniversary!!

Kai is done. He so fucking done with this shit.

He’s getting Zane out, and he’s getting him out right this very minute. It’s already been a month and a half, he’s not going to wait for some long term plan, not when he could be busting Zane out right now!

Kai had spent days and days studying every government file he could possibly get his hands on until he finally figured out where they were keeping Zane.

Some of the things they had written were just plain disgusting.

‘Original has yet to perform as expected, but this is not a large complication as said subject appears to be reaching appropriate behavioral status. Even so, it will require much more regulation before it begins functioning optimally.’

It had taken time to be able to figure out what the hell they had been talking about, but when he translated it he had felt almost sick.

Zane isn’t doing what they want, but they’re starting to make him behave by straight up torturing him. But the worst part is that they don’t even seem to have a problem with that kind of thing.

And even after he had found and translated the files, he had still had to come up with a plan to get inside the near-impenetrable fortress.

There’s a large open field around the base, likely so that they can see anyone who would try to break in or escape.

As a ninja, it’s not even that difficult. He just hides under a truck and hopes he doesn’t fly off as it goes up to the base.

In all honesty, he never thought that the underside of a car would smell so bad. How does Jay enjoy working on these things?

When the truck finally pulls up, Kai carefully unhooks himself and sneakily creeps away, doing his best to not be spotted by the guards.

They scout out the perimeter, but he manages to find lapses in their patterns that let him just barely avoid being seen as he gets inside- though he did have to use Airjitzu at one point.

Caution is the way to go with this. Every step he takes has to be precise. He can’t afford to slip up- not with Zane on the line.

Kai carefully sneaks around, trying to find the cubby that Zane is being kept in. The files he had found gave him a lot more information than he should probably have.

A mission has never been so stressful before. It really shouldn’t be so difficult, but his unease and worry are starting to get to him. Even things as simple as hiding behind a box are leaving him shaking.

If he’s being honest, he probably should’ve told the others about his plan. But they would’ve tried to stop him, probably worrying that he’d get put in jail again.

But this time, he’s not being reckless. This time, he’s putting his best foot forward.

This time, he’s going to save Zane.

It takes him some time to figure out where these cubbies are- because they seriously just put him away like an object on a shelf- and even longer to figure out which one is Zane’s.

Even then, it’s not over. Checking over his shoulder repeatedly, Kai carefully picks the lock, thankful that he had managed to convince Lloyd to teach him.

When he finally opens the locker, he feels relief flood through him.

Then it’s mixed by horror as he sees just how damaged his boyfriend is- they tore his face off. They seriously tore his face off what in the name of the First-

“Kai.” Zane breathes out, a series of conflicting emotions on his face- but they’re all nothing compared to the fear overlaying them.

He looks like he’s near tears, and Kai takes a step forward, ready to finally comfort him, to take his boyfriend home.

Finally.

This nightmare is over.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Zane punches the faux-Kai in the stomach, somewhat upset the fact that his hands are still cuffed. It will be difficult to fend off the one in place of his love like this, but he will manage.

The false Kai stumbles back, clutching his abdomen. “What was that for?!” He chokes out, trying to move closer again.

Wedging himself further back in the locker, Zane glares heavily. “I will not be fooled by your lies!” He snaps. “This facade of yours won’t trick me!”

Pseudo-Kai glances around, slight panic forming on his face. “They’re gonna hear you!” He hisses quietly. “C’mon, we need to get you out of here!”

He tries to grab Zane, but the white ninja resists to the best of his ability. He is unsure what they have planned in store for him, but he knows for a fact that he will not allow himself to be fooled any longer.

“Release me!” Zane demands, managing to get a kick in hard enough that sends the fake Kai skidding back.

“Zane, we have to get you out of here!” Faux-Kai insists, a look of fear and confusion about him as he attempts to grab the white ninja once again. “We don’t have time for this!”

Zane continues to fend him off, and though he is pulled from the locker, he refuses to give any more ground.

“I would rather be tortured than go anywhere with the likes of you!” He snarls, silently cursing the fact that his hands are bound.

It’s difficult, it’s so difficult to hold his ground when he sees the look of hurt and pain on his love’s face.

But Zane shakes his head, trying to dispel the feeling. No, this isn’t Kai, this is an imitation of him, a false version generated by his deluded sensors.

“Zane, I don’t want to fight you! Please, we need to get you out of here! The guards will be back soon, we can’t-“

That’s it. The guards! If they truly want him to believe that this is Kai, they will take him away when they show up.

But they would not listen if he called for them. They never listen to anything he says or does, so they likely would ignore him. So how could he-

As the pseudo-Kai still seems to be figuring out what to do, Zane darts over to a wall and pulls an alarm.

The guards had come when Cryptor had done such, and they will have to show again for the sake of authenticity.

The false Kai stares at him with a look of borderline horror. “Why would you do that?!” He demands. “We can’t-“

In that moment, the guards appear, quickly surrounding them.

Zane glares at them. “Get him out of here!” He demands. “And you plan to punish me for this defiance, so be it! I have learned from my mistakes, and I will not be fooled again!”

While they start dragging the faux-Kai away, Zane turns and heads back to his locker. Even as the simulated version of his boyfriend yells after him, he doesn’t listen, he doesn’t even look back.

When he steps inside the locker, he closes the door, allowing them to re-lock it.

He will not be fooled again.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Kai shouts after Zane, but his boyfriend doesn’t reply, he willfully goes back inside his tiny cell, not even bothering to look back at him.

“Zane!” Kai calls out to his boyfriend as he tries to resist the guards, but not only are they skilled, there’s just too many of them! “Zane, what are you doing?!”

He’s roughly put in handcuffs and dragged away as he struggles to comprehend what has just happened.

What had they been doing to Zane? What could they possibly have done to make him not even trust the sight of Kai?

He continues to resist, but no matter what he does, he can’t make any progress.

Even when he’s taken outside and put in the back seat of a police truck, he still doesn’t stop fighting, he doesn’t stop trying to get back to Zane, to get that locker open and save him-

But nothing works. The cuffs are vengestone, and the guards are just too strong.

He’s once again taken to the police station, and Kai curses under his breath when he sees it.

Not only did he fail to save Zane, he’s also going back to jail, where his teammates will have to pick him up- again.

When he’s put back in the cell, he sighs, still trying to wrap his head around what had happened.

They need to save Zane. Every moment they wait, he goes through more and more.

But his plans aren’t working. He only gets in trouble whenever he tries.

… maybe he should try actually listening to the others.

“Zane…” he mutters to himself, “Zane, I promise we’ll get you out of there. Just hold on a little longer.”

“Hold on.”

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Zane is taken to the training room not long after the fake Kai had been taken away and he sighs as he realizes that he will likely be punished for not allowing himself to be tricked.

Martha steps into the room, a rather intrigued look on her face.

“I’m glad you’re finally starting to see your place. You really do belong here.” She smiles, sounding somewhat amused.

Zane scoffs. “I would not be fooled by such an imitation!” He snaps, annoyance taking over him. With all the manipulation they had done, do they truly believe that he would continue to fall for their obvious lies?

“Original…” Martha shakes her head, “if he was an imitation, why would we have taken him away?”

Sighing, Zane decides to hold the conversation, even though it seems to be only to bother him. “To make it seem as though he was real when he was not, to delude me into thinking-“

“No. In what situation have we ever ended an illusion because you wanted us to? We would have created an excuse, claimed that he drew them away.” Martha explains, and Zane hates how her words ring true. Everything they had done so far points to the fact they would do that.

“This- you lie!” He argues against her despite that. He would not have fought off the real Kai, he would not allow himself to stay in this wretched place, he-

“Claim what you will, Original. But you know that I’m right. That was your teammate. And now, you’ll never see him again.”

While Zane knows they can manipulate his sensors, every scam he runs proves that she’s not lying, and every thought process points that what she says is true.

“I… you- it…” He finds himself fumbling for words, desperately trying to find a way to prove that she’s wrong.

“Take it back to its locker. It did good today; no training is necessary.”

Horror has fully taken over him when he’s returned to the locker, and he tries to struggle against them, though he knows it’s futile.

That night, he cries himself to sleep.

He really is just a stupid metal box.

[voiceless-terror]

hi friend!!!! i love your writing!!! if you're taking prompts from the bingo card (if you're not then feel free to delete this!!), how about N5 for Jon? :) i hope you have a great day!!

‘fighting to pay attention to urgent information’ ahh i love this prompt!! thank you so much for the ask, it means a lot since i love your writing so much (and it  inspired me to starting posting my stuff, to be honest). Here you go, I hope you like! This takes place right after Sasha makes her statement to Jon in season one.

Sasha is talking but Jon can’t hear her.

It’s all muddled in his mind. So many things have happened over the last couple of weeks- Martin’s worm attack and now Sasha’s encounter with Michael- and his mind is refusing to process. She gave her statement in his office and was now explaining the situation to Martin and Tim while Jon stood awkwardly in the doorway, trying to nod at the appropriate time.

“We’ll need a plan of attack if Prentiss comes or if any of us encounter Michael again,” she’s saying. “Martin’s already living here, but-”

A plan. Yes. A plan would be good but Jon can’t think beyond Sasha bleeding in his office and Martin throwing open his door demanding to be heard. The worms on the pavement crawl and creep and remind him of something he thought he’d finally put behind him but he’s been chasing it the entire time, hasn’t he?

His body feels at once too hot and too cold. Jon’s never understood that about illness. How a body can burn with fever and shake with a chill at the same time. But he’s not sick, he’s just...overwhelmed. Needs to eat a normal meal, needs to get some sleep. If he could just get a deep breath in his lungs the black spots would stop dancing in front of his vision and he could pay attention and come up with a plan. 

But every other word is ‘worms’ and ‘infestation’ and all matter of disturbing things and his mind goes wild with imagination, horrible scenarios playing out in his mind as his breaths turn into an uneven staccato of sound that he tries to stifle.

“-could get more CO2 you think? Jon?” That’s your name.

“A-Ah, yes. I’ll t-talk to Elias.” Sasha nods and Jon is relieved to have said the right thing. The fog in his brain lifts; the panic eases for just a few moments but it only reveals more physical pain and he starts to shake. He knows he needs to sit down soon or he’ll be lying on the ground either way. So he slowly backs out of the room, hoping no one notices as his hands grasp at the wall for balance. He manages to stumble back to Document Storage before he hears someone calling his name. But he’s lost now, barely breathing as his heart stutters in his chest and he sinks to the floor.

________

Martin had been watching Jon while Sasha spoke. Martin watched Jon a lot- innocently, of course, and Jon never seemed to notice. He was either willfully ignorant or really that oblivious. 

Martin was starting to double down on the ‘willfully ignorant’ theory. 

Jon was nodding along, sure. But his face held a detached blankness, as if each word were in one ear and out the other. Of course he would zone out during this conversation; it involved real, actual supernatural occurrences. He only contributed once, a vague promise to talk to Elias, who was turning out to be a very useless manager. Martin thought Jon was getting better about this. After all, he seemed to believe both Martin and Sasha’s stories. But he watched as Jon moved further and further out of the room when he should be contributing to the conversation. He disappeared down the hallway and Martin let out an irritated sigh, drawing Tim and Sasha’s attention.

“What’s up?” Tim asked from his perch on Sasha’s desk. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna figure this out-”

“It’s not-” Martin got up, starting to make his way down the hallway. “It’s Jon. I can’t believe he would just walk out on this. I’m going to go talk to him.”

“Martin-” Sasha sounded hesitant but he ignored her as he spotted the open door to Document Storage. Why would Jon go  here instead of his office? This was Martin’s room with his things. And I didn’t exactly keep it clean. “Jon?” he called out. “Jon, you need to- what are you doing?”

The man was leaning against his cot, knees brought up to his chest as he stared at the floor. His glasses were tucked into his sweater and his hair was a mess, as if he’d been running his fingers through it. And he was ignoring Martin in favor of whatever the hell he found so interesting about the floor. Martin stooped down to his level, ignoring the twinge in his knees on the cold cement. “What’s going on?” he asked again, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. God, Jon could be so infuriating at times, but he was still concerned.

Jon barely spared him a glance and tightened his arms around his knees, looking like a ball of tension. His shoulders moved very minutely upwards in a sort of shrugging motion and Martin thought he heard a mumble of ‘’nothing, fine,” under his breath and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He moved in closer, setting a firm hand on Jon’s bony shoulder- when did he get so thin?

“Look, I know it’s a lot,” Martin tried for comfort, though it was getting harder and harder to do so these days when the man refused to see reason. “But you can’t just bury your head in the sand whenever someone says something you don’t want to hear, alright? We’re all struggling and it would be a lot easier if we had a boss who actually listened instead of- shit.”

Jon was shaking so much. How had he not noticed? His breathing was off, like a sputtering engine as his white-knuckled grip dug into his knees. His face was ashen and sweaty. He was clearly unwell but he opened his mouth anyway in an attempt to respond. His eyes did not meet Martin’s.

“It’s- it’s all I think about,” he began, his voice more of a croak than the smooth baritone Martin was used to. “She’s after us, after you and Sasha and now there’s Michael and I don’t know what to do.” Martin watched in horror as his eyes filled with tears and his voice trembled. “And- and what if I go home and she’s waiting there? What if she gets Tim? What if we aren’t safe anywhere?” A slender hand shot out and grabbed onto Martin’s sweater, startling him as Jon’s eyes met his own with a desperate fervor. “I-I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. And Elias doesn’t even care, just w-watches while we all scramble around doing- doing-” his voice broke into a hacking cough and Martin couldn’t witness any more. He dislodged Jon’s hand and backed away. Seeing Jon like this was uncomfortable and he wasn’t sure what to do about it, so he went into his natural problem-solving mode. “I’m going to get you some water, yeah? You’re- you’re not well, we can talk about this later.” Despite keeping his voice soft and low, Martin watched as Jon shrunk into himself, desperately trying to stifle his coughs. “I’ll be right back.”

He hightailed it out of the storage area, eyes firmly on the ground and steps so quick he didn’t notice Tim until he ran right into him.

“Oof! What’s wrong, Martin?” Tim said as he grabbed him by the shoulder. “Boss giving you trouble?” Martin shook his head, voicing his next words as diplomatically as possible. 

“He’s, um- I think he’s sick?” Tim’s brow furrowed in concern. “I’m just going to get him some water, yeah.” He walked off before Tim could ask another question; he didn’t want to leave Jon alone for too long but he also didn’t want to be subjected to Tim’s questioning.

It only took him a couple of minutes to grab some water and a cold towel but by the time he got back to the room Jon was laid out on his cot, eyes barely open as Tim said something Martin couldn’t hear and smiled softly at the man in the bed. He knew they’d all known each other before the Archives; it was something that he thought about quite a bit, to be honest. But he’d never really seen Jon interact with someone like this, so quiet and trusting that he nodded off right in front of them.  

“There you are!” Tim said, uncharacteristically quiet. He reached out and Martin handed over the supplies, still stupefied by the whole situation. 

“Just gonna let him sleep for a mo’ before I force this down his throat,” he chuckled as he gently placed the towel on his forehead. “Glad you checked up on him- didn’t realize he was having a rough go of it. I’m usually a bit more observant.”

“We’re all having a rough go of it, Tim,” Martin felt like he had to explain some of his frustration. “How did he let himself get to this point? I mean, he’s always so skeptical on the tapes but it turns out he’s worked himself up so much he’s sick and it doesn’t make any sense.”

“We all tell our lies, Martin,” The words weren’t said unkindly, but he remembered that Tim knew about his resume and though he didn’t think the man would ever tell anyone it did seem like the words were rather pointed. “His coping mechanism is all this skeptic nonsense. Don’t get me wrong, it’s terrible and very annoying,” Tim conceded, giving Martin a knowing look. “But not all of us ended up here accidentally. Most of us are here for answers. For a reason.” Tim’s far off look reminded him that he knew so little about the people he worked with. He wondered what Tim’s reason was, what Jon’s was. And if they would ever feel comfortable enough to confide in him. 

Martin doesn’t know how to respond to those words, so he does what he does best- deflect and nervously offer his services. “I can throw the kettle on, maybe order some takeaway? Food would probably make him feel better.” 

“Yeah, reckon it would,” Tim’s just staring at Jon as he fitfully dozed. Tim may not have been attacked directly but he looked tired and worried all the same. “He likes Thai.”

Martin noted the fact down for his mental file on Jonathan Sims. Hates spiders. Likes his tea with milk, no sugar. Hates my handwriting. Likes Thai. It’s not very comprehensive.

Later, when he’s making tea in the break room, he watches as Sasha slips into the hallway to Document Storage, attempting to go unnoticed. She’s got a hand to her shoulder like she’s trying to rub away the ache and Martin grabs some paracetamol out of the cabinet, knowing both her and Jon will need it. Everyone in the Archives likes to hide their pain, himself included. But maybe for one night they could help each other out. Four tired humans against two eldritch abominations.

Martin could get behind those odds.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065482

[astralaffairs]

secret agent laf delivering the final blow like “this is for france!” and thomas like “i have literally no idea what youre talking about”

im sorry but u KNOW that his dumb ass just jumps to the stupidest conclusions he could possibly find 🤡

---

Thomas was sick of monotonous Fridays, but this wasn't exactly the antibiotic he was looking for.

He was still half asleep behind his desk. His secretary had long since left for the evening; by then, it was the receptionist on the ground floor, his dying potted plants, a few abandoned draft reports, and him. The quiet almost would've been peaceful had the siren song of the couch in his office not been seducing him into a much-needed slumber. It was only a few feet away; who'd know in the morning that he'd slept in the office.

But no -- he needed to focus. If he finished everything he needed done that night, the rest of the weekend could actually be relaxing, which seemed all but a pipe dream from where he was sitting. He'd just managed to lock himself into his most daunting task when the call box on his desk buzzed. He furrowed his brow, leaning over to respond.

He pressed his thumb down on the call button. "Hey, Nancy, who's here at ten PM?"

"The Marquis de Lafayette says he has a meeting with you."

His eyebrows shot up. What could Lafayette possibly be doing there? No matter what it was, he was sure it was more exciting than poring over financial records for the remainder of his night. "Alright. Yeah, send him up."

In the few minutes from then until the elevator dinged, signaling that Lafayette had reached the floor of his office, Thomas's focus was all but nonexistent. His curiosity (and deep, deep desire for a distraction) had the better of him, so when he finally saw Lafayette approaching, his face lit up.

"Hey, Laf, what're you doin' here so late?" Thomas raised an eyebrow, wore an easy smile as Lafayette let himself into his office. However, his unexpected visitor seemed far from lighthearted.

"I am 'ere on a bit of urgent business."

Thomas's eyebrows shot up as he heard the door lock, and his concern only grew at Lafayette's grim expression. "Yeah? What's up?" he asked hesitantly.

"As though you do not know."

Thomas creased his forehead at Lafayette's scowl, but when he whirled around toward him with a gun clutched tightly in his grip, Thomas jumped back, pushing his rolling chair away from the desk as though the distance would protect him.

"Woah, there. Hey, now, Lafayette, whatever's goin' on, I'm sure we can try and talk about it first."

Lafayette let out a mirthless laugh as Thomas took in his stature. He was dressed in black from head to toe, wearing leather gloves to keep his fingerprints separate from his handgun. "It is far too late for talking. Zis is for France." His tone was as hard as his gaze. However, his words just pushed Thomas's confusion further.

"...Wait, what?" Lafayette looked unamused by the question, but Thomas was asking in earnest. "I love France; you know that. I mean, 'm sorry I haven't been back in a while, but don't think I've abandoned the whole country, or anythin'."

The scowl written across Lafayette's face deepened, and Thomas could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage when he heart Lafayette cock his gun. "Save it. I 'ave no time for your games." When Thomas didn't respond, Lafayette rolled his eyes at his blank expression. "I know all about your entanglement with Maximilien Robespierre. Your affairs 'ave not gone unnoticed."

"...'My affairs'? That's what this is about? You think I've been cheatin' on Y/N?" Though the action felt audacious, Thomas rolled his chair back toward his desk, wearing what he hoped came off as a reassuring smile. "I swear, I'd never--"

"Do not play dumb with me, Thomas," he cut him off, low voice bordering on a snarl. "I did not come 'ere to listen to you try to make excuses."

Thomas swallowed. Apparently, whoever Lafayette's informant was, they were extremely convincing. "Now, really, even if you did think he 'n I were together, wouldn't this be a little extreme? 'S nice that you're concerned about Y/N and all, but..."

"Stop stalling! I know all about your lies and treachery." When he took a step forward, Thomas was staring down the barrel of his gun, eyes wide, but he didn't move his chair back, didn't make any more to run. Bringing a stapler to a gun fight seemed like it'd be a losing battle.

"'Lies and treachery'?" Thomas repeated, disbelief heavy in his voice, and Lafayette nodded expectantly. Searching the spite in his assailant's eyes, Thomas let out a soft sigh. "Oh, this is really 'cause we never invited you drinkin'? Laf, really, I would've, but I didn't think you knew anyone in the group."

A beat passed in complete silence when Thomas shrugged. It was Lafayette's turn to be stunned, then. Either Thomas was an impeccable actor, or the misunderstanding was genuine. The conclusions Thomas was drawing seemed to indicate the latter; Lafayette doubted his ability to hold his own at an improv club.

However, he drew in a shuddering breath, steeling his gaze down at Thomas. "I did not know any of zem because I do not associate myself with such scoundrels," he spat, and Thomas pursed his lips, hands raised in defense.

"It's alright to be jealous, but you don't gotta stoop to the level of attackin' my other friends over it," he said, and Lafayette's eyes widened. His front of aggression was slowly being shaken into annoyance by the pity in Thomas's gaze, and his gun had nearly fallen to his side. "Promise I love you every bit as much as I love them, alright?"

"Zis is not about my own feelings!" Lafayette yelled, striding toward him until he stood against the front of Thomas's desk, the cold metal of the gun just a hair away from the bridge of Thomas's nose. However, the man in question looked more startled than afraid.

"Hey, no need to hide it. You shouldn't bottle things up; 's not healthy," Thomas said, and though he was trying to play peacemaker, Lafayette could only take his gentle tone as condescending. "All you need to worry about it how you act on it."

"I am not 'acting on my feelings'! I am 'ere to make you pay for your betrayal," Lafayette scoffed, and Thomas pursed his lips. Unbeknownst to both of them, they were on opposite ends of two different conversations.

"Don't you think the gun's a little bit extreme, though?" he asked, creasing his brow. He appeared to be more worried for Lafayette's mental health than for the threat on his own life, and Lafayette wasn't exactly elated about the turn of events. "Listen, let's get outta here. I'll buy you a drink, and we can talk everything over, alright?"

"I 'ave no interest in associating with ze likes of you." Lafayette's glare deepened, and Thomas's concerned frown fell into a disappointed one, the empathy in his eyes fading.

"Really? Now you're gonna degrade me over this?" he asked, reaching back for his computer mouse. He seemed to quickly be losing interest in the conversation Lafayette was trying to have. "You're bein' unreasonable, Laf. I'm allowed to have other friends."

Lafayette huffed. "Not zat kind of friends."

"For the last time, I'm not sleepin' with Robespierre!" Thomas looked beyond incredulous when he turned back to Lafayette, and Lafayette furrowed his brow. His hard stance faltered as he searched the conviction in Thomas's expression, and the other man continued, "C'mon, let's take a breather and then we can talk this all through."

There was a skip. "Do you really not know what it is I am talking about?"

"No, no, no, I get it. Believe me," Thomas said quickly, and he'd managed a kind smile by then as Lafayette's arm fell to his side, the point of his gun dropping far from its target. "I don't mean to invalidate your feelings, or anythin'. 'S just nothin' we can't work out, okay?"

Lafayette's brow was furrowed; his shoulders relaxed, but he was still squinting at Thomas as though trying to see past his expression. "... 'Ave you truly not been colluding with Maximilien?"

"Nah, we're just old friends. Nothin' more, nothin' less." Thomas shrugged, and though he hesitated for a long moment, Lafayette tucked his gun back into its holster. "We've honestly lost touch over the past couple years, but I'm over it."

"I..." Apparently, he and Thomas weren't quite on the same page. Lafayette couldn't gauge for the life of him how genuine Thomas's confusion was, but he also couldn't find a single flicker of inconsistency in his kind expression. He'd finally been presented with the circumstance he'd been looking for throughout the past three years, but his reasonable doubt was holding him back. "I am sorry, Thomas. I believe I am going to need to... touch base with someone. Zere may 'ave been a misunderstanding."

To Lafayette's surprise, Thomas chuckled lightly. "'S alright. It happens, right?" When Lafayette didn't respond, his struggle with his conscience was written across his face, and as Thomas leaned in to power off his computer on his desk, he added, "Know you'd forgive me if the roles were reversed."

"Of course." Lafayette's words were weak, but Thomas's smile in response was bright. He adjusted the jacket of his suit, glancing back out the window to Thomas's office, and sighed. "I should go."

"No, no, c'mon; you don't need to get outta here just 'cause we had a little miscommunication," Thomas reassured him, and Lafayette raised his eyebrows, gaze heavy with disbelief. Perhaps Thomas was simply a better man than he, but being interrogated at gunpoint was far from Lafayette's idea of 'a little miscommunication.' "I'm about to head out anyway. Wanna come get drinks with me 'n Y/N? 'M sure she wouldn't mind the company."

Thomas pushed himself up out of his seat and pulled on his coat, began packing the files he'd sorted into his briefcase. "Zat is alright," Lafayette said. "I am sure I 'ave already put enough of a strain on your evening."

"Hey, c'mon, don't worry about it, okay?" Thomas nudged his shoulder playfully as he stood, beginning to button up his jacket, but Lafayette sighed.

"You are too quick to forgive me."

Thomas grinned. "Nah, that's just what friends do. Now, you comin' out with us to the bar on West 26th, or what?"

Lafayette eyed his hopeful expression for another long moment, and the offer seemed entirely to be in earnest. All his trust was vested in France's Directorate-General for External Security, but he was praying by then that he'd simply been fed misinformed intelligence. Thomas quirked a brow.

"... I suppose."

"Good. 'M glad we could work this out."

"As am I, Thomas," Lafayette sighed, and they started together toward the door. "Believe me."